Page 65 of Destined For Her Alien Daddy

“I’m saying they found something,” I reply, keeping my voice steady through sheer spite. “Then they buried it under later construction phases, erased cross-references, and encoded suppression layers over the original archive data.”

Sira’s hands fold more tightly in her lap. “The inherited-not-originator phrase may have survived only because the purge failed incompletely.”

“Or because the ruin hid it from them,” I say.

Brakk points his microtool at the projection. “Hold up. Are we saying the galaxy’s favorite cosmic grandparents covered up their own grandparents?”

“That is offensively reductive,” I tell him.

“Is it wrong?”

I stare at the floating symbol until the silver lines blur slightly. “No.”

The chamber contracts around the word.

Ghar’s voice comes from too close now. “What else have you found?”

I should stop. I know I should stop. My fingers feel numb, and the projection keeps leaving afterimages across my vision. Every new line of translation drags me further from the emotional world where Teren is dead and into the intellectual one where patterns matter more than pain. I know that is not healthy. I also know healthy is a luxury for people who are not trapped beneath a rogue planet while a murderous sect hunts them for discovering evidence that the foundational mythology of galactic civilization may be a polished lie.

I pull another fragment into the field.

The projection stutters, then stabilizes around a partial sequence that looks like a record index.

“Pre-Precursor civilization references,” I say. “At least six. Maybe more. Most are damaged or overwritten, but I can make out references to stellar architects, probability shepherds, and something the translator keeps rendering as ‘those who laughed before light,’ which is upsetting enough to deserve a grant all by itself.”

Brakk grimaces. “I vote we never meet the laughing light people.”

“Too late,” I murmur.

Ghar looks at me sharply.

I pretend not to notice because the alternative is remembering the archive vision too clearly. I keep decoding.

Sira’s voice grows even softer. “If the Precursors intentionally erased evidence of predecessor civilizations, the implications will not remain academic.”

“No kidding.”

I zoom in on another suppression layer. “The Alzhon temples would implode first. Not literally, hopefully, though honestly with enough bad theology and unstable cybernetics, I wouldn’t rule it out. The Vakutan warrior doctrine would take a hit because their Grand Design teachings depend on Precursor origin authority. Pi’Rell jalshagar theology would be shaken because if soul-bond mechanics are inherited tech or older cosmological engineering rather than direct Precursor design, then half the sacred texts become speculative commentary.”

Sira watches me with grave attention. “Coalition Ataxian doctrine would fracture as well.”

“Yes,” I say. “Ataxia claims the Precursors chose it as successor authority. If the Precursors were successors themselves, that chain of legitimacy gets messier than a grant committee after open bar.”

Brakk slowly lowers the relay tap. “And governments?”

I laugh once without humor. “Oh, they’ll adore this. The Alliance leans heavily on shared Precursor reverence as a cultural adhesive. The League sells neutrality but still profits from Precursor trade, relic claims, pilgrimage tourism, artifact licensing, and all the quiet little frauds that keep border worlds solvent. The Coalition gets to have its own theological panic. Everybody loses something.”

Ghar’s expression has gone unreadable.

I keep talking because stopping would let the terror catch me.

“This could destabilize treaty frameworks, academic access agreements, religious authority, inheritance laws for sacred sites, maybe even jalshagar-related cross-species family statutes in conservative systems. Do you know how many people built political legitimacy on being closer to the Precursors than their rivals? Half the galaxy is a stack of old claims wearing different uniforms.”

Brakk stares at me. “You got all that from a busted scanner and a haunted wall?”

“The rest is me being professionally delightful.”

Sira studies my face. “You understand the danger, yet you continue.”