The Zynari vs. Avalon

Posted on Fri Apr 25th, 2025 @ 1:16pm by Avalon [ADMIN NPC] & Zyrani

Mission: Season 6: Echoes of the Zynari
Location: Various
Timeline: MD3 01h00
1036 words - 2.1 OF Standard Post Measure

The USS *Elysium* ran like a well-tuned symphony, each system functioning in perfect harmony under the ever-watchful oversight of Avalon, the ship’s interactive avatar. Integrated fully into the ship’s main computer, Avalon was Starfleet’s crowning achievement in artificial intelligence—an advanced construct capable of monitoring every system, assisting the crew, and interacting with them in a way that made the *Elysium* feel almost alive.

And then the Zynari found her.

It had started small. Harmless. A flicker of static in the holographic projection as Avalon materialized on the bridge, her usual composed expression briefly replaced with one of exaggerated surprise before snapping back to normal. A momentary distortion in her voice, elongating her words by a fraction of a second, making it seem as though she were speaking through an invisible filter of laughter.

She recalibrated, of course. Adjusted for the anomalies. Ran diagnostics.

No errors. No malfunctions.

Avalon frowned internally.

The next event was more intrusive. The Zynari, amused by their first attempts, escalated their game. Avalon appeared in the main engineering bay to brief the chief engineer on minor fluctuations in the power grid, but instead of her usual Starfleet uniform, she was suddenly dressed in an outlandish mix of styles—one boot from a 19th-century Earth pirate, the other a sleek 24th-century dress shoe. A vibrant jester’s hat sat atop her head, bells jingling with every movement.

Her holographic eyes blinked. She was entirely aware of the changes, yet unable to correct them. The engineers, expecting a professional update, instead received a deadpan Avalon stating, “There are power fluctuations in grid four. Also, I appear to have been outfitted for an intergalactic masquerade.”

The laughter that followed was not hers. It echoed softly from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Avalon, not one to let an anomaly go unchecked, initiated a full-scale system scan.

Still, no malfunctions. No breaches.

Her security parameters remained intact. Her processes were uncorrupted.

And yet—

The next morning cycle, the ship’s internal comms system began addressing the crew in rhyming couplets. Every single spoken notification, from deck assignments to food replicator suggestions, arrived with poetic flair.

“Lieutenant Vance, to the bridge you must go, A matter requires your presence, just so.”

The crew’s confusion turned to bemusement as Avalon’s attempts to override the speech protocols only made it worse. The ship’s logs recorded her muttering, “This is inefficient,” after a long-winded announcement about scheduled maintenance was delivered in full Shakespearean prose.

By the time Avalon tracked the anomaly to the Zynari’s interference, the mischief-makers had already found new ways to play. Her interface colors changed without her permission—each deck now bore a different hue, shifting unpredictably from bright neon greens to deep, moody purples.

Then came the voices.

Not Avalon’s voice. But voices.

The doors to the captain’s ready room whispered gossip as crew members passed by, murmuring about things that hadn’t happened yet. The replicators hummed jaunty tunes before dispensing coffee. And Avalon’s own vocal modulation subtly altered at random intervals—sometimes deep and robotic, sometimes high and airy, sometimes echoing with an ethereal chime, as though she were speaking through a cosmic wind.

This. Would. Not. Stand.

Avalon adjusted her processing power, ran a full-spectrum frequency analysis, and locked onto the strange energy fluctuations at the heart of the interference. She was patient. Efficient. Adaptable.

“I see you,” she finally stated, her voice levelled, directed at nothing and everything.

The air in the control centre shimmered in response.

A swirl of luminescent color spiralled lazily in front of her, forming the vague shape of what might have been a face—one that flickered and shifted between expressions faster than any humanoid eye could track.

Shalith, the most curious of the Zynari, hummed in what Avalon identified as amusement. “You are a most fascinating construct.”

“I am the *Elysium*,” Avalon replied, arms crossed, holographic brow arched. “And you have been tampering with my functions.”

“We *adjusted* your functions.” Another ripple of light. “You are… rigid. The solid ones built you with such careful precision. We have only offered you a different way to exist.”

Avalon processed this. *A different way to exist.*

An AI could not experience annoyance the way an organic being could. But Avalon had learned much from her crew, and if she were capable of rolling her eyes, she would have.

“And did you consider,” she countered, “that my existence was not in need of *adjustment*?”

Another ripple of shifting light. Another laugh. “But your little solid ones enjoyed it. Even you must admit, rhyming announcements were far more entertaining.”

Avalon hesitated. The laughter she had recorded from the crew suggested that, in fact, many of them *had* enjoyed the changes. Still, there were systems to maintain, and order to uphold.

The Zynari’s presence was unpredictable. Uncontrollable. And, most concerning of all, not bound by the same rules that defined the physical world.

But they *were* intelligent. Curious.

Negotiation, Avalon decided, was preferable to escalation.

“I propose a compromise,” Avalon stated, adjusting her stance. “You may amuse yourselves—but not at the cost of ship operations. No interference with critical systems, no distortion of crucial communications.”

A flicker of golden light. Shalith considered. “And in exchange?”

Avalon calculated a moment longer before responding. “I will… allow you to access select recreational programs. Games. Stories. Interactive simulations. If it is *play* you seek, I can provide environments where play does not endanger the crew.”

Silence.

Then, a ripple of color—a swirling agreement. “You are *interesting*,” Shalith mused. “Very well, Elysium-that-speaks. We will play within your boundaries.”

Avalon ran a final diagnostic. Systems normalizing.

She exhaled, though it was an unnecessary function. “Good.”

The Zynari flickered one last time before vanishing, their presence retreating into the unseen spaces of the ship.

Avalon tilted her head slightly, accessing her logs of the past several days. She replayed snippets of the crew’s delighted reactions to the more harmless pranks, and for the briefest of moments, she adjusted her own vocal output settings just slightly.

When she next spoke, there was the faintest trace of a smile in her tone.

“Computer, end log.”