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

[Sunset]

The Secretary General's Office, SDF-Unconquered Sun, Circlet Station-Keeping, Gen Celet System...

"...an interesting legal theory, gentlemen." Erika closed the presented document and slid it back across the desk to fold her fingers over each other and look back at the pair. That they were lawyers was certain and that they were from somewhere in the Raumreich all but certain. Every so often one or two would disregard the perils of history and make an appointment seeking, through manipulations of the notoriously byzantine laws of those respective interstellar civilizations and their rather straightforward interactions with whatever treaty or accord the Republic had signed with those same governments, attempt to claim legal ownership of this or that whether it was some company or corporation or some resource adrift in the vastness of space. Today it was relatively unique in that it was the Circlet itself; By their particular legal account some individual with citizenship in their particular government had passed through this volume of space and by His and Her Majesties Royal Decree of the First Conciliatory Septatrium that very brush with the artifact placed it under the legal authority and thus possession of said individual. Said individual had pro-se given his exploratory rights to the sponsoring corporation, they had noted the Republic's unlawful intrusion into territory rightfully their own and given the vast worth of the mega-structure were now issuing a legal decree of ownership documented and stamped by Her and His Royal Imperial Majesty's own thumb by proxy in the personage of the Most Noble Duke of...

Erika didn't give a fuck.

Legal bullshit was legal bullshit and according to the laws of the Republic - for which she stood - it was deemed and titled as exactly that and accorded all the respect it deserved.

None.

"Very interesting. Well laid out, precisely documented, and certainly worth whatever hours you have managed to bill your clients for. Unfortunately, I don't care. As has been noted again and again, the laws of your particular state are not our laws and despite your own laws that suggest that your laws are somehow our laws because of the treaties that we sign - as if this were some Twenty-Second Century version of the shrink-wrap EULA - they are very much not. You are free to put your protest to the Most Noble..." She wasn't going to bother with the man's full title and name - doubtlessly bought and paid for by some spurious legal argument in the past - but pulled herself short, "But it will go nowhere with this office nor with the Secretary of Justice. A friend of mine suggested to me a notable quote that applies - laterally - to this very situation: An apology without action is not truly regret. As you can see, the Circlet is under the protection and possession of the Republic of Sunset and thus the greater aegis of the Triumvirate of Yut and we simply do not do the petty squabbles common to the rest of the galaxy. Attempt to lay claim through some force of arms and you will find your valuable shipping adrift and you, gentlemen, will be very much dead. As you may not have noted, those who involve themselves with spurious legal theories and accusations in the Republic are similar to criminal prosecution. As such would be an act of war..."

She left the rest unsaid. They could bluster, they could even make the claim that due to legal pressures and other such frippery the economy of the Republic would be harmed by her actions, companies would go under, houses would burn, small children would wail for the lives of their parents... But the Republic was not a terrestrial nation with terrestrial restraints and by extension neither was the larger super-federal state it belonged to. None of these would come to pass and thus her next statement would garner only smug self-satisfaction and additional billable hours for the impeccably dressed lawyers, "Piss off, and have a good day, gentlemen..."

[Sunset]

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

"What does this have to do with the giant purple space squid?" Dr. Kraus repeated the lab worker's question, considered it for a moment, and supplied an answer that surely wouldn't have satisfied the Site Director, "Pretty much nothing. But I've made all the progress I think I'm going to make for the moment and until the other teams catch up, I've got some time to kill." Slapping his hands together he curled fingers into the shape of a gun - Weaver Grip - and mimed putting two rounds into the back of someone's head, "Bap bap. Hmm, silenced finger gun... Do we do that?"

In fact, we-as-in-we already did that so he quickly discarded the idea and went back to the scattering of electronic components across the workbench to answer the second question; The 'what-is-it?', "And this is a cybernetic uplift module. There are uplift protocols in abundance of course and in every flavor of the rainbow and whatever psychoactive one might get one's dirty hippy mitts on. This one is a Krazy Kraus Special though."

Most Uplift Protocals were more of a mixture of genetic engineering and successful breeding thing. Generally the second wasn't an issue - biology being what it was, most species wanted to have whatever interesting or disgusting variety of sexual interaction that they had wanted to have prior to being chosen as the subject of an Uplift Protocol - with the first being the complicated part. Or at least it had been. Nowadays the Republic had the capacity to perform an uplift on pretty much anything the heart desired by slapping a sample into a Baby-in-a-Box home birthing unit and combining its DNA (Or known analog) with a slice of whatever weirdo wanted to to uplift their pet antelope and after a good six months of churning and bubbling they would be rewarded with their own sentient meta-antelope as well as odd questions at house parties. There was also the possibility of direct neurosurgery to accomplish the same thing, or the addition of various cybernetic components, but unless there was some tailoring of the original species this often resulted in something of a Dumb 'ol Cousin Larry.

Unless the target species already had enough neurological capacity to achieve sentience, one could call the end-admixture 'forced'.

Blithering idiot was also common.

"So what I've done is build a custom interface between an ExoCortex and whatever gray matter it's plugged into. Rat, cat, bat, you name it. The implant will break down what the subject's intelligence is and provide enough capacity to boost its intellect to sapience. At least until it takes off the hat. Which is proving to be something of a moral quandary."

Because that was the problem and that was the quandary. The implant was less an implant than an accessory and more a standard ball cap. He'd considered a bowler - the astute observer would note where he'd gotten the idea - but since only hipster douche-bags wore bowlers and most of those had been exterminated in the riots of '08 the Doctor had settled on a ball cap instead.

"Because if you take the hat off to scratch your head, or adjust the fit..."

"Precisely," Fredrick nodded. "Poof. No more 'you'. Then when you put it back on - if you can manage that - you're a new 'you' and the old you is dead and you're a murderer. Or a suicidal murderer. Or mass-murderer if you keep at it." Tossing the cap on the bench, he leaned against one arm while tapping his other set of fingers on his thigh, "Frankly, I'm starting to wonder why I did this. Which is usually something I wonder when I wake up in the morning."

"I could see it being useful for covert operations," the worker offered. Plucking it from the thick steel slab he nearly settled it on his head before looking up at the crude array of contacts curled around the inner rim, "Will this make me smarter?"

Dr. Kraus laughed sharply, "You? No. Well, maybe... But what I should really do is work out some way to have it wearable but not look like you have a fox wearing a baseball cap. I'm sure that's going to set the guards off. Hey, look at the fox in the hat! You think we should report that Karl?"

"I'd report it," the tech answered, settling the cap down on his forehead, "Plus the Triumvirate emblem on the front. You could have at least gone with the Cubs..."

Kraus shrugged. The black cap with the roundel of the Triumvirate of Yut was a standard issue cover across the entire super-federal state, though some member militaries mostly kept them on hand to pass out as souviners on shore excursions. It was hard to imagine a Sakkran Deep One wearing one, much less it fitting across their lumpy carapace, "It's what I had. Now, if I were to go proper Mad Scientist it would be a metal collar with some bolts. Or a skull cap with flashing lights. Hmm... A diadem or circlet would work too, but you'd look like an elven space fox. I'm sure the Menelmacari would love that but no." Something caught his attention and he looked at the man before reaching out a hand, "Those."

The tech looked down to where he was pointing. Around his neck hung a set of standard lab goggles. Meant to both protect the eyes and provide enhanced vision options, they looked something like a futuristic hair band with a flexible strap of clear plastic across the back. Pulling off the cap, he slipped the goggles off and handed them to the Doctor, "These?"

"Yes! Perfect. A little modification, but I might be able to conceal the circuitry entirely inside the existing apparatus... Now, let's see here," reaching out to grab a tool he was about to begin the process of taking the goggles apart but the man stopped him with a hand on his shoulder; "Doc... When I had that hat on, I was tasting bananas. Doc... What were you doing with it?"

"...nothing," Kraus paused. "I deny everything!"

[Sunset]

SDF-Ojeni, Far Stand-Off from GEC-1400971, Beta Quadrant...

"...it looks like whatever was growing between Amao's toes when my mom finally figured out he hadn't taken a shower or bath all summer. We'd been staying out at the lake house," Captain Blaine looked over to Commander Sloan, who nodded some recognition along with a suppressed giggle. Kami and her brother Amao had a well-established case of sibling rivalry and it was likely enough that said water-less streak had similarly been accompanied by some bodily outrage perpetrated by his older sister. "And he decided that frequent swimming in an unchlorinated lake was enough to keep him fresh. When Mom caught sight of his feet at the end of the summer, she decided that a visit to the local medical outpost was in order. He took one look and scrubbed them right down to the bone with a stiff brush. Apparently the Doc had read about a similar case in an old collection of stories - McManus something. So, Lieutenant Commander... Da fuck is it?"

At its core, it had once been or continued to be a near-identical mega-structure to the one presently found in far more pristine condition in the Gen Celet System some eighty-odd thousand light-years away. It was even spinning alone around a solitary gas giant while the accompanying gate complex sat far behind in the brown-and-gray titan's trailing trojan. Something had, however, gone extensively wrong as evidenced by the images gathered now and collated to display on the bridge's sprawling forward display. Enormous bubbles and lumps had erupted from the inner surface to curl across the continental landscape and eventually round the edge to present themselves to bare space where they apparently flourished despite the vacuum and mind-boggling speed.

Working over his console like a prize fighter tackling a side of beef, Ingersol made the surprise confession, "I am... Not exactly sure. Spectrography shows every element under the sun though there's a large percentage of PTU-557. But time-lapse..."

He touched the controls and the image zoomed in - way, way in, until the display was filled with something that looked like it had spent too much time under the broiler - and then sent it zooming back in time before playing it forward again to the current moment. Whatever movement was there was slight but it was there with the outer diameter of the bubbles or domes moving in ways that suggested that same heat.

"I'd say it's alive, but too many metallic elements. Or at least the wrong types of metallic elements. And whatever it is, it is absorbing a large amount of whatever I throw at it. Sensor returns are fuzzy at best. I'd almost say that its some kind of stealth material but the distribution across the surface is too random - you'd want to coat the entire thing, of course."

"Right, so... Something hiding inside the bubbles?"

"Could be." It was about as definitive as he could be for the moment but already the suggestion was churning, "I'd suggest launching a probe, Captain. Target the gate complex - the same activity is present there, but to a lesser degree. One of the good ones since I think we might need a physical inspection."

Kami pursed her lips; They were well outside the star system with most of their direct data now coming from the scattering of tactical warheads that made up the body of the VDA; Very Dangerous Array. To launch a probe would reveal their presence to whatever or whoever had managed to overrun an entire Circlet but, "Tactical, put the VDA between us and the target, fire the probe through it, then back us off again;" If something did come back at them they would first have to deal with a double-handful of conversion torpedoes, "One of the good ones."

"Yes, Ma'am."

With that out of the way, she turned to theory, "Is it a threat to the substance of the Circlet? Will it fall apart?"

There the Sensor Officer was again unsure, but he shared what he had, "I'd say 'no'. What little I have says that this stuff is low mass for the apparent volume. Bubbles might well be correct. It is likely made up of materials harvested from the Circlet but if it had been enough to threaten the stability of the structure it would have fallen apart a similarly long time ago."

"So we wait for the probe."

"Aye," he agreed, "I'm getting lunch."

[Sunset]

AMI Executive Annex, Steven's Crater, The Moon Minamoto, Hachiman, Ares System...

"No, no, and no."

One by one the full-scale mock-ups of the proposed power armor went up - or rather down - in smoke as Miss Nineteen vetoed each and every one of them. A tap at her clipboard and the printed plastic soldiers disappeared below trap doors cunningly concealed in the seemingly-seamless marble floor before emerging again much higher up to drop into the ragged pool of lava that edged one side of the room. This caused the appropriate level of consternation and concern among the gathered designers and now that she was assured of their rapt attention she began to detail exactly why they had been sent to their firey demise, "They all look like high-tech space rabbits."

Perhaps the crest had been a mistake. At least she was bold enough to erase it now, rather than when it was due to be presented to the President - Doctor Ambrose - and where it would immediately be mocked by way of a sarcastic 'What's up, Doc?' and perhaps ordered painted with a gray, white, and orange color scheme.

"Back to the drawing board, ladies and gentlemen. The finalized visuals are due on my desk at noon tomorrow - tight deadlines lead to tight designs. Now hop to it!"

There was an odd moment of silence before she realized, but the expected cracks in the facade did not show and instead she pointed towards the door with her stylus. As a collective mass they hurried out and where their eyes deceived them they attempted to avoid the now-hidden trapdoors. While these were not the same chemically-brainwashed and genetically engineered monsters that the Doctor kept around and disposed of as-needed, there was still some fear that she might treat them too as such. After all, two years at an art school just really wasn't worth much these days...

[Sunset]

In-Bound, GEC-1400971, Beta Quadrant...

SDF-SAP-432.990.001-D noiselessly whistled a merry tune as it sailed though the empty depths of the star system towards its lone destination, maneuvering winglets tucked close to its comma-shaped body and the sensor-studded eyes on the nose turning this way and that as it focused on some object near or far. It was not going particularly fast - fired from one of Ojeni's torpedo tubes, the launch speed had been kept purposefully low - and there was plenty of time to do some sightseeing on the way in. Not that there was much to see; Either the system had been stripped of all other planets during the construction of the local Circlet or there had only been the one drifting gas giant to begin with. Since the first seemed more likely than the second, it was the search for any trace that occupied much of its attentions. The song therefore was the regular rhythmic pulse of sensor data being sent back to the Ojeni to be compared and contrasted with that of its own sensors and the far-distant VDA as well as the return call of new instructions being passed by the remote operator.

Bit by bit, the visual details of the probes destination were coming into focus. Like the gate complex in the far-distant Gen Celet System, the local version was made up of a single large ring-shaped structure similar in design and by purpose very similar in nature to the Republic's own Aurora-Class Transit Gates. This would contain the operating equipment responsible for generating the artificial wormhole that would link this gate to another and then another, but unlike that system this then relied on a small network of six semi-orbiting secondary stations to maintain the complex artificial singularity once it had been created. These smaller stations - or one of them, number three to be exact - would be the probe's final destination. Weapons of the same sort as seen before studded its knobby exterior but encouragingly they did not turn to track the incoming probe though less encouraging this could simply be because they were stuck in the onyx-black spheres that dotted the surface. Here they were less numerous than on the gate itself and again much less-so than the Circlet and that made it the ideal location for a semi-isolated look-see.

"Two minutes," Ingersol announced, sitting back in his chair and looking over the console once again. A whip of mustard and he tapped at the controls - lunch was well-gone but the remains still plagued him - to bring up some bit of data, "And no change from the unknown objects other than slight movements consistent with pre-probe activity levels. I've run a pretty broad statistical analysis and the shape and size changes are essentially random within a certain spectrum. Still really fuzzy, but hopefully when the probe get there we'll find out just what they are."

The Lieutenant Commander had his suspicions, however. Whether they would be confirmed...

Now the probe began to slow, further and further as it spread the winglets and an intense gravity well formed behind it. It was not on the level of the singularity point that would signal the arrival of one end of an artificial wormhole but it was more than sufficient for the probe to begin slowly falling backward even as it approached the target. Slower and slower and against the scale of the ship-sized station the man-sized probe disappeared into a tiny gray dot against the matte silver surface and lost amid the clutter of several spheres. Here they didn't quite overlap as they did on the larger structures and so it was with reasonable ease that SDF-SAP-432.990.001-D made landfall to hover carefully above the surface and then edge closer and closer with its sensor-eyes focused on the black surface.

"Still mostly the same. The material is mostly PTU-557 with traces of other elements. There is," he focused the lower-most sensor eye on the surface of the station instead, "Some traces of scarring but note that they are very shallow."

On the main display, already showing what the probe saw through its trio of compound eyes, an inset appeared and then zoomed closer and closer until minute rivulets could be seen. To those familiar with the geology, they would resemble the canyon-lands of Earth or the Noctis Labyrinth of Mars with their steep canyons and soaring pinnacles.

"Which means the PTU-557 was harvested from the outer hull," and he nodded agreement with the Captain's assessment; "Yes, but not in large quantities. I would guess that we're looking at a bubble..."

"Any attempts at communication?"

"Nothing," the Lieutenant at the Comms Station relayed, his hands moving to double-check, "I've got the probe's ears all the way open and I've tried a couple starter patterns but no response at all."

Kami nodded and then glanced back to Ingersol with the same gesture; Best to be sure before the long rubber glove went to work. The probe paused and an iris hatch on the side whirled open. A flexible arm extended and on the end a precision physical sensor package that it first ran along the scarred surface before raising it to nudge it slowly and carefully into the darkness. Lights on the probe lit up the length of the arm but the extension itself seemed to disappear into a void as it penetrated the surface. Whatever the material was, it surrounded the intruder as tightly as the aforementioned medical garment and there was a pause as the devices worked their wonders.

"...I was right. Nanites!"

"A Black-Goo Scenario?"

"Not quite, Commander;" A moment later the main screen was flooded with another image - the altogether different interior of the bubble...

[Sunset]

Setting Five, The Circlet, Gen Celet System, Delta Quadrant... StarDate 2173.30...

With an arrow to guide her way, Annya took the leisurely path back to the point in the sprawling sub-structure underneath Setting Five where she had first come across the diminutive alien. There were both bodily functions to attend to as well as the odd doorway to sniff about. The first was relief - despite the artificiality of the connection between German Shepard body and Human ExoCortex there was still the pressure of a full bladder and the whiff of something new on the air. It felt somehow wrong to deposit a steaming pile of doggie-doo in the dark corner of the first closet-sized space she found but any promise to come back and clean it up later vanished as she continued back the way she had came.

Of particular note was the continued silence of the place. Other than the rasp of her own breath and the steady half-click of blunted claws on the textured decking, there was nothing but silence spread throughout the darkness. Not even the echoes of her passage made it back to the four-legged explorer as she moved from corridor to hallway and back and forth to expand the virtual map in her head into a fat and squiggling worm. When she had made it back to the point where she had come nose-to-nose with her prey, she stopped and began to investigate further. Perhaps there was some reason why the little mole-like humanoid had been in the area but a contemplative search revealed nothing more interesting than a small alcove studded with more of the spherical decorations.

"...which would be more interesting if I knew what they were."

Her nose went back to the ground. There was still a trace of scent and she followed it while keeping an eye on the map. To assist she'd drawn out a long tangent following the line of travel they had kept to in their chase and now she was pleased to find that the scent more or less tracked back with her supposition. With the notion that she might be heading towards a den with pups or whatever young the female might have been protecting in mind, she traveled both slow and careful with her paws leading so not even the click-click could reveal her.

"...dog armor with active camouflage and some kind of noise-dampening system. And some new front paws with opposable thumbs."

Since she couldn't have either, she pushed the distraction away and kept moving but it was soon and suddenly replaced by another of a more enjoyable and useful nature. A yellow light inside her augmented headspace lit up; Something was trying desperately to connect to her wireless networking node and that could only mean one thing; "Timmons."

There were ways around the weak signal, however, and they also served the dual purpose of getting back into another element she had abandoned in her wild dash. One by one she pulled sensor strips from the dispenser on her flank and laid them out in the center of the closest crossroads. That was an array and with her own rig connected to theirs the yellow light went to orange and that was enough for a broken, "Commander! This is Annya! Commander Timmons, is that you?"

Which it was and as the special flying squad homed in on her location she filled them in on the details until, just as they landed, she was ready to hop on the back of Seeker Deania's bike and rest her legs while they zoomed off into the darkness and towards whatever might lay at the tip of her arrow...

[Sunset]

The Doctor's Laboratory, Deep Under Steven's Crater, The Moon Minamoto, Hachiman, Ares System...

"I am a genius."

It was both statement and declaration and the good Doctor - who had himself just declared the previous - took it as such and offered no dissenting voice. Instead he stood rocked back on one heel with his left hand tucked into the crook of his right arm while that finger tapped thoughtfully at his chin. He'd shaven just that morning and the skin was delightfully smooth. A product of his own genius really; Every morning began with a single pill that contained the precursor ingredients to the underground drug known as MANLI but without the harmful side effects. Namely a slow transformation into the person and character of one Magnus Hesche, who was not prone to describing himself as a genius and was generally considered an all-around great guy and the most humble, charismatic, and approachable savior of the galaxy that one might ever meet.

None of which fit Doctor Stephen Ambrose' definition of self.

One might then wonder why he would participate - nay, inspire and create - such a seemingly contradictory wonder drug but the answer was simplicity itself: Every Mad Scientist needs a nemesis. Since he had already killed several in ways ranging from the simple (*Boom* - Headshot!) to the complex ('Knight to D9 - Checkmate...' *Bzzzzrtch*) the obvious solution was to make more. By making the drug itself vanishingly rare and only available on the blackest of markets, he was able to ensure that his potential foes would only partially complete their transformation into the man, the myth, the legend himself before seeking out either he or others of his illustrious - and otherwise inferior - kinship. After all, a nemesis was one thing while an equal or even superior quite another.

Back to the reason for the Doctor's initial statement; "Yes, definitely a genius. You see, I was enjoying dinner last night and to complement my meal the chef provided me with a sample of the exotic spice known as Syn. Discovered on an alien world, it induces synesthesia - that is, one sense is replaced by another so that one may see sounds or taste colors - in most humanoids that ingest it. Due to the complexities of flavors and aromas produced by modern cuisine, this often results in the individual experiencing a perception of the environment in which the ingredients were grown or harvested. It is a most excellent complement to various vintages of wine such as the '72 Claret I enjoyed last night."

"Now," he turned to the three Minions who stood in a stiff line across the middle of the laboratory, "For some time I have been struggling with the precise notion of how to replace Miss Seventeen. Certainly I can build my own, and to build a beautiful young woman is no impossible feat. But beauty is often in the eye of the beholder and thus, for the more astute among you..." He stopped to study the three and, as programmed, the three did not look back. Instead 33, 44, and 55 stood at perfect attention with their feet exactly touching at heel and toe and their arms straight at their sides with their chests firm and without even a sign of breath, "...which may not be any of you, the notion is clear."

"I will combine the effects of Syn with the body and mind of the perfect assistant. Not only will she be - by my own exacting standards - both of those two attributes but by manipulating the effects of the compounded Syn she will also appear to be exactly that to any humanoid species that encounters her. Even if they are into fat chicks. You three will help me to test this as, as evidenced by your pornography collections, you have the widest variety of sexual tastes. 66," he answered the question before it could be asked, even though the chemical conditioning and brainwashing made it near-impossible, "Will not be joining us. Ever. His tastes fall outside of all standards of decency - even for one such as myself who is above such antique notions of morality - and his service was terminated."

Along with 66.

"Over the next term I will be exposing you first to a non-viable organic test material that has been infused with Syn and various derivatives. Once the technique has been established, I will then move on to integrating this into a sentient candidate and begin the final body sculpting. I anticipate the whole process to take less than a week; I am a genius, after all..."

[Sunset]

Off-Duty Lounge, SDF-Unconquered Sun, Returning from the Circlet, Delta Quadrant...

"Why can I get drunk?"

It was a seemingly random question from the Ambassador, who sat sprawled into the corner of a booth with a very traditional wine glass spinning between her fingers while a non-traditional orange-brown treat of Oseti G'lorth. The bartender had secured a few casks of it from the personal stores of one Commander Timmons, who had traded it for who-knows-what out of the Unconquered Sun's own trade stock or perhaps in a more complicated three or four-way trade between several of the starships orbiting the Circlet. It was a well-established and understood informal economy of trades and barters that circulated the personal acquisitions of Exploration Command personnel back into the greater Fleet. It was a perk of both services, as was access to the shipboard facilities for diplomatic staff, scientists, and the like. Some might stash a little away but the thick and savory liquor would only last a few days in general circulation before disappearing into the realm of special occasion.

"Why or how," Commander Wenzlick asked, sitting back in the opposite bench with a tumble of more traditional flavor in front of him. The Commander was the executive officer on the Barbarossa, a Zenith-Class Fleet Transport that was currently at their next destination. His temporary promotion to commanding officer of a repaired and reactivated alien warship completed, he and a host of other officers and technical crew were in need of transport back to the Kion Homeworlds. With more than enough room to spare the Unconquered Sun was up to the task as well as serving as a short-term perk for the hard-working salvage crews; Ambassador Love had taken it on herself to entertain them even if that was nothing more than a few drinks in the off-duty lounge atop the saucer section.

"Mmm, why. I think." She smiled broadly - intentional or not, she was more than intoxicated and could well have meant 'How?' instead. "ExoCortex... You have one, right? So how can we still get drunk?"

"Oh, right. Well, I'm not a doctor, but the implant doesn't replace the parts of our brain that interpret the information coming from our senses. We can still get drunk, high, or whatever because those parts of our brain are still affected and then pass that distorted sensory information on to the ExoCortex. I suppose if someone had cybernetic eyes or whatnot that bypassed the visual cortex..."

"Sex!"

Was that an invitation or an addition? He eyed her carefully but instantly decided it was best to not go down that path. Not only was she drunk but she was married to his boss's boss's boss. Plus a few more boss's. Even if it was an open affair intoxication put a whole different twist on things, "Yes, and sex."

"Speaking of," she pushed herself to her feet and set the glass down on the table, missing the napkin by half the diameter of the glass. There was a moment of stumble and he caught her arm, "Thanks. You're cute, but I have somethin' else in mind. Someone else. If you could point me towards the door though?"

The thought of the Ambassador stumbling down the ship's corridors towards her stateroom was mildly amusing - perhaps a little more to the Commander, who had already nursed his way through a pair of drinks - but a particular sense of duty led him towards contemplating summoning a server to usher her along. His problem was momentarily solved though as the doors to the lounge swished open and the Secretary-General entered. Her stride was casual but perhaps still forced and she was only a few quick steps from the Ambassador and a hand extended in support, "Demi... Commander."

"Ma'am." There wasn't a salute, of course. Both was it the off-duty lounge and neither was there a particular tradition in the Defense Force of saluting a superior officer except in the most formal of circumstances. "Miss Love was just on her way back..."

"Yes, thank you. I'll take her from here." There was a subtle smile and almost a wink on the blonde woman's face but she went no further, "We'll be arriving in the Kion System in less than four hours. I might suggest the Commander get some sleep too."

Sleep. Suuuure.

[Sunset]

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

"The secret to preparing a successful fondue," Doctor Thola answered, his voice carrying through the counter where the diminutive Mecca rummaged and into the kitchen where a pot bubbled on the stove just above his head, "Is patience. Melting the cheese slowly and in small amounts into the base liquid until a careful emulsion is formed. You can add a little lemon juice, some starch - something to keep the proteins from clumping until the heat denatures them - but patience is the real secret. However..."

The long-furred humanoid finally emerged from the cabinets below the range carrying a long, slender appliance with him. Hopping up on the stool that he required to reach nearly any workspace, he set it upright and then tended to his concoction. A spoon stirred the yellow-white liquid and he noted the particularly grainy appearance without seeming concern.

"...however, it has been noted before that patience is sometimes in short supply. Thus the resulting melt is now grainy and doesn't look very appealing, does it? No matter!" Laying the spoon aside, he hefted the stick and put one end in the pot. "Where technique fails, horsepower prevails!"

A sudden whir and the liquid churned into a froth, spraying out in four directions before turning back at the edge of the pot and churning under to re-enter the vortex. Against the power of the spinning blades the grains were quickly reduced to a smooth current that rippled and flowed as he moved the blender around. More cheese and the pile on the cutting board next to him vanished. Pulling out his tool, Thola put in a spoon and took a taste before pouring the melted cheese out into a smaller pot that sat on four little legs with a pile of sliced vegetables and toasted breads beside it. Carefully balancing it over his head, he walked over to the table against one wall and pushed it up until it just cleared the edge and he could slide it to the center.

"And thus lunch is served! Now, you were asking after my current project?"

"That's right," Amaril nodded, taking the offered fork and plucking up a chunk of bread to dip it in the mixture. "Just a catch-up to see what you're doing and where I can help."

Thola bobbed his head, "Ah! Yes, certainly! Propitious that you would ask at such a moment, as my current project is much the same as this meal. Various existing ingredients combined to form a tasty new whole!"

"Which is...?"

"Mind control."

"Mind control."

"Yes! Rather, not truly mind control, but rather person control," the Mecce enthused, bobbing up and down in his chair with barely-controlled enthusiasm. "The brain is a terribly complex organ, after all, and with a huge variety of species the idea of creating a device to allow direct control is impossibly tricky at best. But that's not really what we need, nor really the power as presented. Instead I am aiming for a device that will allow me - us - to remotely control the actions of another. To manipulate and target the movements of the brain, at distance, could result in either the desired action or the subject no longer retaining memory of their Auntie. And if, as is often the case, the goal is the restraint or apprehension of the subject and presumably their knowledge then the device would be of little use, correct?"

Another chunk followed the first, "Sure."

"But most of our biologies share a more fundamental and simpler mechanism; The control of our musculature via electrical impulses. Now various medical implants have been devised to allow direct stimulation of these muscles in the past but none of these operate remotely. They all require some form of physical interaction, whether it is the placement of electrodes or the draping of a garment over the subject and even when remote application is possible - as with the Treznor-built stun rifles that I have requisitioned - it is imprecise and used to stimulate the entire body at once, locking it up and rendering the subject whole or in part helpless. But an idea occurred to me; What if I were to somehow use the high-precision interlaced photon emitters used in a standard personal holographic projector," he gestured and a highly enlarged hologram of the suggested device, along with an exploded schematic, appeared above the table, "What if I were to replace the photon emitter with a high-precision, high-scan version of the rifle's stun emitter? Again coupled to a very high precision multi-spectrum sensor, the system could precisely determine the position and orientation of the target and, by using the same interlacing that the holographic emitter uses, directly stimulate precise muscle groups or even individual muscles at reasonable distances!"

"How would you then make the person perform an action, though? Even with all that real-time information, it would seem clumsy. Raise your right arm, punch yourself in the face..."

"Ah! But there we add another piece of existing technology to the mixture. Which is the interface bus built into the various ExoCortex. It is already capable of translating intended actions into their various sub-components. Do this, this, this, and this as part of this larger activity. Even better it is capable of working across multiple species! So, what we do is fit that bus into a device that has behind it a limited suite of pre-programmed actions or groups of actions. Lay down your weapons, secure yourself, and lay down on the ground. Surrender, in a simplified terminology."

"Huh. They would love to get their hands on this idea. And its certainly not beyond them technologically... And ourselves of course."

"Yes. Police, the military, intelligence services; A wide variety of potential applications. There are some limitations of course. Just as the stun rifles only have limited effect through body armor, this device would be less-so. Common clothing, and the electronic polymorphics in regular use here would present more of a problem as they would act as a Faraday cage of sorts. Either the voltage - the direct stimulation - would have to be increased or the clothing somehow removed first. Really only a limitation in certain areas though; There are many worlds and many civilizations where clothing is not worn as an everyday matter," he laughed, looking down to his own fur-covered form. "Power armor and the like would be right out. But very useful, I'd think. I'm still in the design phase, haven't had a chance to do any testing. Maybe after lunch..."

[Sunset]

SDF-Dogana, Circlet Station-Keeping, Gen Celet System, Delta Quadrant...

"Admiral;" From the ram-rod straight ex-Marine who stood at the expanded sensor console at the back of Dogana's bridge it sounded as near an order as the Commander could give without directly giving the Admiral an order, "You might want to look at this."

Aboard the Dogana, duty on the bridge worked a little differently than it might on any of the double-dozen or so starships scattered around the system and under her command. Minus the recent exception of the departed Unconquered Sun she was the flagship of the Fleet in the Gen Celet System and so the bridge officers were now just as much managers and liaisons with their job being to sort through the incoming information from the other ships, decided what was important and what was not, and to keep those other ships on task or assist Admiral Falk in shifting them to where they were more urgently needed. Commander Pietz was an excellent example of just that sort of officer, a transfer from the Marine Command when he had both realized a skill for coordination and a desire to see less ground combat, though any notion of the casual attitude more common to Fleet had yet to achieve more than a thin veneer.

A few steps from where she had been standing at the railing overlooking the central holosphere and it's sprawling display of the entire system along with an adjunct inset where nearly a third of her flotilla worked recovering ships in the Kion Homeworld System and she was at his shoulder, looking past him at the display, "Commander."

"Something interesting from Southern Cross. In addition to their duties supporting the landed Exploration Command personnel;" A task which left them largely inactive except when suddenly, dramatically necessary, "They have been conducting an intense meteorological survey of the Circlet's Primary in an attempt to more fully understand the workings of the atmospheric recycling and storage system."

A touch at the controls and he brought up a two-dimensional representation of the system in question. What had been discovered early on was that the Circlet not only orbited the gaseous planet but also used it, with seven nebulous streamers sending a steady flow of gases back and forth. Somehow this accomplished the goal of both recycling - where the air was purged of built-up toxins - and storage as well, given the ratio of gas flow was slightly in the Circlet's favor (though enough to last the next million-odd years). This also partially explained how Setting One had managed to survive the Kion's breaching attack and subsequent conquest. Even now that particular streamer was pulling in a significantly higher volume even as the Karmabaijani crews sealed the Breach. What was apparently of significant interest to the sensor officer on Southern Cross - and by proxy Commander Pietz - was the latest set of reading from the deep region of the planet's thick atmosphere where a certain streamer finally lost coherence and dissolved into a churning vortex of cross-currents. Another touch - zooming in on the area - and he brought up a projected hologram above the screen itself to show the more intricate details.

"Due to the chaotic nature of the Primary's atmosphere, they had been running extended scans of the various layers and various regions in an attempt to construct a more accurate statistical model. In this they were essentially successful, but the seven vortex regions were giving them problems - odd readings, conflicting data - and they launched a probe into the atmosphere in an attempt to clear things up. Just before the probe was destroyed," he paused the recording and then slowly played it forward until particular and regular shapes appeared in the clouds, each outlined in white to contrast them against the swirling green and purple, "It picked up this."

"Ships."

Pietz nodded, "Yes, ma'am. It appears so."

She moved around him to lean closer and he replayed the recording at a slower speed, "So this is where they've been hiding them. I suspected they had to be somewhere - they had to have some way to move populations to and from the Circlet - but here they are, right under our nose!"

The Commander was just about to issue another affirmative when the Lieutenant operating the regular communications board spoke up, "Ma'am, Admiral - incoming call from Southern Cross. Captain Sloan for you."

"And I think we have a very good idea what it is about," Jamie answered, giving Pietz a wink before returning to her command chair and conjuring up a small screen that floated just off her armrest, "Put him through here."

The man that appeared was the very spitting image of his younger sister; Willowy and lean with a shock of short-cropped sandy blonde hair and a light dusting of freckles across his cheeks. To keep up with both her daughter on the world below and her protege off exploring the further reaches of the galaxy, she knew the younger woman's face well and it was on first instinct to inquire after his sibling and engage in the regular pleasantries but there was an edge of eagerness that cut her short, "Captain Sloan, what can I do for you?"

"Well, Admiral;" and it took every bit of control to nod in all the right places and add the appropriate exclamations as he went through the near-exact scenario as she'd just been shown by Commander Pietz. But it was with this information already in hand that she was able to quickly render a decision on his ending question; "...the pressure and the currents are just too strong. Shuttles would just be torn to shreds and I don't think even a Super Aggressor would last much longer. We need something bigger and with a lot more armor if we're going to pull one of these things out for further study!"

Sitting back in her chair, she did her best to look momentarily contemplative though already behind her the Commander was completing the request and orders for her to sign, "Mmm, good work, Captain. And you're right - you're going to need some heavy lifting to get one of those ships - if they are ships - out. But with all of our current resources tied up in the salvage and repair operation, I'm going to have to put in a request with Fleet. Or did - SDF-Benz and SDF-Geim have been assigned and will leave ePyrk Station shortly to join us. Should give some of the new recruits a chance to show us their best."

"Thank you, Ma'am," he finished, odd relief clear on his face. "We'll get everything together that they need..."

[Sunset]

Sunset Defense Force Academy Training Facility 42-D, Southern Ares, Ares System...

It was a ragged million square kilometers of wilderness bounded on all sides by the sprawl of civilization; Even from the very heart of the land the needle-point tips of distant towers could be seen on the horizon and transports both civilian and the rarer military zoomed overhead. Most of the species of plant and animal present had been transplanted from distant Earth and with the area's overall moderate climate it largely resembled one of the forested regions of the old Pacific Northwest. On the weekends the range was open to the civilian population and here and there both trails and shelters dotted the landscape. During the week, however, the site played host to any number of exercises and training scenarios both from the Defense Force Academies scattered across the planet as well as regulars taking the odd refresher course. For this particular winter morning it was the new home for the First Year Cadets from Academy-26, who had been roused out of bed and sent out to the shuttles in nothing but their skivvies - if they had been wise enough to wear them to bed - to find themselves winging across the planet towards the distant reserve.

"...and you might want to put your clothes on!" Commander Sheldon called out. "First rule of survival; Food, Water, Shelter. Clothes are shelter - and some of you look terrible naked. Come on, let's go!"

There was, in point of fact, two piles next to him as he stood at the side door of one of a larger Jade-Class Shuttle and that was part of the exercise. All of the cadets had ridden out on smaller Flare-Class - to make it harder for them to plot against him - as well as isolate them from additional information about the scenario. The first pile was obvious; Regular Defense Force duty uniforms fresh in their packages and available in sizes ranging from pip-squeak to daaym. The second pile was larger but the crates were sealed; Would they or wouldn't they?

"Shuttles lift in five! Your goal is to survive and make it back to the Academy. Four minutes and forty-five seconds..."

"Hey, are those for us?"

The key was to not answer. Either they took the initiative to secure the means of their escape or they didn't. In the field, there would be no question as to whether a stack of mysterious crates was there for them to use but rather how they could make use of the contents, "I hope to see a few of you back alive. A few of you... Well... Four minutes, thirty seconds!"

The asker pushed through the crowd, grabbed the closest crate, and tugged it out of the pile. This caused a general avalanche and the Commander stepped aside. Clasps were wrenched open and inside the cadet found just what one might hope to have; Laden survival packs just as one might find in a standard escape pod. Now the rest surged forward and with just a minute to spare the entire stack was gone and the contents were being distributed to the mob. But it was apparent that there were not even close to enough for every cadet to have one and the asker - his own pack secure on his back - leaned forward into the cavernous shuttle with only seconds to go, "Where are the rest?!"

Which there were not. Instead the interior was bare of all but the various attachment points for benches and seats and the sardonically grinning Commander. He held up a wrist, examined a non-existent watch, and pressed a single significant finger against the door panel, "And zero!"

One-by-one, the first being his own, the shuttles began to lift off and leave the cadets - some still standing in their underwear or pulling on the closest fitting uniform - standing alone in the morning fog. It was only a few seconds before one particularly bright spark piped up, "Hey, did anyone else notice what he missed?"

"Missed? I'm naked! My nipples are going to freeze off!"

Some might - and some did - use that as an opportunity to check the vitals on one of their classmates but those of a more inquisitive bent asked the question he had sought, "What did he miss?"

"A deadline. So," he grabbed one of the crates, tugged the pack off his back, and began to pass out the contents across the improvised workbench, "We get out of here, then we can go do whatever we want. Hell of a way to start winter break but..." A lump of dark gray fabric unfolded between his hands and he shook it out into the flattened shape of a survival tent, "...I've got an idea." It was a convenient place to have his particular idea; The shuttles had landed around the perimeter of a broad clearing and between the cadets and the craft this had left the grass and shrubs largely flattened, "And these crates will work perfectly."

Flipping another over he pried the lid off to leave a long tub that he threw himself into. Other cadets were now gathering around the first though others had already set off, dividing into small groups of friends or like-minded students with a whole section of Marine-destined troopers gathering into a double-line and charging off through the forest as one in the rear called out cadence; "And if they run out of food, they'll just kill and eat the slowest!"

"You're going to float out?" It was a valid idea; They'd passed over several streams and even a river on their way into the interior, but he shook his head, "Too cold. These are probably water-tight, but if you flip, they sink. And this late in the year you'll suffer from hypothermia almost immediately. Nope... I'm going to take advantage of the cold!"

"How's that?"

"Cold air is denser," he answered, pulling out a bundle of paracord. There were already sleeves and grommets for the rods that would keep the tent stiff if the auto-inflater wasn't functioning and he used a section of pole to start threading the cord through these, "Which means that hot air will be more buoyant in turn. Seal up the tent, secure it to the crate, and you have the start of a hot air balloon. Then I can just float out of here."

"...neat. How are you going to get the hot air?"

"The auto-inflater has a warmer. I'll need to modify it to bypass the safeties, but it should work to both inflate and heat the balloon. The question is whether one balloon will be enough lift, and who I'll have to blow to get another two or three tents..."

[Sunset]

Science Probe SDF-SAP-432.990.001-D, GEC-A1400971Ab, Beta Quadrant...

...which peeled away behind the camera to reveal the alien landscape inside. Where outside the bubble it was the darkest of night, the interior was lit with a soft and steady glow issuing from the bubble itself and nearly eliminating all shadow to give the forest within an odd sense of isolation from both the barrier and the greater universe outside. Scattered all around the pitted and streaked surface of the station were the cruel mockeries of trees, their trunks sharply twisted triangles that grew and then fractured into sharp-edged branches hung with strange ornaments. From their base spread the flaws of crevasse and crack in harsh effigy of root and stem. While the distant shift of the dome wall suggested some wind stirred the place there was no other movement, the landscape as still and silent as a graveyard. For long minutes the extended arm of the probe looked this way and that before the silence on the distant bridge of the Ojeni was broken.

"Can the probe go further inside?"

Lieutenant Commander Ingersol shook his head and then followed it up with, "No, not unless we want to lose contact with the probe. The substance of the dome is blocking scans in similar wavelengths. We could set it to autonomous, but I'm not sure I want to send a probe into a nanny-black dome without some kind of direct command and control. Hang on," he touched the controls of his station and brought up the probe's specifications, "Easy answer. I'll deploy one of the remotes and have it sit at the edge to act as a relay through. I'd recommend launching an additional survey buoy though - these probes are within the bubble's observed movement distance. A sudden fluctuation could still cut us off, but a survey buoy would be a more reliable bridge."

There wasn't even a pause there and Captain Blaine turned to the Tactical Officer, "Do it. Might as well prepare for a similar penetration on the Circlet - dispatch two with one to take up station-keeping near a location suggested by Mr. Ingersol. Next question," she sat back and rapped her fingers on the armrest just once, "Are those trees alive? Did they grow out of the structure of the station, or did they originate from the Circlet? Or vis versa? Three questions..."

"No one expects the Captain's inquisition!"

"Right," she swiveled in place, sticking her tongue out at Sloan, "I'll just come in again... Three questions. Any answers?"

"Just from the looks of it," Another tap at the controls and a close-up view of the base of one of the trees appeared across the main screen, moving the larger field of view down to a sub-window, "I'm going to say that the tree grew out of the structure. Until I can move the probe closer I can't confirm it, but my guess is that they are a variant of the same PTU-557-based nanite - or micrite - that the bubble material is made up of. My thought is that those seed pods," he highlighted a further ornament, "Are how the infestation or organism spreads. How it spread to the gate complex... If it were anywhere else, I'd say some force had to direct it. But the gateway is in GEC-1400971A's trailing trojan. Some cast-offs that managed to break out of the primary's immediate gravity well would have naturally drifted to just that spot."

"Which means that you'd put the origin at the Circlet," Commander Sloan suggested; "Yes."

"Is it an infestation or is it an organism? Is there any sign that it is attacking the probe?"

"Another new question, and I'm afraid you'll have to reset and come in again... No. The probe's diagnostics and damage control systems show no particular sign of infection or attack. However, if I were to venture a guess, nano-scale machines are often very specialized and with an artificial element such as PTU-557 they would need to... Back me up on this one, Eye?"

"He's right," the Skri appeared in a holographic flash, hopping up on the chair next to the Lieutenant Commander from the void whence he'd appeared. "Most all of our investigations into PTU-557-based items have involved specific re-calibrations and re-configurations. Some of it is because of the element's effect on sensor systems, but most of it is simply the nature of these engineered elements. It is complex because it needs to be, and so they are complex because they need to be. I would guess these micrites - pretty sure that's what they will turn out to be, too complex a material for simple nanites - are specifically designed to interact with and manipulate PTU-557 alloys. The probe's casing is mostly an aluminum-based metallic-ceramic and the same with the smaller remotes. That isn't to say they couldn't chew it up, so to speak, but re-use it? Harder, without re-configuring themselves. Though that's a guess - I wouldn't take it as law until I can get some under the nanoscope!"

"And I'm not sure I want to go scooping up a sample until we know whether those things," Kami looked towards the trees, "Are alive in some way."

"Mmm, well, I would note that there are no bubble-domes that intrude further than half their diameter into the continental areas on the Circlet," Ingersol noted, switching rapidly through a secondary set of images from the titanic orbital structure. "Some of those bubbles are pretty big, granted, but they all center on the primary structure."

"Is it a weapon?" And that was followed by the near-immediate answer of 'Yes' from Lieutenant Cadindra at the Tactical Station, who went on; "I'd lean strongly in that direction, but that is my job so I'm biased," she explained. "If it were your average gray-goo scenario - well-meaning but naive civilization constructs universal nano-machines to make everything butterflies and rainbow-farts - then it would have spread through the continental areas first. As the Eye said - PTU-557 is difficult to interact with. You have to make a specific attempt to do so. To my mind that means that whatever this stuff is, it was created to target PTU-557 alloys. A weapon," the Coatlicue finished.

Across the bridge, the Lieutenant-Commander added his secondary opinion, "Agreed, in principle. If you're going to attack the Circlet you're going to need something that will affect the structure. Granted, we can just blast away at it with the particle cannon with no particular problem, and the Kion were clearly able to do significant damage with nothing more complex than nukes and moderate-output laser cannon, but not everyone looks to guns as the first solution to a problem."

"Which suggests that there is a problem." The Captain sat forward in her chair, staring at and through the screen for a moment, "We're rabbit-trailing here. Let's get some facts, rewind, then see where those new facts lead us. How long until the buoys arrive?"

"A long time - nearly two hours;" Even fired from the Ojeni's torpedo tubes, they were designed to sit in orbit around a planet, not be used as the bridge between one realm and the next...

[Sunset]

Setting Five, The Circlet, Gen Celet System, Delta Quadrant... StarDate 2173.30...

"Well that's new..."

With Annya's arrow guiding the five back towards the presumed origin of the fleeing mammalian and a pair of the small black drone spheres spaced ahead of the group, they had taken to foot and paw to make their way quietly forward into a newly mapped portion of the sub-structure. This wasn't to say that there was much new about it; Hallways occasionally branched off here and there and from time to time they came across a panel or alcove set with more of the same colored half-orbs. Once there was the glimpse of a far-off hangar in the distance but the path continued past it and there was no indication of either the tiny humanoid or - as Commander Timmons suggested - another maintenance hatch that might lead back into the terrestrial portion of the Setting. With the lead that the returning mother had built up, and the pace they had adopted, the only indication that they were still on the right track was the occasional whiff picked up by the Ensign's sensitive nose. At least until they rounded a corner and came across a doorway that led somewhere altogether new...

"Are they living in them," Lae asked, pressed up against the edge of the wall that would become a much larger space in only a turn and a turn. Like the others, his senses were limited to what the little drone spheres saw but even that was enough to capture his attention. "They almost look like huts gathered around a fire."

The answer was yes, but instead of huts and a fire the 'they' were suits of armor - their access hatches open and their double-knees bent low - arranged in a circle around a column-like structure that ran from floor to ceiling and glowed here and there with soft blue light. Each suit stood in its own framework, feet anchored in sockets while the shoulders were held firmly in the grasp of arms that extended from the circular housing. They very much looked like they were ready for action though none appeared to be armed and more importantly most were occupied by one or more of the diminutive humanoids. They were not pilots; Instead the interior space had been filled with materials from the surface to form a nest or bed with some occupied by several young and others only a single individual. Tools and crafts were on display as well with piles of fresh leaves, bowls carrying unidentified foods, baskets with more, and other implements of day-to-day life set around the ramp-like legs that led up and into the units.

Importantly, they were also moving around and talking - in quiet voices magnified by the sprawling space - to one another or even to themselves as they went about their tasks. This was good enough for the translators to start building an algorithm and as they worked through the process of gathering words and context the five looked over the chamber.

"I'd say you're exactly right," Timmons agreed, pausing the sweep of one of the spheres to focus on the interior. "They might have tried to activate them - there's dirt on what looks like a control panel - but every one of those suits is in the same spot so I'd guess they weren't successful. If they even know what they are. But they do make a handy nesting place."

Zooming in close, he focused the sphere on the bedding and the curled-up young that occupied it. A circle of thin grasses of the same type they had found around the entrance to the burrow formed a base and this was then padded with several thick pieces of a moss-like plant culled from the trees. At half the size of the adults spread around the space, the young looked fully formed with the exception that they did not wear any of the near-clothing of the adults. Or perhaps they did - hanging from the controls were several loops of hide with a large pouch at the bottom and several other smaller pockets sewn into it. Each was unique and decorated in some way and the senior Explorer seemed fascinated by this until Deania drew his attention; "Boss... You're missing something big here."

The image surged out until the whole chamber was once again under surveillance, "What? What's happening?"

"The light. Have we seen anything but darkness down here?"

That answer was a solid 'No!' and with some chagrin he switched the survey over to the singular column. Rising about four meters until it met the high ceiling, it shared much the same architecture as the rest of the place with a smoothly beveled base and cap flowing seamlessly into the floor and ceiling. Along the middle a trio of insets - again curved until they met the substance of whatever glowed inside - faced each of three distinct groups of armored suits while the only blank side pointed towards the doorway. The pillar flared at the middle to give the look of flanges cut through by the insets and at the very top three half-round tubes ran across the ceiling from the column to each end just in front of the center-most armored suit in each division. Here was another one of the odd panels set with the half-circle projection though these, unlike others, was smooth and colorless.

"Some kind of transport mechanism, I'd guess. Odd that we haven't seen anything like it elsewhere. And why have a distinctly separate mechanism here?"

But now Trinya was on the case and she had already solved the puzzle - at least partially. Gathering the Commander's attention, she pointed to a glowing overlay of the sub-surface map and the world above she had created, "Because it leads somewhere. Actually, it probably leads from somewhere. The Eternal Tree on the surface."

Timmons considered the mole-like humanoids for a moment, "Do you think they know?"

"I don't think so," Deania offered. "We didn't find any evidence of tunnels there, just the tokens buried at the base of the tree. And there wasn't an opening that would have led down here for some young-ling to follow. I'm not sure, but if there is a passage there it's too small for these little guys to fit through."

Now it was Annya's turn to speak up, "How about we ask?"

[Sunset]

Ker'Strel, Sessool Space, The Eastern Edge of the Galaxy...

"Time to ditch this rock," Meli proclaimed, tossing her burden aside. It thumped into the chair beside the pilot's and as soon as her rounded backside hit the seat the contents spoke; "And will you now tell me our destination? I enjoy a surprise as much as anyone but my present circumstances spur my curiosity as to what you intend to do with me."

An index finger and a thumb worked the controls, first unlocking the controls and then starting up the engine while the Dwarf extended the other hand to pat the hexagon-patterned sack, "Well, Ah had intended to take you back to the 'States - Ah know a nice little backwater colony where questions make everyone uncomfortable - ahn set us up with ah little love next. Cloned bohdy, killer ahbs, whole nahn yards. But orders ah orders. So whar off to new sites, new people tah kill. Whal, not people, exactly."

"I confess a certain amount of surprise that you did not kill any of the Maiorca. From your explanation of your adventures, I had expected carnage. Yet you suggest that you'll be killing someone or something at our destination?"

With a wobble and a bit of a forward surge the angular craft lifted off, the thrust nozzles swiveling back and forth as she adjusted their vector and output until they rose evenly and then faster and faster into the morning sky. Even for an early-morning departure they were not alone with a dozen other ships from similarly-sized one-man craft in all shapes and vintages to light and medium freighters either on their own way or making orbit to ferry cargo in either way from larger craft. Beyond these, and just visible at the far edge of Ker'Strel's orbit, were the few scattered warships of the local Prince. Like a lonely fence they stood guard against the greater galaxy while the hive worked their magic of trade and commerce that was the nectar of the planet's fortunes. Somewhere between the two lay the designated departure zone and she turned the ship towards this while pushing the drives towards their limit.

"Robots. So Ah guess we won't know whether they ahr people or naht until we tahk a couple o' them apart. Mah guess is so..."

"I have heard that intelligent robots are in greater appearance among the other civilizations of the galaxy," ScLappi added, his muffled tone agreeable.

"...Ahn Ah did take samples." She patted one of the pouches on her vest where the delicate tips of scattered feathers could just be seen under the flap. "Couple o' weeks with a clonin' tank ahn we'd be ahn our way to collectin' the whole set. Too bah'd - they're pretty."

"What about these robots? What is the reason for their pursuit?"

A tap at the controls and she brought up an image on a side display, though it was more for her own benefit than the Doctor's as he was only a head in a bag. The ship was long and pointed, a triangular dagger with a broad bridge space as well as a noted cutaway that appeared to be an expansive set of launch and landing bays, "Couple weeks ah'go a mercenary company lost contahct with their brand-new warship. One-point-somethin' kilometers ahn a couple thousand well-armed play soldiers. Few days lahter a Sanglanti merchantman spotted 'er bahk where she'd come from. No contact, ahn she opened fahr. They ran, reported the ahtack, ahn now we're gonna go take a look-see. Find out what they're up to."

"How do you know robots are somehow responsible," ScLappi asked and her answer came quickly; "Scout ship took a quick sneak ah'n peek. Surface imagery showed a whole buncha' these ones," she popped up another image of a four-armed clearly robotic contraption, "Movin' around but not a peep of the crew. So what happened to a couple thousan' mercs? That's ahr next job..."

[Sunset]

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

"...after that I slept like a baby," Demi laughed, her voice bubbling through the competing noise from the hovering shuttle. "And now that I've had a baby, I'm pretty sure that's not really that great - unless you want to wake up with a full diaper. More like a log!"

"Just as bad, Ma'am..." A ghost of a smile crossed Alex's lips and the woman behind her looked at her quizzically as the butler opened the front door of the two behind; "Huh? Oh... Eww. Still, its good to be home, even with a good night's rest!"

She crossed the threshold and nodded to the freckle-faced woman, who turbed her reply into a narrow bow as she backed away to presumably return to the shuttle and her employer's luggage. Erika was right behind her and she passed though the foyer towards the living room, never noticing as the artificial Englishwoman fell quietly into line behind her wife, "Now, where's my son?"

She hadn't heard or seen a hair nor peep from him yet and now that she looked it was the oddest thing. There were no toys scattered around, no play-space in the living room where he could stay while Alex tended to the tasks of the household in their absence. It was as if he wasn't even there but a low noise from the couch that sprawled across the entryway drew her attention; "Nathyn?"

She stepped forward but instead of the thick shock of dark black hair she'd been expecting, a silver and salt-and-pepper pair appeared over the edge. They turned and the first gasp barely escaped her as they said in unison, "Surprise!"

That was the first volley and as her parents rose to greet her, little Nathyn held squirming in Grandpa's arms, more followed, "Happy Birthday!" and as nore emerged from hallways and in hiding, "Surprise!" and "Welcome Home!" In a moment she was surrounded as unexpected guests surrounded her to clasp her in their arms or to press her son to her for an awkward embrace. With a kiss, she parted from him to turn around to where she expected Erika to be standing as equally startled. Instead her partner stood at one end of a narrow table that had been rolled in behind her, the sound covered by the exuberance of her friends and family and the shallow roar of the shuttle as it lifted off. The blonde straightened but it wasn't the knowing grin that caught her attention.

Instead it was the cake in the center - a fantastic fantasy confectionery supported on a single pedestal and with a pair of candles burning merry at the apex - and piles of glittering gifts all in bows and ribbons; "Happy Birthday, Ma'am," "Happy Birthday, my love..."

[Sunset]

AMI Executive Annex, Steven's Crater, The Moon Minamoto, Hachiman, Ares System...

"Succeeded beyond my wildest imaginations, really," Stephen confessed, his words tempered by the pride and confidence clear in his voice. With his thumbs in his pockets, he paced the inlay marble floor and the perimeter of the long conference table, his eyes roaming between Miss Nineteen, the hastily present Agent Sixteen, and the trio of young designers that had been summoned to the meeting. Fortunately for them, Doctor Ambrose had immediately embarked on the story of his latest triumph and while he talked they frantically scribbled at their clipboards to add the final details to their particular submission while the threat of the lava pool loomed large. "I had begun my work with the base spice, attempting to insert its properties into the protein structures of the sample material. This proved quickly to be a dead end and thus I reverted to the source. Agent Sixteen," he nodded towards the woman, who responded likewise and in eye-watering fashion due to the fantastic depths of the cleavage on display, "Was thus dispatched to obtain a sample of the originating plant. This proved to be something of a challenge; Miss Maric resorted to genetic manipulation in order to ensure that the flower would grow in the soil of Chains of Jade and this even with considerable hand tending by her pool of debt laborers. Quite a businesswoman, that young lady. Very resourceful."

"So, presented with the question of attempting to penetrate the Amirah's security on A'iruka in the hope that a sample could be obtained or tracking down the source, Sixteen made the bold decision to seek out the source. This proved to be the easier route and with some measure of luck and more of skill, she discovered the location of said world and retrieved several samples of the original. Returning them to me, I then incorporated their genetic information - again, no easy feat - into that of the sample protein matrix. When several samples had matured, I presented them to my test subjects, and... Well," he chucked, "Again, the results were beyond expectation. To be honest, I had anticipated failure and I was not seemingly disappointed. None of the three Minions reacted when presented with the sample and this was," he paused, a note of uncharacteristic regret entering his voice, "Something of my fault. Since this was the first test, I had not fitted any of the three with medical sensors, instead relying on their conditioning and my express orders to determine any reaction."

"But here," his finger went into the air and he emphasized his triumph with a jab of the extended digit, "Here, my triumph was proven! For the next day, after my morning routine, I entered the lab to find the sample matrix entirely missing! I was certain I had both left it in its place and had secured the lab appropriately but now it was missing entirely! Well, this resulted in an immediate lock-down of the entire facility, the flushing of levels three through seventeen to vacuum, and the execution of seven suspected infiltrators, but when the matrix was tracked down I myself admitted some surprise; It was found in the quarters of 55, along with 33, 44, and 55. All three were engaged in simultaneous and apparently extended fornication with the protein matrix and it took a considerable application of force - and the loss of 23 and 27 to a similar condition - to separate them from the object of their lust! Normally I would have them terminated both for their break-in and for their weakness, but their reaction was so extraordinary that I have had all five confined and will be conducting... Appropriate experiments on them."

Here the three designers paused and looked up to the Doctor, only to find Miss Nineteen just over his shoulder and fixing them with a meaningful glare. All three immediately returned to their tablets with details suddenly inspired appearing and disappearing as they scrambled.

"When I return to the lab, I will be attempting to fine-tune the process but as my original intention was to provoke desire and lust without any physical contact and across a wide range of individual tastes, well, a grand success!"

"And a testiment to your genius," Miss Nineteen injected, sensing the end of his discourse. She followed this with a set of careful claps, hesitantly echoed by the others gathered around, and he beamed; "Thanks you. And what of your project? Your first project, I believe? Hmm?"

"Yes, Doctor..." She gestured and turned to the three, extending her stylus and taking from them the newly borne fruits of their labor before flicking them over to stand in ghostly detail above the table. "For my first project, I decided that we would fill a hole in our product lineup by designing our own suit of power armor appropriate to a modern warfare environment. Miss Yamamoto?" She pointed to the closest of the three, "Please;" The young woman gave an audible gulp; "Give the Doctor an overview of your proposal..."

[Sunset]

Docking Bay 3, Landing Facility II, Setting One, Circlet Alpha, Gen Celet System, Delta Quadrant...

"It's quite a ship, isn't it?"

Based on the condition of the wide arrow-shaped ship in front of her, Admiral Falk was finding it easy to agree. Even after untold millennia floating deep in the caustic and turbulent atmosphere of the Circlet's unnamed gravitational primary the craft was essentially untouched. Here and there material had built up in some crevice or niche but technical crews were already hard at work removing these and carefully storing the remainder away for analysis. Direct samples from that deep inside the atmosphere of a gas giant were less-than-easy to obtain and might contain either the precursors to life or life itself churned up in the nutrient paste. Removed from its regular temperature and pressure it would already be dead or dying but even those precious remains would expand the Republic's sphere of knowledge.

As would the ship itself and for the moment that was more important to the Admiral, "It certainly looks it. What can you tell me about it?"

"Well, first I can tell you we're lucky to have it," the Chief Engineer from the Geim responded. As testament to his following statement that ship itself sat in an adjacent bay with a cluster of work pods and drones moving over its battered surface. "We lost the first attempt to the currents and got damned lucky ourselves. I'd almost say it was on purpose but according to the helmsman the currents got really dicey as we got close to our first target. Took nearly an hour for us to get latched on the first time and then a sudden surge ripped it right off the pads."

The Geim - as well as other Orbital-Class Recovery Cruisers - was equipped with a set of large electro-adhesive pads that would allow it to latch on to a disabled or even heavily damaged ship and then haul it out of danger, often imposing the cruiser itself between the rescued ship and hostile action. Their crews were known for both their bravery and a penchant for risky behavior. Fortunately - though the damage to the Geim's hull might seemingly indicate otherwise - they were tough ships that could take a beating. That she had brought both herself and the captured artifact in under her own power and without the tiniest request for help was testament to both the ship's power and the skill of her crew.

"Since repetition in pursuit of a different result is the definition of insanity, we went with a different tact on the next pass. Instead of just the pads, we went for a combined physical-adhesion grapple and that did the trick. Now that we have it on the dock," he raised a hand to pat the side of the silver-white craft, "I can tell you why that first attempt didn't go so well. This alloy doesn't much like our electro-adhesion system. At least, not without some fine-tuning and we didn't exactly have time for that in the maelstrom. You know, this is a really interesting design. The PTU-557 alloy makes it very durable but its a heavy element too. Which means you need a larger power plant to get it to do what you want it to do, or it just does less with the other systems. We haven't cut it open yet - strictly non-invasive scans for the moment - but my guess is that they went with 'does less'. The high-precision weapons help a little bit there, but there aren't many of them so she doesn't have the same throw weight as a similarly-sized ship like an Opposition-Class. Operationally, I'd put them on par with a Particle-Class Corvette..."

Which, despite being larger than the aforementioned Destroyer, had a much larger crew and limited firepower; The first was a warship while the second was used nearly exclusively by the various planetary constabularies as a police vessel with all the secondary services that required.

"...which would seem to indicate they played much the same role," Jamie finished. Because there was no way to access the rescued ship's controls, any landing apparatus it might have wasn't currently deployed. Instead it rested on a very large set of polymer blocks that gave the craft some cushion while supporting her various curves and drapes. Resting only a half-meter above the deck, that gave the Admiral plenty of room for an up-close inspection of the ship's forward gun cluster and she stepped among the three barrels while they talked. "Though we could be reading our own bias in here. That's what the Particle-Class does because that's the kind of firepower the Opposition-Class needs given our possible opponents. Against a Kion warship, with the durability shown, these would be more than enough for a one-on-one encounter. We just don't know enough about the galaxy of ninety thousand years ago to make any hard statements."

The Engineer nodded in agreement, "Exactly. My theory, and it's pretty much in line with what's circulating, is that these ships were designed for durability and for the survival of their crew. Looking at the raw numbers of artifacts recovered and cataloged, here and elsewhere, what we're seeing is a preponderance of drones with every 'manned' system having heavy protection but limited and precise firepower. Right now my crews are trying to find a way in; Unlike everything else, these ships were capable of station-keeping so they have to have some kind of intact command and control system. Even if everything else is a blank slate, that will still give us some insight into their computing base. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll have commented their code. The tricky part will be finding a way in; There are aesthetic seams all over the ship, and since everything is the same alloy, we're going with a combination of sensor techniques to figure out where a hole might be. And the sensor blurring from the PTU-557 isn't helping."

"But its safe?"

"Perfectly, or at least as perfectly as we can tell," he shrugged. "Nearly the instant the pads touched the ship her drives shut down. I'd say they were placed there and instructed to wait for extraction. Long-term storage."

"Ninety thousand years," Jamie repeated, looking over the entire length of the ship from her position just to the side of the nose, "How did they stay aloft all that time? They'd run out of fuel of some type or another."

But he raised a hand and pointed to a hexagon-pattern section of the ship's hull just inside one of the draping wings, "Nah. Those are micro-intakes. You can't see it now, but on the sensors we could see the flow of gases as they pulled in minute amounts from the atmosphere. Probably feeds into a reactor from there. Which gives some credence to the theory that they were largely intended to operate inside the atmosphere of the Circlet with no particular refueling needed. I tell you what - it really seems like whoever or whatever built these was looking at the long-term..."

[Sunset]

Special Projects Research Tpwer, Landor City, Terra Incognito, New Latin System..

"So I've been taking a close look at one of these drones..."

It was not often that Amaril had much chance nor cause to get hands-on these days - as management, he was largely responsible for making sure that the various scientists and researchers inder him were kept on-task and that their progress and projects were properly documented and accounted for - but the enormous amount of recovered artifacts from the Circlet was giving everyone a chance to tinker. His particular project was one of the spherical drones that then deployed into a tripedal arrangement of legs that would allow it to move precisely over various surfaces and then deploy a set of smaller arms to presumably effect repairs or maintenance. That was, like much of what concerned the Circlet and its artifacts, a supposition and a theory and he was determined to prove ot true or false or at the least add something more to the collective knowledge.

"...and what I find interesting is the size of the connection between the external interface and the internal control system. Simply, its far more than one would reasonable need given the presumptive purpose of the drone. Not just enough to provide for future upgrades and code changes either - the external control interface electronics more resemble those of a high-end virtual environment."

The panel in question was fitted - or had been - to the back of one of the many curved pieces of spherical shell that was now spread out across the Elf's desk. Rather than taking it to one of the many workshops or laboratories scattered through the towering facility, he'd elected to convert a side-table in his bay-facing office into an impromptu work-space with the addition of a mobile tool cart pilfered from his wife's workshop located conveniently close to the elevator that served his floor. When fitted together in the proper configuration - labeled on a hovering hologram placed off to one side - the pieces would then form a perfect sphere held together by the various armatures that would motivate them when deployed. Instead of a flat and either flush or inset panel like one might find on nearly any item of electronics in the Republic, this example was shaped as a truncated diamond to fit the shell piece it backed and bulged outward to the point where it could almost be described as rounded.

"In a standard touch-screen, there's enough throughput to continually monitor one, two, or perhaps a whole handful of contacts. It simply doesn't need more; Where you might have something like a palm reader or similar, it will take a 'snapshot' of the screen contact and then transmit that. But here," he pointed to the exposed link between screen and interior, carefully exposed by means of a cutting torch, "What they have is enough capacity for the entire screen to be monitored all the time. Many millions of different data points all transmitted simultaneously. Why would you need that?"

To the Electrical Engineer, it was an oddity. If he were designing the interface, he wouldn't include so much capability. It wasn't needed, and would just make the end product more complex and thus more expensive. A few finger taps and presumably the drone would then go about its business of repairing or maintaining whatever needed to be repaired or maintained. There was simply no need for more. But that would seem to indicate; "That they needed more. You design to the need, this needed more, why did it need more?"

An answer to that question wasn't readily forthcoming and so he sat back in his chair and twirled the cutting torch in his fingers, looking out through the expansive windows at the bay beyond. It was another beautiful day in Landor City - most were, on the tropical paradise of Terra Incognito - and long white-capped waves slowly rolled towards the shallow sandy beach where people walked, played, surfed, and sunbathed. Later that afternoon he'd probably take the kids out but for now the sights and sounds of the beach served as a way to distract his conscious mind and let his subconscious try to come up with some kind of answer. After a few minutes there was something of the sort, but it wasn't the direct revelation he'd been hoping for.

"Do they all have the same interface?" Conjuring a search console out of thin air, he began to bring up the various artifacts and their design with a focus on that particular panel and what others had discovered. One after another was tossed to the side as he isolated the question and then he had something of an answer; "Yes, they do. Sometimes more than one." In particular, the presumed pilot's compartment from the artifact dubbed 'Helios' intrigued him. Laid out side-by-side, the ventral-access compartment was clearly meant for a pilot and co-pilot, though their exact duties and responsibilities wasn't known. "But there are two panels just like this one, one on each side. Two crew, two interface panels, but nothing else. Here it makes a little more sense - a pilot will be issuing a lot of commands in rapid succession. But a technician instructing a drone to undertake repairs?"

"Which means..."

He looked over the various drones, aircraft, ships, and the two different sub-types of powered armor that had been discovered. They all had the same interface, which meant... Which meant...

"Which means its not about the device!" He sat up in his chair and dropped the torch on the desk with a clatter, "It's about the user! Something about their biology requires that level of interface. So what type of biology would require a high-throughput touch interface?"

[Sunset]

Setting Five, The Circlet, Gen Celet System, Delta Quadrant... StarDate 2173.30...

It only took one;

"You talk Svari?"

There was no error in the translator or stilted translation; Some few hours of observing the tiny humanoids at work, recording their conversations, noting their interactions and constructing an exhaustively cross-referenced database and language algorithm had revealed that the Svari - as they called themselves - were at an early stage in their linguistic evolution. Pups had been fed, clothing mended, food prepared, and all with simple and direct words. Keeping to the furthest range observed, the explorers had watched, noted, and discussed how to go about their first contact. Deception had been suggested and discarded - a projected hologram crafted to look like an outside Svari - or the use of a drone, but finally the decision had been made to send the smallest of their number other than Annya forward alone. That was Deania and the Seeker accepted easily, stripping down to her regular uniform of adhesive strips with fitted trousers and half-jacket so as to appear as non-threatening as possible.

With the drones sticking to the darkest of the dark shadows cast by the dim blue light of the column, she stepped carefully and slowly forward until the first of the mole-like humanoids spotted her. This set off a general stampede; A call went out and mothers raced to children in their nests while others gathered up prepared tools and baskets to vanish into the depths. Despite the calls and cries there was no violence - not even a weapon in evidence - until every figure had fled. Everyone but one. Frozen in fear or somehow intensely curious it was appropriate that the one who remained was young - just on the cusp of adulthood - and seemingly fearless as he stared up at the taller Seeker.

"Yes. I just want to talk. To say hello."

"You not Svari. How talk?"

That was a tricky question. How to explain to someone who had never seen it that she had a tiny, spider-like implant in her head that could intercept the sounds her ears heard, translate those into words she could understand, and then pass them along to her brain? The obvious choice was to call his attention to an example and she pointed to one of the suits, "By a machine. Something like that, but much smaller."

Whether it was accurate, it seemed to make sense and he made the gesture that was dubbed over her vision as a nod, "Machine, Yes. Why you talk Svari?"

"Because I'm an explorer. I like to find new people - Svari - and learn about them." Kneeling, she made a gesture for him to come closer but he balked and she stayed still. "We know of many different people and we want to know the Svari. To make them our friends. To learn about them and let them learn about us."

"No hunt Svari?"

"No! Do..." It was an easy assumption, but not always the correct one; Humanoids were often the apex predator in their particular environment though not always the most lethal. That it would ask the question, "Does something hunt Svari?"

"Yes," and he went on to list off a number of creatures with fearsome sounding names but no faces to attach to them. Which was probably one of the reason the tiny humanoids had braved the unfamiliar darkness to explore the depths of the sub-structure and eventually find this place of safety. That was her next question, which led to the next and the next until the two were at ease and he settled down onto the metal floor. Her next question was more curiosity and he looked at her oddly, "Who made this?" He looked around for a moment, "Svari not know. It here before Svari, it here after Svari."

"Are those for Svari? Those people?" She pointed to the armor suits and he shook his head, "No. Look like Svari, not Svari. Svari find, make home. Not Svari make."

Last question, "Who make Svari?"

"No Svari make. Svari here, machines here first."

It wasn't an absolute answer, but she thanked him and rose to her feet, "Can I come talk again? Talk with Svari?"

[Sunset]

SDF-Ojeni, Far Stand-Off from GEC-1400971, Beta Quadrant...

"...hold on a second, repeat that?"

It was a largely unnecessary command; Even as Lieutenant Commander Ingersol began to re-read the atmospheric composition as gathered by the remote probe, Captain Blaine jumped out of her chair and crossed the back of the bridge in a couple sets to perch just over the Sensor Officer's shoulder. The first question one might ask was why the nano-domes on the far-off structures needed an atmosphere to begin with but already several suggestions in that direction had been made. It would allow another movement vector for the nanites and micrites, which might be speedy for their size but when compared to even the footsteps of a Human are painfully slow. Heat transfer was another, since nanites have very few options when it comes to disposing of waste heat. In fact that had already been suggested as a method of eliminating what was mostly looking like a specialized Gray-Goo Scenario; "Remember the QuickBronze Event on Mars?"

Commander Sloan had shook her head, "No, refresh me?"

It was an excusable lapse - she would have been little more than a toddler when it had occurred. In a sequence of events triggered by the idiotic actions of a wholly-unqualified head of state, a since-vanished political entity had established a mining colony on the southern pole of the Red Planet along with the attendant company to run the concern. As that company was then staffed with relatives and friends of said idiot, they had engaged in a commercial exchange with another larger and more well-known corporate entity for various pieces of mining equipment. One of these was a deep boring unit with a single-use omni-directional thrust unit attached for secondary maneuvering. This in turn was loaded with nano-machines supposedly meant to consume the ore targeted by the extraction operation and ferry it up to the surface in its own substance; QuickBronze. A neat way of extracting the otherwise difficult minerals but one which ignored both the careful wording of the equipment specifications and the deep disdain held for said political entity by pretty much everyone else on the planet.

"'Single-use omni-directional thrust unit' means 'bomb', which then spread the QuickBronze nano-machines through the entire mineral lode. In short order they had consumed the entirety and - following their programmed orders - headed for the surface. Where they then consumed the entire mining colony and were making a bee-line for the rest of the planet. Good and bad. The Martian South Pole was something like the American South back in the early 20th; Full of racist assholes with all the smarts of a door knob. The QuickBronze devoured what was left of their so-called culture and it only got worse when they tried to use explosives to stop it. Ended up just scattering it around and making the infection worse. Meanwhile everyone on the positive side of the bell curve was taking a careful look at the QuickBronze and they came to the easy realization that, like all nano-machines, it loved Mars and especially the Martian pole because it was so very cold - and full of stupid - there. They just don't have a good way of dealing with excess heat. To do that you have to make them larger and at that point you don't have nano-machines, or even micrites. To stop the infection the remaining planetary militaries - including our own - deployed whatever microwave weapons they had and produced more as quickly as they could. Microwaves are very good at heating metal objects up, and the smaller they are, the faster they heat."

"They fried them," Sloan finished.

"Exactly. So if we want to get rid of this stuff, we should be able to just tune our party cannon batteries to the microwave spectrum," Kami turned to the Coatlicue at Tactical, who began to make the nessecary preparations, "And go in blasting. On Mars, they ended up with a giant sheet of dead QuickBronze over most of the Southern Pole which was then broken up and refined into useful materials - largely by the same company that had sold the 'Single-use omni-directional thrust units'. Neat trick that..."

But something about the readings had also set off an entirely different set of memories in the Captain and as she looked over Tom's shoulder and he finished the listing she nodded confirmation to herself, "That's what I thought. How up to date are you on your stoichiometry?"

It was almost an insulting question. As the senior Sensor Officer, stoichiometry was one of the more regularly-used concepts in the Lieutenant Commander's day-to-day work, "Very?"

"What about your tactical stoichiometry?"

"Tactical? What..." He looked at the display again with an eye towards certain compounds and their ratios, "Oh, tactical. I get you now. But why would they..." he asked, considering the implications of an explosive atmosphere.

"To get from here," Kami pointed to the image of Circlet-II and then to the Gate Complex located in the mega-structure's Primary trailing gravitational Trojan. "The bubble is made of the same nano-material; Inflate, detonate, and..." She spread her fingers from a single point to illustrate, "Boom! Now you have a mechanism to spread yourself. A seeding method. Which is starting to imply that this is more than a standard Gray-Goo Scenario with a PTU-557 twist. If this is true - and why these gases in these specific ratios if not? - then what we have here is an intentional mechanism and methodology. Whether that implies complex life is another story, but this is at least close to vegetation in intelligence. Purposeful propagation."

"Okay," he nodded, "So I'll start trying to burst your bubble. I'll look for either evidence of these explosions or hopefully a recording of one happening. Then when the next probe gets there and gives me a solid bridge, I'll focus on these trees. If there's anything more complex than a few billion single-purpose nano-machines clustered together in an interesting shape, that's where it will be..."

[Sunset]

SDF-Dogana, Circlet Station Keeping Orbit, Gen Celet System, Delta Quadrant...

"...hard to classify, Admiral. The Svari are something of a cargo cult - they attach religious significance to the various technological items they've found - and a culture just on the cusp of civilization. According to the Commander's report, there's a few thousand tribes and clans scattered across the entirety of the Fifth Setting but the one they stumbled across is the most advanced example they found. Seems they somehow breached the sub-structure through a maintenance hatch and latched onto the tools they found as evidence of divine favor. Or something like that. There's a team of social anthropologists coming in from the Segments and they'll take over, but no sign of our still-mysterious builders."

"At least they had fun," Jamie sighed. "What else?"

"Your daughter says hello."

"Cheeky. She could have called herself - what's her excuse this time?"

"Not much of one," there was a pause while the Admiral and her Ex-Oh turned a corner and cleared a small knot of technicians standing and kneeling around an open maintenance access, "Busy writing a report on various elements of their expedition. Since the Seeker already sent her report along, and Trinya was credited in the by-line, I'd guess she's just stalling. You can't just order her to have kids, unfortunately."

The Admiral added her own rueful grin, "Yeah. Last time she tried to claim that the slaves Lae bought on Lethon were like their kids. And there were these insectoids they rescued a while back - same thing. Anyway; What else?"

"Report from Geim's Chief Engineer. The good news is that they managed to cut their way in without destroying anything important. Then they took it apart from the inside, and now we have all the pieces for one of their destroyers scattered all over Docking Bay 3. His techs made their way into the computer system and extracted the code. Interesting stuff but the real interesting part, according to the Chief, is that there's no control interface. It was just enough to keep the ship stable in the interference zone. So we have nothing more than a good example of how they wrote and constructed machine-level coding. Nothing that would tell us anything about the crew. But."

"But?"

"Well, understandably the Geim was a little busy when they were trying to recover the artifact so they didn't catch it then, but now that they've had some time their Sensor Officer has been going over the logs. She was looking for more Volcan's but she found the sensor shadows for not one but two more artifacts down there. One is something like a proper capital ship - big, cruiser-scale. The second..." He paused as they paused in front of a door, which slid open to let the two out onto Dogana's bridge, "The second is a dozy. The Chief figures that they can pull up one of these cruisers once Geim's been repaired, but the next one is further down. Way, way down. Like on the surface down."

"The surface? What surface," she looked to the main screen where just the edge of the Circlet's Primary was visible. "Not a giant diamond, is it?"

"Not that deep. There's a rocky core down there," he corrected, "But over that is a layer of liquid - water, ammonia, methane. It looks like whatever this thing is, it is floating on the surface of that ocean. It's also in a straight line with the atmospheric plant on the Circlet, as were the other ships. The tenuous theory is that there might be some kind of link we haven't discovered between the two. Which also means there might be six more of these things. But there's no way Geim is going that deep so the Chief's already called in a favor. The Chief Engineer on Ojeni designed these diving drones to penetrate the undersea shaft on the Dragon's Eye. He left them there, but now that they've got a regular access route established, they are shipping them over here. Should be just what we need to take a look that far down..."

[Sunset]

OOC Time! On Population, Dates, and StarDates...

What's my population? Well, the population of the Republic Core is 30.43 billion as of 12/25/2016. Does that mean I'm bigger than you? Not necessarily. I'm a pretty big believer in the notion that if you can 'fill the space' you can be whatever you want to be. Though how well you fill that space will definitely impact as to whether or not I feel your nation/concept should have an impact or how large of impact it has on my own. That's not just about numbers; How many star systems, how many ships, how many... In fact, a heavy reliance on numbers isn't healthy. It doesn't make that entity feel alive, lived in, interesting. At that point its just numbers on a spreadsheet and this isn't Warhammer 40k - and even Warhammer 40k has the various fluff books with their ludicrous claims and character write-ups but still 'interesting' if your taste runs to giant shoulder pauldrons. Anyway; Republic Core is 30+ billion, then there's the various Federal States or their equivalent. Mangala, Khenala, Imnsvale, A few Ravenspire colonies, New ArAreBee, the Therian exiles, some Freodians... Couple others. Those populations I leave as 'undefined' since their political workings are somewhat but not always separate from those of the Core Republic.

But I actually base the Republic date on the population of Kyupaa, which is the largest extant nation and is thus the 'oldest', though there may be an older nation or two that has either timed out and been restored. Each nation starts its growth at a set amount for the first period at a growth rate of 5% per 'day' until that set growth ends. Past that, growth is random with 5.5m - 6.5m per day, so what I've done is set that first big growth spurt as a set amount that ends at 2046, then proceeds at 5% per year. Take the population, subtract that initial spurt, then logarithmic-ally extrapolate back to 0 to get the current date. In Excel/Open Office that's =((LN(J55)-LN(62))/LN(1.05))+2046 with J55 being the cell with the current Kyupaa population. That gives us 2173.36, which is today's Republic StarDate and works pretty well as a baseline for a nation that sprang from the current Earth timeline.

So why the decimal places? Officially, Sunset runs off UTC which is 'essentially' non-discriminatory, since the only measure is the second with everything else being based on the number of seconds since 00:00:00:00. Each planet, each culture, can then use UTC to establish the dates of their own holidays, seasons, and the like off UTC. But the military - spanning across the entirety of the Republic plus the Federal States plus a good chunk of the galaxy - needs their own time-keeping system thus StarDate. Expressing this as XXXX.XXXXX makes sense because each ship/facility also has some reckoning with its location, so StarDate is basically an extrapolation of UTC. What it doesn't do is specify day of the week or month or season, since the Fleet is supposed to be agnostic to such things. Whatever it needs to do, whenever it needs to do it.

This isn't always true in practice. If a Starship is coming into orbit around a well-populated world, or the matter at hand isn't urgent, it will sync the ship's 'daytime' crew shift to the planet's daylight hours so that the daytime shift - and thus the most senior command officers - are on duty. This isn't always possible, of course, but where plausible a ship might come into orbit and 'wait' til the planet's daytime hours sync up so that the Captain and the planetary leadership can effectively coordinate or cooperate without undue demands on that leadership. We're nice like that.

[Sunset]

Special Projects Research Tpwer, Landor City, Terra Incognito, New Latin System..

"So I've got a whacky idea..."

"How whacky?" Katryna looked up at her husband, attention momentarily distracted from the paperwork that had dominated her morning. Often enough when he approached her mid-afternoon his interest was more her than any on-going project and her fingers tugged one button after another through their loops while the other hand plucked out the clip that had gathered her black hair to the back of her head, "Like on the desk whacky or..."

"Like..." There was a pause as he glanced down from her violet eyes to the slow expanse of cleavage she was tempting him with. A pause became a stop and she grinned; "...like?"

"Like, um..."

"Like?" She finished and the tails of her blouse fell open to reveal the lacy black lingerie underneath, "...like this?"

His gaze lingered but there was a sudden trace of willpower even as she ran a finger between rounded swells and towards her navel, "Like... Why the interface is so complex and there's no programming."

"Oh. Poo," she pouted but he stepped closer and wrapped the purple shirt across her chest to hold it shut; "I'll make it quick?"

"Promise?"

There was nothing to do but nod agreement and as she sat back against the desk while he sank into the chair just behind him there was plenty of impetus for his meanderings to cut themselves short. Looking up at her he almost changed his mind but the idea was fresh in his head and would not stay there if he distracted himself between her legs, "So I was thinking - what if these mysterious builders didn't include an interface because they couldn't? What if they require something like... A part of themselves in the machine? We are species that change the universe to be more useful - so it does what we need it to do. What if their connection is more tangible? Somehow they move part of themselves into whatever they use?"

"Hand tools."

"Hand tools?" But it was the perfect counter and he scratched his head, "I guess so. Something is really odd here though. Why do they have such a complex interface but yet the systems are all blank? Clearly they can leave something but is that 'if they want' or is it 'if they need to'?"

"I have a different answer."

"What's that?"

"Security. They didn't want whoever found their stuff to be able to use it. Wipe the system and no one can use it, not without being able to handle that complex interface."

"Which still implies they had a way to operate that interface. And why do the small drones have the same complex interface? And why would they leave them blank? It just seems cumbersome."

"We are trying to understand something alien," she noted. "And without a sample of the alien in question."

"Right. But we can often tell a lot about a species based on their interface - how they make their stuff. Doorknobs, keyboards, the chain on a desk lamp. A desk lamp. All of that implies something; An opposable thumb with a rotating wrist," he held up his own to demonstrate, "Fingers for the keys, precise digits to grasp that thin chain. Even if we didn't have a Human around to examine directly, we could do a reasonably accurate reconstruction of their physical form just by examining their environment. But here..."

Katryna grinned, "You seem to understand my interface well enough... Are you done? Ready to press my buttons?"

Under that soft skin and those inviting curves he knew beat somewhere the electronic heart of an artificial intelligence but both years of marriage and the interactions it brought had assured him that she was as natural and as sensual as any woman could be. It didn't help at all that she was now leaning far forward, the loose blouse hanging open and just below the lovely face he was doing his best to concentrate on; "Just... One more thing. It just seems to me like they were being deliberate about it. They deliberately made it so we or someone else couldn't figure out who they were. Touch pads, no doors, curved architecture. It's like... They didn't want anyone to know who they were."

"I think you're right," she agreed, leaning back again to kick off her shoes. "Now, ready to show me who you are?"

[Sunset]

SDF-Southern Cross, Circlet Station Keeping Orbit, Gen Celet System, Delta Quadrant...

"Retirement?!"

"That's right," Timmons answered, his big hands clasped behind him as he continued to walk beside the smaller woman as she headed in whatever direction she'd been going when the two had chanced across each other; "Why?!"

"A transfer to the Reserves, actually," he clarified before answering, "A few reasons. Because of this, firstly," A thick finger went to the rank insignia on the opposite arm and he tapped it meaningfully, "They keep wanting to make me a Captain and I keep telling them 'no'. Fleet's expanding and they need experienced commanding officers. I've got the experience, but I don't want the responsibility. Even keeping track of you four is a handful sometimes. A whole ship, a whole crew? No thanks. A few years in the Reserves and this expansion will be over. Then I'll be back... Probably. Second, well," his finger went from insignia to belly - Trinya's belly specifically - and she looked down and back up as he grinned; "Oh."

"Yeah, I overheard you two talking last night. I'm going to keep my opinion to myself, but a few months to set up house somewhere and get a family started is a good idea. You might not have four months of morning sickness to look forward to;" Since Trinya and Lae were of incompatible species, any reproduction they did would have to be via artificial means, "But you two have always been here with me and inside of the formal structure of military life. You've never had to worry about buying groceries every week, making sure the bills are paid - all of those 'adult' things that you skipped when you came in from the Young Explorers. Take a few years, really get to know each other, start that family your Mom is always asking for."

Well, maybe that said a bit too much about his opinion, but the young woman seemed to accept it gracefully. In a lot of ways he was her father and in a lot of ways he could still see how immature she still was. It might have been years since she'd stepped naked across the inside of their shuttle with the tattoo on her lower back indicating just where she'd like to have it, but the tattoo was still there and so were all those other behaviors from obvious to subtle that indicated just how close she still was to that impulsive teenager. Children and the responsibility for them had a way of changing all that and while he didn't expect the tattoo to be gone the next time he saw her, he was hopeful that some of the rough edges would be gone and both would be more well-rounded and ready to serve.

"Last? Well, maybe I shouldn't be telling you this but," he held up his hand and a hologram appeared in the middle, shielded from casual viewing by the fingers that circled it, "This is Amirah Alwyra Maric;" Trinya nodded - she knew the face, but he continued, "She's the owner of A'iruka Industries, which is a moderately-sized luxury goods company out of Hanson's Kneecap. She's also got a security problem and a few weeks ago an offer appeared in my inbox. It wasn't interesting at the time but," again he pointed to her belly and he waited until just after she nodded to give it a poke, "But now it is. She's looking for someone with just my kind of qualifications; Military service and an eye for science. Someone who can pull double-duty as personal protection and advise her on her latest luxury product from the stars."

"So you'd be leaving for more money?"

That was answered with a shrug, "Not that much more. Commander pays pretty well," though in all honesty it was more - a lot more. But he had little use for money past a certain point, "But - and maybe I shouldn't be telling you this - but I wouldn't be leaving for the money. I'd be leaving..."

"...because I've got a hunch," they both finished together to a shared laugh; "That's right," he went on, "I've got a hunch. She's always looking for the next big thing and I've got a hunch that next big thing will be something really interesting. I can't say what it is - all I've got is a contract offer and a big wad of cash on the table - but I've got that itch right here," he scratched his stomach just left of his navel, "And that itch says that this is the way to go."

"What about the team though? Deania, Annya?"

"Well," he paused, raised his head, and for a second those dark brown eyes searched the halls before he pulled her aside into a service alcove. "I'm not telling you this - got it? - but they're coming with me. I'll need a team I can trust and both of them have issues that would make my leaving especially hard. Deania... Well, you already know about that. She's not technically one of us. Attached, foreign service, but her foreign service doesn't particularly like her and I'm her vouch in the Force. She's coming with me because it will just be better for her. Sucks for her boyfriend, but that's the way life is in the service. Annya... As progressive as we are, the whole 'person in a dog's body' thing is still odd or downright weird to a lot of 'us'," he circled a finger. "She's smart and capable or else I wouldn't have her on the team, but when a lot of people see a dog coming through that door reporting for duty they just write her off as a freak. And for her, the money will be a lot better and she'll still be doing what she loves."

"If your hunch bears out."

"If it does," but his shrug had the sort of confidence to it that she was used to. It would, or he would make it. "So that's the plan. You and Lae take a few years to get your family going and the three of us are going to go private sector for a few. The only loss will be Philus - he's staying here as Chief Scientist. But that will give us a man on the inside. Hopefully in a few years... Well, we'll see where life takes us. But I'm not putting this uniform away forever..."

[Sunset]

GEC-79291Cc1, The Spinward Expanse, Alpha Quadrant...

"Hold on to yahr ears - this is about ta get fun!"

A final touch of the controls and Meli finished her instructions to the ship's computer - a high-speed faster-than-light insertion that would deposit the ship at the very edge of the jump core's operating limits - and leaned back to strap in. Not that it would do much good if they did come under fire from unknown ground or orbiting defenses. She'd set a course that would bring them in on the far side of the planet from the orbiting Blud Huntr but the system's sole warship didn't mean there weren't other potential enemies; "Here we go!"

Without so much as a countdown, the Dwarf touched the controls and the little ship shot away in a blur, crossing the distance from the far edge of the system to the very edge of the atmosphere. Compensators howled as they hit, nose up just a hair and immediately glowing a dull red as the scout rocketed downward, belts proving useful as they lurched from side to side. If there were surface defenses they remained silent as the surrounding fireball roared in to pull up at what seemed the last moment. Hugging the nape of the earth, she threw the ship left then right to both dodge the nonexistent ground fire and slow the ship just a hair. Without the crackle of disruptor bolts or the scream of lasers to interrupt, she took a moment to check her course and the terrain ahead before putting the accelerator down and shooting towards the other half of the moon.

"Everything down there is frozen," she explained, more for ScLappi's benefit than her own. With the Doctor an effective stowaway and her orders immediate, she hadn't even had the chance to drop the head off somewhere for later retrieval and she'd spent most of the trip introducing him to the joys of cyber-sex. "Even tha atmosphere is condensed out to icicles. But other side 'oh tha planet..."

"And that would be what these mercenaries were doing," he asked. "Engaging in the plunder of the newly thawed treasures? I must say, the notion that those of your Republic would engage in the same perfidy as those of the Empire gives me some hope as to the continued course of the galaxy."

"Ahn odd way o' putting it, but ya - ain't so different, one to the other. Jus' who's on top."

"But then the suggestion is that these mercenaries uncovered something that would either be so valuable that they would abandon their employers and abscond with a ship valued at many... billions? I would presume that much at least... Or that they uncovered something that would force the matter. Perhaps by accident?"

"Tha's my guess," Meli agreed, hauling the ship sharply to the left to avoid a mountain range and the sharp picture the ship would otherwise paint at the crest. "They lahkly filled their holds, headed back, ahn something happened on the way. Tha Blud Huntr's," she touched a control and a side display lit up with a run-down of the mercenary organization, "Have been operating out of the Republic for darn near thirty years. Had a hand in tha Boardroom Revolution few yahrs back, kept a lot o' the big corporate types fram loosin' thar heads to tha mob. Since then they've bahn workin' whatever tha' could find all over the fringe. But shootin' at a merchantman comin' for a friendly lattle chat? That don' seem like their style."

"Except that it was a Sanglanti merchantman. Even inside the Sessool Empire they are known for their occasional dalliances with piracy and more-so with smuggling. As I said; We're more alike than it may seem. Your government tolerates them because they are useful - just as the Sessool do. And murderous assassins."

"Aww, yer so sweet! Ahright, we're comin' up on em..."

In fact the demarcation line was starkly clear; Just at the point where the dark line from night turned to day, the moon's surface seemed to be boiling away as the long-frozen atmosphere suddenly met the warming light from the distant star. Surging up, it flowed to either side to either condense back into freezing rain or expand into a thin yet viable layer over the now-dripping surface. In a few hundred years when the moon again moved behind the colossal gas giant the process would halt completely but for now there would be a warm - abet slow-moving - thaw. Behind that thaw was just what Meli and presumably the Huntr's were looking for; The now-accessible ruins of a civilization caught in a deep freeze for the past thousand years. Easing off the speed, she brought the needle-shaped ship to a near-crawl just at the edge of the creep, using it for cover as she swept long-range cameras over the horizon, "...ahn that's jus' what Ah'm lookin' for. Got a whole buncha robots movin' around and doin' stuff. So we'll take a look-see, then I'll put 'er down and get in close. My guess..."

The display stopped on something and she zoomed in further until two of the four-armed black spindles were framed inside. Between them they were carrying what looked almost exactly like a coffin with the familiar pinched octagon and what could be called feet at the narrow end while an elaborate carving topped the other and flowed down to disappear into the jet-black substance of the casket.

"...whatever's goin' on, it has somethin' to do with those."