“Careful there. We may not eat, but I still have teeth.” Senjen remarked when Light tapped his jaw. He was capable of speaking or making any other sound without moving his mouth at all, though Utaysi usually ended up doing so anyway. He had found that aliens were sometimes surprised at how many parts they constructed their frames with that were vestigial for machines, or how many mannerisms they had that were “unnecessary”, or just inefficient. What was strange to them just felt natural to the Utaysi.
After the tentacle moved away, Senjen tapped a claw to the side of his head. “The data’s tucked away safe, hidden with a bunch of other garbage. It’s encrypted anyway, and no, I didn’t try to access it.”
Senjen detached himself from the wall as well after they arrived in-system. “And speaking of garbage…” He muttered as he cast his gaze around the control room. While Light brought them in, he pushed himself closer to the center of the room to start gathering up the collection of loose objects that had shaken free and secure them somewhere. Fourteen Factories was a station that simulated gravity, so the automated systems broadcasted warnings to secure loose cargo on approach.
For large-scale shipping, loading and unloading in microgravity was more efficient, but only for ships that followed standardized templates which meshed well with automated procedures. Microgravity was more trouble than it was worth for dealing with small, privately-owned freighters like their own. The station broadcast a rather precise path for their vessel to follow to match the rotation of the station itself, though any decent autopilot could follow a simple flight plan. In fact, the station enforced strict regulations against the use of manual controls within its vicinity, as all incoming and outgoing traffic was AI directed for optimal efficiency, not to mention safety. Looking at the displays as they drew near, it was not hard to see why. The sheer number of ships coming and going to the station could make space feel crowded. Nearing the docking bay itself, the autopilot brought them in close enough to other “lanes” of traffic that Senjen could read the lettering painted on their hulls just through their own cameras.
Once in the docking bay and matched in velocity to the station’s rotation, their ship was “caught” by magnetic clamps and its engines immediately powered down so they could be pulled into position on their designated landing pad. The station itself was massive, and was arranged in ringed layers radiating out from its center. The perceived centrifugal force from the station’s rotation was what mimicked the force of gravity, at about sixty percent of the planet’s surface gravity. It was more than enough to prevent the docking bay from being filled with random loose objects from the veritable crowd of ships it hosted on any given day.
Senjen’s claws were latched onto what became the ceiling once their ship began to experience the station’s “gravity”, but he was actually rather graceful in dropping down and flipping over onto his feet once they were stationary. Right away, he moved back into the hold to start getting their cargo ready for unloading. “Say, is that gel suit of yours still good for a vacuum? It doesn’t look as, uh, ‘healthy’ as some others I’ve seen...if that’s the word for it.” Senjen asked. It was not practical for the station to repeatedly pressurize and depressurize chambers large enough to accommodate entire ships, so it was the responsibility of the crews of private freighters to be able to handle work in a vacuum.
Senjen floated his way into the cockpit, up towards the opposite wall from Light, and found a spot to latch his claws onto to anchor him again while he looked more closely at the displays. Psychologically speaking, Utaysi were natural climbers. It was instinct for them to be able to orient themselves as they pleased in three-dimensional space, and so their ships tended to lack any particular bias for up or down. He had read QV ships were the same, and evidently, so were whichever species had constructed this one.
Senjen was oriented upside-down in relation to his QV client. He tilted his head, looking down onto him for a moment. Out of all the aliens he had been learning of, he found the QV to be one of the most interesting just to look at. According to the archives they had recovered, sea creatures that somewhat resembled them had once inhabited the deep oceans of their homeworld, before the extinction. With no skeleton or shell and so many independent tentacles, their movements could be mesmerizing, and he imagined that was what it was like for those extinct creatures as well. His homeworld was a beautiful place, but it was lacking in biodiversity, and unless the Utaysi decided to intervene and seed new species themselves, it would be for tens of thousands of years.
“Sure I can, if you have a robot on-hand with enough processing power, that has been formatted to accommodate a Utaysi personality matrix.” Senjen answered. A metallic clanging briefly echoed through the room as he lightly struck his hand against his chestplate. “This is the only frame I own, right now.”
For a short time, Senjen’s gaze settled on the display that was charting out their course towards towards Korit. He connected with his frame’s onboard computer and double-checked his account. “Yeah, I have the fees and everything. I haven’t been here before, so how, uh...does this work, exactly? I’ve heard there isn’t much that is actually illegal on Korit, so is there anything we need to worry about with this package? Is it customs we need to keep it hidden from, or someone else?”
Interstellar Space en route to Korit – 2 years ago
Senjen was in the doorway to the cockpit of his client’s ship, idly observing the readouts and displays around him. It was safe to say that he only theoretically understood how to pilot a starship. He felt reasonably confident he could figure it out if he had to, but he did not have practice with it. If the patterns he had noticed since leaving his homeworld were anything to go by, most aliens would probably just expect him to be able to plug into the computer directly and pilot it with his mind. Sure, some Utaysi could probably do that, but it still had to be learned. He had the impression that most of the organics expected them to be like AIs they had created, or some other hyper-advanced programs. He supposed the second one was technically true for them, but that did not mean he wanted to spend his days contemplating the nature of existence or...doing math.
Ninety-two years. That was how long it had been since the Utaysi had made first contact, by their homeworld’s counting. It was almost a lifetime for some of the species out there, but they were still the newest civilization to this galaxy. Subtract the time it had taken to study languages, establish diplomatic contact, and learn enough about outside cultures that they could understand the aliens in more than just words, and there had been even less time for the galaxy to grow accustomed to their new mechanical neighbors. It had been about forty-five years since Utaysi citizens had become free to travel to alien worlds, but it was still very much more the exception than the rule. As they had learned, the state of galactic politics was...tumultuous, at best. Senjen might have considered himself a pioneer, an explorer, except he was pretty sure one could not be an explorer if the places he “explored” already had people living in them.
The claws on Senjen’s foot grasped the frame of the doorway to keep him anchored in place. His client was a Quelun-Vosh. Their ships were usually filled with water, or some kind of gel, from his understanding, but this ship didn’t seem to have been made by them. It was filled with air instead, though at least not oxygenated. Part of him sort of wished it had been water, if only to let him experience swimming for the first time in his life. Normally, his frame would sink like a brick in water, but out here in zero-G, he could have moved through it all as if floating. Granted, it would still be more effective just to pull himself along or push off the walls, but it would have been amusing for a while. Regardless, after a moment, he pushed himself farther into the cockpit and made a quick sound to grab his client’s attention.
“So this ‘Korit’ place, what’s it like? Any...specific threats we, or, um-...I need to keep a lookout for? For your safety.” Senjen asked. His frame was, like most Utaysi, constructed in the image of their organic creators. It was painted deep blue with some white accents on his arms and back, though it was somewhat faded and chipped in some places, revealing the dull metallic color underneath. At base, it was one of the most popular mass-produced civilian models, though he had bought it used. It was meant for general-purpose living, so it was unremarkable by any Utaysi standard. Fortunately, the Utaysi themselves were still a bit exotic by default out in the galaxy. As a part of preparing himself for galactic travel, he had installed some upgrades onto his frame, one of which were a set of lights integrated into his casing to put on a similar sort of light show as the QV’s bioluminescence. He did not have the slightest idea himself what they actually meant, but they synced to his translation program. And they were pretty to look at, at least.
Korit – The settlement of the planet of Korit began almost two thousand years ago, and was among the first serious attempts at terraforming. Strictly speaking, it was habitable in its original state, but not to any known intelligent species. It was a largely frozen world across the vast majority of its surface, with temperatures too low to be survivable outside of environment-controlled habitats or suits. The planet itself was geologically active, however. Deep-sea vents could be found under the frozen surface of its oceans, as well as numerous geothermal springs on the surface. Extremophile lifeforms could thrive in such regions, though the world was otherwise a frozen wasteland. Atmospheric oxygen was present at a concentration which was not breathable, but close enough that modifying the atmosphere was considered feasible, long-term.
Following a proposed plan by an organization of well-respected Tekeri planetary scientists, the initial terraforming efforts were picked up in partnership with a Tekeri mining company. The planet was rich with easily-accessible mineral wealth, and the mining operations could both fuel and fund the terraforming process, as the first step to make the world more livable was to raise its average temperature. As such, the first settlers largely worked the mining operation, living in artificial habitats. The mining technology used was designed to maximize carbon dioxide output to begin raising the proportions of greenhouse gasses in the atmosphere. The operation proved especially profitable, and so over decades was able to expand significantly across the planet’s surface. Part of the profits funded facilities which could emit more efficient greenhouse gasses, and accelerate the slow warming of the planet.
Korit was at the far fringes of Tekeri territory and was still far from livable, but the rapidly-growing demand for labor still attracted those willing to live on the frontier. A significant portion of these laborers ended up being war refugees from a conflict that had sprung up between the Tekeri and one of their neighbors. It was, for the company, a boon that further accelerated their operations...for a time. The war went sour for the Tekeri, and the supply of cheap, petroleum-based fuels they had been importing was interrupted. Korit itself was never attacked, but many of the markets they shipped to ended up blockaded. The operation did not cease, but its profitability diminished considerably. By the time the war came to its end, the company was close to insolvent. Ordinarily, the end of the war might have allowed them to recover by resuming operations, but the Tekeri had taken enough losses in the war that they were no longer able to provide any measure of security or other support for the colony. With no governments support, the company had little choice but to pull out of the endeavor.
Unfortunately for the colonists, the company also did not have the means to evacuate the many, many workers that now inhabited a still-unlivable world, and it was but one crisis of many the Tekeri government was being forced to contend with. Many of those with the means left to return to civilization, but many, many more were trapped. Well-founded panic spread that the colonists would be overrun by pirates and other outlaws, conquered by the very enemy the Tekeri had fought, or perish as their habitats eventually failed. However, none of those catastrophes came to pass. In the absence of the company, the de facto leader of the colony, Administrator Setia, began to make deals of her own. A savvy negotiator herself, she managed to bargain with the pirates who would have looted their facilities to instead provide protection, and she cut a deal with a Human world for fuel to be able to resume their mining operations. Her deal locked them into trading exclusively with a single Human world at what was, for them, a rather mediocre price for seventy years, and the lion’s share of those already-diminished profits had to go to paying off the outlaws for protection, but it allowed their mines to once again open. It allowed their colony to avert disaster, and to keep pushing on. The colonists restructured their administration into a proper government, and Setia was elected as their first governor in a landslide.
For a lifetime, the colony was barely scraping by, though that also meant they attracted little attention from outside forces, even if they were essentially funding piracy on the fringes of society for decades. Over time, however, they were able to steadily re-open mines that had been shut down during the war. They were locked into low sale prices for what they produced, but their infrastructure could recover. Eventually, the contracts the pirates were offered for defense became more profitable and less risky than piracy, so what were once outlaws transitioned into a defense force. When their exclusivity contract ended and they could once again trade with different worlds at market price, their growth returned to pre-war rates.
Without the support of the Tekeri government, Korit had to see to its own immigration. To grow its labor force, they offered citizenship to any who could come work. No background checks, no questions asked, and any who came could be essentially guaranteed employment. The world became a haven for the desperate, for criminals on the run, and for the persecuted. They cared little for the species or cultures from which they immigrated, only that they did not cause enough trouble to harm business. With such loose restriction and regulation, and being so far out in the frontier, the culture of those who came to inhabit the planet eventually shifted to fiercely value independence.
For the planet itself, centuries after centuries of continuous effort did finally end up achieving the desired result. Greenhouse gasses were like a blanket over the formerly frozen world, raising its average temperatures enough to become habitable, then finally comfortable for its inhabitants. It was once the frozen oceans had melted that the next phase of terraforming could truly begin. Although no longer under Tekeri control, the organizations that now claimed the world still had a strong incentive to follow through on the original plans. Genetically-engineered phytoplankton species were seeded into the planet’s oceans to maximize oxygen production. At the same time, many types of plant life and other organisms were introduced wherever they would grow. In most places, that was moss-like plants and lichen, while around settlements, they created and fertilized topsoil artificially to be able to grow more complex plant life. The atmosphere was still not naturally breathable to most, but the planet was rapidly becoming greener and greener. Environment suits were no longer needed to walk on the surface, and since an efficient breathing apparatus could extract and concentrate enough oxygen from the atmosphere that oxygen tanks were not required, settlements no longer needed to be entirely hermetically sealed.
Present day, Korit’s biosphere is fully-habitable. Its flora and fauna was sourced a number of worlds, and the selection was tailored to be ideal to exist alongside civilization. Given the world’s origins, it is little surprise that so much political power is now held by what most of the galaxy would consider to be a criminal enterprise. The planet is not “lawless”, per ce, but it is as close as one can be without complete anarchy. There is little to no regulation on most forms of business, which has made it a useful place for foreign governments to unofficially sponsor business or research that would not be publicly accepted on their own worlds. Korit is a planet known to be a beautiful tourist destination with idyllic resorts in hand-crafted natural environments, which masks rampant crime and exploitation by corporate entities. All the while, the independent streak of its natives is still strong to this day.
Intelligent Species:
A flightless bird-like species. They are tall in stature, and most often have deep black feathers. They have vicious, serrated beaks and two pairs of eyes, one just above and behind the other (similar to this). The Tekeri are a predator species and were originally pack hunters. They have powerful bodies granting them considerable strength and, in combination with their relatively lightweight frame, equally considerable speed, at the cost of being inherently more fragile than other creatures of their size.
More unique than their physical attributes is a particular mental trait of the Tekeri. Their minds are “wired” particularly efficiently towards analyzing and understanding the social and emotional cues of other creatures. This, of course, includes one another, allowing them to quickly and accurately understand the emotional state of other Tekeri. However, their hyperempathy is sophisticated enough to even apply to non-Tekeri. Obviously, their ability to interpret the cues of other species is not immediate, but they are capable of learning to understand their cues as innately as if they were Tekeri, so as long as their senses are capable of perceiving them. On their home planet, they were capable of domesticating a remarkable number of animal species as a result, and have continued to do so as their civilization has expanded into the stars. Despite a physical appearance which some might find intimidating, their ability to both understand other species and express themselves in ways that can be mutually understood eliminated a good deal of the friction of interspecies relations for them. They are more prone to pursue negotiation and diplomacy to address problems in order to best utilize the advantages they possess.
Occasionally, a Tekeri will hatch with a mutation to their hyperempathy. Rather than focusing their mental capabilities towards analyzing social cues, the section of their brain dedicated to that task becomes more generalized to analyze sensory input, as well as more abstract concepts. These minds absorb new information quickly, and are exceptionally creative. Historical figures suspected to have this mutation have stood out as scientists, inventors, artists, strategists, and so on, though they often find it more difficult to fit in to their society. Their comparative difficulty in understanding the cues of other Tekeri makes socialization more difficult for them, and they do not tend to behave as their peers would expect. Depending on cultures and time periods, these mutant Tekeris have experienced treatment ranging from pity, to ostracism, or worse. The most prevalent, modern Tekeri cultures tend to be more accepting and value their capabilities, but that does not help them to overcome their natural challenges to fitting in with normal Tekeri.
Most Tekeri cultures which have survived to modern day hold a uniquely strong reverence for nature, from the flora and fauna of a planet, to the natural order of the universe itself. A prominent way of life holds in reverence nature spirits, and seeks to encourage a “good life” by bringing one in tune with their own true nature. It is not an organized religion and there is no church to spread its tenets, but is nevertheless a spiritual belief system that has survived. Many Tekeri no longer believe in the supernatural, but nevertheless still strongly respect nature and hold to elements of the way of life that their beliefs imparted onto their culture over millennia.
As their technology advanced, some Tekeri cultures did see contradictions between embracing the natural order versus embracing their new creations, with some taking a rather rigid stance against allowing technology to interfere with a way of life living in nature. Others, however, adapted their beliefs to their new capabilities, and ultimately, those who embraced technology could easily out-compete those who did not. Nevertheless, they never completely eschewed nature in almost any aspect of their way of life. A Tekeri city might become a part of a forest, for instance, rather than replacing it. They might cut only what is absolutely necessary, while leaving the rest of the forest standing among their buildings. Particularly with modern technology, they prefer their buildings be connected high up, rather than at ground level, so that the ground can remain unpaved and in its natural state. Their settlements are organized not to keep out the wilds, but to co-exist within them. Even their starships, at least the habitation modules, will often be home to all manner of gardens and free-roaming animals. The halls might give more of an impression of walking through a log cabin than an advanced spacefaring vessel, even if it is more of an artificial facade.
Strictly speaking, the Utaysi are not a “species”, at least not anymore. The original Utaysi were a reptilian species that, ultimately, failed to overcome one of the great hurdles to becoming a truly spacefaring species. A challenge that they, like several other species, faced in their development was a side effect of their widespread industrialization, as their carbon emissions produced a runaway greenhouse effect which steadily warmed their planet. While the problem was identified early, a decisive solution was much more difficult for them to implement. Political and religious opposition slowed support for impactful research until it was far too late to halt it, and a lack of cooperation between nations sabotaged efforts to reverse the damage before they could even get off the ground. As environmental pressures worsened, many nations abandoned the lofty goal of saving the planet in favor of the much more “practical” notion of surviving the changes. Some nations had certain resources or other advantages that might have made it possible, but others were not going to simply accept eradication. Alliances were forged, rivalries ignited, and eventually wars were fought over vital resources. Regardless of who won, their hope of a future had been one of the first casualties.
Amid the many disparate reactions their people had to the worsening cataclysm, there were some who accepted that there would be neither escape nor survival, but still found purpose to preservation. Spread out among remote corners of their world, various organizations found enough support to create bunkers, buried, hidden, and insulated from the chaos outside, that could preserve something that might be of use to whoever might survive. Some became time capsules for seeds and genetic material to try and save some of their world’s rapidly dying species. Some sought to preserve knowledge: the histories and cultures of an entire species. And in one corner of their dying world, one group managed to find a way to preserve a legacy.
The project had originated as an effort to use artificial intelligence to find some solution to heal their climate. It was a project that spanned over half a century of concentrated, desperate research by some of their world’s top minds in AI development, not to mention the experts in other scientific fields who worked with them to try and produce real solutions. Some progress was made, enough to secure investment and resources for them. More than once, they found answers that would have worked had they been implemented just a few decades sooner. As the world changed around them, and the hope for survival diminished, however, their priorities shifted. The core research team revived a proposal that had been made decades earlier to create AI that could survive a world their civilization could not, in the hopes that they could nurture a new civilizations from the survivors centuries, or even millennia down the line. Their facility had been built to last, and with the right modifications, could be made self-sufficient under AI caretakers. Naturally, the proposal did not gain as much support as their earlier efforts, but it gained enough from the right people.
After failing to provide a solution to their climate crisis, the earlier, more traditional AIs had been appropriated and repurposed for other tasks, but they all had decades of research and advancement behind them to push a new path forward. What they wanted was not something purely analytical, but something that could nurture a new civilization from the ashes of what was left behind. It needed to be able to understand and empathize with the survivors to help guide their path forward. They needed to create something closer to life itself. The more they worked as the years passed, the more they refined and iterated, the more that aspect of their goal came front and center. Their team redefined how they thought about artificial life, especially as their prospects for their own species became more and more dismal. The condition of their planet’s environment degraded more quickly and more severely than they had anticipated. For their future, they began to contend with the possibility that there would be no survivors left to guide. That reality is what gave rise to their project’s final iteration.
The breakthrough came from the project lead, Marae Ano. She was able to perfect a process that could only be described as a programming miracle to create what was essentially an artificial reconstruction of the Utaysi mind. An empty slate, a mind without memories or experience, but a mind nonetheless. The team used the process to create more, though they could not make too many. They were not like traditional AI and could not simply have information and skills installed. They had to be taught, their memories made and skills learned through experience. They needed to be raised as one would raise children, and while shorter than a normal childhood, it still took them years.
In the end, the project’s scientists had spent the majority of their adult lives working towards their species’ survival, and one-by-one, every potential answer they had found had faded away into a sea of “not enough” and “too late”. Yet, at the end of these long careers, they had not been left with nothing. Their facility had long since lost contact with the outside world. What had once been once-in-a-lifetime natural disasters were now simply the weather above ground. Every environment from the sea to the poles had been disrupted beyond recognition, and it had been years since they had even picked up a signal on their radio, until they finally shut it off for good. Their world had been beyond saving, but they could still look upon their legacy behind mechanical eyes. The facility was equipped with everything their creations would need to survive this mass extinction, and to go out and claim the world that would follow. They forged bodies for themselves, modeled after their creators, and were ready to wait out a thousand-year storm. The research team, for their lifetime of toil and perseverance, became the last of their species to be granted a peaceful retirement. They lived the twilight years of their lives in well-earned rest, being cared for by their creations. Marae survived the longest, and though she spent years as the last living Utaysi, her final words were that she did not die alone.
For the AI, the extinction of the Utaysi had been an inevitability they had been expecting for decades, yet they still felt hardly prepared for the emotional burden it placed upon them. Some still held out hope that there might be survivors out somewhere in their world, even though their projections placed it as a slim hope. There had certainly been efforts elsewhere in the world to create shelters to outlast the mass extinction, and there was always the possibility that they had accomplished breakthroughs to succeed in that effort. If not, then they would be their world’s only sapient survivors. They decided their only choice was to wait, to keep their facility in good repair, and to survive. They had a wealth of scientific and engineering knowledge, as well as where to look for further archives once they surfaced. If the worst came to pass, they knew how to rebuild, and they could carry on the name of the Utaysi.
The wait for a world to heal was a long one, and fortunately for the Utaysi, they had an advantage in hibernation their organic progenitors lacked, so they could avoid the torture of living lifetime after lifetime in an unchanging facility. They were not like traditional AIs that could be limitlessly patient. Those centuries of monotony could have well driven them mad had they been forced to endure it. They desired excitement, exploration, discovery. It was not enough to exist, they needed to live. They awoke only occasionally for maintenance and to run repairs. A few times, they even had to mount expeditions to the surface for materials, but their facility was equipped to fabricate frames to accomplish whatever tasks they needed.
Even for all of their mistakes, the Utaysi’s progenitors could not have destroyed their world forever. After a long enough wait, extreme weather became more manageable, and the life that had survived began again to reclaim the world. The Utaysi could handle environments much less pleasant than most organic life, so they were able to begin their explorations even before the world was stable. They followed their plans, laid out by their creators and amended over countless years of observation. They scouted new territory, secured useful resources, constructed new settlements beyond their facility, and expanded their own numbers once the situation permitted. Their priority was to expand patiently and responsibly, but they also sought out the remains of what their creators left behind. Archive facilities they knew about were quick to be search to recover their knowledge and anything else they had preserved. Some hoped to find facilities with still-living members of the original Utaysi species, but it was a slim hope after so much time. They did indeed discover the bunkers of desperate projects that sought to wait out the storm, but none had been able to last nearly long enough. Ultimately, their creators had gone extinct, but they still had a future ahead of them. Their future would be to claim the planet, to heal it, and to eventually explore the universe that lay beyond that world.
As AI, the Utaysi are software, though their programming structure is quite unlike any traditional artificial intelligence. Rather than being made for rapid calculations and analysis, their software architecture much more strongly resembles and organic mind, with a matching capacity for creative thought. Although, detailed analysis of their personality constructs is notoriously difficult, if not impossible. Their programming is almost like a black box that does not allow for observation into its inner functioning, even for the Utaysi themselves. Despite repeated attempts through their history to study the subject, the Utaysi do not understand how their own minds work. Their creation was the result of a breakthrough by the researcher Marae Ano, but the details of that process were either not recorded in the facility’s databanks, or had been intentionally deleted. Given the otherwise high quality of record keeping at the facility, it is generally accepted that the decision not to preserve the secrets of the Utaysi’s creation was an intentional decision by Marae, for reasons at which can only be speculated. Utaysi cannot create new personality constructs from scratch, but rather utilize an advanced genetic algorithm for reproduction, which was also originally created by Marae Ano to interface with their minds.
A Utaysi can inhabit any computer with sufficient processing power to run its personality construct, but most prefer artificial bodies reminiscent of their original organic creators. Their progenitors were a reptilian species with lean, powerful bodies built to be able to transition seamlessly between quadrupedal and bipedal movement. They had long tails that comprised almost half their length on all-fours and were quite adept climbers. Fundamentally, it is in such bodies where they feel most comfortable, and some have experienced psychological distress from spending too long in machines that are too dissimilar. It is suspected that, since their personality constructs were modeled after their progenitors’ minds, they hold aspects of their instincts in their programming. Although, there is evidence that their constructs were tweaked from those organic origins in some ways to make their psychology more accepting of their artificial nature, as they can still handle transfer between bodies more easily than one would expect from an organic mind. There are even a minority of Utaysi who seem able to adopt drastically different forms without noticeable negative effects.
By itself, a Utaysi personality construct cannot think considerably faster than most intelligent organic species. They can access an external computer to assist their thought processes for quicker data analysis, though it is not fundamentally different from how an organic can utilize cybernetic implants to the same end. Naturally, however, being software does allow them to link with other electronics more readily, without the need for expensive implants.
Feel free. I'm not one for attention myself, but I certainly won't stop you.
I can't help but to think of the sheer amount of things that happened in the story. Looking back, I probably would have been more concise, and do a lot of things differently. Also, I would keep a lot better notes. I don't blame myself too much, though, I was younger then and I do a lot of things in general better now.
I'm not sure, honestly. Part of me keeps wondering if there is something more I should add, but I think that might just be perfectionism. It is satisfying to have the story reach an actual conclusion.
I'll leave it up to you. The short of it is that it would be about giving a bit more closure to Lunise and Meesei. We do need to bring it to a conclusion, though, and I do want to make sure it is a satisfying one after all of this, so if you think either the current spot, or that scene would be a good conclusion, I'm okay with either.
“Hmm…” Ahnasha leaned back, supporting herself on her hands as her gaze went up towards the roof of the cavern far above them. The glowing fungus spread throughout Blackreach gave something approaching the appearance of stars above, though Ahnasha was fairly certain it was midday at the moment. One effect of living underground was that day and night tended to be indistinct. As good as their home had been to them all these years, she did still prefer open sky.
“I think any of these ‘common’ threats will be outright relaxing compared to what we’ve just been through. But it has been a while since we’ve been on that sort of a journey, hasn’t it? Well, I suppose the propylons will make it a lot easier to get around than last time, but...it should still make for a nice outing for him. I am curious to see how well he has been learning from his lessons.” There was, for a moment, a light frown across her expression. “We haven’t been as involved with him as we should have been recently. Preparing for the battle took so much from all of us, and we’ve been too distant.”
Despite a few clear regrets, Ahanasha seemed to quickly replace them with more hopeful thoughts. “We can now, though. That’s what matters. I think it’s fair that we give him some of the adventure he’s been missing out on.”
Ahansha went to pick up the glass of wine from beside her, and as she did so, the strangest feeling washed over her for just a moment. It was the quickest chill up her spine, and something she might have simply dismissed if she had not already been familiar with the magic at play. Time had just been interrupted, and there was only one group they knew with that sort of power. She gave a quick look around, and sure enough, Lunise was nowhere to be seen. Given the circumstances, she had hardly been the center of attention. She had been somewhat off on her own, content to simply be present. It would be easy enough for one to think that she had slipped away without notice, but Ahnasha knew better.
“Hmm, I suppose the Psijics still had something to say to her.” Ahnasha remarked softly to Fendros. With just a few moments’ pause, however, she soon smiled and raised a glass to him. “Well, whatever fate-of-the-world business they might have for her, I think I will sit it out for now.” She said, kissing his cheek. “So, where should we go first?”
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