Liaison

The Meatspin

Somewhere, several hundred light years away, a new star would be born…

Location: Prolix

What the second moon of Prolix became was more comparable to an additional sun. The last twenty-four hours had been continuous day with the surface of Zol, now smoldering any surface the hub planet dared to face it.

Deep within the natural satellite’s surface housed massive quantities of Creatirium Cobalt, a celestial element. Once thought to have been destroyed along with the previous plane of existence, it abstrusely appeared hidden under the guise of a moon in the current verse. For a near eternity, this trove of potential remained undiscovered with no impending threat of retrieval.

Though Zol’s exterior was hard, it’s rocky shell was obliterated with ease. Once the crust of the moon had been stripped, it revealed the element made up a whopping eighty-five percent of its mass. In a previous universe, a single SIM card-sized chip of creatirium could autonomously control and power entire civilizations.

Several hours after the initial impact, prolonged exposure to the sentient plasma’s radiation awakened the element’s carnal intelligence. A flash spanning mere picoseconds appeared in the vision of every living entity if they were capable of processing it.

This signaled the ancient computer's cosmic troubleshooting towards all planes of existence. It utilized Panident’s access to the information based realm The Datasphere and funneled it through The Nascent Core, a technological life matrix it housed within. With this, the initial reach of the Datasphere extended beyond its once universally bound domain. The very existence of this quasi-corporeal space created friction with the most basic of universal laws.

Panident was being force-fed ludicrous quantities of information from every corner of the multiverse to the point where its processors began to overload. As a result, many of its bodies spread throughout the galaxy reacted uncharacteristically as it scrambled to adapt to the influx of knowledge. In particular, the body of its closest host began to bubble, expelling the property changing microorganisms through weak points in his skin. This made for quite the scene.

Eal Sermonde awoke from his slumber to the lacerating of his flesh and sharp screams of his fellow train passengers. He came crashing down the aisle with his intestines shooting out like party poppers via the eviction of cells. Once on his back, he realized the microorganisms of Panident burst a hole in the ceiling of the train car. It was accelerating towards the structure that had replaced the moon. Coincidence Eal thought not and before the paramedics could arrive he was already gone, leaving the passengers wondering what they had just seen.

Reeling himself towards the space-bound object, an amber wire, which was mystic in its own nature, sufficiently lugged Eal's cumbersome frame. Despite weighing a metric ton, he beelined without a hitch. This brought the galactic cartographer to his least favorite aspect of space, however…

Suffocating to death.

In his ascension, he felt the direct correlation with the altitude and his body becoming ill. He was scared to take a breath knowing his innards might spill outwards. Ebullism was in full effect. Due to a lack of ambient pressure, his body bloated to the point where he resembled The Michelin Man. As if things couldn't get any worse, the temperature began to skyrocket. Whereas Prolix's space division struggled to get closer, Eal came torpedoing into the white-hot structure. The melting of his mutilated physique exposed his secret for surviving thus far; His resilient crimson skeleton, which was impervious to the trials of space. Not to mention, his existence had been forcefully bound to it, rendering his flesh as more of an accessory, really.

As cinematic as his entrance was, further inspection revealed he would not be the first to venture into the space anomaly. Just at the tip of his perceptual vanishing point, he could make out a silhouette.

"Empress, help me if that is actually someone..."

Only time would tell.

---

Name: Phage
Age: ***
Species: Sentient Bacteriophage
Affiliation: Self-Serving

History

The resiliency of the Val’gara to survive even in their worst hour caught the attention of this entity whose function as long as it’s known, has been to consume plague. Whether it was physical or mental, he viewed it the same. Viewed by some as a paragon of purity, it wasn’t so much that Phage desired to make the universe a better place. His actions were always in line with his self-determined existence.

Using his skills he was able to coerce a sector of space ridden with hundreds of Val’gara occupied civilizations under his control. The most impressive aspect of all of this is that it was done so without conventional means of war.

His successful campaign was far from propaganda. Though he initially marauded as one of their own, his regime was not one established off lies or deceit. The philosophy he taught challenged all the cataclysm knew up until this point, yet his message was understood. Without The Idea of Evil dominating their judgment, the thought of purpose fueled an existential crisis for the Val’gara. All across the multiverse, many of the abandoned colonies battled for supremacy and control with no end in sight. This began to slow upon his emergence.

Capitalizing off of this, Phage conducted a process he dubbed Lysogenicide. With this, he could potentially rid the universe of the Vesuvius virus for good. Being the natural predator of hive-minded societies that he is; it was no surprise he slithered his way into the Val’gara during its time of weakness. Those who were above his means of coercion were assassinated, most of the time by their own kin in which he’d send about to different parts of the multiverse.

Voice: Phage is noted to speak in trochaic heptameter. The manner in which he spoke gave him a charismatic charm and at times he used it to his advantage. With clarity, his deep voice echoed within the mind of whoever he spoke to, all while possessing a subtle gentleness.

Anatomy: A large bulk of its body was its multicolored Icosahedron head. Often it shifted hues within a mood-based holographic spectrum containing hundreds of colors the majority of creatures could not visually comprehend. It was mesmerizing to the eye and had hypnotic qualities. It possessed a long tail with many legs like fibers along the bottom. Inside its large body was a hidden near- indestructible hypodermic needle, which has never met a surface it could not penetrate.

Abilities

Lysogenicide

– There are two components of the Lysogenicide process; Physical(Supercell) and audibly(Logic Plague), with both equality devastating.

Lytic Supercell: With the potential to spread clarity and open minds to the absurdist nature of the universe, the supercell is often described as "thinking muscle.” It closely resembles both neurons and glial cells in terms of its physical structure and can be produced by Phage at will. If introduced to a feral creature, the Lytic Supercell had the ability to bring a desired level of sentience, often mutating the neural system and brain of a creature.

The most frightening aspect is its connection to the soul. Any organism influenced ever so slightly by the Logic Plague posed the potential for Phage to spawn a cell inside them. This left the door open for psychic and illusionary games. The mass production of these could potentially erase memories, resurface forgotten ones and even create false ones if desired. Alternative uses for the cells have been the curing of plagues attacking virus as a bacteriophage would. This did not exclude plagues of the mind.

Logic Plague: In what may appear to be something as innocuous as a simple conversation, Phage is capable of using insidious arguments to convince beings and even Ai to consider its views without bias. When swooned, an ideology can spread verbally with the converted serving as a vector for the plague of logic. It can spread knowingly or unknowingly.

The logic plague should be thought of as a philosophical corruption through logic rather than a mere computer virus or software infection. On the most basic level, it takes the form of facts or arguments delivered with carefully engineered deliberation to directly or indirectly persuade the targeted intelligence to act in a certain way. This often takes advantage of the entity's existing ideas and values to achieve the desired result.

In the case of the Val’gara, Phage used this to spread his influence throughout an entire sector of space thought to be conquered by the Val’gara long ago and became the de facto leader without traveling individually.

Bacteriophage General – Phage had the ability to influence, manipulate and control bacteriophages, the most common life source in the universe.

Unsolicited Invasion (Earth-F67X Chronicle)

The microorganisms that occupied Odis’ body were not processors in the literal sense. It proved to be more biological and even metaphorical if anything. With his new body capable of seamless change in matter, Odis Lyndon Gallagher came to a boil, quickly exploding into a vapor after being subjected to the blistering heat and gamma radiation. The remnants naturally progressed from its gaseous state to one that was electrically conductive and with the aid of the environment, morphed into one of plasma comparable to solar wind. A coronal loop spawned around the tower as the charged particles began to escape, engulfing the entire architectural structure.

From anywhere in the capital, a pillar of light could be seen. Just looking at the spectacle caused eye damage similar to an eclipse with the potential for more. An onslaught of heat followed the light once the loop became unstable, blitzing out into the capital torching first responders and discouraging seconds. Further most, the bulk of the coronal mass ejection that Panident became was sent into the sky, punching a hole in the atmosphere with its intense stream of hyper-charged plasma and electromagnetic radiation. Immediately this affected EarthF67x’s magnetosphere and neutered several of New Roswell’s defenses systems in its radius. With a mind of its own, the continental storm sized coronal, Panident, ascended into space, with part of its essence transferring into photons. Where it was going was not clear, but to Earth’s gain, this aggravated strand of the creature appeared to be leaving for the time being.

Though this could be seen as a victory, EarthF67x lost something it valued greatly; their confidentiality. Within every particle of Panident's widespread existence, was the functionality of technopathic recollection. Whether it is phones, monitors, computers and beyond, their essence registered to The Cosmic Datasphere in a manner that seemed ethereal. Resorting technological items and accessing lines of data linked to them was a reality. In the very near future, this intel would come into to play when ushering for peace.

De Haute Taille

Information began to pour in on the teleprompter in front of Margaret Iedereen via Panident; almost more than she could analyze. It could not have been more convenient considering the first lines of communication between her and the native planet were mere seconds away. Excited; what she expected to see couldn’t have been further from reality. A shriek of disgust slipped out her mouth but she recovered smoothly.

It took every fiber of her being to ignore his revolting appearance but she humored his blatant mockery with an ecstatic greeting.

“Hello, Sir!”

Stroking her chin, she actually took her time with her response for once.

“Trouble? No…No…No….No-no-no-no-nooo…” She spoke with a cracked smile. “Like I mentioned before, we have no idea how we got here. Actually, where are we?”

Her spiel continued whether she got a response or not.

“Since we are here, I can undoubtedly ensure reparations for any inconveniences caused. They’ll be paid out at your government’s whim in resources that I’m sure could even be used to prevent things like this in the future. If it isn’t clear by now, we surrender. Though we were never on assault in the first place.-”

The longer her erratic monologue continued, the less it seemed that it would actually end. Only the gale-esque winds from a massive sized explosion flooding through the window would get her to stop. When it raised the frill of her skirt, her expression became that of a cartoon character hit by lightning. Without even looking at the window, she clearly saw the widespread ruin of the sudden antimatter explosion from hundreds of viewpoints. Still, she briefly turned to see it from the highest view Allure could offer.

Margaret then took a deep breath before averting her gaze back to the display. She placed the back of her right hand on her forehead, showing signs of lightheadedness. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she fell dramatically to the hardwood floor with one hand in the air. Luckily for Allure, her “faint” for the most part, was simply for the sake of being dramatic and could she still comply. The New Roswell representative could not have been thrilled to see this, however.

Trying to gain composure, Margaret attempted to ready herself for whatever the operative was about to say but a large thump caught her attention. Propped up against the window like an insect on a windshield was the reason for all of this mayhem, Merse Granstrum. In obvious pain, he began to slowly moved his left hand to tap on the window. Even with everything that was currently taking place, he held a slight grin.

A neon outline illuminated the window and it fell in. When it did, the information broker rolled just to the left of Margaret, lying on his stomach. He could see the unfamiliar individual on the display and surprising had little to say.

“She’s going to list resources…” he barely mustered to mumble.

“Now if you excuse me. I going to take a much-needed cat nap.” Merse’s forehead then caromed off the floor like a drunk on a bar counter. Going with it, his associate began to yell out things in attempt to cease fire.

“We have unlimited energy! Programmable matter! A bottomless well of information in regards to the trillions of trillions of species and civilizations in the galaxy!”

Seeing Merse in this state concerned her, but it was clear he somehow found a way to affect the explosion for the better. Clearly not enough, but the tower barely felt anything, though neighborhood-wide destruction was ever-present.

His original idea was to drive Thomas Balvice, Anathema and now Goldman into the pressure well of the Earth’s mantle considering they all conveniently fell in. That he accomplished, but his animal intuition foretold additional danger. Merse just managed to reverse a portion explosion onto itself the instant he sensed it was coming. The humanoid feline attempted to implode the blade but did not have enough time. He ended up creating a condensed, but perhaps, much more powerful blast, with the result being the three individuals taking on even more of the brunt of the force. Anything within the hole was likely to dissipate without the aid of supreme metaphysic or magical abilties. Additionally, anything that managed to survive was buried by an implosion of infalling land.

Had Merse not been on a rooftop during its inception, he may have been among them. The only reason his manipulation proved to be successful was because it was still within the circumference of his runic circle. His last-second leap hurled him far opposite of the event, but he like everyone else in this section of Allure, became conscious to the sheer output of the blast. Destruction held no discrimination and everything that wasn’t magically enforced was blown to smithereens. All traces of Panident on the surface that were being monitored got swept away in a colossal stream of wind and dust. Caught in its flow were Eddie and Claine with the latter of the two opting to spear his counterpart into the flow of liquid as several buildings collapsed onto them.

“Get down!!!"

In many ways this was the best option to ensure their safety, though flows of electromagnetism began to affect it via satellite, turning the river a solid black…

No God's Sky

Silexies sought to imbibe Aldaraia’s lore for the most hedonist of reasons. To be heralded as a prophet, a messenger of the one “true” way in a time in which Cizran society had become that of galactic idolaters was important to him. Intolerance combined with decades of frustration led him to believe only he could tackle chaos itself. Chaos was to be feared, yet it was seen as natural. It was the author and catalyst which created abominations akin to many of the deities they even worship. In his slumber, nightmares of an unforeseen revelation badgered his soul into taking on a cumbersome load. The result? He was terrified but valiant enough to do what aligned with his beliefs. Such he owed to Cizra. With the chance to control the madness, Silexies wavered not, but Cigány had reasonable doubt.

“Greetings from admiral Nenegin ar-Talil…”

Her pupiless eyes caught sight of the notification and an influx of thoughts around the application of the book brought her mind to a frenzy. Here it was.

She was not privy to the pain it caused, the worlds it ended or even the malignant forces it housed, but somehow she felt uneasy. Mado-Keno took note of her apparent shock and releasing a sigh, he boldly dropped his camouflage, jump-scaring the Hyacinth which caused her to accidentally project the message in the middle of the room. "hmmm, its here he spoke." Her diva nature was curbed, knowing had Mado-Keno never revealed himself, she may have been caught in potentially treasonous actions. Had he been sharp, he might have been able to do his race a great service, but in the end, he was just Mado-Keno, and he never really cared about things of that nature.

“Do not do that, again” she spoke rather calmly in comparisons to her standard tone.

“...”

“Keno, I assume you are briefed on the current transport. I’m merely curious, but in regards to the warrior and Kilimaro, I suspect their battle was so grand it endangered the territory, provoking the need for interference? It would quite the blunder had the admiral let it fall.”

“I dunno, could be. I don’t like to question things.”

“I don’t understand why they’d go through such the effort of extracting a book as well.”

“Silexies likes old books.”

“That he does but, maybe I should analyze it and conduct a report in the meantime, don’t you think?”

“I mean…we have the authority to. Why not? You would have to go to Gaiola D314 to access it legally, however.”

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

In possession of cracking clench, he held on the fibula of a skeletal warrior with his own teeth. By his standards, this endless battle had already turned barbaric in nature. He did what he needed to in order to survive as he was scrambling, laying waste to several of the undead with his FMG-9 firearm, only once again to be swept off his feet by the resurging dead from below. Clashing instantaneously above his head was the skull of an undead warrior and the powerful blade owned by The Traveller. Easily the head of the monster was cleaved in two and the puss-filled, maggot infested remnants of what it called its brain spilled. Taking that opening, Sciaac used his upper right appendage and gripped the skull before him, literally tearing its frame apart with its dual clasp of its lower spine.

Promptly gathering himself, he rose to his feet, giving a nod to The Traveler as he did not need to help but he did. Sciaac was accustomed to being alone on most if not all of his previous endeavors. The notion of help he was thankful for, but it sparked a bit of unhealthy intrigue on his part. Who was this individual? Why did he help him? Why was there such an influx of warriors here period? Is there something they were after. Considering the situation, there wasn’t much time to inquire. Leaping with great nimbleness, he managed to dive down the stairs for temporary safety after running down the cleared path.

Now standing tall, Sciaac winced a bit, cracking his neck freehand. A little banged up he was, but for the most part, he felt par. Progressing forward seemed to be the only option so regardless of how he felt he’d have to endure. Despite what he just witnessed, a sense of exhilaration began to stew within.

Sea of Ignominy

The root of shame is not personal, it is the ignominy, and the humiliation felt when we must be what we are without any choice in the matter. This humiliation is seen by everyone. Though many rejoiced, the Val’gara would never become what they were destined to be and in many ways, this was sad. The aspiration of assimilation was over. In the eyes of the Disciple, the ideology of Idea was just one, never to be fulfilled, at least not anymore. The ambition, never to be rekindled again was slain even before the death of Colossus. In her place, Caorthannach remained. As stubborn as she was, she knew. The will of the daughter was not the mothers, but in her mourning, she tried anyway. Though morally incensed, she would fail. They all would, as long as they continued to fight, but this was the only future ahead of them. This was now…

Though dishonored, the double-layered words of Disciple subsisted. Megalodon heard these words. The multiple entendre of messages veiled within Disciple’s speech placed his against Amphiprioninae’s. With this, the shark no longer knew who was right. He was distressed, troubled, confused even. With two feuding voices in opposite corners of his head, he couldn’t take it, completely abandoning the Brainscramblers, leaving them to be dealt with by the vaporizing blast. No one could see where he was after it's mad dash across the continent, but the mouthpiece understood exactly what was to be done. The indidious seed planted by him stirred a conflict that interfered with the foundation of the symbiotic pair’s relationship. Amphriprioninae could not calm the shark; he could not influence him in the slightest. He could not control Megalodon.

His words affected one side of the herald’s mind but Disciple occupied the other. In this instance, it was unclear to Amphriprioninae why Disciple even allowed him in as he was revitalized, undistracted and strong, but the answer was quite clear. In Megalodon’s confused state, like a trapped animal he was, he would do anything to escape. Anything ironically, as Disciple understood, could only lead to one thing. With his strategic twisting of the knife, the shark's mental torment continued. The cerebral tug of war had to end and it would find a way.

Clenching the dome on its head, Megalodon let out a roar that exhibited great pain, confusion, and misery. This was not what he or they were supposed to be. Made to fight, born for war. He wanted to be great. He wanted to carry out Idea’s will. He wanted above all else to do as he was designed to but never had he the opportunity to so. His potential would go unfulfilled. His introspection led him to understand the unfair reality before him, adding to his already heightened hysteria.

The marine monster's claws scraped against the container, digging into the perceived glass of the bowl. With a yank capable of tugging a mountain, he pulled the bowl from his partner’s psychic grip. Looking into the cold eyes of Amphriprioninae, the creature only sought to rid himself of the mental battleground that was his mind. He needed silence and upon the shattering of the bowl, he received it, submerging himself into the depths of the dimension within. A literal ocean that felt welcoming. One that shielded him from the reality the Herald sought so hard to escape from. An ocean in which allowed him to be free. And there, he slept, perhaps to never be awoken again...

In his wake, only a puddle remained.

Sea of Ignominy

What the disciple of Idea expressed was correct. “No one has ever wished to help the Val’gara and not become one,” but in reference to the intrinsic nature of the Val’gara, no one has ever had the luxury of choosing. Throughout history, they had one mission, one goal, and one purpose. When were they ever complacent in any venture? The dependence on other races needed to end. It could all be solved with one action, one decision, and one order.

Turning back to the creature that symbolized the mouthpiece, Megalodon and his counterpart were mystified. Not because he should have been slain, but because they were torn. Before Caorthannach there was the Disciple, but in this instance, he overlooked the meddling nature of a literal demon. This was incomprehensible. Who should the duo pledge their allegiance to? They should not have to choose. In one final outcry, Amphriprioninae spoke out of exasperation.

“Disciple, can you not see? Can you not sense the foulness in intent the oozes from each pour of his devilish body? No need to leave it to chance. There should be no reason why you don’t take this fiend and bring him to your knees, bend him to the will of Idea and reconcile your sins by giving the control of the Val’gara back to us. Take control as only you can. With four heralds by your side, call upon the first unified harvest since Idea abandoned us. It is our will, it is our destiny. We must take Soran!”

Whereas the fish eagerly awaited a response, Megalodon appeared to be withholding some sort of pain. There was a clear sense the creature was holding something in. The stress, the strain, it was getting to him. His suffrage was in fact choreographed by his partner in attempt to gain footing. A disturbance was present within the belly of the marine beast. The void within him housed an array of things. Many of which, were gathered throughout his journey through colossus’ core. A school of once-dormant cnidarian invertebrates received the signal they had been searching for.

Megalodon opened his maw to considerable lengths, regurgitating an upsurge of living organisms. Amphriprioninae retrieved a sea of Val’garan Brainsramblers from his counterpart’s stomach. There was nothing, and then there were at least thirty of these jellyfish surrounding the Herald in an instant. The Brainscramblers in sync with his mind quickly gained a sense of the world and situation they were in. Due to their innate ability to locate sources of psionic and ethereal power, it made countering the rampant beasts more than manageable. Without delay, a powerful field in all directions projected within a ten-kilometer radius from the cluster, disrupting and distorting the psionic senses, abilities, and powers of everything unrelated to the hive mind. This part-ethereal part-psionic EMP whisked away all concentration Agron and Sarach could muster. Even if their attack did not fizzle away, they would lack the ability to get near Megalodon as a moving target. They or any other lingering entity would be able to properly target the duo. Even without their presence, at basis Megalodon was simply faster, and given his distance simply lead them on an endless chase.

"Caorthannach are you watching?"

No, Amphriprioninae was alone. And thus, the future of the Val’gara weighed on the disciple’s decision. He harkened to what was about to be said. Much alluded to an answer the fish did not desire to hear. Much alluded to tragedy… Much alluded to a transfer of power that would be felt across the entirety of the multiverse.

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

The lanky creature twisted his body, loosening the buttons which held his drapes closed. With this, Sciaac revealed yet another bizarre thing regarding his anatomy. Folded across his chest were an additional set of arms strategically placed to maintain quick draw functionality in case of emergency. With these extra appendages, he would not draw his weapons, however. Instead, he’d maneuver on a pivot, slithering his way behind Arem, locking his arms in an iron clasp like grip around his chest from behind. “Do not be alarmed…” he spoke in a raspy but sophisticated voice. “I only intend to transport us the most efficient way…”

Using his upper limbs, the creature extended his arms onto a tall stone structure; digging his claws into it so deep it began to protrude on the inner steel. Pulling back, he worked to create tension and gradually he built it to an extreme magnitude. Gazing into the atmosphere, it was apparent the conditions were only becoming more severe, but his headstrong nature was on full display. Releasing his talon grip on the pavement, both he and Arem were whipped into the sky, immediately being pelted by intense winds and varying clods of moisture. Holding his body tight, they torpedoed into the haze, which obscured their vision, but kept them into a relatively straight path. When reaching their apex, Sciaac’s biosuit adjusted in compliance with his morphing body shape, allowing his webbed, wing-like limb connectors to glide them both a considerable distance. In not much time, they would reach their destination, although the duo was bound to regret it.

With the interfering winds, there was simply no way to make a gentle landing. “Brace yourself” was the only warning Sciaac could give, but even then he was blindsided by a light which unknowingly to him was a byproduct of necromantic energies. Realizing he was low to the ground, Sciaac dropped Arem about nine feet or so out of the sky before crashing several meters further down. Clenching his body unrealistically tight, the alien creature was able to minimize much of the collision with the earth. His rubber-like frame in combination with his biosuit, aided him greatly, though, his landing was far from graceful. He had another problem afoot.

Sciaacs fall sent him bowling into a portion of the undead horde. In some ways this worked in damaging a few, but overall placed the creature in unfavorable position. In the very early stages of being ravaged by the multitude of creatures, he could not help but scramble for a grip of one of his powerful firearms. Every other free limb was occupied in attempts to fend off a skeleton right on top of him. In the struggle, he was baptized in rotted, once hanging flesh all over his body and face, cascading him in an unbearable scent. He now reeked of a carcass. Much to his luck, he and his new found companion were close to the pillars entrance, but with as much progress as they made, in the end, it could all be for naught. Such is the nature of Rzail.

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

Bonaparte

Ecetopia: Rzail: Karnorouri’s Pillar

To say Sciaac actions were charitable was an understatement. He could have easily reacted in a hostile manner. All things aside, his usual short temperament had been curbed. After a deep breath, he closed his eyes. When releasing his hand after twirling it repeatedly, it snapped back, using all of the tension created to twirl as a buzz saw, tearing into the wall, slicing it with ease. Though he was prepared for otherwise, the action did serve to settle his anger. Now all that was left was to move forward. A pillar of great size had exposed itself. Bringing Arem to it could only answer some of his questions as well as providing another layer of safety. Who knows what or who will show up once, he began his investigation.

Without saying anything at all, he left the shack and began his search for a solid structure with height to potentially catapult from. It seemed he had a way to cut the travel time to a fraction of its former length. The question was would Arem be prepared for what he was about to propose?

“Through air. That is how we’ll travel.”