Sunset: Then, Now, Tomorrow (Maintenance & Role-Play)

[Sunset]

Below the Surface, The Dragon's Eye, Delta Quadrant...

"I was honestly expecting something... You know..." Kami leaned forward and looked down the dark shaft towards what had to - eventually, somewhere - be a bottom. Sitting in the empty space between the four enormous carved aliens who supported the ceiling, the channel stretched completely across from the back of one pronged heel to another. Functional decorations circled the rim, a narrow bead of stone that a swimmer could grab onto and propel themselves either between the legs of the standing giants or down into the hole, rapidly changing their angle as they crossed from open chamber to vertical shaft. "...smaller."

The Ensign who'd found the shaft and the iris-like mechanism that covered it stepped back from the edge and she followed. It was tempting to look into the depths and wonder just what was down there but sometimes mysteries needed to be solved. That of the mechanism itself had been easy; With the plant-controlled console long out of commission, he'd just grabbed one edge of the carved slices and forced them back into their housing to leave the eight jutting out just at the end like saw teeth around some kitchen-sink disposal unit. It wasn't the best thought to keep in her head but they were not going anywhere - there had been enough points where he'd had to use the GhostDragon's full strength to push it aside to where he and by extension she was convinced that whatever would have caused the stones to move was now completely destroyed.

She looked again, this time concentrating on the returns from her suit's sonar instead of what her eyes were telling her. The sonic reflections had slowly mapped out what was under them as they'd bounced back from something and, as the vagaries of water and its movements were averaged out, she in turn began to realize the vast extent of the shaft. It was nearly two kilometers deep and, at least from the strength of the returns, bored straight through solid rock until just below the bottom where it widened out all around into a larger chamber that was only partially visible to her sensors but completely unreachable under the crushing depths of the water. Eventually even the exceptional strength of the GhostDragon would fade and its beyond-ceramic plates and joints would fold in, squishing the person inside just as the shell ruptured and went flat as an egg under a dropped anvil.

'Engineering, how are you coming along with those probes?'

'Coming along,' the image of the Eye appeared in the lower corner of her vision and he continued, 'I've got a few out here and there, but they tell me you've got a find so I've got the next headed your way...'

...and it was only a short while later that Captain Blaine stood, mechanical hand resting on the calf of one of the huge statues, as an engineering team similarly dressed moved one of the spherical probes into place. Lights flicked on under the mono-molecular outer shell, their generated light one of the few things able to pass through the ultra-tough material. As strong as they were, they only lit the water for a few meters around it before disappearing into the darkness as the probe itself did shortly afterward, dropping into the depths. As soon as there was no point to watching its further progress the teams began to watch through its own eyes instead, an oddly wavering mixture of sonar returns and the gathering of stray electromagnetic spectrum slowly supplying a psychedelic picture of the world below. For the longest time it simply dropped through a hole in the sky until it reached the bottom and the false horizon swelled around it. After a moment this too became solid and it was apparent that the chamber at the bottom only extended a small distant on either side before turning upwards and it was towards this upwards that the drone floated. Pushed along by unseen energies, it was soon rising up towards a ceiling that looked oddly unstable, changing moment by moment as the sonar returns bounced off whatever it was - or wasn't.

"It's air," one of the Engineers announced, "There's an open chamber down there!"

Which proved to be a bit of a problem. Designed for moving through the buoyant underwater environment, the black sphere broke the surface and bobbed there for a moment, riding its own wake before the water stilled and it turned in a slow circle to take in what its lights played across. Carvings and decorations showed through a vast circular room but there was no hint as to either purpose or occupants but as the probe motored around the circular canal something finally appeared. A carved stone archway, each side another statue with its arms stretched out towards the other. In the middle a brazier or fire bowl hung though it cast no light.

'Next you'll be wanting one that swims, walks, flies, and shoots a good game of pool,' the Eye finished, signing off with a click as he anticipated the Captain's next order.

[Sunset]

Eastern Islands, GEC-99791B (Alice)...

"Different?" Doctor Kechans answered, "Sure, in the same way you and I are different. The short ears and red eyes are recessive genes - they show up in the regular Hauyht genome-analog, but only extremely rarely. Less than one in a hundred thousand might have one or the other. That this one had both, and that there are now," there was an edge of consternation in the Doctor's tone; The question of why the existence of a group of short eared, red-eyed, and supposedly demon-worshiping Hauyht hadn't come up in all the time the crew of the Wilson had spent planet-side among the Hauyht was a question that was even now being strenuously asked of the Mayor by Agent Madison. "...now indications that there was or possibly is a larger population of these out there would lead me to conclude that it is a common genetic trait in this population that becomes recessive when bred into the larger planetary population."

"Which they beat like the red-headed stepchild," Huang mused, ignoring the clear and possibly deliberate reference to Kechans' own shock of auburn hair. "But no indication of devil worship or even just being soul-less like all the other gingers?"

Now it was clearly deliberate, but the Doctor didn't rise to the bait. She was the closest thing the Wilson had to a biologist and she was a reasonably fine one at that, though her training more went towards emergency and field medicine than puzzling out unknown physiology or whether a particular species worshiped the Dark Lord of the Underworld.

"No, not that there would be anything like that in their genome. Kink-ears, lopped, or short, but no devil gene."

"Not that you'd tell me if there was, right?" The Lieutenant Commander looked at her out of the corner of her eye, false suspicion painted on her heart-shaped face. "Can't let anyone else know about the skinwalker conspiracy. Thanks, Doctor..."

There was a nod, a sigh, and with a puff of blown hair the Doctor's projected hologram disappeared to leave the slender Asian officer standing alone over the body of the dead short-eared murder bunny with the medical scanner nonchalantly dangling from her fingers. After a moment she knelt to examine the body further. While the question of whether the two races were related, and how closely, had fallen to technology to answer, there was the question of culture and society to consider as well and the body gave more clues to this as she looked it over. Far from being random or temporary, the designed cut into the fur were revealed to be far more permanent. The skin underneath had been scarred so that the hair grew less dense and then this was colored, but it was also the shape of the scars that drew her interest. She'd seen enough of the Hauyht written language that she could recognize some of them as either precursors to or derivatives of existing characters and she quickly cut out a few still images in her head and had the language translator grown into her cranium start a pattern match.

"...of course, they look pretty too," she rolled him over and yanked off the loincloth. Underneath he was clearly male and remarkably so, even compared to what she'd seen of the rest of the Hauyht population. "Jealous much? Pretty sure having a giant love club isn't a reason to exterminate a whole race, but..."

Around here, it might just be. Ignoring his reproductive wargear, she held up the loincloth itself. Like the bow that lay beside the body, it was of essentially primitive manufacture. A piece of leather roughly tanned had been cut and pierced and then knotted together at his hips. It hadn't really covered his public slit - the rabbits kept everything inside and thus no reason for the concept of modesty - and really served as a belt rather than a covering. There were a number of small pouches and these too caught her eye. They were fringed, the long trailing lengths of hide decorate with bits of colored...

"Eww."

...they were hands. Or the hide that had once covered several rabbit hands. As was the belt itself, and she was willing to bet that the binding on the bow's carved handle was similarly made, and the bow string?

"Bunny gut. But is it creative use of someone who died naturally, or are we talking the leftovers from rabbit stew here? Doctor?"

Something had tickled her tongue and a chance name had come to mind. A few seconds later and the exasperated hologram of Doctor Kechans re-appeared next to her, "What, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Tell you what, next time I'm upstairs I'll give you a fuck you won't remember the next morning. But I'm about to do something really, really gross and I want your expertise." She started by holding up first the bow and the loincloth, running each in front of the sensitive sensor of the medical scanner and waiting while the Doctor looked the results over, "Am I right? This is bunny butt, isn't it?"

"Mhm, it is. Before you ask, its a genome match to that one. One, two generations. Family members, children, close relatives. Which might not mean much on an island this big."

Unlike the sprawling Northern and Southern Continents, the Eastern Islands were a necklace of tiny dots spread out in a long archipelago that neatly crossed the tropics and encircled nearly a quarter of the planet's circumference. It would be an ideal location for a cluster of military bases where, if something started between the North and South, the South could launch air raids via their fleet-of-one-so-far dirigible aircraft carriers. It was thinking ahead but Janice thought like that and had a whole file full of kinky bedroom ideas for someday.

"So could be cannibalism, could not be. How about this, Doc?" She pulled the knife from the scabbard on her chest and held up the molecular edge, examining it in the light, "You remember something called Creutzfeldt-Jakob?"

"Creutzfeldt-Jakob? I..."

The knife plunged into the rabbit's skull, the space-age edge easily parting skin, bone, and purple-grey tissue as the Lieutenant Commander began to hunt for something she remembered from an off-hand comment from medical training back in the Academy. One of the results of the disease, and of cannibalism among Humans, was the presence of microscopic holes in the brain. She couldn't see them, of course, but a nice slice off the top and she held up the scanner and watched the results scroll across her own augmented reality while the Doctor looked closer.

"...disregarding that CJD is a Human disease and that the abnormal prions that cause it probably won't even be found in the Hauyht, there are still some interesting abnormalities from the baseline that didn't require you to turn his head into a jello mold, Lieutenant Commander. Whether they are indicative of widespread cannibalism is another thing entirely. They could be indicative of malnutrition..." Huang drew her attention to his enormous mating tackle with a grin; "Or contaminants in the local environment, or another common disease, or the result of localized inbreeding."

"With that? I don't know how you'd stop me!"

Kechans rolled her eyes, "And you wonder why I'm not going to take you up on that offer? What I'll do is talk to some of the medical community back in Jer'Don and see if they know anything that might tell you something. If there is some kind of widespread brain deformity, it might make any attempt at contact that much more difficult."

"Good thinking," Huang finished as the Doctor left once again, "Crazy Murder Bunnies could be tricky..."

An arrow lanced out of the forest and skipped off her helmet; "Very tricky."

[Sunset]

V'Thirnthi Jungle, N'Xypndiltn, E'Xypndiltn System...

It was with just about another hour into their slow overland trek following the shambling broken-limbed girl that Tradia noticed them. Five hulking shapes born out of shadow and steel, the glint of iron on the edge of their massive forms. She could only compare them to herself and to the thin forms of the familiar Tonhi but what they most reminded her of was the malevolent deep-ocean face of the Sakkran Deep One who had held the shriveling form of the Snake Clan gambler between his enormous pincers. They moved with a grace and speed unnatural to their size, following the Mobile Infantry platoon and their two charges from shadow to shadow and waiting until they would have just passed out of view before crossing any large open ground. In the undergrowth laden jungle there were few such spaces and it was only at one of these, and out of the corner of her eye, that Tradia caught first a glimpse and then another as they slowly chased the wretched girl through the trees.

"Trooper..." For a few long moments she'd been unsure what to do about it; Friend or foe, confronting them could have quickly turned one to another but as soon as she drew the Trooper's attention the five shadows detached themselves from the forest and stepped forward, straightening up into the forms of men. Far from being the monsters she'd feared, each was dressed in a suit of armor that at once reminded her of the smoothly sculpted suits favored by the Republic over the blocky'er model worn by the Mobile Infantry but with edges and joints picked out in a more archaic form that was strongly reminiscent of an old Human knight. A broad swung at their side, clad in a scabbard that was itself as fiercely decorate as their armor, and from the other hip swung a helmet on its chain. Upon each of their chests was a transparent case, positioned so that the wearer could see its open pages, and on each she could just see writing slowly inscribing its way across the velum before the page turned and it disappeared. Four of the five were male, but all were shaved smooth and looked to be exceptionally muscled but there was something else there as well; A hint of pasts both varied and learned.

"Adjutant Tradia J'Ny," the one in the lead by a full step addressed her, his tone both confident and deferential, precise and measured, and using not only her title but the warrior-totem suffix she had abandoned when she had first left the planet for the wider Republic. "You are about to face a great evil and a potent foe. Prepare yourself to act when the time to act can only be measured by the blink of an eye."

"Who..."

"Mystic-Sergeant O'Donaldsen, Officer of the HELLSING Division. What you will face is not of our universe, nor of our time and place. We will turn it back to its proper time, Come!"

With that, he turned and began to jog, no longer avoiding the brush but plowing through it where it would simply part in front of him or turning to the left or right to avoid some obstacle. Behind him the four others turned, as one, and fell into crisp formation with two on either side a pace and then a pace and a half back with just two arms-lengths separating each of the warriors, enough that they could touch the wrist of the other if they were to both extend their arms. For only a moment she watched them go before something told her to join them and the whole platoon fell into motion, Mobile Infantry Troopers bounding along while Tradia and Min nearly ran to keep up with the deceptively fast quintet. Perhaps it was luck, but perhaps it was planned - and she had the weird feeling that the Mystic-Sergeant just might have planned it, but after only another minute one of the Troopers paused a half step and then dropped back to her before speeding up again.

"There are reports of more of these... zombies, whatever you want to call them, coming in. Scout detail picked up a couple more over there," he pointed off towards where the trail had swung to the right but the girl had continued straight, cutting off whatever round-about course the cultists had used to disguise their path. "And there are reports coming in from L'Therathyi;" That was the closest of the pre-fabricated cities to their present location, "Of dead people starting to move around. A couple got on their feet, but they either locked them in place or shot them. But there's a few thousand corpses..."

Like the rest of the cities that dotted the planet, L'Therathyi had suffered its own share of assassinations, bombings, and outright street warfare. More than its fair share, actually, which might have been a good pointer to her current activity if they had some kind of prime-time crime drama ability to go back and reassess results before the results were known, but as they didn't, it was now just hindsight to the Adjutant.

"They will come this way, and with them they will bring thousands more. Any who stand in their way will add to their numbers," O'Donaldsen called back, turning his head neither to the left or right. "It is a plan long in the making and cunningly simple. We have but one chance to disrupt it."

He had reached the stumbling Tonhi woman now and as he paced her, the great sword slid from its scabbard and swung across and split her exactly across from elbow to elbow. The body fell in half, legs stumbling forward for another two steps before dropping to their knees and then into the dried leaves. Without hands to pull her along, both the arms and legs twitched feeble before falling still as the rest passed. They hardly stopped, surged on by the sense of unrelenting purpose projected by the five ahead of them and only a few moments later they passed another and another, corpses both fresh and as old as the earth that had housed them. Many fell to the blade, silver flashing crimson and then back to steel again as the strange blade seemed to shed the gore that decorated the blade as it passed through the shambling body.

"Here!"

The jungle opened up suddenly and the five stepped out into a rough-cut clearing, the trees crudely hacked down and moved to the outskirts while an enormous shallow pit dropped away in front of them. Just as they had stepped out of the jungle, dozens of other corpses were following, points on a circle slowly coming together in the middle as a frenetic chanting filled the air. At the edge of the pit stood the butt-end of thick logs, driven into the ground, and on each stood a figure who was chanting in harsh opposition to another; A bone-slender figure, eyes filled with death, who stood at the apex on his own pillar, arms raised high. A single word repeated was the only thing that crossed his lips and he stared into the writhing mass of charnel with an intensity that suggested his very soul was flowing into the mutilated bodies.

Slowing to a walk, the five stepped forward and as one the blades swung free to float at their side, perfectly motionless. All this Tradia watched from the edge of the jungle as the rest of the platoon spread out across the tree line and then the Mystic-Sergeant's blade flickered, turned to her, then made a gesture towards the one standing above all with a motion that she somehow implicitly knew was directed to her. Then his voice rang out clear, penetrating the chant for the second it took for the shriveled figure to recognize him and half-turn, his sunken eyes settling on the armored figure, "Hierophant Mnyxan," he pronounced the foreign word clearly and the man's face jerked towards him, "You will stop, or you will be stopped!"

The blade swung up, one and then three and then five in perfect stillness pointing straight at his eyes, each held parallel to the earth as they walked forward. A corpse neared one, turned to lurch at her, but it was only when the spittle of shouted words flew from ancient lips that she turned the blade to bisect the cadaverous form from groin to chin; "Kill them!"

[Sunset]

The Maric Cabin, Kayv, Alawk's Star...

Two birds, one stone. For a Neko it was an almost obscene thought since of course the two birds might well be some form of Avian Humanoid stalked and killed by their Feline near-cousin, but it was a thought that kept running through Alwyra's head as she plotted ways to eliminate both of the uncomfortable situations in her life with the same solution. Money was the obvious method, and whatever way she chose would obviously involve it, but ideally she'd pay once and get twice the reward. That was just shrewd business, but the question was...

"How?"

Her immediate and most pressing concern was the threat of blackmail or worse from the private investigator Parker McArthur and whoever was backing him. Strike that; She knew who was backing him. A little bit of digging had told her that there were indeed several individuals who might have some kind of claim to the riches of Eric Hendrick, no matter how he'd obtained them or how distantly those ties stretched. The sad thing, to her own moral viewpoint, was that they were already quite wealthy and didn't exactly need more, even if they lived another thousand years.

"Which they could do, couldn't they?"

Her fingers went to the back of her head and she traced them along the subtle V-shaped scar that marked where the ExoCortex had been implanted not a day earlier. She wasn't normally much of a cybernetics-junkie, but the opportunity to live forever had been presented and she had no reason to refuse it. She'd mostly ignored the briefing about how long the process would take to fully realize, how to manipulate the implant to get a better orgasm - that was Jedo's job as far as she was concerned - and other sundry technical details. She just knew that it had felt a little funny sitting at the back of her skull for the first couple hours and now it was just there.

"All the more reason to get rid of the problem. But I don't see why I should pay them for something that bastard was doing to all of us. I treat my people fairly - no complaints - which is a lot more than anyone can say about him." There was a reason he had been sent to Hanson's Kneecap as a debt-laborer after all, and it was just another reason why she felt - knew - she was in the right. He'd been a wealthy executive before the so-called Board Room Revolution had swept through the Republic's corporate sector and he had been one of the first to go. A real tyrant and a colossal waste of money, he'd spent more time trying to bed the office staff and paying for it when he couldn't than working; "...and then he killed that guy."

Which, she supposed, was true of herself as well but her circumstances had been entirely different and circumstances were a prime basis of her morality.

"Like say, the circumstance of having a lazy step-daughter sleeping around the house all day..."

And that was her second problem. Amao was a good kid and, according to the few conversations she'd been able to squeeze into his now-busy life aboard an Exploration Command Starship, a good junior officer too. It was a lot of hard work but he was willing to do it and it showed with already a good amount of muscle added to his frame in a way that strongly reminded her of his father. But his older sister?

"...who needs to get a fucking job!" Which was part of the problem. She was rich, Jedo was rich, there was no reason for Tadi to get a job. Especially since that would mean leaving the cabin under the snow for the sprawling resource extraction operation on Kayv's lonely moon. Nearly all of that was automated - she'd be watching over drones that were in turn watching over other drones - but there was the old standby of a retail job at the adjoining spaceport-slash-mall. "Can I see her as a register biscuit? No, I can't."

The other problem was that she wasn't going to just want to go away. She was fat, lazy, and almost happy. Which was as good as happy when it really came down to it.

"Treachery!" The Amirah spun on her toes, a finger in the air, "I'll resort to treachery! And throwing money at it. Let's see..."

On their trip to GEC-245309D, she'd actually proven useful when she'd successfully identified the requirements needed to grow the Syn flower that even now bloomed in abundance in a planter in the kitchen. Thanks to her, Alwyra's next side business was taking off and though it wasn't a contribution she credited her with; "...maybe I should. A brilliant young, um... What's the word for someone who likes plants?"

The word she was looking for turned out to be botanist and that led her down the rabbit hole to a possible solution. There were various Universities that specialized in such things and one of the more notable was located very far away and had a bit of a reputation as a party school as well.

"And what girl doesn't like to party on the weekends while studying..." She read over some of the courses, "Xenobiological traits in native decorative species. Slip a brochure under her door? No..."

She didn't want to look like she was getting rid of the girl - even though she was trying to get rid of her - and she'd just ignore the blatant attempt to get her out of the house. Treachery would be needed.

"Yes, treachery..." Alwyra rubbed her hands together and giggled, looking around the room for anyone hiding in the shadows, "Because treachery is also fun!"

[Sunset]

SNN Nightly News with Tanya Zaldano...

The sliver of a pale moon rose slowly out of the darkness as that night's broadcast began, a narrow crescent that slowly revealed a crumbling ruin perched on the top of a cliff over a forgotten forest. Dark trees reached up to it, their branches skeletal and black, while red eyes peered out of the shadows below. A trace of a path ran through it to wind up to the foot of the old tower with flagstones scattered here and there or slowly pushed from the earth to make the road treacherous. Long ago crumbled away to a tumbled circle of building stones and rotting beams, the only intact portion of the tower was the front door itself, an open stretch of the floor inside, and a staircase that ended at a landing before turning to spiral up the inside and drop off into sharp nothing as it had fallen away. A single window loomed over the landing, framing the rising moon, and below it sat a dusty chair somehow mostly untouched. A woman sprawled on it and while it was immediately recognizable in form as Tanya, her skin was ashen and a dim red light shone from under the slits of her eyes as the viewpoint neared her throne. A shake of her long, lustrously dark hair and a blood-red fingernail traced down the gap of her cleavage confirmed this, though a dark streak of blood followed and began to slowly well and drip down between her breasts as she rose.

She was wearing a sheer black corset with dark ribbing accentuating the lean lines of her body and bound both tight and exceedingly low on her chest. The thin lines of ribbing flowed down into a long split-length skirt that flowed around her legs as she stepped down the stairs, hips rocking from side to side as each heeled foot went from narrow step to the one below it, "It's nearly Halloween for those that follow the old Earth holidays, and this year brings some especially exciting options for costumes because the big news of the day is that both Saint Medical Systems and El Hefe Fabrication Corporation have released their competitors to the ExoCortex offered by Climax Incorporated. For the adventurous and well-off, this has opened up a vast array of possibilities with the traditional Halloween themes of frightening horror seeming to be all the rage. Guts spilling out, bizarre medical experiments, and of course the Headless Horseman have all made their appearance across the Republic as people willing and able to chop up their own body do so."

All around her, monsters began to pull themselves out of the ground as she walked, flagstones revealed to be tombstones as they pushed themselves aside and withered arms or muscled forms hung in rags rose from the earth. Some are visible amalgamations of several former people while others are beasts with spines and plates.

"It might be just in time for Halloween, but it is illustrating a sea change in how people view each other. Bodies are going to start becoming just like a pair of clothes - abet an expensive one for now - that we wear over ourselves," she tapped the side of her head meaningfully, "Our true selves. One week you could be a vampire," she opened wide, displaying a sharp pair of fangs that sunk into her lower lip, the drawn blood running down her chin to drip across her chest, "And the next just the average businessman. This has ignited a firestorm in the biotech field; Already rumors are flying about the possibility of body swap organizations, bodies for rent, or even high-end variable bodies for the rich and famous. It is a brave new world and someone is going to make a lot of money from it..."

[Sunset]

Santschi City, Terra Incognito, The New Latin System...

'Revvin' up your engine, Listen to her howlin' roar... Metal under tension, Beggin' you to touch and go;' The twangy country lyrics blasted over the external speakers of the bulky Jade-Class Assault Shuttle as she dove down from high above the sprawling ocean-side city, wove between several of the spiraling skyscraper-arcologies that formed the city's densely populated center, and ducked under an inverted earthscraper with its inverted towers hanging down like an enormous chandelier over a sparkling blue bay before settling in at street level where the vast unending zombie horde could be seen pouring out into the street. She bobbed and weaved in time to the music, the pilot humming along as the old song hit the chorus, 'Highway to the Danger Zone, Ride into the Danger Zone...'

"Now this is my kind of training exercise!" Lieutenant Thalin paused as a volley of missiles rippled away from the shuttle's port launchers and spiraled down towards the city streets. "No complicated politics..."

One by one, the missiles burst down the center of the street in a cloud of neon orange gas, a line of billowing clouds that filled the pedestrian green way - there were no regular ground vehicles in a high-tech metropolis such as Santschi City and thus the streets were mostly grass with walkways, shrubs, and decorative trees scattered around - and where they bloomed the rampaging horde staggered and fell. It only took a brief touch for the gas to affect the victim, sucked into lungs through gaping mouths and wide nostrils, and where they fell the horrors began to writhe and twitch as the Immunizer spread through their body to drive out the infection that had resulted in their mindless nature.

"No weird bio-organic spaceships that vomit grey goo from vagina-guns..."

Near the edges of the street, where alcoves and overhangs had sheltered them, a spray of red squares appeared over his vision to indicate zombies that had somehow escaped the effects of the gas. Clusters and groups were highlighted and he hefted his rifle, pointing it in the general direction of the first cluster as the targeting system switched from the variable particle rifle to the under-slung rotary grenade launcher with its special load of Peacebringer cartridges. Bringing it to his shoulder, he mentally triggered the launcher and the electro-magnetic coils sent the first cylinder spiraling away with a low pooomph. Moving the barrel from cluster to cluster, he sent a rolling burst of the self-guided ordinance across the street to first seek, then penetrate the group before bursting in a cloud of neon-yellow. Zombies tumbled and fell, thrashing on the ground for several minutes before they would rise again as normal people.

"Zombies. Nothing weird at all about that..."

[Sunset]

SDF-Unconquered Sun, En Route to N'Xypndiltn from Rudan Prime...

"Is it really the end of an era?" Demi asked.

Like the Secretary-General she was naked, sprawled out in the bed in their personal quarters, laying half-on the other woman with the bed sheets pulled up around their waists. Chest-to-chest, she looked up at her wife and lover while the blonde haired woman stared up at the ceiling and through to some unseen point in the distance. Undoubtedly she was working at the speed of an electronic intelligence; Holding a conversation with Executor Marinna - the Governor of ever-closer N'Xypndiltn - as well as her daughter Katryna and likely Grand Admiral Glafka as well. But she had learned and come to accept that the sentient composite of circuits and myomer was capable of paying as much attention to her - or more - than any flesh-and-blood partner that she'd had before - even when the Head of State was multi-tasking.

"In Roania? No, I think the dramatics are far from over. A young man on the throne, with an even younger wife beside him. Perhaps he has come to realize something of the true nature of leadership, but people do not change overnight."

Or do they? Given the abilities of the two personalities who had been involved in the resolution of that end of the crisis, that might well not be true. But there was something about her love's question that told her that the Roanians were not her focus. Overall, the Ambassador had remained un-involved in the crisis - her expertise was words of advice and warning, not affairs of the soul or whatever had happened between Queen and Imperatric on the road to AiQien's recovery.

"That's not what you're asking about, is it?"

"No," Demi pushed herself up onto her elbow to perch over Erika's face, her long hair draping down over the two on one side while through the other she could just glimpse the stars outside moving past in virtual simulation as the Unconquered Sun sped towards their destination, the armada summoned by the Grand Admiral spread out behind it. They were returning home - home to patrols, home to maintenance, home to rest and relaxation. One last stop and the assembled might of the Republic would return to their normal lives. Or would they? And that was the source of her question, "The end of mortality. Of death."

It would be like the simulations of pandemic that had just played out during the old Earth holiday of Halloween and the Defense Force simulation of a zombie uprising. Two spots on the map of the galaxy would turn red and from there the infestation would spread. The technology of the ExoCortex and the promise of near-immortality for anyone with the means to obtain it. For the moment it would be concentrated - like that first plague-infested bite - to the wealthy star-faring civilizations near Sol but like those first shambling horrors it would slowly spread out, the red blotch growing larger as more and more points appeared across the galaxy, spread by the ever-exploring Republic and the mercantile Phoenixi.

Children would be born - her own child, unannounced but now slowly growing in her womb - with no knowledge of death. Their parents would never pass away except through accident or worse. Elders that would not grow old except as they desired and who might change their mortal form one day as easily as one adopted a new virtual avatar. Technology had already changed much of how people in the star-faring civilizations lived their lives; No longer was there the need to work a life of labor when robots who could build other robots could accomplish those menial tasks for them. To do what you wanted to do instead of what you had to do. In some ways this too was the changing of an era and all this she shared with her lover as she looked down at her, pursed lips pushing upwards on occasion to silence the thoughts with a kiss.

"The Roman Era did not end with the Sack of the Eternal City by the barbarians," Erika noted, turning to look out the window, her eyes moving from ship to ship as she considered Demi's thoughts, the crews of those same ships, and the worlds they would return to. "And there is no sharp edge. Our portion of the galaxy is changing and will now change. Eventually what we become may spread to cover it entirely, but there will always be pockets and places where that change does not come. Rome was not conquered by a superior civilization but rather an inferior, brought low by circumstances of economics, of leadership, and of culture. Who knows? Perhaps in a thousand years our descendants will look up from campfires scattered across a primeval forest and wonder what came before them - what could have been - while they shatter and break the ExoCortex of a slain foe to make the arrowheads that will let their flesh-and-blood body live another day, not knowing that they destroy their greatest hope for a future existence."

"That seems sad. Are you concerned that it might happen?"

There was a laugh and a smile, "No. Not on our watch at least. But the infection is not stable - the zombies have a weakness. They are slow and shambling and just as they are, I expect our lives and the lives of the people so augmented to become slower. When the passage of time no longer calls out an ending there is no longer a reason for someone to rush through it. A decade - a lifetime even - spent learning to paint, or building a cabin in the woods on some distant world where the greatest novel of a hundred years waits to be born... These are the same people who will push our civilization forward just like the artists and creators of time past. But now they will live their lives un-rushed, unhurried, and perhaps those innovations that they inspire will take that much longer to realize."

"Are you worried about it?" Demi shifted, sliding her body atop the other to enjoy the feeling of closeness even as the pair talked about times distant.

"Is it something I think about? Yes. I'm paid to think about it, after all. I can't say I'm worried about it. The zombies tried to spread, after all, and we fought back. As the two sides met, pressures forced an evolution. A change in thinking and in technology. Those pressures will still exist - hostile states, natural disasters, memetic shifts, and even the occasional mad scientist bent on unleashing a horde of cyber-zombies on the galaxy..."

"Ambrose?"

Again Erika laughed, "No, he's got his own problems at the moment. Just a what-if. But any of those will continue to give our lives some illusion of a tenuous nature. Of something to fight against. At least, that is my hope - and what my simulations - say."

"Simulations, huh? And what do your simulations say about this?"

Demi bent down to kiss her, their lips moving over and past each other and for a long moment in time there were only two who became one...

[Sunset]

V'Thirnthi Jungle, N'Xypndiltn, E'Xypndiltn System...

The Hierophant laughed, and laughed hard. "If you know me, young one, then you know your death is at hand. The barrier is thin, here. These children did that all by themselves." His fingers reached out and he gently caressed the cheek of a native corpse that was winding its way into the pile. "Aeons of work done for me." His accent was thick, and had none of the musical notes of the modern Empire. "But come and die, then." Mnyxan held out his hands and spoke another name, shaking the trees and stone around them. "You should be grateful! Your people will live long enough to see the traitors and worms in the so-called Radiant Empire obliterated!" And around him, the living Snake enforcers died, their lives flowing into him, his body rippling with strength and youth stolen. "But for your personal safety? A mere whore? Ha! Deal with the enemy that has dogged your steps, fool of a King!"

The ground trembled, the corpses rippled, and from their midst stepped Li Nesar, eyes blank as an armor of flesh and chitin surrounded him. With a roar that was both living and dead, Nesar charged across the grassy steps, arms outstretched, jaws open wide to reveal long, vicious fangs. Out of the flesh and bone extended vicious claws as the former Tonhi Prince twisted and changed to become something far less than he had once been. From behind tree and boulder a merry fusillade greeted him as the Mobile Infantry platoon opened fire around the flanks of the paladins, their hard white beams crossing the space where the once-man was and passed through the supernatural form to leave a spiderweb shape that formed together again and again as one after another connected. The dull whump-whump-whump from under-slung launchers heralded the arrival of explosive ordinance and for a moment the front of his body was bleached white as flesh was stripped away to herald the bone underneath.

Mnyxan laughed again, then turned back to his sorcery. His servants had not stopped chanting once, even as the life was drained from their neighbors to feed their master.

"You cannot defeat this one!" O'Donaldsen cried loud, swinging his blade to decapitate the corpse of one of the Enforcers, a backhanded stroke splitting it from shoulder to waist and preventing it from rising again, "Turn your attention to the dead! The Blade of History shall take his stock..."

The mighty sword swung behind him, tip almost to the dirt, and he paused as the Prince rushed onward before taking a single precise step forward and dropping into a low lunge, the wide blade arcing around as the monster's arm swung above his head. No hit was scored but the melee was joined and behind him the remaining four turned inward from the flanks to surround the beast. Claw and fang lashed out but where it sought to penetrate steel edges cross and presented their barrier. Where he turned to advance, they retreated, and when he howled terror they drew together in strength. Spittle flew from his jaws, rage and globules of his own flesh flung upon them as he strove only to find them pliant. A savage charge, head down and arms swung wide to rend, and the bald pate woman stepped aside, the crescent of her blade before him almost an invitation as he exited the circle of five.

Again beam and missile leapt out at him, tore away his reconstituted flesh, but it was the perfunctory rather than the aggressive and even as his body knotted itself back together it dropped off. At her place on the line, Tradia fired again but it felt feeble, her sidearm tiny against the heavier rifles of the Mobile Infantry and visibly useless against the Prince. The image of the sword flickering in her direction returned to her mind and she holstered the weapon to vanish from sight, a pregnant pause from the Inspector before he too turned to follow the ghostly shape through the undergrowth as they circled the forum.

"Turn to the dead," the Karmabaijani Trooper repeated, his voice low and weapon idle as the whole line avoided the renewed melee, "Turn to the dead!"

Roaring his challenge, Nesar spun on his heel to send dirt and grass behind him in a spray that took only faint substitute for the blood he sought to spill. Shoulder and limb shook as he looked from one to another and they moved again to surround him, one ahead and two to the left and two to the right. Blades to the fore, they spread into a circle as he tensed and sprang forward to again find his way blocked. Over his head arced the matte steel of launched grenades but they were not destined for him but rather the pile of corpses at the center. Harsh white beams lit the space between Trooper and staggering corpse as they cut down one after another, bodies and limbs rent asunder as explosively-heated flesh burst under their impact.

O'Donaldsen swept his blade up across his body, flat to deflect the claws, and his armored foot came down in a mighty stomp on the beast's own split-toed hoof. It was the first blow struck and Nesar reared back to stand tall, chest surging in laughter as he stared down at the tiny mortal. With a speed unheralded by movement, he threw his talon hand forward and through the man's gut, piercing armor as paper to lift him high, shaking him as the life drained from the man's eyes before throwing him to the side, great blade spinning into the dirt.

A ripple of explosions and the tall form spun to watch as the mound surged, defiled by the intruders, and the arc of steel sunk home. Black mixed with red as he twisted his head to stare at the blade that had cloven deep into his shoulder and something akin to pain crossed his face as it pulled free. Lashing around, a once-powerful arm tucked close to his side, he found himself facing the woman and he roared defiance as five became four and turned against one. Now they found; Savage claw sought the soft spaces between armor as sword bit at the edges of his defense. A shambling corpse of a woman, young and with the goldenrod skin of the Xypndi, crossed their circle and he leapt at it to lift it to the wound and press it home even as it struggled, the flesh absorbing into his own.

"You falter," she pronounced and he turned, arms wide, to stare at her while the muscle and sinew of the dead wove into his own. His hand shot out but her blade on edge was there to meet him and fingers split wide as his arm ran up the keen edge to the elbow. Another swung down and what he had gained he lost as it cleaved true.

"Come on," Tradia gestured, forgetting the unseen nature of her own hand as she looked behind her.

The faint shadow of Min nodded and she crept forward. Ahead of her the Hierophant chanted, arms high as his body surged. A spine curved from age had grown straight again and muscles surged with renewed vigor. Around him the dismembered pieces of the dead, both recent and long-past, had begun to skitter and move as something drew them towards him. Almost at his feet, hidden by the stump of log on which he stood, she could see the prone body of the Mystic-Sergeant spread out, his great armor tinged crimson with his own blood, but something else glinted closer even as Mnyxan looked down on him, the flames of death and victory in his eyes. All at once the corpses in the pile and around the clearing leapt, propelled skyward by some unseen force, and as one they began to flow towards him.

Steel sunk deep into his side and Nesar spun, sending his attacker flying away, but there was no time to finish the man, no time for that small victory. His power had been taken from him and once again he stood betrayed, watching the dismembered bodies of the dead flow away from him and towards the Hierophant as he extended his arms in triumph, the one chanted word repeated on his lips as they shouted the name over and over. Lunging forward she put hand behind pommel and strength behind blade to drive the wide blade through his spine to tear his dark heart asunder again as it pierced his chest and left him impaled on the end of her outstretched arms.

"Mnyxan..." It died on his lips as the body gifted to him fell asunder. What was left of arms and legs fell away, crawling across the ground towards the prophet as a small outline detached itself from the far edge of the clearing and sprinted forward.

The sword lay where it had fallen and for a half-moment Tradia hesitated. It was nearly as long as she was tall, but there was something about how it lay between her and the Hierophant that told her to take the hilt and snatch up the blade in both hands. Adrenaline or device, it lay light in her tiny gripe as she continued to run with it trailing behind her like the pennant on a lance, the knight come to slay the dragon as she gathered her strength. All around her, to either side and encircling him the corpses moved, rapidly gathering as she sprinted between them. One final footstep and she jumped, the blade arcing around her as the warrior threw her diminutive weight into one final swing. Mnyxan threw his head back and laughed as the ground shook and the essence of ten thousand lives flowed towards him and the laughter died on his lips as head parted from body to roll into the pit while his body tumbled to the ground, shriveling away as it fell until it was less than nothing.

For a long moment she knelt in the dirt, leaning against the sword now heavy, gathering her breath. From the jungle the Trooper surged forward, spreading out around the clearing to check and recheck but all was quiet. The crisp sound of steel on steel brought her attention and she looked up as the four began to walk towards her, their blades sheathed and faces as solid as they had been when they had first stepped from the shadows. Whatever gore had bedecked their armor had disappeared and as they stopped in front of her the pages of the books bound to their chest fluttered, the words written there disappearing as new appeared, blank and pristine. They waited silently while she hauled herself to her feet, one hand on the pommel of the great sword.

"How..."

'How did he know?' She wanted to ask a thousand questions, but just beside them his body lay still, the book behind its glass closed and bound with locks that would not part. But she could not ask the question with the dead so close at hand. Instead she waited on the woman who in turn waited until Tradia's eyes left O'Donaldsen and caught her own to speak.

"It is twice the Gods fall before you, and perhaps that is why," the bald woman answered, putting out her hand for the sword. "History has a way of repeating itself."

[Sunset]

Special Projects Covert Research Facility 74-A (Sigma), Denali, The Yukon System...

It was a deja vu moment for Dr. Francine Kryger but, with considerable aplomb, she recovered nicely and met Doctor Kraus' gaze with her own, "Good afternoon, Fredrick. Rocking the man-bun, and how is your project coming along?"

There was still a digestive moment of concern as she looked him over. Aside from the distinctly retro hairstyle - and when had he started growing his hair out? - there were two suspicious buldges at right about breast level that were definitely not there before. While this was the modern era and it was not unheard of for individuals to adjust their gender either through chemical or surgical means, she had not heard even the rumor that he was considering it. She was, however, intensely aware of the red lettering that topped the doctor's dossier along with the cartoche that highlighted it better than any amateur bold or clumsy underscore: Mad Scientist.

The appellation was important and while her own file held the same classification, her lifestyle had drifted away from the realm of Pure Science (Exclamation Point) and towards the managerial. Kraus, on the other hand, still dabbled in the arcane, the bizarre, and the strange. Plus there were raised patches of rainbow colored skin visible just under his collar, his pupils had expanded to fill his formerly crisp blue iris with shining black, and there were the traces of the same rainbow of colors visible at the roots of his hair. One must not disregard the obvious.

"What stage would you say your project is at, Doctor? I'm working on the monthly status reports..."

That was a lie, of course. For a division of the Secretariat that relied on eccentric personalities, most reporting was done electronically and was of the self-collected nature - if it came at all. She would do some, of course, but it would be on the large scale and be primarily concerned with projects assigned rather than those created by the more self-guided members of her staff.

"I'm... at the bench test phase," he paused. "Active concept testing."

"And do you have a title for this project?"

She was fishing now but there was a hesitancy to turn to the direct approach. Sometimes, Tibowski had warned her, It was better to just not know.

"A project name," he tapped his chin in a manner strongly associated with a rival of his who was even now involved with the question of traps and intentions on a far-off world, "You know, that might be a good idea! How about Project RAINBOW DASH?"

Immediately she cross-referenced the name with all known instances, peered at him closely, and then scooted to the side to look for a tail before glancing down at his feet. There were no signs of hooves though his feet did seem slimmer. And he was wearing wedges. It was time for the direct approach.

"And what are the goals of your project?"

"Integration of multiple sensory inputs across numerous distinct incompatible biodiverse species;" The answer was so pat that it had to be bullshit and she parsed it out until she discovered the missing word.

Which was probably 'erogenous', she decided, fitting it in between multiple and sensory. The Doctor was trying to integrate all of the various erogenous zones from all - or at least a large chunk - of the species that called Sunset home into the same new species. She started to run down a mental list, images appearing in her augmented reality with various areas highlighted as she did so, but quickly she stopped. On occasion it was an area that interested her and her typical response was a manual stiffle, putting the whole subject area away for another time.

"I see." Her questioning continued no further but instead she turned to walk past him, arrowing straight for the closest door. The moment it had slid shut behind her she locked it with a mental command before sagging back against it and closing her eyes and slowly shaking her head with a sigh.

Sometimes it was better to be locked in a maintenance access...

[Sunset]

The Maric Cabin, Kayv, Alawk's Star...

"Yes... Treachery!" Alwyra tip-toed - in the classic style of any cartoon spy - over to the door of her step-daughter's room and very cautiously knocked. She was already sure the girl wasn't in there thanks to the cabin's monitoring system that said, quite clearly, that there was a large amount of water being used. Since neither she nor Jedo - who was out running the trap line - was in the bath or doing the dishes or any one of the various other activities that would consume such a large amount of water, she was fairly certain that Tadi was in the bath. She'd set that tripwire herself - after all, "I know what I'd be doing in there, hur hur..."

Without dwelling on the girl's recreational habits too long, she took advantage of the opportunity provided to test the door and, finding it locked, she picked it, "A life lived on the mean streets wins again!"

Not that the lock was particularly difficult. Even in the future, the good old-fashioned tumbler was sufficient to give a kid some privacy under most circumstances. Alwyra wasn't most circumstances though and as she moved through the room she knew exactly what she was looking for. The hiss of the shower - now plainly audible through the mostly-closed door - was good cover for some clandestine activities and she opened drawers and searched cabinets with few worries as to discovery. The question she was trying to answer was one as familiar to parents then as it is now; Who were her step-daughter's friends?

Reasonably, whoever they were they were all virtual in nature. Physically isolated in the cabin it would be easiest for her to establish virtual friendships and while this might mean that her friends could be anyone or anything, in most cases general patterns of behavior tended to sort people out into their own peer groups with only a certain amount of overlap. Thus it was likely that if she could discover who Tadi's friends were, she could then use that to her advantage. Her thought process was reasonably straightforward; Tadi wouldn't fall for a glossy brochure shoved under her door, but she might well just try to follow them to a university with a reputation as a party school; "Especially if she's having sex with them!"

The neko's eyes nearly bugged out as she flipped through a portfolio that she'd found in a desk drawer. The images ran from a virtual avatar that looked very close to her step-daughter - at least in the face; Tadi had clearly been 'adjusting' her weight and other body proportions - through regular buddy-buddy pictures and selfies to vanilla sex and all the way to virtual gore and snuff. Presuming the avatar presented at the beginning of the sexual scrapbook was hers, the young woman was mostly a participant while there was a distinct ringleader who seemed to be the organizer and central focus of the various exotic sexual fantasizes. There was something else as well though and she looked closer at one of the avatars, trying to blot out the sequence unfolding around him.

"Mr. McArthur... So there you are."

It could be him, or it could not be, but there was such a strong resemblance to the face on the furry wolf-dragon-thing that she was nearly one-hundred percent confident. Whether or not she was right or wrong, a few quick clicks of the camera in her head and she started a search for similar images and did what everyone with money did when confronted by a need for knowledge; She hired a private investigator. While she dumped all the information she had on Parker McArthur on them, she went back to the scrapbook. His avatar was only present in a small number of the images and always on the periphery but... She stopped and held up the scrapbook.

"Why does she have a gore-porn scrapbook!?"

Holding it by a corner and making a face of utter disgust, she dropped it back into the drawer, made sure it was properly closed, and snuck out of the room rather more quickly than she'd entered it. Retreating to her own bedroom, she steeled herself and plugged in. There was snooping to be done and with the information as to what her step-daughter enjoyed in hand, she began to search around for virtual communities that were notably involved in those activities. The Republic side of the Internet was a wild, wide, and woolly place and even with the specifics handed to her virtual assistant, it left her with many thousands of possibilities.

'...or I can just snoop on her internet traffic. I'm paying for it, after all, right?'

[Sunset]

Eastern Islands, GEC-99791B (Alice)...

"My hair!" Huang's eyes widened in mock outrage as she turned to look in the direction the arrow had come from, lifting her hand to feel at the mid-length raven black locks subtly streaked with crystalline blue that were, like the rest of her, locked away in an artistic bunch under the space-age and quite arrow-proof helmet, "They shot my hair!"

The question of whether a he or she was the responsible party hadn't been resolved and while the Lieutenant Commander snatched up her own rifle and pantomimed the motion of cocking an altogether different style of weapon, she swept the jungle, switching through various sensor options until the radiant shape of a stealthily moving bunny stood out plainly against the foliage. She could have just let the combat targeting system do the deed but that wouldn't have fit the theme of the moment. Instead Janice carefully flipped through the weapon settings as she panned the weapon over the trees until just the right one was programmed in. Another arrow lanced past her but she stood there unconcerned, posed with the weapon at her hip, before pulling the trigger.

One by one, bright blue beams cut into the jungle to peck away at the trees and branches, sending some to the ground while leaving neat holes in others. Each one chased the other as they marched towards the hidden archer and he rose from his position to run frantically away from the chasing beams; "Son of a bitch..."

The last shot is more careful; Lining up the sights on his back, she waited until he turned and the entire broadside was visible. Holding her breath for a half-second she pulled the trigger and he went down, "...pretty good for Rambo!"

With little time to lose, Janice slung the rifle over her shoulder and ran to where the body had fallen before once again slipping a decap-a-donut out of her pack and around the now-cooling body, "What goes around... Let's see what you have to say for yourself!"

[Sunset]

Far Below Ambrosia, Southern Anuke, Ares System...

"Reconsidering..." Doctor Ambrose paused and used a toe to push a giant purple gummy pony off the edge of the platform to plunge spinning towards the floor far below, "That order may have been given in haste."

In fact, as soon as the shouted order to kill Minion 23 had left his throat he'd reconsidered but by then it had been too late. In a display of brilliantly programmed brutal efficiency every flavor of Minion in the room had pivoted and opened fire. Even 23, following the order to the letter, had put the muzzle of his massive rifle under his chin and had been close to pulling the trigger when the weapon had been chopped apart by incoming fire. But the grey-faced Minions were specifically engineered to endure such; Their human DNA mixed with that of a space-borne amoeba capable of absorbing various forms of radiation in order to sustain itself along with a dash of the transmuted blood of the Doctor's captive alien nemesis, the Arch Tyrant Shatterblood. Twenty Three had begun to swell immediately under the assault but even as he had reached titanic proportions he remained silent, almost accepting of his fate until the last moment. Seconds before his body could no longer absorb the energy he opened his mouth in a shattering scream of rage before exploding in a rain of...

Giant fruity colored gummy animals.

"Perhaps. Most importantly it leaves the question as to whether Twenty-Three was the source of the infestation unanswered. Was it already present in his body? Or was this a deliberate admixture from the machine?"

He looked up to the giant eyeball-shaped device that hung invisibly suspended in the center of the room. The framework that surrounded it was tilted at several odd angles - like an old fashioned globe, several bands-within-bands cradled it and had remained mostly in place while he had adjusted the giant iris to fix 23 in its potent and multiplicative gaze.

"Ah!" He swept a foot back to punt another one of the sugary treats away, the giraffe flying end-over-end to bounce off the wall and sail into the abyss. "At least we can narrow things down. Minions!" As one they turned to him, stopping in the process of whatever they were doing. "Self-examination. Palpitate," he ran his hands over his armor, picking out the spots underneath where it was likely a mass of writing eel-like tentacles from beyond the imaginings of mortals could hide without alerting an individual to their presence by virtue of hurting like a son of a bitch, "Your lower abdomen, upper abdomen, right and left side under the floating ribs, and... A breathing check to determine if there is any obstruction or mass in the lungs," he decided, finishing the quest his bony fingers had begun. "If you find anything resembling eels, or gummy candies, or anything that seems unusual, report it at once!"

All around him, the Minions set about their assigned task and after a moment he reached into the hip pocket and pulled out a flask. Something odd about the metal container made itself known to his fingers and he flipped it over to examine it while unscrewing the top, "Oh, a shame. One of my favorites." Crushed against his backside during an earlier fall, the careful monogram that covered the outer curved face was now ruined. But the contents were not and he took an unhealthy slug before leaving the top to dangle and looking around.

Most of the Minions had simply removed their torso armor, including the female Super Minions, and he made a great show of walking from one to another and watching as they made their inspection. Nodding approvingly and offering up some technical but useless detail, he attempted to approve the work of as many as possible before they again donned their armored vests. Flask empty and the lack of nightmare parasites somewhat assured, he returned to the console that overlooked the great eye.

"Any sign of anything out of the ordinary?" The answer was a silent 'no' and they looked up at him for only a moment before returning to whatever useful tasks they had assigned themselves. From his high perch, Stephen could cleanly see the enormous amount of damage the previous barrage had done to the machine and it was truly staggering. Holes had been blown in nearly ever surface and some looked quite deep. Doubtless the damage to the machinery was significant but he was always the optimist, "Let's see if it still works."

The more pertinent question was really whether or not the ancient artifact had a self-repair function, but his earlier operation of the machine had been...

"I suppose it is possible I did it wrong," he sighed. "Maybe one of these switches implants eels in things. Let's... Try the scientific approach."

Once again the enormous sphere swung in its gimble and moved to point at Super Minion Five, who he had determined was possessed of the most attractive set of mammary glands, "Hold still! After all... If you can't reproduce it, It's not Science!"

[Sunset]

Below the Surface, The Dragon's Eye, Delta Quadrant...

'...so then he tells me that the Menelmacari invented democracy but 'We did it right the first time, so we only needed to vote once.''

'I can believe it,' Commander Sloan agreed, pushing her armor up from its position sitting on the edge of the balcony and out of the way of the expanded Engineering team to drift slowly down towards the floor of the colossal submerged temple, 'Someone else once told me that the root syllable for every word in Sindarin ultimately comes to mean 'smug asshole.''

Kami laughed, short and sharp, 'Ha! Who was that?'

'Guess. You met him... Once, I think.'

It wasn't a very fair riddle - nearly on the level of 'What have I got in my pocket?' - but the Captain gave it a few good guesses before giving up; '...L'la G'hrn'la?'

'A valiant attempt, but no,' the blonde officer shook her virtual head, 'Just who you'd expect to say something like that; Amaril Silaco.'

Captain Blaine knew of him but it took her a moment to remember her one direct encounter; A brainstorming session back at the Academy where he'd assigned the Cadets to find different uses for the rigid poles included with an escape pod survival tent. Their team had come up with quite a few different ideas, some of which had made their way into the escape pods under their armored hatches aboard the Ojeni. Thoughts of her Academy days not long past distracted her for a few moments; 'I wonder how they are doing.'

'Who?'

'Oh, the people I sorta hung around with back at the Academy. Josh and Bani, couple others. Josh disappeared into a Black Project and Bani should be a year or so away from the end of her term as a Senator. When I was in the Academy I isolated myself socially so I could focus and get those Lieutenant chevrons and they were the closest things to friends that I had. More like friendly competitors. Now that I'm the Captain...'

Her meteoric rise through the ranks had demanded just as much of her attention as her enforced isolation at the Academy. Even her relationship with Sloan was a symptom of that; The normally close relationship most commanding officers had with their executive officer also served as an outlet for her physical needs and what little time she had for social activity was centered around the willowy Freodian. Sloan didn't seem to mind - or at least hadn't worded any objections - and her crew seemed to understand as well. Most Captains were in their early middle age while she was only in her early twenties and their greater span of experience would doubtless help them deal with the stress better than she was.

'Maybe we'll get a chance to catch up once we're done here,' Virtual phone calls were one thing, but Sloan knew the value of a night out with drinks at a bar or a meal at a nice restaurant. 'Just about time for a couple weeks of Ar-and-Ar.'

Kami was just about to respond with 'Where?' - The Ojeni was in the distant reaches of the Delta Quadrant and the closest Republic outpost was in Liu Xiu, nearly two weeks away by itself - when she was barely interrupted by the Eye. Secure in his own custom powered armor suit, he'd come along with his latest construct in order to oversee its deployment as well as possibly share a little bit in the glory of whatever discovery was to follow; 'My balls are just about to break the surface, Captain!'

Giggles followed and he laughed along to his deliberate comment, but all eyes were now focused on the feed from the spherical probes that had been making their way through the deep cylinder for a careful hour before turning up again to drift towards the shimmering surface of the water, the air-filled chamber above, and the submersible probe that still bobbed on the surface. One after the other, the two broke the surface and churned towards the edge. To allow them to move about the underground chamber, the Eye had decoupled the outer shell from the inner, added a set of motorized rollers, and textured the surface of the mono-shell to give it some purchase. Reaching the edge of the pool they put on a burst of speed, the ridges pushing them hard against the stone edge, and again one after the other they rolled out into the chamber, one heading for the archway while the other began to circle the dark chamber, bouncing along as it hit the high edge of one piece of carved stone or another.

Pausing under the hanging brazier, the first sphere looked around to focus its cameras on sensors on first one detail then the other before rolling forward into the mysteries ahead...

[Sunset]

Special Projects Research Tower, Landor City, Terra Incognito...

"What I'm doing is re-thinking a lot of the concepts you normally see in a hoverbike," Katryna began, leaning back against her latest evolutionary design. She had her fingers in the pockets of the unbuttoned mock-uniform shorts she was wearing and this tugged them lower until they were on the very verge of slipping down her smoothly muscled legs and showing off the glass-black bikini she wore under them. Over the matching teardrop top she was wearing an open Defense Force uniform blouse and with her good looks and blue striped hair it looked more like she was selling the prototype on the convention center floor rather than explaining her work to a colleague.

"I started by re-skeletonizing the design, keeping only the amount of mass that I need to do the job - or jobs. There needs to be enough to form the humanoid form when the SHC is in armor mode, enough for Mom's chair mode, and then enough for the hovercycle itself. The armor mode has the highest surface area requirement, so that set the baseline."

A hologram of the three different forms; The first a suit of powered armor lighter on the scale than the Defense Force's GhostDragon, the second the sleek hovercycle she was now leaning against, and the third the oddball chair mode, which also doubled as a storage mode. Given the fictional origins of the original Cyclone design, the last made more sense; The Cyclone had been a stowage item on the veritech line of transforming fighter/robots but Erika's innovation had made it entirely more useful. On the modern battlefield an unarmored pilot was a near-immediate casualty but by fitting the SHC as an ejection seat that could then provide the pilot or operator with significant battlefield protection and mobility, it had become not only a standard piece of equipment aboard everything from starships to gravtanks, but also a favorite of their crews.

"The next thing to do was to reconsider how the modern cycle is ridden. To keep the center of gravity low and the ride stable, internal combustion and even most hover or gravetic models mount the primary power plant between the operator's legs. The problem is that this then forces the rider into a specific position - legs spread, straddling the chassis. Sometimes," a grin spread across her lips, "It's fun to get on top of something thick and powerful and just ride it all night long. But in this case that stance moves the legs out to leave them more exposed and reduces the potential aerodynamic shapes of the vehicle."

A wire frame of her body in the traditional over-the-engine pose appeared and a green-lined wind blew against it, cowlings and fenders appearing to reshape the wind and increase aerodynamic potential with each change increasing or decreasing a set of numbers that appeared to one side.

"The stance is also unnatural - we want to sit how we walk, with our legs roughly parallel. Putting that into effect, however, would create something of an axe-head seat - very uncomfortable - so I went for a compromise. The legs are much closer together, which is also useful to simplify the transition from cycle to armor, and the position is more natural. The rider can adopt a forward leaning position more in keeping with a traditional bike, or move their legs to tuck and hook them underneath and go nearly prone. This also puts the legs in position to be quickly surrounded by the mobile armor plates while otherwise they form a protective side cowling. This also narrows the forward attack profile to make the bike and rider harder to hit. Because the shape of current sport bikes already includes many shape elements that are easily incorporated into the armor mode, this informs a design that is even more molded to the form than before with the effect of increasing rider protection in all forms."

"Past that," she ran a hand down the side of the bike, tracing the sleek curves with her fingers, "I had to make it look good. An amalgamation of moving plates would make it stand out like a sore thumb when used as a low-profile transport and protective element by diplomatic personnel. Which takes us to the next innovation; I wanted something that merges well with various forms. You'll notice there are no wheels this time - not even a retractable system. Instead, what I've done is position a pair of landing feet so that they simulate the positioning of ground wheels and then..."

A mental command and a pair of holographic wheels appeared, their armatures exactly surrounding the landing legs so that it appeared that the design was instead slightly angled to support itself on the rubber tires.

"And this also allows for a bit of flare;" Holographic fairings and cowlings began to appear, cycling through a variety of designs that meshed with the existing detailing but varied from the elegant to the intricate and the high-tech to the antique. "But if you don't want something you can ultimately pass your hand through," she demonstrated, waving her hand right through the forward cowling until it made contact with the real body of the bike, "There's another option."

The holograms disappeared and a blob of something surged out of a compartment on the underside of the forward and rear faring to fall into place and form a high-tech looking cover and wheel. This too began to shift through various designs though they stuck to the matte and the high-tech without the apparent option for something with the shine of plastic.

"Polymorphic cloth, but in a thick weight so it will stand up to high-speed travel. It won't support the bike's weight but it can adopt nearly the same amount of shapes. And there are some fun little options I've come up with;" Swinging a leg over the bike, she mounted it and tipped it upright. An instant later and the bike was moving up to surround her, pulling her inside the variable armor mode, until she was encased from head to toe. Once again the fabric began to deploy but this time it formed into a set of thick clothes - a multi-layered robe complete with a cowl that effectively disguised the armor underneath.

"A knight traveling incognito," she offered before shifting the cloth again to a more traditional tabard and large fur-shouldered cloak, "Or in the open. Useful for the diplomat or officer that finds themselves among a civilization where chivalry still holds sway. You'll need to bring your own sword though."

A segment of the cloth split off to form an ornate and titanic blade but a single swing demonstrated just how floppy and ultimately useless it would be.

"And, if you are out in the wilderness?"

Moving to lay down, the cloth flowed away and the armored suit shifted into the odd-ball chair form before extending out into a padded and serviceable cot before being surmounted by a soft dome tent; "Cozy enough for two!"

[Sunset]

Ko'Oset (GEC-1778099D), Alpha Quadrant...

'Why have you three off-worlders spent so much time dedicated to following Fz'Rnth'Zp'Ltn'Sjn through the walking areas of this inhabited area?"

The translation software gave a feminine tilt to the Feknarthi's voice as she looked up at the three, something akin to accusation in her wide spread eyes. It had been an inconvenient accident that had led to their confrontation; The hammer-headed alien had turned into one of a dozen shops that were again clustered together into a larger multi-domed bazaar and the overhead tracking from the Ixutsangi had been lost. Inside the densely packed market were many hundreds of the near-insectoid Oseti and even the best predictive software couldn't know what path she would take. The three Explorers had waited outside for nearly an hour before Trinya, losing patience, had decided to poke her head inside. With the ship keeping watch from overhead they knew the diminutive alien hadn't left but they hadn't been expecting her to be walking out through the same door - out of a similar dozen - that the young woman had found conveniently close enough to peek inside.

"Well, we..." Trinya stumbled over her words. How had the Feknarthi known they were following her? Or had she? Was it just a coincidence and thus bad luck? The blue-skinned alien wasn't giving any particular indication either way, though it was hard to read anything into the Aquatic's body language. "We, uh..."

"We haven't met many off-worlders here," Deania interrupted, trying to save the situation. The humanoid turned to her and she edged to one side, trying to draw her attention away from Trinya. "We were just trying to catch up, see if we could strike up a conversation!"

The Feknarthi looked up at her, blinked rapidly several times, then leaned close. It almost looked as if the alien was sniffing at her and the Seeker pulled back hesitantly; "A conversation? You wanted to talk to Fz'Rnth'Zp'Ltn'Sjn? I do not know your kind," again she sniffed at Deania, then turned towards Trinya and Lae. "You are not Oseti, neither are you any kind that Fz'Rnth'Zp'Ltn'Sjn knows. But you want to talk to Fz'Rnth'Zp'Ltn'Sjn?"

"Yes," Deania nodded, the other two joining her more than a bit over-vigorously. "We just wanted to talk. You're here, we're here, we're not from around here... That gives us something to talk about, right?"

Lae looked and Trinya and Trinya looked back; It seemed a stretch but there wasn't anything to do but support the Seeker, even if it was just by not running away. For the longest minute the four looked at each other, Fz'Rnth'Zp'Ltn'Sjn up at them and Deania down at her expectantly while the other two shifted and tried to look nonchalant as they focused their gaze but not their attention elsewhere.

"...why did you not approach Fz'Rnth'Zp'Ltn'Sjn earlier?! I enjoy talking but Oseti do not want to talk to Fz'Rnth'Zp'Ltn'Sjn because they fear Feknarthi. Come with me, I know of quiet place to converse. We will talk!"

Turning and gesturing at the three with what they could only assume was an invitation to follow her, the blue-skinned alien led them through the crowds on a winding course that led them only a short distance to a cluster of taverns and public houses. It was less a coincidence than an almost certainty that they arrived at the same bar where Commander Timmons was now picking up a quartet of barrels, stacking them on a simple hand-cart and tipping it back before suddenly returning it to the upright position as the four approached, "How did you three end up here?"

"Fz'Rnth'Zp'Ltn'Sjn brought them here! Best G'lorth in the city!"

"G'lorth?" Timmons looked at the barrels, "This doesn't go by any other names does it?"

The bartender, who had shrunk back from the plank to lean against the row of tubs behind it and stare at the Feknarthi as though the force of his gaze alone might snap her head off, looked up at him, "Ken'Rath, Jin'Thrus. Depends on where you're from. Or where you're going," he finished, the wing-spines on his back moving meaningfully.

"Well," he tipped the cart back, "I think I'll be going..."

Ignoring his departure, the small alien made her way to an empty table and sat down, "That one looked like you, though his caste was different. Was he of your kind?"

"Caste?" Trinya looked at the Commander's back as he made his way through the crowd, pushing the hand cart and its wobbling load ahead of him over the broken dirt of the city streets, "You mean his skin?"

"Yes! He is brown, you are pink. I am blue. For the Feknarthi, this means something - everything!"

[Sunset]

Demi & Erika's House, Botany Bay, Chuh-Yu...

Ceramic tongs closed around the sausage, the intestine-cased ground meat hissing and popping as the dark brown tube ruptured and fat hissed down onto the ash-gray charcoal below. A space-age material put to mundane use; the clawed utensil guaranteed to never break and never stain though perhaps not under the mechanoid hand of the freckle-faced butler who turned the weiners row by row. A thin layer of soft butter applied at the last minute and split buns joined them, dangling down from the grate to toast golden brown and delicious while the sausages finished. Assured of the temperature by the control panel that hovered in the corner of her electronic vision, Alex turned to her next task while announcing to the nearby guests that lunch would be ready in a matter of minutes.

"...no more counting calories," Demi offered, the glass of berry-colored cider in her hand emphasizing her point as she chatted idly with Ateyf. The two were discussing the various benefits of the ExoCortex, a popular topic in the fad-friendly social culture of the Republic. The concept of immortality was not unfamiliar to most of its residents thanks to more than a century of exposure to various long-lived species that had the sheen of it and others like the various Artificial Intelligences that truly were beyond death. Instead it was the level of control over the self that proved the most fascinating. "You can just stop feeling hungry when you hit your total, right?"

Of course these days she was eating for two, but that fact wasn't public knowledge yet. That she hadn't yet had the same implant that Ms. al Saleef sported - along with the visible designer name plate picked out in platinum and gemstones at the base of her skull - was more-so though her reasoning was not. For the Ambassador, the birth of her child might well be the last truly natural experience her body might have before everything she did became at least somewhat linked to the artificial. It was to her the fitting beginning to a new life; Even if it would extend indefinite until accident or worse claimed it, a natural birth would be the greatest beginning to what she hoped to be a beautiful life.

"It's better than that," the fashion maven offered, running a hand that glittered with the silver sparkle of a slave bracelet up her neck and through the curly mane of shiny black hair to toss it out and expose the visible portion of the implant for a moment. "There's almost nothing like a good meal, after all. Instead it will just shut down my metabolism until I need the calories again. Say a little bit after lunch," she continued, her tone switching from charming to sultry with a subtle flick of a pointed tongue across ruby red lips making the invitation clear to her potential partner, "Instead of a qaylula..."

Her eyes flicked to the side and Demi's followed, both women turning to look to where Erika was conveniently kneeling to talk to one of their junior neighbors about something or other. Thos had the effect of pulling her fitted jeans tight against her backside to accentuate her bottom and neither turned away as they continued their conversation. There wasn't even a hint of a blush on Demi's dusky cheeks as she smiled, "For dessert? Definitely."

An invitation of any kind to Ateyf al Saleef carried an implicit risk of erotic by-play but the invitation to a casual lunch at the Secretary-General's home on Chuh-Yu had been deliberate in the intention. After the resolution of the Roanian crisis it was time to attempt a return to normality and a private celebration would provide a break-point between one and the other. When the children and their parents gathered from around the neighborhood went home it would be time for the adults to play in private.

"You can go deeper than just turning off your metabolism though," she went on, switching back to the previous topic though her thought ran to a similar vein. "Right down to specific areas of the body. Though that's a little too geeky - I've got an app where I can just put in my idealized body shape and it does the rest. You can make things bigger, smaller," she rocked her hips from side to side, "More curvy, sculpted... Sure, you can go in for cosmetic, but this will do what that does but over time. So it looks like you put in those hours in the gym but you really went to your friend's house for hot dogs and booze."

"And pie," Alex pointed out as she walked past, the buxom young woman pointing at a table just over Erika's shoulder where a quartet of different pastries was laid out.

"And pie," Ateyf agreed, her eyes following the butler rather than the delicious looking desserts. "Did she make all of those herself?"

"By hand. She's been up since last night putting all this together," Demi supplied, though she knew that there had been some cheating involved. With the Secretary-General's status, she'd been able to turn the ear of a couple high profile chefs to get their suggested recipes for everything right down to the seasonings for the sausage casings and with a galactic reach, some of the ingredients were from worlds far, far away. "It looks fantastic..."

As if on queue, the suit-clad butler rose from her place at the grill with a plate of sausages arranged on a thick cloth. They were steaming perfection; Dark brown skin with only a hint of char on each side with a cross-hatch left by the bars on the grill. Laying them down in front of the pie, she quickly plucked the buns off with her fingers and laid them out in a similar row with a line of condiments next to them with everything from traditional sauerkraut made in the German-speaking areas of the African Territories to something akin to mustard but harvested from the seeds of a shrub grown on Ixutsangi. There was even a grinder of Syn, though Demi was determined to try a regular dog before indulging in the senses-altering spice. Arrangements made, Alex picked up a steel rod and ran it around a thin triangle suspended from one of the tall planters that ringed the patio and the pleasant chime announced that lunch was now served.

"So," Ateyf studied the young woman - who by all outward appearances was just out of her teen years, "You ever get her into the sack?"

She'd been about to say something more explicit but already a small herd of kids was gathering around the table and the two found themselves at the back of a pack mostly consisting of a younger generation and an admixture of parents and adults from across the spectrum.

"That's a little unprofessional... And she's hetero."

"And that's what makes it fun," Ateyf smirked, taking a sip from her own glass. "And I bet I could change that. Have before..."

[Sunset]

Below the Surface, The Dragon's Eye, Delta Quadrant...

Through a world of darkness and shadow the two spherical drones rolled on, unhindered by the appearance of either obstacle or the alien. Smooth stone floors led through corridors of arched stone ceilings and wide galleries lined with statues stretched out to support the seas above; An Atlas from another time and place. Here and there dim fires lit a face, an unknown mechanism still feeding a brazier or grate from a vein of liquid phosphor. To the flesh and blood of mortals the heat would have been oppressive but to the two mono-shells it was merely another detail to note and transmit back to the officers and crew pouring over each image with anxious breath. Which pillar would reveal the still-living face of those who had carved this place, peaking out from behind an intricately carved monument or rising from behind an altar where blue flame burned to make their presence known?

The drones knew better though they had no such desires; A dozen different sensors swept their surroundings but yet aside from the fires there was nothing to show that life of any kind had walked these hallways in many thousands, perhaps many hundreds of thousands of years. It was no longer the dwelling of the living but the tomb of the dead. But if so, where were the bodies? Even if they could not find answers to the long-ago mysteries of the place even a single shred of something that looked like genetic material might hold a new discovery. But yet there was nothing.

And nothing led to speculation...

"It looks like a tomb," Captain Blaine offered, reflecting the general consensus. "But where are the bodies? A hundred million years crossing the gap between galaxies," she answered her own question. "But what is the significance of the missing faces? Doctor Vikosio - could those statues have survived a seven hundred million year crossing?"

Like most of the crew and passengers who could spare a moment, the researcher was watching the split feed from the two drones and at the Captain's request she chimed in, "I don't even have to guess at that one, Captain. I've harvested some high-resolution scans from the drones and compared the detail on the statues down there," she referred to the air-filled chambers far below the watery surface of the planet, "To the statues in the underwater complexes. Adjusting for the differing construction periods I'd give them eighty to ninety million years before they dissolve completely..."

A representation of one of the underground statues, reduced to a three-dimensional wire frame over a ghostly image of the statue, appeared in the feed along with a list of ambient conditions extrapolated from data harvested by the drones. This then split in two and the nominal atmosphere of the underground chambers was replaced with that of the undersea world. Time began to progress and while the first remained essentially untouched - without a sun or other body to orbit, there were no seasons, no freeze-thaw cycle, and thanks to the plentiful underground veins of phosphorus the temperature remained stable - the second began to dissolve away thanks to the slightly acidic sea. A thousand, ten thousand, and then a hundred thousand years passed. Finally a million years ticked away and there was a pause as the reduction of the second statue roughly matched those on the surface and progressed through a solid band of near-matches as the long construction of sub-surface complexes continued.

'Millions of years ago...'

Before breathless imagining took over Captain Blaine's thoughts, Lieutenant Ingersol broke in and dashed them on the hard reality of science; "I've hit the rewind button thanks to the Doctor's work..."

The imaging of the statues was replaced by the swirl of the galaxy, the location of the Dragon's Eye pinpointed against it, and the projected course over those past millions of years projected out as the galaxy rotated backwards to match it. Records appeared, data culled from a variety of sources, but there was ultimately nothing more solid than a few percentage points.

"And most of these are civilizations in the current era with nothing to indicate a history of millions of years," he finished. "I'd suggest that this removes them from the equations rather than adds them, which gives us less than a dozen star systems that can both reasonably support life and get a glimpse of the rogue as it crosses their local star field. Here's the odd-ball thing; There's no sign of technology here. I mean, there's clearly technology at work. No civilization is going to be able to build a two kilometer vertical shaft through solid rock to an underground chamber that leads who knows where without some measure of advanced technology, but there's nothing laying around. No holoscreens, no metal locks. Not even anything hidden away below the surface. And there should be something to indicate more advanced technology left around somewhere. Even garbage. But this place looks like the whole thing was built by hand, one stone at a time."

"Which means there has to be a reason why. Why isn't there any garbage? Why aren't there any bodies?"

For the moment those two questions would have to go unanswered; The drones were still rolling along, directed through the sprawling network of corridors and hallways by the remote hand of one of the Eye's capable technicians, and the digital map that sprawled behind them was now coming to a clear conclusion. Ahead an enormous chamber opened up; A reproduction of the temple far above where the watery shaft began, it was a huge circular room with four titanic statues clustered in the center, their raised arms and hands spread wide to push up against the very earth itself. Each stood on a pillar that sat on the very surface of a glass-still pool that stretched nearly from wall to wall, a thin walkway surrounding it. The waters disappeared into darkness but the thin tracers of phosphor bubbling up to ignite in the center led to an easy assumption as to what lay below. More importantly was the ceiling that the four supported; Where the first had been plain, this was an epic representation of an alien at war. Sword in hand and gun in the other, one titanic figure battled an unending horde that was immediately noted for its variety.

Immediate excitement at the discovery was only countered by another; Across the smooth surface of the pool lay the drone's first obstacle and possibly the only one to remain in the way of ultimate discovery. An enormous door set in an archway loomed ahead, itself surmounting a smaller door built inside the first. Something resembling the iris that had sealed the shaft spread across the smaller: A complex lock with no visible key...

[Sunset]

CORE I Strategic Fleet Station, Deep Space, The Ares Super-Cluster...

"...No relation."

The comment was unsolicited but appropriate with the lean gray form of Grand Admiral G'Ogra'Phi standing next to Captain Vu'evere as the two watched the diminutive but powerful port tugs maneuver the long dark aquatic form of the derelict space ship into one of the enormous drydocks that itself lay inside one of the even more titanic maintenance and construction bays that were themselves build in a ring aroung the truly gargantuan spined crescent of the CORE I Station. With the basic investigation and inspection complete, it had been decided that the conveniently placed Wright Brothers would tow it to the CORE I and its far more extensive facilities for what would ultimately be a very intrusive and exhaustive series of tests and ultimately the deconstruction of the vessel and a complete investigation of its technologies. Thus rather than move it to one of the more public areas - such as one of the shipyard facilities in the Ares System - where the chance to look it over would be taken by all kinds of government and civilian organizations it was decided that depriving the old girl of her bra and panties would be done where both she and those helping her out of her clothing would have some modesty.

After all, one never knew when someone might come looking for the derelict.

Except that they did know who.

Or at least approximately who.

During the initial inspection the approximation of a search team had found a small medical bay and while the computer system had been and still was inaccessible both by desire for electricity and by presumed counter-intrusion electronics, there had been the more conventional data in the form of pictures suitable to any biology classroom or doctor's office the galaxy over. For those willing to disregard the astoundingly wide variety of humanoid species in the galaxy that looked essentially Human but were not close enough to reproduce together through virtue of similar evolution, genetic drift, or even radical biological manipulation, there was a certain similarity between the ArAreBee and the presumed inhabitants of the lifeless ship. Blue-gray skin and large black eyes were countered by two visible nostrils - the ArAreBee had only a broad mound remaining of a nose long ago faded into biological irrelevance - and the lack of visually distinct gender organs of any size or shape as well as the flattened and slightly lumpy shape to the unknown species' head.

But for those with a nuanced view of humanoid biology, the two were clearly separate species. Even applying the label of ugly cousin to the unknown alien couldn't explain away all the physical differences and there were more to consider. One of the largest was the shape of the ship itself; The ArAreBee were as well-known for their flying saucers - a design that had notably influenced starship construction in the Republic as well - as they were for their love of probings, cattle mutilations, and random abductions and implanted microchips. There was also little similarity between the precision dot-and-bar characters of the Martian natives and the more cuneiform lettering found aboard the ship. Labels had surrounded the highly detailed plasti-form buildup, but these only provided another piece of the language puzzle with large sections connecting the edges still missing under the couch but there was no indication that the picture on the box had a silvery saucer disappearing behind the trees.

"Your report indicates that it is a drone carrier of some kind..."

Captain Vu'evere's report was also rife with speculation, but the Grand Admiral's near-question allowed her some room to engage in more of the same; "Possibly, but there are other possibilities as well. Most of the internal volume is dedicated to a complex launch and retrieval system that centers around thousands of what appear to be unmanned drones."

But appearances, as had already been illustrated, could be deceiving. One of the first tasks would be to take several dozen of the drones - there were many hundreds to choose from - and carefully take them apart well away from the station. There were some indications that they might be something of a warhead with guns; Roughly arrowhead-shaped, they had a large oval pod that rested between two pointed blades that then held the barrels of two energy cannon in whatever breed the aliens preferred. It looked something like the all-electronic coffin cockpit of most modern space fighters but the scans they had carefully taken revealed it to be a near-solid unit with a single suspicious uranium-level mass in the center. Either the shielding around the warhead was particularly good or the object was notUranium, but either way the decision had been made to stop messing with it until the fighter-sized craft could be removed to somewhere safer. This would hopefully resolve one of the questions but the larger still remained; What was the purpose and origins of the ship and what was it doing so far out in the middle of nowhere?

"Drones, unless these are very expensive, tend to have a somewhat limited range compared to the capabilities of a full space ship. Why post such a craft where it was found?"

This was also a good question that needed an answer. One of the many points of speculation was that it was something akin to the Triumvirate's Nemesis strategic deterrent. Instead of combat drones, the sub-craft were cruise missiles of a sort and the ship - which had been motionless until it was taken under tow by the Wright Brothers - was the ballistic missile submarine of its particular era. But that theory was poked full of large holes; The derelict had been found in the Ares Super-Cluster and while space is both very, very large and very, very empty, the Super-Cluster was sufficiently well explored that a civilization capable of producing such a vessel would not have been overlooked. Answers to these questions and others were likely to be found in the ship's computer system but - and here was another task to be undertaken - breaking into an unknown system based on an unknown architecture with any number of unknown potential defenses in place including the utter loss of all useful data made the process both painstakingly detailed and time consuming.

Which was why the Grand Admiral was there; There really was nothing like a good computer probing, even if he was only watching.

[Sunset]

SS-Errant Stellas, Independent Merchantman, Beyond the Super-Cluster...

"How does interstellar trade work? Well, that really depends on who you are," Captain Mischke answered as he wound through the scattering of craftsmen who alternately knelt or sat at their various short tables or carefully arranged boards. Each was working on their own particular end product - this was no assembly line - and that was part of why he was there, as he went on to explain. His partner in conversation was the colorfully dressed chief - Captain to Chief; It was only polite, even though his duties were mostly the management of his small ship and smaller crew - of the Kaemon Tribe. There were larger cities and better known peoples among the members of this (formerly) lost Human colony but they didn't particularly serve the point of his visit. Other larger ships with their massive holds full of general consumer goods would service them but this was more his style; A gamble on whether anyone would want the various pieces of native art produced by the village.

The question that consistently worked in his favor was; Who decides what is art?

"And what you're buying and what you're selling. For someone on a high technology world - ultra-modern, very little poverty, everyone living in comfort and happiness - what they are interested in buying is what you are interested in selling."

Stopping at the edge of a kiln, he knelt and picked through the pile of fired pottery that varied in quality from the useless to the sublime, turning one piece or another over until he stopped at one in particular and held it up. Like the other pieces, it was a shallow plate with four lumps of clay stuck to the bottom and pressed with a simple spout on one edge. A circle of colorful plant-based dye in a vivid blue ran around the outside edge but the interior was unfinished to allow the beauty of the native soil to shine through after it had been fired or because the dye was still rare and hard to gather for the people of the tribe. The why didn't really matter as much as the mark on the back and Korei circled this with a gloved finger; "Which is this right here."

"Erini's mark?" The chief turned to look back through the workshop, a sheltered bowl circled by a crude log fence woven with native vines that grew wild with those same vivid blue flowers, searching for a particular face. "Right there. She's young and her work requires special care when fired. Still some of it falls apart - her mark serves to ensure that care is taken."

"It's also her signature," Mischke replied, putting the finished piece aside. "And that makes it more valuable than all of these other pieces in the markets where we'll be selling it. A signature associates this plate with a story - her story - and when this plate is put out on a display case in a chic botique in a city with a hundred million people on Ares, or Chuh-Yu, everyone will be paying attention to not only the plate but the little holodisplay that shows the native craftswoman working on another piece, signing it, and passing it to the master of the kiln. Even if it is a bit shoddy compared to this other one."

The Captain held up another and then the first, turning them over, and the difference was clear. The second had the same sized ball-legs, there were multiple bands of color, and there was no trace of a finger print where an expert thumb had formed the pour spout. There were even a series of concentric ridges that ran from the very edge of the colored band to near the center that would help keep the cooked food in place while the valuable fat - the reason for the spout - was poured off. But there was no signature - the quality of the work spoke to its creator to the people of the village.

Not, however, to the outside galaxy.

"Because her signature is her story. Back in the Republic, the average piece of dinner wear is made of a nearly indestructible material that would make good armor plating if it ever managed to make it to a world of knights and monsters. Unlikely, given how much it costs, but the average person only buys a few sets because it lasts forever. But it is also just a plate; Setting it out on the counter on a decorative wooden stand is going to look a little weird since everyone else also has that same plate. Perhaps a different shade, a slightly different shape, but ultimately the same plate. This," he held up the first, "Is unique, even if Erini is only just learning her trade. This will sell for ten, twenty times what a regular plate made of space-age super materials will because it will have a story attached to it. A visitor might ask about it and a conversation will be started, or a child might wonder at the name and spend the next week immersed in the culture of your village."

"So, everyone should start putting their mark on their work?"

"If you want to make some serious coin, yes."

[Sunset]

Ko'Oset (GEC-1778099D), Alpha Quadrant...

"Just another example of why we shouldn't paint an entire civilization with an overly broad brush," the Commander agreed, bending to pick up yet another barrel of the poorly named liquor and stacking it on the hand cart. Apparently the Oseti had never invented the wheelbarrow and it hadn't been imported by the Feknarthi and he was half-tempted to take one of the larger barrels - which were really very large and very hard native gourds that both served as transport and flavoring for the pungent alcohol - and saw it in half to introduce them to the concept. "Sentience is basically a guarantee that individuality will emerge in a species; The ability to think for oneself ensures a granularity in thinking beyond our animal roots. If we just look at the Feknarthi as 'The Enemy', we'll miss opportunities to learn about them and possibly make them our friends."

"Doesn't seem like the Therians look at them that way," Trinya pointed out, relaxing back into the broadly curved wooden branch that served as the native version of a chair.

Which was, on the level of a national government and a rival military power, a reasonable assessment. The conversation with Fz'Rnth'Zp'Ltn'Sjn had been both pleasant and insightful with the blue-skinned aquatic more than willing to discuss nearly every subject in both detail and at great length. Timmons had caught some of it between his trips across the city and, while most of what was discussed had been covered in the briefing materials culled from the Hegemony's intelligence database, listening to it as presented from a Feknarthi perspective had proved enlightening. It did not stop some of what had crossed the table from being repugnant and distasteful - the Feknarthi relied on a caste system that sorted every individual into their role in life simply based on the color of their skin. Blue, notably, was the color given to facilitators and administrators; Management.

Fz'Rnth'Zp'Ltn'Sjn was, by her own account, a relatively minor bureaucrat who worked inside the mechanisms of the larger colonial government in one of the Feknarthi's nearby systems. On holiday, she had come to Oseti to take in the local color as well as leverage her higher purchasing power to live like a Queen for a week. A few more days and she'd return to her own people aboard a visiting patrol ship that was there, as she readily admitted, as much to keep the locals in awe as it was to ensure the safety of the Empire. While not distinctly racist, there was always a hint of caste superiority in whatever they'd been discussing, unless it happened to involve the very upper crust which was made up entirely of white Feknarthi, as evidenced by the rotting bleached prune look sported by the current Emperor.

While the four had gained a good measure of insight into Feknarthi culture and society, they had failed at one particular goal; The conversation had left them with no clue as to whether the Empire was culpable or even capable of whatever had caused the affliction that currently beset the Hegemony. Useful as it was, they would have to dig deeper to find the answer to that question...

[Sunset]

Special Projects Covert Research Facility 74-A (Sigma), Denali, The Yukon System...

"...so what happened to the... uh, new body? The bench testing," Dr. Kryger asked, gesturing at Dr. Kraus' apparently restored body with her coffee cup. A jigger of whiskey added along with the cream and sugar had evened things out and, like so much of her adjustment to the realities of her new position, had been based on a suggestion from the previous Site Director.

Adam had preferred it straight from the bottle there at the end but the hard scent of coffee was a convenient cover.

"Oh, it's in the cooler," Fredrick jerked his head, indicating the tall walk-in unit built into one corner of his laboratory. "Turns out that it was missing something near and dear to my lovely wife... She just Couldn't Live Without It," he finished, emphasizing each word in a careful way that indicated just exactly what that particular missing something was.

Francine nearly chocked on her coffee - 'Damnit - Adam was right again! Always drink in your office...' - but her recovery was smooth enough, only putting the mug down with a little too much force and splattering a few big drops on the scientist's already-cluttered counter top. Taking in the entirety of the contents was a chance to distract herself from the mental image of Meri's sudden insistence that he regrow the missing organ and...

'No! Bad thoughts!'

She shook her head to clear them and glanced up at Dr. Kraus, who had returned to whatever abomination he was studying in his microscope, before going over the contents of the workbench again. It was her job to keep track of the various researchers at the site, even if that meant intruding on their relationships from time to time. But whatever he was working on at the moment didn't seem to have anything to do with his sex life; A collection of various small instruments and even smaller electronic components lay scattered around the bench along with a few half-disassembled objects she didn't quite recognize. Picking up one, she flipped it over in her hand to look for any kind of identification before the Doctor, in a psychic moment, answered her question.

"Phoenixi ExoCortex. One of the originals - I palmed it from Katryna's lab last time I was in Landor City."

"You were in Landor City? I didn't know you ever went off-world;" In fact, on a hunch, she stopped and checked the records. While there was nothing preventing the Doctor from traveling, especially to another similarly equipped research facility, there were notable warnings to keep track of him especially if his trip involved any proximity to monkeys. That there were no records of an off-world trip in the recent past, well, that was something to discuss later as she stopped to ask the next question, "You stole something from the Director's lab?!"

"I wouldn't say stole..." He looked up, "More like... Aggressive borrowing? Yes. Better term for it. And I'm not doing anything with it that she wouldn't have done with it."

"Which is..."

"Well, I had this thought when I was doing my own implantation," he turned to show her a crude surgical scar on the back of his neck, right down to the ragged cut and the twenty-pound test fishing leader with the split-shot sinkers still attached and the needle jammed through a pair of the stitches. "And that will require a bit of an explanation. You know how the ExoCortex works, right? Gradual substitution of cortical cells during an accelerated replacement cycle until the consciousness has been migrated over? What if that process was," He paused dramatically, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow and the other eye wide, "Interrupted?"

"I'm sure an advanced medical device like this has some kind of system to detect and restart after an interruption," Francine objected.

"A half-dozen of them," he agreed. "But they are all for various medical conditions or damage to the unit itself. What I'm talking about is... What would happen if the tissue that the ExoCortex was drawing on was completely annihilated? Burned away. The process completely stopped. You'd have a small part of a person in there, right? And what if we then re-implanted the device in another person? Now, right now there are safety protocols that won't even allow re-implantation. The ExoCortex will just sit there benignly and do all of nothing. But what if we were to bypass those protocols? Eventually the two personalities would merge, right? Now, what if we take that one step further..."

Turning from the workbench, he walked over to the walk-in freezer, sweeping his lab coat behind him to pull out a pistol that had been tucked into a concealed holster at the small of his back. The door opened and he brought the weapon up, ducking to one side and sweeping the inside corners before half-crouching and carefully moving inside. His voice echoed from inside as he continued, "What if we program the ExoCortex to just take a very specific part of the first subject's personality and memories and then a very specific part of the second subject's personality and memories?"

"That sounds monstrous!"

"Sometimes we do monstrous things, Francine;" There was the soft phut-phut of suppressed gunfire and she ran to the door to find him standing over the prone body of his particular nemesis. A large monkey - an orangutan - lay still with a pair of darts in its neck. "Imagine the intelligence possibilities. The perfect sleeper agent. Well, except that there aren't that many civilizations that use the ExoCortex yet. Uploading, various recording devices, but that's all just killing the original and calling it something nice even though you're fucking dead."

"Have you..." She looked at the freezer case where his recently crafted body stood, frozen stiff as a board. "You didn't, did you!?"

"Nope," he aimed a vicious kick at the ape's side, "But I'm about to..."

[Sunset]

Eastern Islands, GEC-99791B (Alice)...

"...so it turns out that they are crazy cannibal wabbits with a penchant for skinning their own family members alive and wearing their little lucky rabbit's feet as various bags and pouches. By the scale of just how fucked up something is, that's pretty damned fucked up. Sure, they've got cute little short ears. Sure, they look pretty fuckable in those bunny-fur harnesses, but they are just the monsters the kinks and the lops think they are. Hell," Janice flicked a berry from the bowl in her lap at the pointy-eared hare whose head sat on the shelf just beside her, whacking it on the forehead with enough force to wake him, "That one keeps telling me terrible stories about how he'd like to track me through the jungle, hobble me with his little suction cup bow-and-arrow, cut off all my fingers and toes, rape me, cut off all my limbs, rape me again..."

'Lieutenant Commander Huang,' Agent Madison interrupted unsuccessfully, trying to stop the stream of torture porn chatter.

"...Seriously fucked up shit," she finished with a grin, clearly pleased with her success in annoying the distant Agent.

Unlike Senior - 'Superior? Superior sounds more douchie. Gonna use that one...' - Agent Evening, who was still out in the field somewhere on the Island, Ivy was back on the home continent shepherding the locals through a low profile invasion and conquest of a frontier bunker town. Hopefully low profile; The rabbits had taken to their new weapons of war like ducks to water and this had led to some - all - measure of concern that they would simply wipe out every last man, woman, and child rather than go for the quick decapitation and replacement strike that the Agent had detailed out for them. Or there was the not-remote possibility that they would arrive at the target in their shiny new dirigible aircraft carrier and launch their fighters only to find Meli dancing naked in the middle of the village clad in the skins of their bisected leadership.

"You know, is there really a difference between what these guys do," she flicked another berry and this time the hare caught it in his mouth and spit it back at her. He couldn't talk - no vocal cords - and she'd silenced the cybernetic translator interface that had allowed her to interrogate him. Which had mostly consisted of him hurling colorful and obscenely disgusting gorey threats at her until she'd been convinced that every tale her furry allies had related was true, "And what she does?"

'Who?'

"Meli. She's kind of psychotic."

'Kind of? And you're kind of foul-mouthed.' It was more than just that but the holographic Agent didn't see a need to go into the whole litany of the dwarf's various mental health conditions. 'But she works for us and has a weird sense of loyalty. So there's the difference - they want to kill everyone, she wants to kill nearly everyone.'

"Except us."

'I don't know if I'd push it that far. If she ever got her hands on Agent Friday she'd probably make sure we wouldn't recognize them as remains even if we did find them. Which we probably wouldn't.'

During the initial stages of operations on Alice, Agent Friday had gone rogue and had started her self-directed campaign that was now eerily echoed in current events by shooting Meli in the back and using her head as a very temporary totem of her assumed power. That had ended with her forced extraction by way of a Marine commando and removal to parts unknown for an extensive debriefing. There was a certain worry of a repeat performance with the wider operation; The violent and murderous aggression seemingly inherent in the Hauyht seemed to rub off on those around them.

"Anyway," Janice returned to their previous topic, "These guys are the proverbial red-eyed devil. I'm not sure how much choice we'll have in the matter - both from our allies and from these little bastards. The flops want to wipe them out and I can't blame them, and the shorts seem to love to poke the hornet's nest. I dropped this asshole after he took a shot at me. One on one, versus someone wearing space-age body armor and hauling around a particle rifle with an engagement range of the horizon. I'd say that takes balls but his were like raisins. Maybe we should look into that..."

[Sunset]

The Maric Cabin, Kayv, Alawk's Star...

"Crossing my fingers!" Alwyra kicked herself back from the desk, arms and legs spread wide, and threw her head back to tip dangerously for a moment, even more-so as Kedo chose that precise moment to shoulder his way through the door behind her with a dripping wet and bloody load of Pauwyr hides. She looked upside down at him, he looked right-side down at her, and then she toppled over backwards in a most un-catlike display with her arms and legs waving wildly until she saved what little remained of her grace by rolling into a ball and winding up at his feet. A large blob of dead animal fluid mixed with freezing cold water chose to drip off the package and splatter across her nose. She looked at it cross-eyed, a tongue flicked out, and then she looked up at Kedo as her expression changed from startled to crazed, "Uh oh, She's got a taste of it! She's hungry for blood!"

A laughing chase ensued as he dropped his package on her and she pushed it aside to scamper after him first on all fours then upright, clawed fingers outstretched and tail lashing. They rounded corner and bookcase, jumped and half-rolled over couch and coffee table, and soon enough clothes were pulled off in preparation for a mock cannibal feast that quickly turned to a carnality of a more familiar kind. It was only when both were finished that he returned to the question that had somehow remained on his mind despite the enthusiasm displayed; "Crossing your fingers for what?"

"Oh, uh," she reached for her shirt, a convenient excuse to avoid his eyes, "Business thing. Trying to get a deal with..." The shirt half-down her arms and over her face, she stopped to struggle with it, turning it around the right way and then again until her face was visible through one of the short sleeves, "...a restaurant chain in the Dominion. They can be tricky customers."

"Nice. Think you'll get it?"

Elbowing her way through the shirt, she knelt to pull her pants back on, "Syn? And the Dominion? That's a natural fit! Come on... You'll have Don Corleone sitting in his booth with a glass of wine and Syn in his spaghetti! As long as we don't end up sleeping with the fishies... Tricky customers."

It was a lie and a betrayal worthy of the Godfather; Her just-finished task had been one of treachery against Kedo and his household, specifically his daughter. By combing through her internet traffic, she'd tracked down and identified who several of her close friends / bizarre gore-porn sex buddies were and then sent that information off to her own private investigators who had provided a lot more detail. It turned out that she was something of the big fish of the group and financed most of their more expensive activities. More than a few of the rest were exactly what one might expect of people who had drifted into the darker side of sexuality - broken homes, abuse, neglect, and poverty. With that as her opening, she'd started to throw money at the problem. Three of the most promising and most desperate had been offered full-ride 'Hardship' scholarships to a prestigious agricultural university with a reputation as a party school. If they took the deal - and they would be utterly stupid not to - Tadi would hear about it.

'And who wouldn't want to leave home to spend the next four to six years drinking and having weird sex?'

"Something on your mind?" Kedo asked, wrapping his thick arms around her chest and pulling her up tight against his chest. "You seem distracted..."

"Nah. No, just... I should get back to that contract. I have a feeling we're going to have a busy year ahead," she finished with a grin, turning her head up and pulling his cheek around for a kiss. "You should call your son!"

And she should look into the Hendrick situation...

[Sunset]

SDF-Heart of Gold, GEC-1210890B, Alpha Fringe...

"This looks like the perfect place to answer the questions we have," Captain Waretram began, applying his opinion to the brown-red planet that sprawled across the wide expanse of the bridge's main screen.

He should have begun with; 'I'm not a geologist but...' because in nearly the next breath one of the ship's many and various researchers and scientists broke in to correct his assumptions.

"Not yet," the holographic Doctor Tekla said as soon as the smoothly bald woman appeared out of thin air. "Without even turning over a rock I can already tell you that this planet and the whole star system is too young and still too active to sustain the kind of long-term growth that large crystal formations will require. At least under normal circumstances," she qualified. "These are not normal, since we could be dealing with any number of seeding schemes or engineered evolution environments. Being at an early stage of the planet's development could be beneficial to our investigation though; It is far more likely that anything we find will be a result of outside interference rather than natural geological processes."

By the accounts of both the Doso and the Heon, both had been the evolutionary - maybe - result of continued exposure of a very large crystal vein to a certain Agent X. In the case of the Doso it had been a very specific chemical mixture that functioned much as self-replicating DNA did in Humans and many other biological species. While the source of the chemical compound wasn't know and thus their exact origins still an evolutionary mystery, both Heon and Doso had required many tens of millions of years of geological stability for their evolution to come about. While there was always some measured effect from geological forces, the world below them experienced them on a much more frequent basis.

What was a million-year event was now a hundred and what was a thousand was now daily or even hourly as the still-pliable crust folded, buckled, and broken in front of their very eyes. Rift valleys formed the broad plains that would eventually form oceans and seas with long lines of bubbling lava churning up down the center before disappearing as some distant nascent plate pushed the gap shut only to cause it to erupt again elsewhere. Fifty year of near-stability, much less fifty thousand, was still millions of years of cooling and contraction away.

"But the mini-TRIPWIRE isn't lying," Lieutenant Taupi chimed in from his station. "There is still a noticeable connection to the singularity at GEC-S197422 as well as a very slight remnant expression in the tensor which could be inferred as being the evaporated remains of a white hole. Careful analysis of the connection..." The Therian paused while the computer crunched the numbers, "Closely matches that picked up between Terra Incognito and GEC-S38331 before the probe ship disintegrated."

"So it's down there somewhere," Waretram rose and paced around his chair before stopping, palms pressed into the back as he bent over to look at the image on the screen, "Two big questions. Where is it," he looked to the Sensor Officer, "And how did it survive down there? Let's go find out..."

[Sunset]

Silaco Electronics Global Headquarters, Chuh-Yu, Ares System...

"The galaxy is about to get a little weirder," Elizabeth Stanchon - or Elly-Bee, as she preferred to be known - announced as she paraded the latest innovation to come out of her particular design center in front of the CEO. Elly-Bee was the lead product designer for the various ForeverPet lines excepting the CEO herself, who looked on with some interest at the rather dramatic declaration. While Erika was sitting on a chair in the center of the room, bent over and running her hand down the spine and tail of a cat that slowly circled her crossed legs, the designer was waiting at the door for something or someone to make an apparent entrance. "Are you ready?"

"Impress me," Erika prompted, stroking the cat's head as it leapt up onto her lap and perched on her chest, looking her in the eyes and nuzzling her hand with its whiskers. The cat was just one of many of the electronic pets that wandered the building, a useful testing ground for the animals that were supposed to be the perfect pet. Realistic, but they didn't scratch the furniture.

"You're looking at her."

Erika stared at the cat. It looked just like an ordinary entry-level ForeverCat; Standard fur, body, features. Nothing special in particular. The weight was the same and by the way it moved there was nothing to distinguish it from just another house cat. It was less than impressive and she said so, "How is this impressive?"

"Because she is Coretta Ironhammer..."

She looked again. Her secretary hadn't been at her desk when she'd come in to the office, but there really wasn't a reason either. The Dwarf could manage the CEO's schedule from anywhere in the galaxy and take care of the myriad other assigned administrative tasks the same way. Most of her employees were similarly self-directed; As long as the work got done, she and the other members of management didn't care how it got done or where. The exception were people like Elly-Bee, who had to be in the office in order to avoid having their new designs and ideas ripped off by some clever hacker.

"Nuh uh."

"Yes huh!" This time it was the cat that answered, her voice the same as her secretary's and having that familiar false-Scottish Dwarven accent. "Time ta fess up, Elly."

With a shrug, the design chief did just that, "I told you, a little bit weirder. What we did was take a standard ForeverPet - tested and true - and mate that with a cybernetic interface that in turn allows any of the various ExoCortex offerings to be mounted. If you want to live as a cat," she held out her arms and the black-striped Bengal jumped into them and turned to run her head across the woman's chin, "You can live as a cat. Before you ask, we're going further than just cats. In a lot of cases we can load the ExoCortex and its adapter into the carrying pouch that a lot of the Forever and Intel lines already have. You can either ride along or you can go for direct control."

Erika tilted her head to the side, her eyes going from one to the other and then back again, "Wait, so... If I wanted to, I could live in a cat? Or a dog? That's some cheap housing!"

"You know, I never considered that, but I suppose you could, couldn't you? That raises the prospect of larger animals that don't have the risk of getting eaten by the local wildlife. A tiger, or wolf, and then live on a wilderness planet. Whatever the local alpha predator is."

"i like it. Do it - I want this on the streets tomorrow. Bandwidth will be an issue; Presumably people will want their regular connections, so we'll need to work with the big providers to up capacity on these worlds. But talk about a hell of a vacation..."