On the Eve of a New Cycle

A materialist by the name of Trivo steps up to a projector. He is a very flabby, blubbery figure, with not much in the way of discernible teeth nor any hair beyond some facial cilla. His skin, so transparent you can see the muscles within and the yellowish eyes through the thin, gel-like skin do not give a full picture in the kind of man he is, normally wearing his exoskeletal suit when in a formal setting. But alas, this is an emergency conference with the other leaders of his party.

One of them, a shapeless he sees right by him absent of any body features or clothing beyond that reflective humanoid form and a couple opaque eyes says "First Citizen Tirvo, it is time we speak on the state of the accessible universe as of the three hundredth year of the republic and how to move forward from the corruption scandal that plagued the last coalition."

Tirvo tries to keep a professional, stiff composure despite being basically naked during this sudden discussion and replies "As the first citizen and head of the formless party my duty to ensuring universal liberty has made it a first priority to continue the efforts of liberating new worlds for the federation. We have our sights set on multiple societies which have come into close orbit to our outpost worlds within the inner associations as of late and if we act fast we may uproot the Jinn States who live ever closer to the sun from the Virgo outpost worlds."

The shapeless is just there, seemingly cold and reactionless before replying "As your high diplomat, I advise that we do not waste our time with them. We have bigger factions to contend with who are within orbit of our outer worlds. The inner system back waters can wait surely."

Another Representative of the party, mainly his organizer begins to bring up domestic problems on the very world of Lux. This representative has no avatar and just prefers to use a red screen.

"We have to worry not just of what is out there. Within our world in the arctic habitats we are contending with splinter protests yet again. You know how they are." the red screen says.

Tirvo is never certain who is actually behind the red screen, unsure of who to reply to first Tirvo just cranes its sloppy head a bit tells the red screen "I'll get to that later, there is another issue more pressing."

The red screen simply dissipates in response.

Tirvo brings its attention back to the shapeless secretary expressing a bit of concern, "but what if they spread? All our probes that go there end up being destroyed, suggested a strong military. Tackling them sooner than later may be optimal for spreading the light of civilization and emancipators the individual from the oppression of the world dictatorships."

Another figure, a very peculiar one suddenly chimes into view. It is a vague figure, unlike anything Tirvo has seen and isn't sure if it is even a shapeless.

"Who is this?" Tirvo uncomfortably asks, its privacy being invaded twice now.

The figure is just silent and the high diplomat shouts before going silent, "We have been compromised!"

The silent figure, with the annoyance gone finally speaks ina rather soft tone of voice, "What about the Concord?"

Suddenly it vanishes and the room returns to normal with the high diplomat down right in a state of yellow faced panic. The high diplomat shouts "We have been compromised! Your safety is at extreme risk!"

But Tirvo, oddly laid back about this encounter just dismisses the concern and says "Perhaps we could send someone to the Concord."

"But what about your safety?" The high diplomat asks, unable to express the bit of chock it was feeling.

"My safety?" A befuddled Tirvo wonders out loud before assuring "My safety is ensured by other means. Do not worry. Just get who you can to the Concord."

Concord Outreach Mission

The question of our time is not one of rebuilding the past, but of building towards a different path than the one the distant past had set us on in an opportunity which only appears once every so often in the cycle of civilization. When the lights begin to shine again, we can project a more equitable and more just vision for society than what has come before. Be it when we lived in slavery centuries ago or lived under the corruption of the populistic party before the constructivists. Currently the situation has become incredibly chaotic once again as the three parties continue their competition for control of the worlds.

The current first citizen, a materialist by the name of Tirvo Suveno from the colonized garden habitat of Janus the Third has gained considerable interest in trying to expand the Domain’s reach to the other rising societies in the known universe. Operative Sarns, a shapeless diplomat appointed by Suveno, founds itself now headed on a small space craft headed towards alien territory. The journey is just a few days, but you never know what can happen on the way there. The risk is vast on the way, for in a spacecraft such as the gleaming white and gold Prosperity Shuttles you are always being watched. Thousands of lights always being detected even in this dim age. The two guard frigates, which the Formless Party had sanctioned, this group is unable to account for every potential danger, which may be dealt the way of the mission.

Within the shuttle, a dispute has broken out between Suveno and its fellow folk within the spacious luxury craft gleaming in platinum tiles and reflective, silvery panels. The deck is highly simple in its interface- just a 3D map projection and a local AI salvaged from ancient ruins. The wealth of the Formless elite is something they are all too happy to express much to the disdain of Suveno, who takes on its default, blank form as it stares over a hovering table facing very rigid headed Tibian whose coal black eye burn in irritation while its spindly fingers tap the table tops.

The Tibian brings up the question on its mind, bluntly asking, “To what degree are we to even interact with them? Every intelligence we have on our destination shows them to be hardly anything humanoid, yet your higher ups have insisted on bringing an infiltrator.”

Suveno shifts its seemingly shapeless head into a tan shaped head while retaining its android base body and replies in a vocal tone imitating someone else, “We aren’t trying to infiltrate. We are here solely for formal interaction.”

“In which case, why did you bring me?” the Tibian asks before reforming itself back to its default form, that of a greyish humanoid.

Suveno shifts to its default head again and simply says "Because I needed you here. I just do."

The grayish humanoid shapeless is just a bit silent on this before saying "I see. Hopefully I do not make the body guard redundant either way. We should be arriving within 87 hours from now to this destination. Which place was it that we were going again?"

Operative Sarns replies "We are headed to Lural, which our intelligence believes to be the capital of the Concord."

Alek had just arrived home from work and he rushed straight to the TV wall. Today was the big day. Not for him, but for his friend Jasper. But knowing a person from the Ring of Fire was something, and Alek wouldn’t stop bragging about it to everyone who was willing to listen. He absent-mindedly scratched his ear for the millionth time, then remembered that he shouldn’t do that and forced his hand to rest in his lap, also for the millionth time.

It was just two days after the surgery and the small scabs itched like hell. But he had already been given some compliments about his new long and pointy ears, some even from the women. And women normally avoided Alek as if he were a Minion, so if enduring a bit of itching would be the cost to change that, he will gladly pay it. And the money for the surgery, of course, which wasn’t cheap either. But in these days, you couldn’t hope to get certain social status with just the basic look.

The show was just beginning, Alek cheered loudly when he saw Jasper’s face amongst the contestants. He was hard to miss with his bright blue skin, long green hair and a pair of small horns. His opponents didn’t look nearly as impressive as Jasper – three Normals, but without any remarkable improvements, and a very nervously looking Amphibian. After everyone was properly introduced, the host, Pia Malden, gave a signal to start the show up and light the fire. Pia was definitely on top of Alek’s celebrities-I-want-to-lay list. She had a reptile-like forked tongue, and when she wasn’t talking, she would often stick the tips of it out and licked her lips. Alek found that incredibly hot, so hot that he watched every show Pia was hosting, just to see her on screen.

The fire around the arena was raging, the contestants all trapped inside. Only one would get out alive. Today they were each given a short blade, so Alek expected it is going to be rather quick match. The fight started, and the contestants rushed towards each other with bloodthirsty screams. Jasper dodged a cut from one of the Normals and stabbed his blade deep into man’s chest. The Amphibian tried to surprise him from behind, when Jasper was retrieving the knife, stuck between the Normal’s ribs. The hit from the Amphibian threw Jasper off balance and Alek gasped for air. But Jasper didn’t hesitate and as the Amphibian closed in, he grabbed the poor creature and pushed him into the fire. The Amphibian let out a desperate screech, which was completely outvoiced by loud cheers from the audience.

“YES!” Alek cried out with the crowd on TV. Life was great. In fact, the only thing that would make his life better right now, would be Pia waiting for him in his bed.

Bahiri Prime, The Blue Order headquarters

Life was horrible. Not life in general, just Tilak’s life. Why did he have to be the one to deal with all this mess? He sighed and reviewed the report he had been unsuccessfully trying to put together for the last hour.

“The action in the science center was a success. The suspect was brought into custody and all of his personal belongings confiscated.” Tilak was glad he could at least once use the word ‘success’ in the report. “His interrogation brought us to the thought that there is an organized group of individuals with the same traitorous ideas.” Even reading these words that he had written himself was sending shivers down his spine. An organized group, very well organized from what they could gather. All traitors trying to destroy the system.

“Investigation amongst his close coworkers confirmed that he was often seen entering abandoned building just outside the complex.” Up until now we look like a competent group of professionals, Tilak thought. He wished he could just end the report here. “Close examination of the building revealed nothing interesting inside, except for a hidden entrance to the maintenance tunnels. Six members of the Blue Order entered the tunnels to discover where the suspect has been going. Two members returned finding only dead ends, the tunnels sealed of or collapsed long time ago. To this time, the remaining four members did not return.”

The report ended there. Tilak was staring on the screen, wondering if he could change some words to make it look better. But he had lost four men on a routine mission. Four well trained, well geared men. How the hell do you make that look better?

“Further investigation of the suspect’s belongings revealed the group is calling themselves The Fist of Justice.” Useless information, a pathetic attempt to look at least a little competent. Look, I found something, I'm not a complete failure! “Evidence suggests that many other people are involved, including some in high positions in the government.” That was nearly a complete lie. The nonexistent evidence could not possibly suggest such thing. But still there could be something to it. The suspect was a prominent scientist, even one of the candidates for the Committee, although he wasn’t chosen in the end.

“We will continue the search for more information about the group as well as for any information about our missing officers.” Someone will, anyway. Tilak will probably be kicked out of the Order. Or something worse. He sighed and sent the report to the system, then rested his forehead on his desk. Life was so unfair.

Bahiri Prime, undisclosed location

Some might say that life is unfair. Omega would never say it out loud, but the thought had crossed her mind a couple of times. But of course, it was completely illogical. Life just is. Fair or unfair is a point of view of its participants.

But this morning was worse than the one yesterday, that could be measured and compared. Ever since her last augmentation procedure, which finally allowed her to connect herself to the Collective Network, thus becoming a proper Master, she has been having incredibly vivid dreams. She often woke up so confused that she didn’t even know who or where she was. And the Network connections, however short and sparse, didn’t help much either. The sheer amount of raw information stored there was overwhelming.

The Minions that Sigma had assigned as her caregivers have already prepared food and took care of other primitive needs of her body. She vaguely noticed that there was one man amongst her normally female-only staff, but it didn’t really matter. In Omega’s world, gender was just an unimportant concept. The Minions were just tools, carefully selected to serve her every need. And as for her personally – she did think about herself as a female, but it was more of a conformity with the method of communication. Since her body was nearly useless shell with the sole purpose of keeping her brain alive, its gender was the last thing anyone would care about.

One of the girls carefully fed her. The food was just a tasteless shapeless mush, which provided all necessary nutrients to her body and the only movement required to eat it was swallowing. Omega sometimes wondered what real food would taste like, but since she could hardly lift her hand, let alone chew solid food, these thoughts were just a fruitless waste of time. She also sometimes wondered what it would feel like to not be so exhausted all the time. But since her augmented brain was consuming nearly all her body’s resources, that was yet another useless thought. For a supposedly super-smart person she sure spent a lot of her time thinking about unimportant things.

She sighed, and gestured the Minions to plug her in. She had a job to do. Now that sounded little too ordinary. She didn’t have a job. She had a purpose… a calling… a destiny? Quickly searching her mind for more fitting words brought her dozen other synonyms, but none really fit perfectly. In the end, it didn’t really matter how you will call it.

Felling the cold metal on the skin at the back of her head, she shut her eyes closed and tried to prepare. As if you could be prepared for your brain suddenly being connected to everything. The Collective Network was a remnant of one of the original custodians – a network connecting everything on Bahiri Prime together, storing data from all of the systems, from the most vital like life support, to the most meaningless like status of every single streetlight in the city. In addition to that, the Masters were using it to store every bit of information that was acquired. Reports from all public organizations, countless lists of all official trade transactions, even copies of every bit of broadcast from all of the official TV channels – everything could be useful one day.

Not even Masters with their augmented brains could hope to comprehend such amount of information. That is why each was assigned an area to control and each had to report to Master Alpha. Omega was to oversee the Blue Order and make sure that every sign of change is suppressed at its beginning. The stability must be maintained. No changes are allowed.

There have been some minor problems with certain individuals over the course of time, but no major problems, especially ever since she replaced the original Omega. Not until now. When she ordered the scientist to be arrested, she was sure there was something wrong going on around him. But this definitely wasn’t what she expected. She went through the report of Blue Order officer Tilak who was overseeing the arrest, getting more and more surprised.

She started searching the databanks for any information about this “Fist of Justice” but so far found nothing. It was still a strange feeling – when she was plugged in, she stopped existing in her frail body. Her consciousness moved into the virtual environment. Suddenly she had no shape – no hands to touch, no eyes to see. Yet she could watch video and read and control the things around her. To her, the Network seemed like a comfortable office with tons of screens and the databanks like endless shelves filled with nicely labeled books.

Her face would be frowning, if she had one right now. How could there be nothing about such organization? The Masters tried to have everyone under constant but invisible surveillance. There were some blind spots, but not that many. As she browsed the information connected to the report, she noticed that Tilak’s superior asking whether he should remove the officer for failing his duties. Omega carefully assessed every aspect of the failed operation, but found no error. Everything was done according to the set guidelines. Punishing anyone for unforeseeable consequences would be illogical.

Omega delved deeper into the Network, trying to go through as much information as possible, dismissing the parts that weren’t connected to the case and saving the rest for future use. If there truly was an organized group threatening the stability of the entire Directorate, even armed well enough to take out men from the Blue Order, she had to act fast.

Omonoi, Generator District Tha-1

"Now, careful with the lever there. Like on a murena hunt. Try to push it, lightly, very. Only try."

A low, smooth whirring, like that of an escalator band.

"It can go down. Do I push more?"

"Push, slowly. Like you're trying, to halfway. How far is halfway?"

"Twenty centimetres, maybe. A bit less."

"Push it to twenty. Steadily."

The whirring again. This time it lasted longer, with some brief interruptions, until it was cut off by a loud, metallic click. There was a thudding sound, as though something heavy had fallen on a soft surface not far away, then all was quiet again.

"Did anything happen?"

"It sounds like we have access. You can come up."

A bright-blue, shapeless limb slid over the edge of the well and clung to it with its rows of suckers. Its tip flattened itself against the metallic floor and pulled; several more tentacles emerged from under the rim and followed suit, until a wobbly, almost gelatinous sphere rose up behind them - a sphere with round yellow eyes protruding from its sides. E-33-B almost flowed over the corner for the last bit of the way, before slumping to the ground and blossoming into relieved rusty brown stains over its body. Its partner, F-FB-35, was already standing upright in the form most Blurs took when on dry, even soil: four of its lower tentacles, extended at right angles from each other around the beak, were broadened and twisted into thick, sturdy legs resting on semi-circular footpads. Two thinner limbs sprouted from just below its right eye, waving and intertwining idly as they held a scorcher rifle. The local maintenance automata were usually innocuous, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. One never knew when a security drone might appear after the accident at the control central last week.

Or, even worse, an emergency response unit. At least that should now have been taken care of.

Signing for E-33-B to follow, the larger Blur slithered back down the corridor they had come from, around the bend and into the small hallway beyond. Its limbs did not seem to rise from the ground as it moved, but undulated in short waves, pushing themselves forward with a strength impressive for such small motions. It was not very comfortable, truth be told - had F-FB-35 been in a position to choose, it would have used much longer and ampler waves - but it was the quietest and least abrupt way of going about places with such smooth floors, and being quiet was preferable when venturing into the further districts of the massive toroidal habitat. Everything here had been designed with comfort in mind, but this comfort was clearly intended for beings very different from those that made up the Concord. There was little water, and in fact none of the control panels, access terminals or even flow switches were submerged, the air ventilation blew in unpleasant drafts from the most unlikely of angles, and grids emitting wafts of warm, dry air were in every place where one's leg or tentacle could become stuck in them, something Scalders found particularly annoying.

But the worst were the security checks. Whoever had built this place had valued its inhabitants' safety, or else had taken some obscure instinctive phobia to an extreme: almost every major passage, be it between districts, from a conveyor hub to a forum, into a medical bay or even a holo-recreation center, was fitted with more or less obvious scanners; this was doubly true for maintenance facilities. These devices were programmed to monitor the passing of visitors, raising an alarm when unauthorised intruders tried to slip past them. Unfortunately, anyone the Concord could send here apparently looked like a sort of figure the sensors had been installed to deter. Some of the more daring and flexible Blurs had attempted to find out, by trial and error, what shapes would not trigger a reaction, but all they had succeeded at was putting the habitat custodians into a heightened danger regime. A joke popular among the reclamation crews had it that the people who built Omonoi must have had had non-Euclidean bodies, and sometimes F-FB-35, who had seen E-33-B try all sorts of contortionisms to get past a detector safely, came close to seriously believing it.

However, the mechanism they had now finally managed to dislodge seemed to be working, and the electronic eye that had previously blocked the pair's access to the chambers beyond the hall was now covered by an old hazard protective sheen. Why someone would have cared so much about a simple detector as to install a failsafe so elaborate was beyond them, but, as long as they could make it work, they weren't going to twist their heads about it. What they might still find in the maintenance vaults was more than enough of a worrying matter.

F-FB-35 was the first to slip through the doorway, holding the scorcher at the ready. There had already been at least three cases of malfunctioning alarms going off quietly, leading to unsuspecting reclaimers stumbling into squads of the heavy arachnoid drones. There was no sign of the mechanical sentries here, but for at least ten more minutes they could not be fully sure they were safe. It briefly sprouted a small arm from near its rear eye to gesture for E-33-B to follow, but the smaller Blur was already there, having slid next to it by flattening itself against the doorframe. It wouldn't have helped if the sensor was still active, but many of those who had experimented with disguising their form to the machines had been left with quirks like this for their troubles. This wasn't even the worst of it: F-FB-35 had heard of much more extravagant acrobatics among its colleagues.

The maintenance chambers were vast, quiet and mostly empty. The walls were lined with screens, displays and occasional projector, and the bulky steel boxes of assorted machinery stood along them here and there, silent but still blinking with red and yellow lights. There was no waste or debris cluttering the floor, no disjoined cables hanging loosely from the ceiling, no condensed brine dripping over the monitors on the walls. Everything was so clean and pristine that, had it been not for the dry air and the alien shapes of the equipment around them, they could have believed they were back home on Twenty Eight. The differences from the semi-submerged habitat's own generator centers, however small, were everywhere to remind them this place was much more dangerous than anything in the depths of their more organic environment; and still, everything was familiar and calm enough they were at a bit of a loss for what to do while they slithered through the many almost identical vaults of the district.

So, of course, they turned to the small talk of the day.

"C8-FF3 and the others kept insisting that we are doing it wrong, yesterday." E-33-B signed on its right flank, spinning ochre spirals into pulsing faded green fractal shapes. "This is not the segment's main generator control hub, they say. We can't redirect the main current flow to the docking bays from here."

"And you?" asked F-FB-35.

"I pointed them through the blueprints again. They were still sceptical. Said the loose conduits near Tha-1-34 show there's a whole secondary circuit layer down there. They're probably not wrong."

"But that doesn't mean this won't work." F-FB-35 seemed to already know where its partner was headed for.

"Right. Secondary circuits can't just divert power like that. And there aren't any other facilities around 34 that we know of."

"We still don't know nearly enough about this place."

"No. But that's not our fault."

For a moment, both reverted to a neutral dark blue. Then F-FB-35 signed again.

"There are voices spreading. I don't know if you've heard. It's the Domain."

"What about the Domain?"

"Some say we're doing all this for nothing. That, when we're finished with Omonoi, the Domain will just come in and take it. It's no secret we couldn't stop them if they wanted to."

"That's Drifter talk, isn't it?" E-33-B's reply began tinted with surprise, then quickly shifted to disbelief. "It doesn't make sense. Omonoi would be much better suited for the Domain's people as it is now. If they had wanted to, they would already have been here before us."

"Whoever is saying these things knows this." Now F-FB-35's own colours were doubtful, but not as much as those of its companion. "But that is their point. They say the Domain will annex the place with everyone who is inside. Expand their base, so they say."

"Nonsense. They are too civilised to do something like this."

"They did it on Lurs, though."

"Lurs wasn't a sovereign territory."

"Technically, neither are we. Nothing in the system is nowadays, you know this."

"Omonoi isn't anything like Lurs. We are no danger to the Domain, like those Splinters. Besides, if they occupy us for no reason, everyone in the inner system will know they are a danger. They wouldn't risk it even if they wanted to."

"I don't agree with them any more than you do. But Drifters will be Drifters."

E-33-B was about to sign a joke about the inhabitants of Iural, but F-FB-35 gestured at a doorway in the wall to their right side, and the Blurs swerved together, diving into the passage. Beyond was a small room like many others in the habitat, crammed with machinery if compared to the expansive halls they had come from, but still offering a surprising amount of space to turn about in. Experienced reclaimers could not be mistaken here: this was Tha-1 distribution manual control station. No wonder it should be so small - everything here was automated, and this place had likely been used in special cases no more than once every few decades. But it was just what the Blurs needed.

As E-33-B set to work with what should have been the central panel and F-FB-35 remained watching by the door, there was no more time for idle talk. Handling devices meant for limbs utterly unlike theirs was hard enough as it was, without the added threat of drone patrols happening by at the worst of times. But, as both of the Blurs believed, it would all be worth it in the end. Some switches flicked here, and the main docking bays could be repurposed for the distribution of water, enough for everyone and everything. Then Omonoi would flourish.

Omega looked curiously at other Master’s avatars. It wasn't every day that a meeting of this size was called - all Masters gathered in the most secured segment of the network. So far it has been unclear to what purpose. There was an indistinct chatter, the other Masters were exchanging information and speculating about what is going on. Omega remained aside. She was still new amongst the Masters and only knew most of them by name and area of expertise.

Finally Alpha appeared. “We have some important business to discuss,” he said to everyone. No unnecessary pleasantries, Omega liked that. “As all of you should know, we are currently focusing on a project to repair nearby habitat Khalante, so we can continue spreading the population gradually.” Beta smiled arrogantly. Khalante was his project and he was taking pride in reminding the others how important it is. Slightly illogical approach, since everything that mattered was the prosperity of the Directorate, but it was not Omega’s place to judge.

“But this project and most of the others will be put on hold for now.”

Beta’s smile froze. “That is completely illogical and inefficient, we have already invested so much in it,...”

“It can wait,” Alpha interrupted him. “We have more pressing matters to attend to.” Omega’s avatar frowned before she could control herself. The more pressing matters must be the mess with the so-called Fist of Justice. Her mess.

“A short time after the Directorate was founded and order established, we have detected several signals from other parts of the solar system. Signals from other civilizations.” The silence ensued, all of the Masters just staring at Alpha, stunned by surprize. “The decision was made to keep it an absolute secret from the general population, even from most of the Masters,” Alpha continued.

Omega had thousands of thoughts on her mind. How was Alpha able to keep it secret for so long? And why? Contacts with other civilizations could be potentially beneficial for both sides. But thinking about it more in depth, especially in light of recent events, Omega realized the downside of it all. “It could destabilize the society,” she mumbled to herself. Unfortunately there isn't much difference between mumbling and yelling in the virtual world. All the Masters turned to her.

Omega froze, expecting to be in trouble for talking without actually being asked anything, but Alpha nodded with what seemed to be a satisfied smile. “Exactly. The only reason we can control the population now is that we have total control over all of the variables and we are able to predict consequences to most decisions. But still, even now there are threats within the society, which we cannot afford to ignore. If we add external civilizations to the equation, the number of variables grows exponentially and the consequences become unpredictable.”

“The trade could be potentially beneficial,” Delta repeated Omega’s thoughts. He was overseeing the stability of the economy, and as far as Omega knew, he was excellent at it.

“I agree,” Alpha nodded. “But only as long as we manage to keep all of it a secret. General population must not be involved. Until now, we have been trying to avoid contact by masking our signals and staying out of everyone’s way, but the situation has changed. Separately, the other civilizations didn’t pose a threat. But since they are starting to communicate with each other, we can no longer afford to stay out of the loop. If the others were to unite and move against us, we cannot fight them off.

For now, we have several goals. Find out who are we dealing with, how big threat are they, try to make sure that their potential alliances aren’t too strong and their potential fights don’t influence us. And of course ensure that we don’t have any uninvited vessels in our airspace. For that we will need some reliable people to function as envoys.

Omega,” he turned to her, “you will be overseeing this operation. You are to find trustworthy people with necessary skills. Full disclosure.”

She just stared at him, eyes widened with surprise, or maybe with horror. SHE will be overseeing the operation? And FULL DISCLOSURE? There were maybe five Normals who were in on the whole business, all of them from the Committee. “I.. Um… I don’t…” she stuttered.

“You need to begin immediately, there is no time to lose. And remember, it is of utmost importance that we protect the stability. NOTHING can reach the general population.

In the meantime, the resources from the project Khalante will be focused into advanced weapons research. The only part from the habitat examination research we will maintain is the automated defences segment.”

Omega hardly even listened to him. She expected to be reprimanded for the rebellious group mess and not be given responsibility for first contacts with other civilizations. She almost didn’t notice Alpha dismissing the other Masters and turning to her.

“You are confused,” he said and she just nodded. That was one way to put it. “Logical reasons, Omega, logical reasons. Why did I choose someone so inexperienced for such task?”

How the hell did this turn into an exam? ‘Stop being such a whiny child and THINK. That is what you are literally programmed to do.’ She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to reduce the number of things attacking her mind. Why would he choose her? Delta was the economical leader, he would be much better in negotiating trade agreements. Beta had experience in leading complex projects. Alpha himself, well, he had experience in everything. What could she possibly have that they didn’t?

“You don’t want someone experienced. You want someone who… someone with a different point of view, someone without experience, but also without a strict and lined mind?”

“You prove your worth,” he gave her a proud smile. “We have become somewhat… rigid. Maintaining status quo is important, but when the world around us changes, we need to react to that. I will take care of the rebels myself. We have a special shuttle prepared, on which you and your companions can travel. Good luck.”

Luck is an illogical construction, she thought as she disconnected from the Network. What was happening?


Tilak’s mood sunk into a bottomless pit when he received a message ordering him to come to the high chief’s office. Dishonorable discharge? Prison? Or maybe just a stern goodbye and an order for one of the stealthy assassins? Whatever it will be, he would face it with honor. At least he hoped so. Damn, he should have just quit and start drinking.

He took a deep breath before entering the office. Chief Mandoly was already waiting for him. Tilak always felt like a dwarf next to this man; Mandoly was a tall and muscular man with an intimidating look. And while he looked like a brainless muscle, nothing could be further from the truth. He was an astute politician with a seat on the Committee.

“Sir, I just wanted to say that I am sorry about…” Tilak started to talk, but Mandoly interrupted him.

“Forget about it,” he just waved his hand.

Tilak felt his jaw drop. ‘What?’ he thought to himself, but didn’t manage to actually say anything.

“You have been reassigned,” Mandoly continued.

‘Aah, that’s what it was. I am going to scrub toilets on EL-2 for the rest of my life.’

“But I have to warn you. This assignment is issued directly by the Committee. Level seven security clearance. One word about it to anyone outside this room, and…” he left the sentence unfinished, but it was pretty obvious what he meant.

Level seven? Tilak was level four and as far as he knew, there were only five security levels, with the fifth one reserved only for the top ranking officers. “Sir, may I ask, why me? My latest mission didn’t end up very well and…” Way to go Tilak, way to go.

Mandely nodded. “That is true. Were up to me, you would be kicked out of the Order. But the request was for you specifically. Whatever project this is, someone seems to think that you are necessary for its success. For some reason.” Contempt was dripping from his words. He walked over to Tilak and handed him a small datapad. “Don’t mess it up,” he growled and turned to the window.

Tilak figured that the audience was over and left the office, clutching the small piece of electronics in his shaking hand. What was happening?


Professor Kabiri walked closer to the edge of the platform. No matter how long he was in Beili, he could never get used to this view. Bahiri Prime was a beautiful world, but Lao was… different. Where Bahiri Prime was gentle and civilized, Lao was wild and untainted by any technology. Sharp mountain peaks, deep ocean trenches, forests and meadows, wild rivers. It seemed like descriptions of the Paradise from the ancient texts.

Umlau, the Aelli designated as his guide, came closer to him smiling. “No fall. Long fall.”

Most Aelli, or the Gliders how people from Bahiri Prime called them, used their native language, even though they did understand and spoke the common language (evidently called English in times before the Shattering) to some extent. But Kabiri wasn’t here to hear the natives speak English. He was here to study the many dialects of the language of Lao - surprisingly common to both Aelli and Oelli.

“No worries. I fall not,” he replied, trying to remember the right words.

“Will not fall,” Umlau corrected him, grinning. “You learn fast.”

Kabiri nodded. He always has. In very impractical fields, but fast. He had doctorates in pre-shattering history and literature, anthropology and linguistics, and he had written several publications about extinct languages. Not that it made him popular. People these days didn’t care much about what was before.

“Message for you,” Umlau handed him a datapad carefully as if it were some priceless relic. Some of the Aelli still preferred to leave the technology to other races and continue living the simple lives of their ancestors.

Kabiri reached for the datapad, intrigued. Maybe the university wants him to return? He couldn't really think of anyone else who would want to send him a message, as he had no family and no close friends. Whatever it was, it most likely wasn't good news.

He opened the message and gasped for air when he saw the official Committee signature. The message was short and didn't provide much information. He was apparently chosen for a top secret project and if he wanted to participate, he needed to come to some location on Beta-6. Why would they want him of all people? As far as he knew, scientific research received most funding, other areas like his had to live off scraps. Maybe they discovered some pre-shattering relics they need help deciphering?

There was no point in trying to guess. He didn’t know what to do - he had made a lot of progress here and there still was a lot more to do, but could he afford to decline such opportunity? He already knew he couldn’t. He had to go and see what this top secret thing was about.


The ship was beautiful, elegant piece of metal, sitting in the middle of the spaceport. Omega didn’t have much time to appreciate it when the Minions chosen to go with her on the mission brought her inside, but later she connected to the Network and looked up the schematics and images. Equipped with the latest stable model of the engines and deflector shields to help avoid damage from tiny asteroids and pieces of debris, that were floating around almost everywhere in the system. No weapons though. While the Directorate had access to some rather advanced weapon systems, this was a diplomatic mission. And if they were to be killed and the ship captured, no unnecessary technology will fall into the hands of the enemy.

One could say that Omega was nervous. And even though being nervous was an illogical waste of energy, she found herself worried about the outcome of the meeting. The male Minion carried her to her chair, helped her sit comfortably and started to prepare connection to the communication system. “Thank you,” she whispered and he looked at her with a surprise. He stared for maybe a second and then just nodded his head and continued working.

‘That was weird,’ Omega thought. The Minions usually didn’t react like this, most of the time they didn’t react at all, usually just nodding or smiling was enough. This one seemed different. She pushed the thought aside for now, because her guest was almost here. The Minion finished connecting her to the communication device and left the room. She looked over the device - it seemed to be just a computer screen, but it allowed her to convert her thoughts directly into text and voice. She could talk normal way, but it was too exhausting for longer conversations. This was much more comfortable, even though it took her a lot of time to learn how to use it and not project every random thought that drifted through her mind, it was worth the effort.

Omega knew there are some highly trained assassins outside of the ship and that they are ready to eliminate anyone on her order. Of course, if her guest decided to harm her, it wouldn’t do her much good, but she didn’t think that was going to happen.

***

Tilak was nervous. He tried to look as confident as possible, but he couldn't get his hands to stop shaking. Finally, he was about to find out what this top secret mission was, and what did level seven even mean.

He followed the instructions to find a ship, a very different kind than the one that brought him to Beta-6. That one was a common freighter, designed to efficiently haul cargo and passengers from one place to another. This ship seemed to provide certain level of comfort to its passengers, along with decent speed and safety. The ship’s interior confirmed his thoughts. It looked like a luxurious condo.

He was stopped by two men, who searched him for weapons. Shivers ran down Tilak’s spine when he recognized the signs on their shoulders. The Indigo squad, most elite assassins in the Blue Order. One of them led him through the hallways, stopping in front of one door and gesturing Tilak to enter.

Tilak took a deep breath and went inside. The room was dim, lit mostly by screens and monitors. There was a small figure sitting in a chair, surrounded by wires. Tilak came closer and saw it is a young girl, very thin and pale, looking very sick. She was watching him carefully.

“Welcome, officer Tilak.” The voice seemingly came out of nowhere, synthesized by the computer, but the girl smiled slightly at him, so he knew she was the one talking. Still it was creepy to hear her speak without actually moving her lips. “We have much to discuss.”

She started talking and his world got turned upside down. A few minutes later he was sitting on the ground, his head spinning from the trillions of questions running around in his mind.

So all he believed about the government was a lie? Entire Directorate was controlled by these mysterious Masters? Looking at it from different sides, he realized it doesn't really matter - he was used to following orders, they were just coming from different places now.

The other part was much more interesting. Other sentient beings, even while civilizations? And he of all people has been chosen for the first contact with them? He couldn't wrap his head around that.

“Master? Umm, mistress? Umm…” ‘She must think I'm a complete idiot.’

“Just call me Omega,” the computer voice replied. She was still smiling, that was a good sign. Hopefully.


“Omega. I was wondering, out of all people in the Directorate…” He wanted to add the pretty part about his last operation turning into a disaster, but remembering how well did that work with the chief, he bit his lip instead and left the sentence unfinished.

“Why did I choose you? Despite your recent accomplishments?” Her grin got wider. Tilak stared at her. She knew all about it and she was making fun of him. He didn't know whether to be glad or angry, but it was somewhat comforting to know that this being had a sense of humor. “I apologize, that was inappropriate. I needed someone I could trust, who will follow orders while keeping open mind, who isn't as rigid and arrogant like many of your colleagues are. Believe it or not, I was chosen for similar reasons.

Now to our mission. You will act as a representing voice for the Directorate, we can discuss the details later. The existence of the Masters must remain a secret. This part of the ship is shielded from any scans, no one will be able to detect me here. We have some time before our next companion arrives, so I suggest you use that time for studying these files.”

Tilak nodded absent-mindedly. There was so much to think about, so many thoughts in his head. He came closer to Omega to download the files into his tablet, trying very hard not to stare at her. She looked so fragile, like her tiny arms could break from a faintest breath of wind.

She tilted her head and her eyes narrowed. “Do I repulse you?”

Tilak ran his hand through his hair nervously. He felt like she could read his mind, looking at him like that. And who knows, perhaps she could. Would she order those two guys outside to dump his body into a garbage collector somewhere if she didn't like his answer? “No. I just thought you look very… vulnerable.”

“Yes, that is one of the many disadvantages,” she sneered.

Tilak nodded, even though he had just a faint idea of what was she talking about. He downloaded the files and turned to her, not sure what to say.

Omega smiled. “You will do fine,” she said in a hoarse whisper. Her own voice.

***

The crew was getting the ship ready for takeoff. Omega, hidden in a secret part of the ship, was connected to the its systems and double checking everything was in order. She couldn’t connect to the Collective Network anymore, and she sort of missed it, but she had downloaded all information that might be relevant to a private database, thus creating her own tiny version of the Network.

She went through the feed from security cameras. The two members of the Indigo squad remained on board, they will be going along, disguised as members of the crew. The rest of the crew - captain, navigator and a mechanic had no idea Omega existed. To them, Tilak was a leader of this expedition.

Omega could see professor Kabiri walking around the ship, looking excitedly at everything. She was originally worried about how he was going to take the news, but it seemed like he didn’t care about the politics at all. He was absolutely consumed by the exciting opportunity to communicate with other civilizations, ignoring everything else in the process. After she told him everything, he asked if the ship has a name. She had to laugh. Out of all questions, he asks that. When she gave him the ship’s identification number, he frowned and proposed it be named Athena. Apparently that was something from pre-shattering mythology. Omega agreed, if only to keep him happy.

As the engines were starting, she disconnected from all systems and closed her eyes, enjoying the relative quiet in her brain.

***

When the ship launched, Kayl closed his eyes and scratched the tattoo on his face. Damn, was he in some serious trouble. It all started as a risky but simple mission - pretend to be a Minion and get placed into one the hidden and extremely well guarded safehouses. Very dangerous and kinda dull work, but orders were orders. And the plan worked, soon he uncovered one of the biggest secrets that the governments was hiding - the existence of these twisted creatures, the Masters.

He patiently waited for an opportunity to pass a message out, meanwhile hacking into the systems the Masters were using to communicate and trying to get as much information out of it as possible. It was fascinating how much control they had over the society and how they managed to keep it a secret. ‘But so can we,’ Kayl thought with pride. He did notice that the Masters already knew about the Fist of Justice, but fortunately they couldn’t find any solid evidence about its members.

To actually live amongst the Minions was excruciatingly boring experience, to the point that Kayl sometimes doubted the Fist’s mission to give them equal rights. They didn’t seem to care about their rights, in fact they seemed so happy they can serve. Kayl had a lot of problems pretending that, but until now, he had been successful. What has he gotten himself into? Being a member of a secret organization seemed like a fun way to kill time, but how did he get from that to being a double agent in one of the most secret places in the Directorate?

And now he was on a ship flying devil knows where, he didn’t have time to get any messages out, and what’s worse, that Master girl caught him off guard today. He had no idea if she was onto him, but it was possible. He had to find out what was happening.

Tick advancement is now T1. Graphical update on Tuesday

Within the lights of Rayleigh

A group of long legged Splinders nest themselves on a child with orange skin, a common feature of the people of Rayleigh and they feel their home for their next move. Their legs are at worst ticklish for the kid who points at a statue of the legendary admiral Tras of Rayleigh- the founder of the Constructivist Party and the admiral who unified the Domain after decades of chaos. The kid knows himself to be a descendant of her- like many folks of Rayleigh who were born from her eggs stored by the hundreds that have matured into thousands of people over the past century who make up the upper classes of Reyleigh’s society- the segment that isn’t made of other Domain folk and their corporations anyhow.

The Spindlers themselves scuttle across the concrete ground and cover the statue as the kid wanted, just to imagine what she looked like with her loyal cluster of Spindlers who extended her will across a whole space fleet. The webs of a few spiders were able to outmaneuver the fleets of the Domain itself, for as they divided themselves Tras with her Spindlers unified the rest of the Domain into the Constructivist party. The kid feels the weight of that legacy, or at least the weight of the spindlers returning to his body to rest on his back and arms. The Spindlers are small and mature faster, but for a kid it is still an extra several pounds even someone as strong a kid as himself must work through. The bright skies have made the boy embrace the light and thanks to his vision being used to staring into the sun, he does so. It is always so bright. And always so colorful out there.

The boy does not have parents, just spindlers who mutually guide his way. And so they do, guiding him down a path to the communal housing where he and many other kids of multiple races live in peace. For now, anyhow.

Everyone knows that the stability on the local level is always betrayed by the chaos in the grand scheme of things- but the boy can ignore that, he has more pressing matters to do such as learning to use his spindlers properly.