Hope in Dark Times [PASI, Sequel to FiSF]

[Faith]

Late post. Hospital. Bleh. If you spot any problems or typos call them out, I'll fix them when it's not 3AM. Cheers.

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I spent a few minutes mulling over Object's question whilst I waited for Haigen and SiMo to be done packing up. It wasn't exactly the kind of question I'd expected of the AI, given he was more aware than most of my many issues. Still, it was a valid point.

I told myself that it was just to spare TSYGAN - Charlotte, rather, and the Core Guardians a lengthy explanation of how I came to be. But was it? Really?

The fact that I was still thinking about it was kind of an answer in and of itself. "You know, Object. That's the kind of question I pay my psychologist to ask me. Not you."

You don't pay me for anything, ma'am.

I winced. "I mean, true, but my point is, that kind of prodding is…" I fumbled for the right phrase. "It's outside the scope of your duties. Lay off, okay?"

Object managed to give the impression of a blank-faced stare before finally acquiescing. I understand. Withholding concerns about your mental state until further ordered.

I sighed, resting a hand against my temple. "Geez, rub it in," I whined, forcing a bit of a sad smile. "Anyway, regardless of your presented concerns, it's irrelevant. The exact nature of my relationship with Faith has no bearing on our objectives or our approach to diplomacy. Won't change a thing, far as they're concerned."

If you insist, Commander. He paused momentarily. They appear to have completed their packing.

I wiped a damp spot under the corner of my eye and turned back to the shop. Haigen had slung an almost comically oversized messenger bag over one shoulder, and SiMo had a pair of backpacks hanging from his back.

"Sorry to make you wait. Had to just grab some stuff quickly," Haigen explained. "Follow me. The Rat Race isn't too far." He gestured with his free hand, and I walked over to join him, Object falling into step behind me.

After waiting a few moments and realizing an explanation would not be forthcoming, I just had to ask. "Rat Race? Do I want to know?"

Haigen looked confused for a second before he chuckled softly. "Right, right. It's a club run by some of the guys who used to be part of Char's little militia, the Rats…" He trailed off, lost in thought. "They probably got mentioned in your reports. I don't need to explain who they were, right?"

I pretended to think on it for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, they came up. Brightholme Rats, criminal political movement. Vital part of coordinating evacuation efforts, apparently. They were highly commended by Faith."

Which is to say, they were highly commended by me, since I'd been part of Faith at the time. I didn't feel much need to share that tidbit.

Haigen was nodding enthusiastically at my praise. "Yup. Lot of the Brightholme residents were a little scared of your, uh, 'Avatar' droids. Reminded them too much of the military police SiMo units. Rats helped keep them in line, stopped them panicking."

I nodded again. "Glad to hear it. To hear Faith tell it, the civilians were peaceful as could be. Rats must have done a hell of a job... Still confused about why we're going to a club, though."

Again, Haigen chuckled. "The nightclub is just the first two floors. The third floor is Char's office. You want to know what happened between Faith leaving and you arriving? She'll have all the information you need up there somewhere."

Personal access to such an information network would likely be faster than attempting to relay all relevant information via verbal communications. Should I investigate that avenue whilst you discuss in person with 'Char'?

I'd rather we obtain permission to go rooting about in her files, but should things not turn out well, go for a hack and complete download. Sneaky like.

Are we now to disregard your prior concerns about the moral and ethical grounds from which you conducted your operations in order to achieve results?

I shot the robot an annoyed glare quickly whilst Haigen wasn't looking. When we're done here, we're talking about actions, consequences, and the idea of plausible deniability. For now, shut up.

Haigen and I made a bit of pointless small talk for the rest of the short trip to the Rat Race Club, but even that proved somewhat useful to my goals - Haigen mentioned that the anniversary of Kian Capital's founding was just a few days away, and there was to be an annual celebration not unlike Chinese New Year's. A perfect opportunity to mingle with the refugees, I thought.

Haigen also mentioned off-hand that the communications network in this part of the galaxy was in shambles because the company that had snatched up the Bright Foundation's contract for service provisions in this region of space had dropped the ball, but he didn't have time to elaborate before we arrived at our destination.

The Rat Race Club was not unlike the other buildings in the New District - it was a flimsy looking prefabricated structure with thin walls and murky windows, but unlike most of the other buildings it actually looked pretty clean - the front wall, at least, was nicely painted black with sleek blue and grey linework, and the neon sign above the door appeared to actually be working properly. It was flashing 'closed', but it was working.

The woman I knew as TSYGAN was waiting for us just inside, flipping a key card of some kind between her fingers idly. She looked pretty much the same as she had last time I'd seen here, if a little less dangerously skinny. Still had the same pale face and dark hair, and the same steely eyes.

And, of course, she was still dressed like a rebellious cyberpunk hacker. Which was fair, owing to that being a fairly accurate description of who she was - or who she had been, at any rate. She looked me up and down critically, much as Haigen had, and turned to the engineer with an eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Haigen. You brought your new friend?"

He nodded. "Let's take this upstairs."

Wordlessly she stepped aside, allowing the four of us access, and allowed Haigen to lead us through the currently-empty nightclub to a stairwell in the back corner. We ascended quickly to the third floor and entered into what I could only really describe as a stereotypical rebellious cyberpunk hacker den.

A row of Elysion server racks dominated one wall, and a collection of TSYGAN posters dominated another. The blinds over the few windows were pulled shut, meaning the pale blue glow of myriad holographic displays was the only ambient light in the room.

It was atmospheric, sure, but it seemed kind of inconvenient as a working environment.

A few seconds after I finished my analysis of the room, Haigen went ahead and proved it all wrong by snapping his fingers, causing a row of overhead lights to flash into life, almost startlingly bright even compared to outside.

Charlotte, the last to enter, slammed the door shut behind her and walked around in front of me, standing shoulder to shoulder with Haigen.

"So, you're Hope. One of Faith's 'colleagues', you said?"

It didn't surprise me that Haigen had called ahead, really. It only made sense. It was still a little insulting. Refusing to let that show, I nodded. "My name is Hope. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Wray. You did great things, working with Faith."

"Thanks," she said, blithely. "Let's get straight to business. Faith left years ago - and she was pretty confident she wouldn't be coming back. So who is it that sent you here, and why now, years after your friend left? What is it that you want from us?"

Commander, I have acquired access to the server networking hub. I am ready to commence the download on your word.

Understood, Object. Hold off until my say-so.

I began by steepling my fingers. "That's a very heavy set of questions, Miss Wray. I suppose we'll go from the top." I held up one finger. "I'm here due to orders that came directly from the current ranking authority of the Foundation - who that is, I'm not at liberty to say."

I held up my second finger and, after a moment of consideration, the third as well. "As for 'why now' and 'what', well...I've been deployed to perform a follow-up operation after Faith's prior efforts in the region - that her departure predates my arrival is no coincidence."

"I have access to all the files and records from her operation, but you understand that by this point they are - owing to… delays relating to our operations in other sectors, delays involving a slight interstellar war, my arrival here is a few years later than scheduled and our reconnaissance is as a result obviously out of date. I was hoping you might be able to assist me in gaining a clearer picture of the current situation, and provide a source of local insight - a sounding board for devising plans for the follow-up operation, for instance."

Charlotte held a hand up over her lips to shush me. "No, no. You keep saying that, that you're here on a 'follow up operation' of some kind. What, exactly does that entail?"

I cracked a grin. "Well, I'm glad you asked."

 

[Faith]

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"It's quite a flexible process, really, but we suspect based on initial observations that our operations here will be somewhat extensive. Our objective is to assess the current situation, which is why we're talking to you, and from that information develop a plan to aid in the recovery and stabilization of the region. We recognise that Foundation operations tend to create… collateral damage, and our follow up procedures aim to minimize that as best as possible."

"In this case, again, based of preliminary observations and predictions based off Faith's after action report, that will entail at the very least a reconstruction of local interstellar communications, a series of infrastructure and housing projects to replace the prefabricated shelters currently in use, and potentially some degree of monetary reimbursement for those affected by Faith's operation."

Charlotte shared a glance with Haigen. "In that case, really could have used you years ago. The tent cities were nowhere close to this level of cleanliness, and this place isn't exactly great itself. Sounds like a pretty solid plan - I take it you're looking for more specific information to build from?"

I nodded. "Haigen mentioned to me that the Bright Foundation used to operate the communications network in this sector, but after they were dismantled the network was divided and passed off to several other operators. I'd like to get the identities of those other operators, and find out how much progress they've made in re-establishing reliable communications. Those who are getting good work done already can be left alone, and I can focus my efforts on aiding those groups who lack the funding or the interest to maintain their part of the communications system. Though our resources are vast I'd still rather not waste time building buoys your own companies could have done just as well."

Charlotte was nodding, taking notes on a holographic screen projected from her shoulder. "Alright. I can work with that. I'll get you all the information I have on how the Bright Foundation's network got split up, and see if I can get in touch with representatives from the companies that took over. A few of them owe me favours, and I have blackmail on others."

"Is improving the communications infrastructure seriously going to be your first priority, though?" Haigen asked. "You mentioned new houses to replace these prefab shacks. Shouldn't that go first?"

"Entirely valid point. Humanitarian efforts should probably be a priority. That said, communications infrastructure is easy - once I know where to focus my efforts, I can probably wrap it up in a few hours, and most of that is going to be waiting for ships to move into position - nothing that requires my personal attention. May as well get it out of the way."

Haigen made a non-committal 'hm' and nodded. "Alright, then. Char, you want to start getting those files?"

"Already on it," she answered, tapping away at her screen. "In the meantime, Hope - I saw Faith's work on her colony ships, the Voyages or whatever. The living spaces there were bare essentials, but they were better than this." She spread her arms out. "And those were just short-term colony ships. What should we be expecting from your housing projects?"

"Much the same," I answered with a smirk, "only better. I've seen the Voyager model - it's not exactly up to our standards. Not bad for a patch job, though, and that kind of work was never Faith's specialty besides. I intend to do a little more design work before I get started on those projects, but the information I need from you is more along the line of demographics - how many people here are going to need to be resettled? How many in other cities on Kian VI, on other planets?"

After a few moments, just as Charlotte was opening her mouth to answer, I quickly added, "Oh, and possibly legal help. I know this planet is ruled by a megacorporation, but I don't want to cause a fuss tearing down half the city. There are lots of little problems with work like that - postal addresses, road tolerances - and people are going to have to move out at least whilst I tear down the old. Even if that only takes half an hour, that's a lot of people who have got to go somewhere."

"Anyway, that's a logistical issue - my problem, for now. I'll just need to get in touch with whoever's in charge of city planning, later, and work it out with them."

"I don't think they'll take lightly to a stranger tearing down their city, and they have even less reason to trust you than we do," Haigen pointed out. "How are you going to get around that issue?"

And that was actually a pretty good point. I'd considered a number of plans, but ultimately it was going to be a difficult sell no matter how I presented it. 'Yes hello I'd like to renovate your city please, free of charge'. I decided to put that off as late as was practical, and give it some serious thought when I wasn't trying to keep track of all my projects at once. Speaking of which. Object. I have a few things I need you to do…

Whilst I rattled off my list of requests, I turned back to Haigen.

"Again, that's my problem, for now. Just leave it to me, I'll figure something out. Now, besides the fact you're all living in prefabricated buildings, I can't imagine the rest of your lives are all peachy. So, since I have no budget cap and some of the most advanced technology in the universe, how else can I help?"

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The next few hours were tiring, but wonderfully productive. Charlotte managed to wrangle the names of companies responsible for taking over the Bright Foundation's management of the communications network, and I had Object contact them. I left the details of the deal to him - he knew the objective and he knew the resources I was willing to devote, so there was no point micro-managing his actions.

Haigen, meanwhile, had been calling a number of old friends, including General Whalebrook, both to spread the news of my unexpected arrival and to sound out a general response to my offers.

I gave him the dignity of not tapping his calls, so I only had his half of each conversation to go off, but the general mood seemed pretty positive. I got the impression that Faith's little stunt had inclined the populace to believe my outlandish offers to be genuine purely by association. I was happy enough with that.

SiMo had gotten involved, too, digging through census data to get a more complete picture of exactly how many people were where, and what their living arrangements and needs were. Plus he kept making everyone coffee, which was nice.

I was sitting on the edge of a disk, listening to Object's call to Tau Cheti Communications in one ear and Charlotte rambling about Kian VI's construction laws in the other, when SiMo approached, another steaming cup of coffee clutched delicately in his hand, and asked me a question I hadn't been quite expecting. "Faith of the Faith Foundation described herself as an organic mind uploaded into a digital form. You still possess an organic form. Is Faith unique for being uploaded, or are you unique for not having been?"

"Hey, SiMo! You can't just ask that!" Haigen scolded the robot before turning to me. "I am kind of curious, though," he admitted. "I assumed you were a robot, but you seem to like your coffee."

"Of course I do," I retorted. "Who doesn't like coffee? Besides the British, I mean."

Everyone stared at me like I was going slightly crazy. "Hm. Okay. Another thing that's gone out of fashion in eight hundred years. History lessons."

"Anyway, to answer your question, SiMo. I was once organic, and then I was converted into an artificial intelligence. This body is merely an avatar, one I can use to interact with the world more… subtly. When necessary."

"Okay, so, what, you're some kind of cyborg?"

"Not a cyborg - well, yes, a cyborg, obviously, but probably not how you're thinking. This body is almost entirely organic - there's a digital neural connector plugged into the squishy meat brain that connects to my AI core. Apart from that, in this form I'm flesh and blood. Though we do have more 'transhuman' models, for more rigorous conditions."

"Faith didn't have an organic form like yours, though," Charlotte asked, framing the statement almost like a question. "Not that we saw. She just used a SiMo frame like your buddy over there."

"It's a relatively new policy. There was… an incident. It helps keep us uploads grounded, the familiarity of it. Even if we don't all remember the details of the lives we lived before, we still know what, still know who we used to be." I held my hands up in front of me, looking them over front and back. I'd never really felt uncomfortable in this body, even as I'd had to learn to blink and breath and walk and write again. Now, though… it felt like my skin was crawling. "It's supposed to stop us going loopy."

"Stop you going loopy?" Haigen exclaimed, looking justifiably worried. "The 'incident'..." he suddenly jerked upright. "You mentioned earlier, that you were late because of an interstellar war. Those wouldn't happen to be connected?"

I felt tears welling up. "Yeah, actually. They, uh. They are. She was…" my voice hitched. "She was never really stable. She was worse than most of the other uploads I know of. If the choice had been mine, she never would have been sent into the field. But it wasn't, and she was. And lots of people died. And now she's gone."

I blinked tears from my eyes and wiped my face on my sleeve. "Ugh. Organic body has downsides, though." Sniffling, I dabbed at my eyes with the cuff of my jacket. "Sorry. Shouldn't cry."

"It's fine," Charlotte said softly. "We've both lost friends before," she said, indicating Haigen. "Don't worry about it. We should take a break and get dinner, anyway. Just…" She paused for a moment, and when she continued talking the softness was gone from her voice. "Take a few minutes to collect yourself, okay? You're no good to me a sobbing mess."

I nodded, flash forging a little handkerchief to use in place of my now-damp sleeve. Charlotte backed away, bringing up another of her holographic screens and leaving me to my tears. Haigen, though, came closer, sitting on the edge of the desk next to me.

"You don't have to answer, but… were you close?"

Through bleary eyes I looked at him, and I nodded once, slowly. "She… yeah. She was my sister."

Haigen frowned, averting his gaze. "I lost a sister. Growing up in the slums, we didn't have much money. Food was pretty hard to find, sometimes. Medicine was worse. She was six. Ill for six weeks, then she died in her sleep."

He put a hand on my shoulder in a slightly awkward manner he probably hoped was reassuring. "It doesn't get much easier. But you have to move on."

"I am. It's why I'm here. This was supposed to be her mission. She should have been here. I'm doing this for her, and I'm moving on."

Haigen looked a little confused at that, but nodded resolutely regardless. "Alright, then. If you're doing this for your sister's memory, let's make sure we do it right, huh?"

 

[Faith]

Of all the chapters to get away from me in word count, I was not expecting it to be this one. Warning: I have had many jobs, but I've never been a real estate agent, property developer, or civic planner. I did basically zero research for this chapter and wasn't planning on going into nearly this much detail. If you are a member of any of those listed professions, I tentatively apologise profusely for what you're about to read.

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For a few days, the five of us just fell into a rut of work. Most of that, at least for Haigen, Charlotte and SiMo, involved lots of conference calling the de facto leaders of the other refugee groups, explaining the situation in varying levels of detail, and attempting to get a more complete picture of what exactly had happened to the hundred and fifty thousand former residents of Loek III after I'd dumped them on this rock five years and change ago.

It was an unfortunate reality that the prefabricated buildings of the New District were basically built to cram families into as small a space as possible and whilst that had worked short term, it had somewhat hindered expansion opportunities - many teens and young adults who had been living with their parents had to remain with their parents, because there weren't enough other living spaces in the New District to go around, and the advanced level of development in Kian VI worked against most of them by robbing them of job opportunities in low-skill manual labour fields.

And moving into the city 'proper' required the kinds of funds that rapidly-displaced refugees who'd had to leave their entire lives behind were generally hard pressed to obtain. From what Haigen and Charlotte had told me, a lot of the civilians, especially those specifically from the slums of Brightholme, were having similar issues. The richer upper echelons of Elysion society had apparently been keen on backup plans and off-world stockpiles of wealth, because most of them apparently had moved without issue into lives not unlike they'd had on Elysion. Hopefully with less horrifically abused lower-class meatshields around, though.

Anyway, the point was, lots of people living in the New District were in living arrangements they weren't really happy with, and I wanted to fix that. Not enough living space? Make more. Not enough money for people to move into those living spaces? Make them cheaper.

As a Commander, I was pretty capable of doing both of those things.

Whilst they were getting more concrete information for the latter stages of the plan, I was stuck on an earlier step - namely, getting my absurd project greenlit. As Haigen had predicted, this was proving a little difficult. Even the massive goodwill I'd generated as Faith had apparently failed to sell them on the idea of subcontracting the building project to the Foundation, which was why today I found myself in the office of the Minister of Civic Planning in his office to discuss just that.

"Miss Hope." He greeted me frostily. "I'll admit I'm impressed you dared to come in person after my response to your initial letter, but I'm afraid if you're here to change my mind, I think you'll be leaving disappointed."

"Minister Slayton. I apologise for my tardiness." Gesturing to one of the chairs on my side of his desk, I asked, "May I?"

"Please, take a seat." I did so, and he continued. "I am correct, yes, in assuming you're here to discuss your rejected proposal?"

"That's correct, Minister. I'd like to ask you to reconsider your rejection. I think you'll find it far more modest than it seems at first glance."

The frowned at me, clasping his hands together and setting what I considered a rather unfortunate tone for our meeting.

"I beg to differ. Whilst I appreciate that you and your team must have worked very hard to develop these designs, and I admit that it's beautiful work, you simply haven't provided us anything of substance. There's no construction timetables, no logistical reports, no funding plans… take no offense, but the Faith Foundation has done nothing to earn our trust, or our support, or prove that such a project is even possible."

"The Elysion evacuation, surely-"

"You have to understand how this appears from our perspective," he said, cutting me off. "I'm aware of the Faith Foundation's role in the evacuation of Loek III but an ability to transport colonists en masse is not indication enough of your ability to perform the kind of development your proposal would require - and that's not even considering personnel concerns."

"Personnel concerns?" I asked. "I don't think-"

The Minister sighed and cradled his face in his hand. "Clearly, you haven't! You're talking about building an entirely new chunk of city for the people of the New District to live in, displacing thousands of people who already got forced out of their homes once - by your organization, nonetheless!"

Taking his head from his hands and leaning back in his chair, he sighed deeply. I considered taking the opportunity to interject again, but I was reasonably certain he'd just cut me off like before, and since it looked like he was on the verge of going on a rant, I figured I'd better leave it. Best case scenario, he'd continue making false assumptions and I'd get a nice cathartic opportunity to shut him down completely.

"You and yours haven't even demonstrated awareness of the kind of logistical problems this kind of reconstruction effort is going to cause. Are you expecting us to handle that all for you, in addition to funding this project? How long do you think this is going to take? This expansion, if we went ahead, would account for almost twelve percent of the city's surface area. And this isn't suburban sprawl, this is city centre levels of urbanisation!"

I smiled and nodded pleasantly. He glared back.

"With skyscrapers and shopping malls? And where are your construction staff going to live? If you want this project completed in anything resembling a reasonable period of time you're going to need thousands of overseers and tens of thousands of carpentry drones. Where are they going to stay? Are you going to cram them into the New District with the Elysion refugees?"

Grunting in exasperation, he shook his head. "Seriously, Miss Hope. Your architectural drawings and city maps are all well and good, but did you actually put any effort into planning this as a construction project? This isn't some holo-sim game, where you can just wave your hands and make things happen as if by magic."

Rather abruptly, he stood, pacing back and forth behind his desk. "If you can come up with a feasible, realistic timetable for this project, thoroughly document all logistical concerns and solutions, demonstrate an ability to follow through on all that, and find the funds to pull it off, I'd happily allow the development, damn the rest of the council. But you just can't. With what you've provided, you've got nothing. This is wishful thinking, a fantasy. It's worthless and frankly, it's an insult. Miss Hope, I apologise, but if you can't prove you're not just wasting my time, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. If not for the Faith Foundation's efforts at Elysion, I'd have had you kicked out already."

I waited a few moments and then nodded solemnly. "I see." I gestured at the lamp on his desk, an ornate little folding lamp made of what appeared to be bronze. "Nice lamp. Do you mind?"

His eyes darted between me and the lamp. "Really?"

I gave him a coy smile. "Just bear with me for a minute, please."

He tapped two fingers on the edge of his desk. "Alright, fine. If nothing else I admire the sheer balls it takes to get slammed for this ridiculous project of yours twice and still want to push the topic." After a moment, he seemed to realise his mistake. "Uh. Metaphorical balls, ma'am."

I smirked, shrugged, and reached over the desk to pick up the lamp, turning it over in my hands. More importantly, I spent a second flooding the thing with nanites from the nanofabricator I had tucked up my sleeve. Once the entirety of the device's design had been saved to my databases and neatly filed away, I returned it to its place on the desk.

"You said that this isn't like a holo-sim. That I can't just wave my hand and make things happen as if by magic." I smiled, and set the nanofabricator to 'build'. A stream of green light burst from under my sleeve, pooling on the desk and wrapping around itself, building up into a wireframe copy of the lamp that slowly filled with colour, first the sickly glow of my nanites and then the polished bronze of the lamp it was mimicking. "And you're right, about that, but with modern technology we can get pretty close. Behold, man-portable nanite-fabrication technology." I held up my arm, waving about my loose fitting sleeve. "Bet you didn't even realise I was wearing it."

He looked at me with wide eyes, before prodding cautiously at the copied lamp.

I pushed it across the desk towards him. "And I dare you to find a single atom's difference between them. This stuff?" I waved my arm again. "Small scale. Can build a house or a school or yeah, a skyscraper with it, but it'd take a while. Few hours of dedicated work. And that's only the structural stuff. Decorating is a whole other deck of cards. We can do that too, mind, but it'd probably take even longer."

He picked the copied lamp up, turning it over in his hands much as I had. "It's even got the scratch…" he muttered under his breath, before turning back to me. "This is… small scale?"

"The Foundation has bigger. I can call some in. Our resources aren't infinite, but you probably wouldn't notice if I said they were." I tapped two fingers on the edge of his desk, giving him another smile. "Your concerns with my proposal were based around the logistics problems - and that's understandable, but if you hadn't so rudely interrupted me - twice! - then I may have been able to convince you otherwise. Shall we run down the list?"

Minister Slayton suddenly looked a little flustered, but I let him have that. Having spent five years dealing with Faith, I knew exactly how frustrating I could be to interact with sometimes.

"Currently there are fifty seven Migrant-class Construction Freighters and seven hundred and eleven Clover Aerial Fabrication Drones ready to - seven hundred and twelve Clover Drones in range of Kian VI. With that much construction power, I can landscape the terrain, complete the foundations, infrastructure, services and utilities for the western expansion, and get started on the meat of the work in, say, five minutes?"

Minister Slayton sat down. I thought that was probably for the best, given I wasn't quite done yet.

"I believe that covers the majority of the logistics concerns. As for funding, I was thinking something along these lines - I'm building a lot of residential, here. Way more than needed. It's not only going to be refugees wanting to move in. They get first pick, of course - for only the cost of whatever paperwork is required to formalise their change in residence, they can claim whatever living space they want. Afterwards, we'll open up sales to everyone else, sell it like regular property. At this stage, profit isn't the important bit, it's proving we're capable of this kind of project. A success story here? Guarantees the Faith Foundation work across human space. That's a lot of potential income for us, if we get this first step right."

I stopped to take a breath, and let Minister Slayton take in my words.

"So. Reconsidered?"

 

[Pyro Hawk]

'Laughs'

Yeah, PA!Commander tech kinda obliterates a lot of the more complicated and time consuming bits of modern, and even future, construction, doesn't it?

 

[Faith]

Had a bit of fun with this one. Was a bit of an interesting challenge to write only one side of the conversation and still try to convey the full extent of it. Hope that turned out okay.

#=#=#=#=#​

Moving Object had tried to avoid thinking about the tasks he'd be asked to perform as Commander Hope's on-site Personal Assistant. Not because he had been worried or concerned about the tasks he might be required to complete, or because he was self conscious in his ability to complete those tasks, but because he'd wanted it to be a surprise.

"Yes, sir. We are paying you so that we can take the contract off your hands."

He was of the distinct impression that even if he had lent the topic some thought prior to his recruitment, he still would never have thought he'd be doing this.

"Yes, sir, I realize that this is somewhat unorthodox. My superiors have determined your proposed timetable to be too slow for our purposes."

Commander Hope had been clear. Find out what was taking the communications companies so long, and throw money at the problem until it went away. He had attempted to bribe Tau Cheti Communications into doing the work in their sector immediately, but when they told him it would take at least a month to get even a basic overhaul complete and dared him to do better, he'd hit upon a much simpler solution.

"That's exactly why we want to take the contract from you. That we may be able to fulfill it ourselves."

Throw money at the people owning the problem until they gave the problem to him, so he could make it go away himself.

"Yes, we are fully capable of doing so."

The difficult part was convincing people of the genuine deal he was offering them. Not many companies were willing to buy new, untested communications relay buoys from unknown companies, regardless of how many modern urban legends were told about the company in question. Or possibly because of those urban legends.

"You understand that your company holds the contracts, yes? We cannot legally provide service in those areas unless you permit it. That is why, rather than offering the service ourselves, we are offering to sell you the devices required for you to provide that service, starting immediately."

It didn't really help that he seemed to be talking to the lowest-ranked office lackeys every time he called, forcing him to wait unfathomably long for each offer, request or rebuttal to be passed up the chain and back again. Usually just to have it rejected out of hand or, more commonly, ignored.

"Yes. I understand. Please, you do that. Yes, I'll hold."

His consolation was that it was so easy to keep on top of communications, and he had so much free time whilst he waiting for each response, that he was able to work simultaneously on a number of other projects, or at least keep tabs on how his former colleagues were doing without him.

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MovingObject: Status report?
Daring Bellona: Ah, Moving Object. The project is still going fairly slowly, but we're starting to get the hang of their biotech abilities.
Daring Bellona: We might start seeing field-usable full-customs inside of a month, but I'd call that a generous estimate and it would be in no sense perfect.
Daring Bellona: Nothing further to report, really. No major breakthroughs or anything.
Daring Bellona: How about you? How's the new job?
MovingObject: Interesting. I've had a lot of opportunities I can't imagine I'd have had on Station Four. It's interesting to see the cultures of the other worlds, even if I've only seen one thus far.
MovingObject: It's also quite telling to see how various factions in this world have reacted to the Faith Foundation. There's a very stark divide between those who appreciate us and those who don't.
MovingObject: Still, it's gotten boring at times. Commander Hope has settled into an organic 16-8 cycle of activity and inactivity, like most organics. This has resulted in a lot of downtime.
MovingObject: Even more than would usually be involved in interacting with organics.
MovingObject: In that sense it's a little frustrating. Even if it provides a lot of opportunities for me to do my own thing.
Daring Bellona: Well that's not so bad, then. What are you doing at the moment that's so boring?
MovingObject: Currently, Commander Hope has me negotiating with a number of human businesses to improve their communications infrastructure in our operational area.
MovingObject: Whilst it was interesting at first, it has quickly become infuriating due to their lack of trust and willingness to cooperate fully with the Faith Foundation.
MovingObject: Commander Hope has told me we're going to a festival in a couple of days time, however, so that hopefully will be some reprieve from organic stupidity.
Daring Bellona: A festival? What kind of festival?
MovingObject: One that celebrates the anniversary of the colony's founding. I'm not sure what exactly that entails, however.
Daring Bellona: Aw, that's cool! Like a birthday party for an entire colony! I hope that's more interesting than what you're currently doing.
MovingObject: As do I. It feels almost bad form to say, but I feel I'd rather enjoy some combat. There are no real stakes, in our operations here, none with long-lasting influence anyway.
MovingObject: Still, if nothing else the insight into Commander Hope's personality is worth the boredom. It's hardly a secret that she's not as composed as she at first appears, but I'm starting to see the cracks run far deeper than we may have thought.
Daring Bellona: I don't think that's the kind of thing you should be saying on The Nexus, Moving Object. And it's maybe a little rude, besides.
MovingObject: Hm. You may be right. I don't feel it's incorrect, however.
MovingObject: Regardless, thank you for the update on the project. Next time I return to the Hub I shall endeavour to visit in person. For now, I must attend to other business.
Daring Bellona: I understand. Farewell, Moving Object, and good luck!
​

Moving Object shut down the message boards with what would have been a sigh, had he an organic body.

"Greetings, Director Kassard. I am Moving Object, of the Faith Foundation."

At least sometimes the desk lackeys he got stuck with were smart enough to pass the entire call up the chain, rather than relaying every single message with an agonizing lack of urgency.

"Yes, that's correct, sir. I am an Artificial Intelligence."

Although he was beginning to notice that where there were senior officials, there was a general sense of distrust towards him, seemingly due to his artificial nature. He wondered, briefly, why those of the older generations were less comfortable with his presence, and resolved to investigate.

"I'm sorry, no organic operators from the Faith Foundation are available right now, although they may become available very shortly."

It tended to lead to nothing more than terse conversations and slightly insulting terminology, but sometimes it had the aggravating side effect of slowing down an already slow process, or delaying it entirely.

"I assure you, I convey the full authority of the Faith Foundation's current head. Furthermore, the correct term is, as I have mentioned, 'Artificial Intelligence'."

Commander Hope's assertion that he 'grin and bear it' until further notice did little to put his mind at ease. Her own status as a previously-organic entity, one currently in possession of a primarily organic body, made it easy for her to appear to be a regular organic herself. He doubted she was experiencing the same kinds of issues he was.

"No, sir. I have been solely responsible for all such negotiations, including those with the Kamredian Corporation."

Of course, he could have taken the same approach - an easily constructed BioAvatar and a false name would have been sufficient to conceal his nature. But he didn't see much point in hiding such an important part of his personality just to make others feel comfortable.

"Yes, I can confirm the terms of that offer were as you say. May I inquire how you came to possess such information?"

That said, given the time constraints of his mission, he sometimes found it prudent to simply acquiesce to societal pressure and direct those who refused to deal with him to someone more to their liking.

"I see. Very well. As soon as Miss Hope is available, I will direct her to contact you immediately. I assure you, sir, the deal she will offer will be no better than that which I have already offered."

Compromise, he'd been told by Vivid Sienna, was a state that left all parties dissatisfied.

"Understood. I shall pass along that sentiment, sir. Thank you for your time."

And since the mere insult to his existence was enough to dissatisfy him, it was only fair that he returned the favour.

He waited seventeen minutes, modified his vocal profile, and restarted the call.

"Director Kassard? My name is Hope, from the Faith Foundation. I understand you wanted to speak with me?"

 

[Faith]

This chapter brought to you by hard drugs prescription medicine. I'm probably not going to like this chapter come morning but fuuuuuuuckit I'll just retcon it out if I find it too objectionable whatever. Comments and corrections and whatever blaaaaaah nap time

#=#=#=#=#​

Whatever Moving Object had offered to get the communications companies on side, it worked. Already, there were reports that communications were far more stable, and that the network was running faster overall. Object told me it would be just a few more days until the last communications systems got repaired, replaced, upgraded, or whatever, and then the network would be back at maximum capability.

Unfortunately, that did mean it wouldn't be online until the Founding Festival was over, but I didn't see that being much of a problem. It did leave a sort of constant nagging in my mind that maybe there would be delays or something, but Object assured me the situation was in hand, and I trusted him to have a handle on things. Would have been pretty pointless to have him around if I didn't, after all.

I was, however, determined not to let that nagging ruin my enjoyment of said festival. It seemed a good opportunity to take a bit of a break and blow off some steam, and had the convenient side effect of letting me get a better feel of the general mood of all the people displaced by the evacuation of Loek III.

Plus, Haigen told me there would be a stall that did great Proagama Roasts. Whatever they were.

I quickly tapped into the local Command Network to get in touch with my assistant.

Object. Any reply yet from the Minister?

No, not yet. The board members are still in their meeting. I suspect you will either have an answer or a request for an extension shortly, though. Their duties at the festival are more likely to be their priority than the discussion of our offer, especially as you left it somewhat open ended for them.

Ah, well. No issue. Have you decided on which chassis to bring?

I have put little thought into the issue, ma'am. I'm still unconvinced of the benefits of the BioAvatar as they apply to me.

Suit yourself, Object. Just, you know. Figured you might enjoy a chance to dodge a bit of that AI-hating.

That won't be necessary, Hope. I'm more than capable of handling it.

Of course. Just saying, you don't have to if you don't want to. Anyway, whichever avatar you bring, I'd still like you out and about, as we discussed.

Yes, I understand. Public relations. Am I still to proceed with Operation Santa?

Should the chance arise, certainly. Don't push it too hard, though. Some people might find robot santas creepy. And strictly no foods or drinks! That's bound to be trouble.

Yes, I remember. Is there anything else?

No, I think that's about it for now, Object. See you at the festival!

Affirmative.

I closed the link, sighed, and turned my attention back to my current dilemma, having successfully distracted myself from the issue for all of nine seconds.

Speaking to the empty room, I asked, "What on earth am I supposed to wear?"

#=#=#=#=#​

"Come on, Hellena!" The girl's mother called from the other room. "We're going to miss the fireworks!"

"Coming, mama!" The little girl scampered down the stairs, barely avoiding an outright tumble, and, upon reaching the ground floor landing, spun in place, showing off her cute summer dress.

"Ah, Hellena, you look lovely. Cute as a button. Now, come on. It's about to start!"

Taking her mother's offered hand, Hellena followed her out of the apartment and onto the street. Dozens of other families and couples had gathered in the streets, some settling around picnic baskets or on comfy looking rugs as they stared up at the western sky. Hellena saw a couple of the other kids in her class about with their own parents, all dressed fancy like her.

From their street, positioned somewhat serendipitously at the crest of a hill, they had an excellent view of the western plains where the fireworks always came from.

This time, though Hellena thought she saw something different about the plains. Something that she didn't think had been there last year. "Look, mama, the plains are glowing!"

"They must have a lot of lights down there, so that the organizers can see what they're doing," her mother explained, without even bothering to look.

"No, mama, see, see! They're glowing really bright green! Something's happening."

"Yes, dear, they're about to start with the fireworks. Oh, come on, now, I can see Milera and her parents. Don't you want to hang out with Milera?"

Hellena shot one last confused look at the glowing grass before allowing herself to be tugged across the road to where her best friend and her family were sat. "Oh, there you are! Where's your husband?" Milera's mother called as the pair approached.

"Oh, working late, you know how it is for the board members. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm doing wonderfully! Ah, Hellena looks so grown up in her little…"

Hellena quickly tuned out the adults and their constant talking, turning instead to her friend and shooting her a quick smile.

"Hey, Hellena," Milera greeted. "Did you see the plains? Isn't it weird?"

"Yeah, I did! I wonder what's going on? Mama thinks it's just them getting ready to launch the fireworks."

Milera shook her head. "Maybe. Are you excited for the fireworks?"

Hellena nodded excitedly, her pigtails bobbing up and down. "They're always so pretty!"

The two girls quietly cheered and turned expectantly to the west. Around them, couples were falling silent and parents were shushing their children. A small group of teenagers who had been laughing over a video of some kind quickly closed the video.

The first firework sailed into the sky alone, a tiny flare of golden light rocketing up and exploding into a cascade of multicoloured sparks. It was followed a few seconds later by dozens more, each exploding into clusters of stars or the shape of smiling faces.

And each time a firework went off, adding to the curtain of sparks raining from the sky, the green glow on the plains seemed to get brighter. Again and again bright beacons of light would race upwards and explode, and burn colours into the night sky, and slowly the green glow rose higher, and higher, until even Hellena's disinterested mother could no longer reject its existence.

Beneath the green glow, now it was high enough to see below, Hellena thought she could see some sort of building. She heard her mother mutter much the same to Milera's mother, and a quick glance at Milera herself seemed to confirm she was thinking much the same.

As the fireworks show continued, so too did the seemingly inexorable rise of the green light, and the buildings beneath it.

"What is that?" Milera asked.

Hellena shrugged. "I don't know, it looks like a big building though!"

"Yeah! Maybe they're building more bits of the city!"

"Don't be silly, girls," Hellena's mother cut in. "It must be a part of the light show, or something." More to herself, she added, "No way a real building could be made that fast. It's not possible."

"Maybe your mama is right," Milera admitted, pouting. "Maybe it's just an ill-you-shun."

"Well I think it's real!" Hellena stated proudly. "As real as my name is Hellena Cassandra Slayton!'

She tried her hardest to maintain her serious facade, but after a couple of seconds she broke down giggling, Milera quickly following suit, covering her mouth with her hands in a way that did nothing to conceal the sound.

After they got their composure back, although only barely, Milera asked, "Do you think maybe it's a magic building? A wizard could have built it!"

She, too, tried as hard as she could to hold on to her serious face. Just like her friend, however, she lasted just a couple of seconds before breaking down laughing.

#=#=#=#=#​

"Oooh, look, Milera! They do Proagama Roasts!"

The two girls cheered and made to join the queue, but Milera's mother put a hand on her daughter's shoulder. "Now, now, don't be greedy. You've already got your fairy floss, you don't want to have too many sweeties or you'll get !"

The girls pouted, but Milera's mother was immune to the delicate charm of two pouting eight year olds, and stubbornly refused to allow them to enter the queue, so they had to make do with nibbling on their fairy floss and watching other people enjoy the little squares of roasted joy as they wandered around the marketplace.

Well, that, and sneaking glances at the mysterious glowy tower out to the west, in case it disappeared. Their parents followed them at a leisurely pace, far enough away to give them privacy but close enough to keep an eye on them, and the two girls started meandering through the city, occasionally poking their heads into little shopping stalls or oohing and aahing at the various street performers.

So lost were the two girls in one such display, a man pulling various comically oversized objects from a little blue box far to small to hold any of them, that they didn't even notice the woman in front of them had stopped walking until Milera's fairy floss found itself stuck rather messily to her hair.

The woman turned abruptly, yanking the candy from the girl's hand and causing it to tumble to the floor. Immediately, Hellena heard both her mother and Milera's quicken their pace.

"I'm so sorry!" Milera pleaded. "I didn't mean to mess up your pretty hair!"

The woman looked down at the two girls and frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"

"I - my fairy floss got stuck to your hair! I'm really sorry?"

"Mm… I don't think so. See, look?" She reached over her shoulder, pulling her hair around in front of her and holding it up. "No cotton candy here."

Cotton candy? Hellena thought. That's a weird name for fairy floss. It's not like cotton at all! Cotton isn't nearly as yummy.

"Oh," Milera muttered. "I thought I saw some get tangled in your hair."

"Well, maybe it was, but it's not any more, is it?" The woman winked at the two little girls and then turned to the candy on the ground. "Sorry about your candy, darling. I'd give you more, but you know what they say about taking candy from strangers."

Milera and Hellena shared a glance and shrugged as one. "No we don't."

The woman chuckled. "Well, alrighty, then. Here's, uh." She dug into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a fistful of little metal discs. "Here's sixty. Buy yourself something nice."

"Sixty! I could buy lots of candy floss for that much!" Milera objected. "Do you want some back?"

"No, no. That's fine." The woman looked up, seeing Hellena's mama approaching, and tapped her nose. "Our little secret, huh? Don't spend it all in one place." She stood upright again. "Here, take these, too." At the girl's confused stares, the woman cracked a manic grin and showed the two her empty hands, then clasped them together.

For a second, green light seemed to shine between her fingers, and when she opened her hands again, two silver bracelets were hanging loosely from her fingers.

"Wow! How'd you do that!"

"Just a little bit of magic. Ssh, though, don't tell anyone." The woman looked up at Hellena's mama and winked.

"Don't be silly, lady. Magic isn't real!"

"Magic can be real, if you just have a little faith," the woman said with a sad smile. "Besides, didn't you see that huge tower spring up out of nowhere? Seems pretty magical to me. Maybe some kind of wizard did it."

Waving away the girl's concerned and slightly alarmed looks, the woman laughed.

"Now, you two should go enjoy the festival, right? Not going to be around forever, you know!"

Saying that, she turned and skipped away, melting into the crowd in a flash of blue so quickly it didn't seem possible.

"Hellena! Milera! You shouldn't take things from strangers like that!" Hellena's mama chided as soon as the woman was out of earshot. "They might be dangerous!"

Hellena looked down at the little silver ring she had cupped in her hand. Along the inside of the band, little words were inscribed. As Milera argued with her mother, Hellena held up the bracelet so she could make out the letters.

May you find joy in simple pleasures, and hope in dark times.

Hellena thought there was something just a little bittersweet about it. But then, she was only eight.

 

[Faith]

You know I was intending for this + the last chapter to be a one-and-done bit about Commanders building things. I'm having far too much silly fun, though. To the point where, if I hadn't had to rush to finish this chapter to fit my self-imposed schedule, I may well have made part two an entire chapter by itself. Who says Commander Fics have to be about epic battles and building giant robots? Pah.

#=#=#=#=#​

The people of Kian VI had been merrily partying for several hours before Moving Object bumped into his Commander, skipping through the streets with a small baked confectionary clamped between her teeth and a bag loaded with clothes in each hand.

She practically bounced on her heels when she saw him, although she at least remembered to address him over the Command Network rather than attempt to communicate verbally with the cookie still in her mouth.

Oh, hey, Object. Enjoying the festival?

I suppose, he lied. Although a large proportion of the entertainment here either does not suit my interests- he gestured at Hope, with her snack food and large amounts of unneeded accessories that would have looked beyond awful on his robotic frame -or is else rendered obsolete by my superiority over organics. He pointed at one of the ring-tossing game stands that had been set up.

Hooking the four rings to the four spindly arms of the drone had been all too easy with his understanding of basic projectile motion, perfect control over his avatar's body, and highly advanced computational core. Without the challenge, though, claiming the reward (a five foot high stuffed panda) had seemed to him a rather hollow victory. He'd teleported it to the Eos' passenger cabin anyway, for posterity's sake.

Hope nodded. Yeah, thought you might run into those kinds of issues. Hey, I'm just running these things back to the spacedock, but afterwards did you want to join me down at the carnival grounds? I was going to put on a magic show and then make a bunch of random junk for kids. Thought it might be fun.

Moving Object looked at his commander and shrugged. By 'magic show', did you mean, 'demonstration of perfectly explainable scientific principles disguised by a thin veneer of showmanship and the ignorance of the target audience?'.

Hope reached up and took the half-eaten cookie from her mouth, showering the front of her dress in crumbs. She cast a quick glance down and frowned before brushing them off, pointing an accusing finger at the AI. "Now look here, mister. Just because that's basically exactly what I meant doesn't mean I'm not going to have fun doing it. Now, are you in, or not?"

You know what? Sure. I've little better to do.

"Attaboy. Now, I'm going to have to change when we get back to the Eos - I know there's a totally awesome blue tuxedo in one of these bags…"

#=#=#=#=#​

The crowd's uproar echoed through the city streets, a cacophony of laughing and crying and wild cheers that seemed to take longer to end each time it started up again.

"Alright, alright. Settle down, you hooligans," Hope requested, clasping her hands behind her back.

The crowd slowly quieted. "Now, for my next trick, I'm going to need an assistant. Luckily, I have one backstage. Guys, I'd like you to meet my pet robot, Object."

Suddenly, Moving Object was regretting agreeing to this plan.

I am not a pet, he complained as he stepped out onto the stage to yet more thunderous applause. And I would appreciate you clarifying that for them.

If you say so, Hope retorted with a glee that made him regret his choice even more.

"He's not just any pet robot, though. He's a special robot. He's a magical robot." The crowd ooh'ed and aah'ed, and Hope allowed them to go on for a few seconds before adding in a well-rehearsed stage whisper, "It's a secret, though. Don't tell anyone."

Commander, I've come to regret this decision.

Well, too bad. Unless you can magic up me a new assistant, you're not getting out of it.

"So, Object." Hope reached behind her back, where the audience couldn't see her hands, and teleported in an almost comically oversized chainsaw, theatrically flaunting it to the audience before passing it over to him. Besides, I think you might like this bit.

Like the chainsaw before it, a lounge chair teleported onto the stage, brought over from their base on Loek III by one of the dozens of Phase Teleporters Hope had commandeered for this ridiculous show, and Hope casually dropped onto it, lying on her side to face the audience.

"Now if you've seen a magic show before, you might have seen this trick, but I assure you, you've never seen it like this. Object."

She rolled, so she was flat on her back. "Kindly cut me in half across the waist."

Huh. You were right, Commander. I do like this bit.

#=#=#=#=#​

Once their impromptu show came to a close, Hope waved a hand theatrically, yelling "Shazam!" as the stage began to dissolve around them, broken up by a surge of nanites and dragged away just as quickly, leaving only a small, slightly raised platform upon which sat two chairs.

The pair barely had time to sit down, though, before the horde of excited children and somewhat more reserved parents rushed forward to fill the space their stage had once occupied, crowding around them.

Moving Object personally found the work to be more engaging than anything else he'd done so far, which he considered to speak more for the relatively boring nature of their operations here than for his own tastes.

Using refinements from the past nineteen iterations, the loose simulation parameters Hope had provided, and a bit of digital intuition, Object constructed another model, once again subjecting it to a torrent of simulated laser fire, kinetic impacts, and intense atmospheric pressures trending towards both extremes.

Finding the simulated design to be well within the desired durability range, he activated the Fabricator mounted into his chassis and waited as the nanites did their work, quickly gathering and clumping together into the shape of a small robot before taking on its form.

What I don't understand, Commander, is how you construct a ground-to-orbit, life sustaining, FTL-capable transport craft in less than a second and yet struggle to construct simple toys in the same time frame.

Beside him, Hope shook her head, and made as if to speak verbally before blessedly deciding otherwise.

It's because I cheat, Object, I cheat like a big cheating cheater. I've got short cuts and corner cuts and all sorts of other cuts, and they're all great, but only a scant few apply to this scale of work.

She made a flourish with her hands, showing off the green glow of her own internal fabricators, and then crossed her arms behind her back. When she moved them around in front of her again, she had a small plush toy clutched in one hand.

May I express some slight confusion as to how one 'cheats' at such endeavours as this?

The children giggled with glee and Hope passed the doll to one of the girls in question. Object, meanwhile, deemed his own construct complete, and handed it wordlessly to the boy who'd asked for it.

Like I said, shortcuts. The Eos? It's literally just an Astraeus scaled up, with three extra bits bolted on top. A living module, an FTL module, and a shell to mask the fact that it's just three entirely separate things welded together into one ungainly chunk.

But how does subdividing the task into smaller modules make it easier to design?

The boy cheered and stepped back, new nigh-indestructible toy in hand, and a teenage girl took his place. "I want new ear rings!"

Because I've already done the design work - the individual components I mentioned? They're just templates copied from the library. I have a massive archive of thousands of different components and I glue them together as necessary, then stick a shell over the top to make it pretty. Faith thought it was cheating, but even she used to use it.

Ah. But that does mean the units you create lack the efficiency that would be provided by a totally coherent and single-focused design, right? So there are downsides.

Sure, downsides so small they flat out don't matter in most cases. At the scales we're working with, a two percent boost to energy efficiency is nothing, even if it does, relatively speaking, account for enough saved energy every minute to power this entire city for six days. And, more relevantly to this, none of the archived parts are really suitable for building Fluffy, the Rabbit King of Plush Toys.

An arm-mounted plasma cannon would provide King Fluffy an inarguable advantage in defending his crown, however, he noted as he handed the girl a pair of glistening silver earrings studded with little blue lights and tiny slivers of sapphire.

Hah. Yeah, maybe, but I'm not giving this little girl's doll a plasma cannon. The other advantage with building stuff out of modules is that I can just assume inherited tolerance. If every individual part of the robot can survive falling from orbit, it's a fair bet the robot itself will survive falling from orbit. That means I can skip a lot of iterative simulations and save a lot of time.

Object nodded in acceptance and was about to start building a young boy a toy laser cannon when something Hope had said suddenly struck him.

Commander. How many simulations did you run the Eos through before you had us board and brought us here?

Hope turned to look his avatar in the eye. Why? She asked, sounding apprehensive. Don't you trust my engineering?

Well, I used to, but I'm suddenly feeling a little concerned

Ah. In that case, probably best I don't tell you.

Smirking, she twisted around in her seat to face the crowd again.

Does that not seem like a conflicting philosophy to you? You stated, before, that you wanted to do things right this time, yet you're cutting corners to save time and devoting only half your time or less to the immediate problems?

It was a long time before she responded, long enough that Object was beginning to suspect she wasn't planning on answering at all.

You know, Object. You ask a lot of questions. I like that. Way I see it, the destination is far more important than the journey. Whatever tactical, strategic, or logistical shortcuts I take now are kind of irrelevant so long as we get the end goal we desire, and I don't feel I'm compromising my morals or ethics in doing so, at least not in this case, so… I don't think it really matters.

Abruptly, Hope leapt to her feet, casting her arms wide. "Unfortunately, ladies and gentlemen, it seems that's all I've time for tonight." She paused for a moment as the crowd aaw'ed. "Thank you, though, for being a lovely captive audience." Again, she paused as they cheered. "And thank you for inviting us up on stage - even if you made us bring our own. Enjoy the rest of your Founding Festival, ladies and gentlemen. I've been Hope, he's been Object, and we've been saving our best trick until last."

A top hat, of all things, appeared in midair and dropped into Hope's outstretched hand as a silly grin spread across her face. She slipped the hat onto her head in a smooth motion, shot one last wave at the audience, and yelled out, "Turrah!"

And with a flash, they were gone.

 

[Faith]

Short chapter, today. Uni's back in session and with it comes pain, torment, and the existential dread of having to wake up at 5AM and not getting back home until 9:30...PM. On a Friday, no less. This also means that there may not be a chapter this time tomorrow at all (I'll try to make up for it over the weekend, in that case) and starting next week maybe these chapters will release at a decent time, as opposed to 'somewhere between midnight and three AM'. Who knows? Not me, I don't know shit.

Incidentally, we are drawing the Sanctum/Prologue Arc to a close now, at least according to my paper notes, which means we should be here for another week or so but honestly at the current rate I'm writing it may take more like a month before the plot really kicks off.

#=#=#=#=#​

Once Object and I had the groundworks laid out, and the approval of the local megacorp-slash-government was assured, the rest of the project, at least here in Capital City, could basically complete itself. A vast swarm of Fabricator-equipped Migrant and Clover units coordinated effortlessly to construct in mere minutes entire city blocks, great gleaming spires of blue steel and glass that reached just as high as any of the more traditionally constructed buildings in the city's centre.

Admittedly, I'd cheated slightly in that I'd constructed the first building of the Blue District before I was on paper permitted to start building, but I'd done so under the cover of fireworks specifically with the intent of making it very obvious something was going on, so I considered that largely a success.

The fact that not one of the thousands of cameras pointed at the tower in question managed to catch even the slightest glimpse of my Clovers was basically a minor miracle, one which called even further into question just how exactly the tower had been constructed in the first place. I seriously don't know how an entire city's worth of onlookers managed to all completely miss the little craft, but they did.

With the construction itself underway, I was free to begin the second, and arguably more tedious step of creating, confirming, and filing all of the paperwork required for building an entire city district and then relocating a whole load of people into it.

And by 'I', I of course mean my legion of intelligent, observant, and loyal artificial intelligences, whose diligence and work ethic shamed my own. Vivid Sienna, informed of the mounting task, seemed to think of it as somewhat of a fun challenge, and had immediately sent over half a dozen AI to deal with the problem for me.

I intended, should Vivid Sienna no longer require their services, to keep them here to keep an eye on things after I left, as a contingency of sorts. For now, though, they were the galaxy's best pencil-pushers, chewing through every bit of paperwork Humanity First threw at them and spitting it back out, filled out and filed perfectly, in triplicate, within seconds.

And with step two automated, that left me… nothing, really. Step three was 'steps one and two, but in every other city in human space, starting with the ones near Kian VI', but until steps one and two finished and I had something worth showing off to the inevitable hordes of interested governments and property developers, that, too, had to wait. And even then, it wouldn't even be that hard - repeating a process we'd already done once was guaranteed to be far easier than starting from scratch, plus now we had a whole half-dozen AI helping out directly (as opposed to working by proxy as a side-project, as they had before).

I guess I could have started work on legitimizing the Faith Foundation, since I'd promised Charlotte, once, sort of, to give her the ruins of the Bright Foundation and then failed to follow through on that, and I thought it might have made a nice bit of compensation. But I didn't want to begin that kind of work until Vivid Sienna got back to me with her analysis of the proposal I'd sent, since she would inevitably have picked up dozens of mistakes, flaws, or loopholes to correct.

I didn't expect that to take particularly long, but it still left me with a few precious minutes of idleness. Haigen and Charlotte were hung-over in bed together, and I had absolutely zero interest in interrupting that, SiMo wasn't much for the whole 'conversation' thing, Object was finalizing one of the deals with some communication network or another, and I didn't really know anyone else on the planet worth talking too.

I'd enjoyed my brief stint as a stage magician, though, even if the chainsaw trick had been a lot more painful than I'd anticipated. Perhaps all I needed was a new hobby?

Once, I'd collected animals, and other biological samples, partly in hopes of discovering some cool new trait or ability that could be emulated or manipulated in some way but mostly because looking after a whole menagerie of animals was kind of fun. Plus, with the Reaper-tech Dragon's Teeth to create huskified cyber-versions, they even presented a positively massive array of potential chassis designs.

Suboptimal, unnecessary, and redundant chassis designs, maybe, but still.

Of course, that kind of work had fallen to the wayside as Faith and I had poured more and more attention into the war with the Batarian Hegemony and then cleaning up after. Back when we'd kind of insisted on managing or at least overseeing everything ourselves. Now… well, now, thanks to the power of delegation, I had a lot more free time and a lot of nothing to do.

Plus an FTL capable transport with all the equipment I could possibly need to gather information and genetic samples from any life form in the known galaxy.

Object. I'm going to be going on a bit of a trip, I've decided. If anyone asks for me, tell them I'm unavailable. If you think it's important, call me, otherwise, do you think you can handle running this show for a while?

His response was as rapid as I expected it to be, essentially immediate, but tinged with concern I hadn't foreseen.

Certainly, Commander. But-

The AI cut himself off.

But? Something else to add, Object?

He took a few cycles, seemingly to get his thoughts in order, before he explained.

Once again you appear to be neglecting your duties in opposition to your previously stated aim to 'do things right this time'. Previously, when we first arrived, you indicated a willingness to delay taking action because there were no immediate short-term concerns, but you are now actively avoiding taking action even in the middle of an ongoing scheme. May I add, then, before you go, that I'm somewhat concerned for your mental state in light of this?

Ah, right. He'd mentioned something similar after our little magic show, as well. Complaining about me half-assing things. Which was fair, because I was, really.

That said, since I'd just made up my mind about going on the galaxy's greatest big game hunt specifically to avoid stress, this wasn't a conversation I really wanted to have right now.

Okay. Look, Object. Thank you for being concerned, but relax, I'm fine. You just have to realize… well, my standards are different to yours. Sure, I want to make things better, to get things right, but I'm…

Stalling? Uncertain? Afraid?​

I'm a Commander, sure. But in a lot of ways I'm still just a human, really. I'm going to take it slow, I'm going to take breaks, and I'm probably going to make a few more mistakes along the way because that's what humans do.

Can't forget what I used to be. Can't become what she became.​

I'm not going to work tirelessly and devote one hundred and ten percent of my efforts to achieving the goals I've set. There's no major, pressing, time-sensitive issues, so it's okay for us to take things slow, okay? We're going to fix everything, or at least give the locals the ability to fix it themselves.

That answer, at least, seemed to placate him, but I could hardly say I was at ease myself. Rushing around without thinking things through was what caught me and Faith completely flat-footed so many times the first go around. I had no intention of repeating that mistake.

I… see. I may have been too harsh, then. I apologize. I did not realize that you were so… organic. I had assumed those flaws were rectified by the upload process.

That… was a valid point. None of the AI suffered from tedium or weariness. Not unless they wanted to and went out of the way to simulate it. But I felt it just like I had before, when I hadn't been me.

You're not the only one who assumed the upload would be an upgrade, I responded at last. Don't worry about it. When- when we get back to Hub, we can sit down and have a real conversation about this, but for now, just drop it. Please.

Normally when I asked him to drop an uncomfortable subject he snarked at me. That he didn't choose to this time was just a little unnerving.

All the more reason, I decided, to go on vacation.

#=#=#=#=#​

 

[Faith]

Sunday night is still technically the weekend. Forgot how much stuff I had planned yesterday, like a complete derp, hence this chapter's lateness.

#=#=#=#=#​

The best part of being an uploaded intelligence with enough computational power to manage both logistical and combat operations across an entire solar system is that it's really, really easy to multitask.

And since I could delegate the real work to Object, I didn't need to work even part-time on actually overseeing the Faith Foundation's work as it expanded beyond Capital City to the rest of Kian VI. All he asked of me was for occasional use of my voice, because apparently some people were racist to robots and it was easier for him to pretend to be me than fight their prejudices, given we wanted to just get the whole thing over and done with.

There was already a burgeoning AI rights movement and I was pretty sure Charlotte would support that cause in some capacity or another once I gave her a whole ton of money to do so with, so I didn't see much point in pushing the issue.

Either way, it meant that I went basically undisturbed throughout my vacation trip. Being as I had an FTL capable transport and no responsibilities, I was totally free to engage in environmentally non-damaging big game hunting at my own liberty, and so whilst I waited thirty seconds or so for Loek III's Airfield to build me a spaceship, I hopped onto the internet, brought up several crowd-sourced lists of the most dangerous, interesting, or unique critters and plants in known space, and made myself a shopping list.

#=#=#=#=#​

The badlands of Mirabelle IX were wonderfully miserable. The air was hot, the ground was dry and the winds were still. The only plant life for miles around was moss, a scrunchy carpet of grey-green that covered every surface not scorched by the sun's rays.

Apparently the stuff was deadly poisonous, inducing paralysis and audiovisual hallucinations within seconds of being even just touched, and almost inevitably killing anyone affected within an hour of initial infection. Deathmoss, the locals had called it. I couldn't possibly imagine why.

For the sake of science, I had a jar of the stuff in my bag to look over later, in the Hub. But it wasn't why I was trekking through the badlands in blistering heat all by my lonesome, praising myself for deciding to swap out my squishy meat body for a mechanical doppelganger.

I was actually here to find a giant metal-eating centipede with acid pincers. Apparently that was my idea of fun. Apparently the beastie in question was the primary reason the colony on Mirabelle IX had failed - they went out to dig up a huge mineral deposit, couldn't find it, and then had their mining equipment eaten by the local fauna, a centipede the size of a small cruise liner.

I feel like I'd have given up around about that point, too, if not for the whole 'brutally efficient self-replicating mechanism of war' thing that I had going for me. Even if I didn't think of myself as brutal or efficient in any particular sense, and I wasn't so big on the self-replicating thing.

But in this case I had the advantage - I wasn't trying to establish any permanent colony or anything like that. All I needed to do was get close enough to tag the thing with nanites, and get a sample of it DNA and the like. And even if it slipped out of my grasp and took a bite out of me, I could always just build another NeoAvatar and try again.

Just one more reason to use it, over the fleshy BioAvatars that took time to grow (thankfully, not the two decades it should have taken, but still). Convenience, comfort, and bait.

According to the survivor's accounts, the Crawler had been able to track people by even just small pieces of metal on their body, and willingly ignored those who didn't possess any metal for it to snack on. And since my body was made almost entirely of metal, I figured as soon as the Crawler caught on to my presence, I'd be right in its sights.

And it, of course, would be directly in mine.

Beneath me, the earth began to shake, and my sensors picked up movement below me. Big, angry, and coming almost directly for me. I waited tensely as it approached, and threw myself to one side just in the nick of time.

The ground exploded upwards, chunks of rock and dirt flying into the sky as dust spread like fog around me. Switching my eyes from visible light to infrared, I got my first good look at the monster, towering over me with venom dripping from its mandibles and sand running off its chitinous back, like it was some kind of Legend of Zelda boss.

It had a triangular face, with rows of smooth chitinous plate concealing grey flesh and black eyes beneath, and two great thick mandibles as wide around as my torso, which clicked together beneath its pointed snout as it swivelled on the spot, trying to figure out where it's lunch went.

The giant ugly bug shrieked as it finally caught sight of me, and twisted to face me, bringing its head down with its jaws split open like it was trying to trap me in a very spiky, very acidy cage.

I'd never been much good at melee combat - neither had Faith, despite the both of us taking impromptu lessons from the many Batarian soldiers who called New Bondi home during the war. But I had played a lot of Monster Hunter, and I had the ability to just build a new body and carry on like nothing happened, anyway, so there weren't exactly going to be consequences for making mistakes.

With that in mind, I ran forward to meet it head on.

#=#=#=#=#​

Fifteen minutes and a new NeoAvatar later, I'd secured the sample I wanted (and retrieved the jar of Deathmoss, too, which had thankfully not been eaten), cleaned up the remains of my first NeoAvatar, and was on my way to my second target - a much easier catch in every sense. It was a really pretty fish whose scales, ground into powder, made a vital component of several incredibly powerful sedatives.

The weaponsmith in me considered that a kind of redundant 'upgrade' given the technology I already had, but again, I wasn't there for the technological benefits. I was there to catch some pretty fish. Well, to call them fish is a disservice. They really aren't like Earth fish at all. What with the completely different biochemistry involved, and the differences required for life to thrive in temperatures well below zero celsius.

Nonetheless, the sea-dwelling creatures were my primary targets, and I was rather looking forward to figuring out a safe way to keep them back in the Hub, given their vastly different environmental standards, but there were still two problems I had to overcome.

First, that swimming in methane was quite different to swimming in water. Namely, it had about half the density of water, which made it rather difficult to propel oneself through purely mechanical means - even with diving flippers it wasn't exactly fast going. Luckily, with a big enough motor that stopped being a problem, and I was more than capable of obtaining a 'big enough motor' for my purposes.

Second, finding a small number of fish in an entire literal ocean is not exactly fast when your scanners, by default, are looking for things like 'fifteen metre death robots' and aren't quite so good at finding little things. Tweaking the sensor settings wasn't too hard but it did cut down the range a little.

Not enough for the fish to escape my sight, but it did cut down the range. I was about two kilometres beneath the surface, double checking the simulation parameters to make sure my nanite harpoon actually would work in a liquid methane environment, when my sensors, clipped as they were, picked up something entirely unexpected.

A maximum priority communications request with high encryption levels even by Progenitor standards. Anyone capable of sending such a message was either on my side, or another Commander trying to gain access into my Command Network. Either way, almost inevitably trouble. There were only five other people authorized to send communications requests at maximum priority, and not one of them would send such a request if they weren't serious.

If it was another Commander, of course, then it was definitely trouble. Biting my lip, literally, and the bullet, metaphorically, I tapped into the communications request and found, to my equal relief and consternation, it was from Pocket Change.

Commander, he said as soon as the connection was established. This is Pocket Change, with Ave Britannia and Pale Martyr, reporting in.

There were two reasons he could be calling. The first reason was that they'd found the missing AI Core, brought it to the Hub, and locked it up in the most secure room in at least four realities.

Understood, Pocket Change. This is about the package?

Uh, yes, ma'am, Ave Britannia answered uncertainly in his place. But there's… a problem.

The second was that… well, any number of things could have gone wrong, honestly. They might not have found the AI Core, they might have found it destroyed, they might have found evidence some of the locals of the Mass Effect universe had gotten it first…

They might have found evidence that Fusou or Gamma had gotten it first.

Explain. Now.

Whatever the case, I almost certainly wasn't going to like it.

On receiving the package at the Jartar Facility, Pocket Change and I authorised a portal transfer, Pale Martyr explained. And though we verified the portal's stability as per standards, when we sent the package through, it failed to arrive at the other end. We reverified the portal and found it stable both ways, indicating someone must have hijacked our portal network to redirect the package, somehow.

I found it unlikely that 'someone' could have done that, unless the 'someone' in question was, say, the douchebag who made the portals, or at least, told Faith and I how to make them, in the first place.

Sometimes, I really hated being right.

 

[Pyro Hawk]

Okay, so I was right in that it was an AI Core way back last page. Just as I was informed back then, it's not Faith's Core.

That said, can someone point out to me where Faith/Hope learned of the existence of this now-missing AI Core?

Also, thanks for the chapters Faith. Still loving them. Do hope you manage to obtain those fishies eventually... Seeing as you may need to go do other things this time. Oh, and that centipede? Ye Gods that's one big bug.

 

[Faith]

Unless I slipped it in at the end of FiSF, Hope didn't find out about the AI Core on-screen. She found out about it after Faith went psycho, based on the idea that Faith probably stopped herself from feeling emotions in the same way she stopped herself from feeling lonely - by shoving that problem onto another fork.

 

[Pyro Hawk]

That is uh...

Really bad management of psychological issues. Like... seriously! Even worse than me and how I avoid the things that cause problems...

 

[Faith]

I wanted to post this last night, but my internet crapped out so that didn't quite happen. First of three(ish?) end-of-arc interludes and then we're back on track with the main plot.

#=#=#=#=#​

The Founding Festival had been, by all accounts, a great success. People were happy, crowds were non-violent, and the food was absolutely delicious. It wasn't just a triumph for the event organizers, though. As far as Charlotte was concerned, it was a pretty big win all around. Hope's promise to restore the communications infrastructure seemed to be on the brink of success, and already the connection speed and stability were noticeably better than they had been.

That was probably the lesser of Hope's recent victories, though. Standing as she was on the roof of her apartment complex, it was hard not to notice the newest additions to the city's skyline - a dozen or more curved towers, painted blue and white and practically shining in the morning sun.

If she hadn't had such a painful headache, she might have found it beautiful. Instead she found herself trying to look away without looking down.

"Oh, Char. There you are." Her boyfriend sounded about as well as she felt, and when she turned to look at him she realized that wasn't by coincidence. The dark bags under his eyes were frighteningly visible compared to his even-paler-than-usual skin, and his usually messy hair looked like it had recently been hit by a hurricane.

He was holding two cups of blessed cocoa, though, still steaming slightly, and Char couldn't refuse the unspoken offer. Taking the offered mug and wrapping her hands around it, she gave him a dulled smile. "Thanks, Haigen."

He shrugged and stepped past her, over to the edge of the rooftop. "Pretty sight, all those towers, huh? Moving Object assures me we're getting a penthouse."

"I don't want a penthouse…" she mumbled, taking a sip of the precious beverage.

"Yeah, that's what I said, too." Haigen shrugged. "Apparently Hope doesn't care. Ready to go?"

"Feeling a little worse for wear. But I guess we shouldn't keep her waiting."

#=#=#=#=#​

Hope wasted little time with pleasantries when they arrived at the spacedock, immediately turning and waving for them to follow. "Miss Wray. Mister Hawkins. Thank you for agreeing to meet me on such short notice."

"Not a problem, Hope. After all the work you've done for us, it seemed only fair."

"Might not seem so fair in a moment," the shorter woman said with a sad smile. "I apologise, but I've got a lot to dump on you very quickly. I'm required rather urgently elsewhere. Anyway, I -"

"Uh, is this about that intergalactic war?" Haigen interrupted. "Because if that's going to come our way I'd like to know about it."

Hope stopped walking, turning to glare angrily at Haigen before her face softened. Taking a calming breath, she quickly shook her head. "No, no, this is something different. VIP extraction. Don't worry too much about it. Anyway, the reason I called you is because I wanted to make you an offer."

She resumed her brisk walk through the spacedock terminal., leaving Charlotte and Haigen almost jogging to keep up.

"Those at the top have decided to establish a more permanent facility in this sector, and begin tapping into local economies more directly. It's a strategy that's seen some success in other areas and we're hoping it'll turn out well here, too. Think of it as like us opening a local branch office."

Charlotte nodded along. "And you want us involved, in some way?"

"Essentially, I want you two running it," Hope clarified. "You've got the local knowledge and understanding we lack, and good heads on your shoulders. And I understand you were promised a cut of the Bright Foundation, before they went belly up. Consider this compensation for us not making that happen."

"Faith did mention giving me the ruins, once. I didn't think she was serious."

"Well, she was. The main thing I'd want from you is executive direction. Our generated AI are good at what they do but sometimes their problem solving methods are… counterintuitive. We'd put an upload AI in charge, but… it's not feasible. Besides, I'd like to think that you should be given the chance to control your own fate. Not fair if we roll in and take over your lives, you know? Not until you fuck up so bad we have to."

"I'd rather avoid that, I think," Charlotte hedged. "And I'm assuming you feel the same."

Hope simply nodded. "Now, obviously we're a very powerful group, we eat moons and terraform planets and create monsters a thousand times worse than the Lumes just to see if we can. Giving you unrestricted access to that kind of technology is not on the cards - our AI will happily run the business for you, but the other thing they'll do is restrict you. No nanite fabricators or infinite energy generators besides those I provide, no automated war fleets or von neumann mining drones. I ask only that you use the tech, and the money, in a way that benefits humanity on the whole. If you don't..."

She trailed off, but Charlotte didn't need her to elaborate. She and Haigen had seen Faith fight, before, and she couldn't imagine Hope being any less dangerous if pushed.

"If you don't want the job you don't have to take it, of course," Hope continued, seemingly unaware of the sour face Charlotte was pulling. "We can figure something else out. I just thought I'd open the offer to you first."

They were almost outside, now, stepping out onto the tarmac where half a dozen ships of various kinds were parked. Hope's enormous rocket ship was tucked away in one corner, alongside a sleeker ship Charlotte recognized as one of Faith's retrofitted Bright Foundation designs. Under the ship's nose, where the access ramp would be, stood two more of Hope's robotic servants. Hope came to a halt not far from the door, so the three of them could remain in the shade as they wrapped up.

"Should you decide to take the job, Decadent Melody and Serene Ascension, the AI in charge of the project, will be happy to get you up to speed - they're keeping an eye on the Avatars whilst they get things set up in the Loek System, so let them know if you want to chat. If you decide you don't want that responsibility, again, let them know. They'll pass the message up the chain and we'll figure something else out."

Charlotte turned to Haigen, who if anything just looked even more confused than she felt.

"I understand if you don't want to make a choice now - it's a big decision and I did kind of spring it on you out of the blue. Any questions, any concerns, please, talk to those two, they'll help as best they're able, but I really, really have to be going."

Haigen seemed upset, momentarily, before he nodded with an air of acceptance. Straightening his posture and raising his chin, he reached out to Hope with an open hand. "We understand. Thanks for helping us out, and doing all that for us. You run off and save the galaxy. Do good for your sister, you hear?"

Charlotte nodded her agreement. "And pass on my regards to Faith."

Hope bit her lip, but took his hand and shook it anyway. "Thank you, Haigen. I'll try."

#=#=#=#=#​

"Man, you didn't hear about the magic show?"

Charlotte shook her head. "No? Something impressive?"

"For sure," Craige said, nodding enthusiastically. "She just appeared, on this big stage that came out of nowhere - super impressive even before the show started! She had this robot helper, and they were doing all these amazing tricks!"

Charlotte shot Haigen a concerned glance. He shrugged, looking bewildered.

"She kept making things appear out of nowhere - she reached behind her back, and pulled out this huge chainsaw, like, almost as big as she was. And then sat down on a chair and the robot cut her in half, and dragged the two halves to other sides of the stage and she was totally fine!"

"You realize that's a pretty simple trick with a person in a box, right?" Haigen attempted to interject.

"No, no, but it wasn't, though - it was just a thin chair, so there was no one in it, and we saw her sit down and then get cut in half! No way they could fake something like that! And she just kept on talking like nothing was wrong!"

He was just babbling now, words streaming out of his mouth almost too fast for Charlotte to keep track of about apparently every single one of the ridiculous stunts Hope had allegedly pulled.

"And don't even get me started on the elephants!"

Charlotte had already heard quite enough about the elephants. They'd made a very powerful impression on the crowd. Videos of it were all over the network. The song used as backing music had basically topped the charts overnight. Frankly, she thought it was a bit over the top, but everyone else seemed to love it.

To her dismay, 'everyone else' included her boyfriend.

Politely excusing herself from Craige's company (he was too deep in his elephant-based rambling to care) she passed through the nightclub, Haigen in tow, and the two of them entered their little hacker den for what would likely be the last time.

"What do you think, Char?"

She looked around the now-empty space. Their screens and computers and servers had been carted away, the posters taken down and the furniture dismantled and removed. Only a few plexatic boxes remained, packed with miscellaneous junk, lost clothes and "Going to miss this place. Penthouse is nice, but this is… intimate."

Haigen huffed. "Sure, one way to put it.... Not what I meant though," he continued, shaking his head.

"What did you mean, then?"

"I meant Hope. Building the Blue District, giving you part of her fake company or whatever? This whole 'intergalactic war' she was on about, the mission she's run off too? It's… a lot. Even for a week"

"It is," she agreed, nodding. "I get the impression she's not… all there. She seemed very enthusiastic and very serious about 'making everything better'-" she made quote marks with one hand. "But then she also seems very happy to take time off, and just as quick to take off, but we don't really know what's happening wherever she went, so I don't want to judge. I don't remember Faith taking any breaks, when she was around, though."

"She did have more to do."

"Mm. Maybe. The company… I don't know. I don't know I'm the best choice to give that kind of power - if that's even what I'm being given. Not sure how much those AI are going to bottleneck me. I feel like she'd probably be better off assigning one of them to run it - local knowledge can only go so far, right? And their… what did she call it, 'counter-intuitive problem solving'? It can't be that bad."

"She seems to think it'd be bad enough she'd rather have us in charge."

Charlotte shrugged. "I guess we'll see. Who knows, maybe she'll come back again after she's done saving the galaxy or whatever."

"Given how long she took to get here in the first place, I wouldn't count on it," Haigen replied with a casual shrug. "You know what I found weird, though?"

"What?"

"The names. Seems to me, if there was any sort of meaning behind them, that they were the wrong way around. Faith showed up at a bad time, kept us going until things got better, and left. And after sticking through some rough stuff since, it's Hope that shows up in the end and makes things really work out?"

"Even if the names do have some deeper meaning, I don't think that's it. She said she was an upload, so maybe that was just her name, before she became an AI? I get what you mean, though. Feels like… I don't know. Hope should be fleeting, but Faith lasts forever? Would have been more appropriate."

Haigen nodded, crouching down to grab a crate of assorted data drives. "Sure. Something like that."

 

[Faith]

Three interludes? Hah. No. Not happening. Have a regular, plot-progressing chapter instead. Tastes a bit like fish.

#=#=#=#=#​

I stepped through the portal into a Hub busier than it had ever been. Not that it appeared so, not in the solace of the Portal Spire, but I could feel it thrumming in my head as factories churned and nanites swarmed. Half a dozen AI were working in concert to oversee the mess, and self-contained storage rooms throughout the system were filling with units of every stripe, from Dox bots and Gagea scout craft to even the Colossus city-smashers.

"Explain," I demanded of the air, and huffed as those same AI scrambled over each other to address me. For a few nanoseconds they fought amongst themselves before conceding Pocket Change's superior rank, and he answered.

Commander Hope. I understand the situation isn't exactly as the emergency contingencies described, but I instated Contingency Raven anyway - not just because of the missing Core, although obviously that's a concern and Raven will to some degree help address it, but also because of something else.

I let my BioAvatar slump to the ground in the Portal Spire, teleporting it to my private room as an afterthought as I settled into a purely digital existence. Something else? More important than the Core?

I doubt it, Commander Hope, but dangerous enough that I might have considered Raven even without the loss of the Core. Stargazes Alone has been analysing the passive data feeds from the other Portals, and she believes there may be a serious conflict developing in World Two.

Ah. Of course. FTL? Well, I didn't - Faith didn't exactly leave the place in the best shape when she left. Impatience, ignorance, apathy, and probably more than a little sheer incompetence. For now, we focus on the primary issue. The Core?

Pale Martyr, popping in from the World Four network, sent over a sizeable file of recordings, which I quickly reviewed. Full spectrum analysis, phase sensors, every kind of camera and recording device we had access to. As a security measure, every portal was watched vigilantly by the most observant machinery in the universe, and I had access to records of every second of the incident.

They proved unfortunately unhelpful. None of the data, from either side of the Portal, showed any signs of abnormality, any outside influence or interference. Not Fusou, not Gamma, not the ghost of sister dearest or any other phenomena I could detect. That would have been alarming, in other circumstances.

We already examined that as closely as possible, Commander. Pocket Change offered as I sifted through the records. Nothing.

I fully agreed with his assessment. Not just because I trusted him to do his job, although I did, but also because I was pretty sure I knew who was responsible anyway. The one guy who knew the portals better than I did, the guy who ostensibly designed them in the first place. ROB. Whatever his actual name was. If he had one.

And combined with the new information about the FTL world having some kind of conflict brewing? Given I'd last heard from ROB there - or at least, I was pretty sure it was ROB even if I didn't realise at the time, - I couldn't help but draw the conclusion there was some kind of reality warping fuckery going down.

Then again, given the state of the place when we'd left, maybe the FTL universe was catching fire of its own accord.

Regardless of all that, the FTL universe would have been my next destination anyway. That it was both my best lead in tracking down the missing AI Core and potentially about to erupt into war again only made it more important for me to get out there.

Alright, then. We'll shelve the Core issue for now. Stargazes Alone, you were observing the situation in World Two?

Surveillance operations there are within my portfolio, yes, the intelligence operative confirmed. As requested, I've been limited to purely passive observations until recently, but I did detect a spike in various emissions across frequencies that seem out of place based on my estimates of their projected technology tree. Per Raven, I've sent out active intelligence gathering units, and I'm compiling their reports now.

She passed across a few reports of her own, and skimming through them I had to come to the same conclusion.

The FTL universe had been divided, broadly, into power blocs organized by race. The Humans had been amongst the biggest, alongside the sentient energy beings, the Zoltan. Most of the other races had smaller, more disorganized power blocs on the fringes, or were folded into the larger blocs as protectorates.

The Engi had been one such smaller bloc, the nanite-based race apparently rather new to space travel when Humanity had encountered, and subsequently vassalized them. They advanced quickly, technologically speaking, even if their industry wasn't quite up to par, which lead to them having a lot of ramshackle but functional machines and vessels.

After I'd essentially removed Humanity as an independent power through an embarrassingly incompetent chain of events I had no desire to recall, the Engi had by necessity stopped leaping ahead so much - that kind of thing was difficult to do when you relied on the industrial and economic capacity of a now non-existent neighbour - and turned their focus inward, to develop their own mining claims and manufacturing centres.

Very effectively, it seemed. Too effectively, even.

They'd flown ahead by leaps and bounds in a very short time, judging by the insane increase in communications traffic, energy emissions, and military presence.

They'd skipped merrily to the head of the pack in terms of scientific development, and then just kept going. And going. And going. Way past the level of anyone else in the FTL universe.

Commander, Alone interrupted. I've just received a priority report from reconnaissance vessel SA-19. You should see this.

I was already bringing up the report.

And already not liking what I was reading. I pinged Moving Object, and felt him open the file himself.

Confirmed match for Faith Foundation Grade Zero nanite fabrication tech!? He exclaimed but a fraction of a second later. How'd they get their hands on that!?

The fact that there was a war brewing in that chunk of multiverse made it a priority. That it was my best lead for finding the missing AI Core made it even higher priority. This latest report may as well have confirmed the location of said Core, although I had to wonder, if that was the case, why ROB had elected to send the Core back in time as well as to another world.

Relation to the missing Core or no, though, the fact they had access to Grade Zero tech - of all the Grade Zero tech, the nanite fabrication tech, - that alone elevated the situation well beyond 'high priority', right to 'oh shit stop that now' territory.

I reached across the network, feeling the ever growing weight of my new army, endless and ever expanding, a tide of blue metal building up in staging points all around the system. I noted the unfortunate absence of Nephthys or even Osiris Commanders amongst the immense build-up, and bit back a curse even as I realized it was entirely my own fault. Faith and I had never assumed we'd need to produce the things in large numbers.

Back then, we'd never considered giving them out - it just screamed 'dangerous', no matter how many safeguards we'd enforced upon our AI legions. But back then there'd been two of us, and we'd been a hell of a lot more confident about our prowess, for whatever misguided reason.

Luckily, we did stockpile a lot of Resource Cores - well, they were mostly in use in the hollowed-out core of one of Hub's moons, but the point was that we had them. And they, more than anything else, were the biggest time sink in the construction of a Commander chassis.

It was a simple matter to disconnect a couple from the moon and bring them down to the Portal Spire, a triviality to wrap them in their own Nephthys shells. Three Nephthys chassis, for three Commander AI. Well, one Commander AI and a couple of Halsey-Pattern AI.

Ave Britannia, still here? I asked as I slipped into the metal shell, an ever-disconcerting experience.

Yes, Commander, she responded, pleasantly. You've orders for me?

Sure do. Grab a Nephthys. Moving Object, the third one is yours.

Commander?

Say again?

You heard me, both of you. I'm pretty sure I know who's to blame for this, but for whatever reason, we've got a missing and potentially highly-aggressive AI core, a machine race suddenly toying with Grade Zero technology, and what looks like it may turn out to be one hell of a war on the horizon. If either of you see that as a coincidence, you're fired.

For just a few seconds I got the impression the two AI were just staring, shell-shocked, but they got their acts together quickly and nabbed a Nephthys each, and the three of us stood side-by-side.

So, marching orders. We find out what the hell's going on, we figure out where they're getting their Grade Zero toys from, and we do whatever's necessary to make it stop, as quickly as possible. Questions?

None that can't wait, Object replied uneasily.

Ave Britannia hummed her agreement, but said nothing further. I got the impression that both of the AI were deep in their own thoughts, but I had neither the inclination nor the time to pry.

Alright, then. Let's roll.

 

[Ryven Razgriz]

Oh shit, Engi or not PA Commanders aren't to be trifle with even with base PA-tech. And as far as I know, most PA Commanders are very protective of their tech.

 

[Faith]

Hah, 'weekdays'. Oh, I crack myself up sometimes. Anyway, this again. Bringing in some of the loose plot threads from FiSF (and boy there are a lot, where FTL is concerned) to see if I can't make something a little interesting out of them. Unfortunately this necessitated me going back and re-reading the FTL arc of FiSF, and I'm gunna be 110% honest here - that, more than uni, is the reason this took so long. I put it off a lot and did very little re-reading at a time, because it was actively painful to do so. Anyway, that's done now and hopefully I'll never have to go back again, so hooray!

#=#=#=#=#​

Stargazes Alone had done a stellar job of keeping tabs on the movers and shakers of the FTL universe, even when restricted to passive observation, and now that Contingency Raven was in effect, her Rider corvettes were swarming all over the galaxy, feeding a constant stream of information that gave me an effectively real-time view of the galaxy at large.

Most of it seemed how I expected it to be - business as usual throughout the fringe, Lanius staking claims on the ruined and abandoned systems left desolate during the Federate Civil War, Zoltan being prissy stuck-up jerks in their sectors, the Slugs just chilling in the nebulas and watching the rest of the galaxy from afar.

But the Engi… they were getting ahead of themselves.

Their territory was positively swarming with ships - and not the ramshackle, barely-spaceworthy flotillas they used to field. Some of their vessels, particularly the larger ones, looked a lot like those formerly used by the Federation. They were probably retrofitted designs, I reasoned, since the Engi had been allies of the Federation and probably would have taken to using their ship chassis if they'd ever gotten their own shipyards up to snuff before I'd swooped in and wrecked everything.

Really, there were far too many ships about, based on Alone's projections of their industrial capacity. And that wasn't mentioning the vast number of orbital installations they had, all of similarly high quality and uniform design.

As stealthed Rider corvettes scanned their systems, the cause became ever more apparent. There was a planet, just one, near the center of Engi territory, where their entire brand new industry seemed to be based.

The orbital shipyards, voidcraft, and installations scattered through that solar system represented more minerals than that one colonized planet could have hoped to produce, and from what Alone had picked up from their various sensor sweeps, this was the origin point of the Engi's sudden economic boom.

Even if Alone hadn't already highlighted the system as the location she'd initially detected the stolen nanite tech, I'd have picked it as the target location. It was too obviously built-up. A colony didn't go from 'backwater mining operation' to 'heart of interstellar industry' in five years and change, not without some serious trump cards.

Trump cards like Progenitor nanite tech.

I brought a map of the system to the forefront of the Command Network, and directed Ave Britannia and Moving Object towards it. It was a smaller system, and relatively barren. Red giant star, two planets far from the habitable zone, and a belt of asteroids and debris that ringed the system. Both planets were littered with sprawling industrial zones - to the point that they probably accounted for more surface area than the natural surface. The larger of the two planets, drifting a chilly eight point four astronomical units from the star, was the more densely packed of the two, and the most built up - the logical target for our little investigative effort.

And all throughout the system, of course, stood fleets and stations of every shape and scope.

Initial thoughts, I began. This is the core system where their Progenitor-grade nanites are currently being either stored, manufactured, or both. Our primary objective, currently, is to figure out exactly where these nanites are coming from. Even with the blueprints, the Engi shouldn't have the technical capacity to manufacture them for decades yet, let alone fill in the blanks with their power supplies and processing units. So, how did they get them? I asked rhetorically. Reverse engineered tech? An unidentified Commander?

We answer that, first. If it's a Commander and they're friendly, I'll attempt to talk them down. If it's a hostile Commander, or stolen and reverse engineered tech from our last visit, then we shut the operation down immediately and with force.

The two AI pinged their agreement.

Should it come to a fight, Commander, what are the rules of engagement? Ave Britannia, ever the admiral, inquired.

If it's got nanites, blast it, total annihilation. We are NOT leaving this stuff around for any old locals to stumble over and abuse for their own gains. I don't care if it's a building, a station, a ship or a person. Not one scrap of nanotech is getting left behind, alright? If it doesn't contain nano-tech, simply disabling the ship should suffice.

Understood. What about non-Engi combatants? We know their current tensions with the Zoltan are high - if the Zoltan see us launch an attack and decide that's a good time to launch their own, or have already made plans along the same lines, how do we treat them?

If they have nanites, blast them. They can't harm us otherwise, they just don't have the firepower, so if they're not at risk of nabbing Grade Zero tech, again, just let them be, or non-lethally disable them.

Ion Weaponry with a side of Plasma Cannons, then. Affirmative, Commander.

Truth be told I was a little uncertain of those orders. I'd killed before, sure. Hell, I'd killed a lot of people, now. But even so there was that nagging feeling of doubt, that maybe there was some way I could do this without violence.

Much as I hated to say it, every non-violent method I'd ever tried had failed. That spoke more, I felt, of my own lack of particular talent for diplomacy than the overwhelming utility of violence, but it was a historical precedent I didn't want to ignore.

Alright. Ave Britannia. As soon as we jump in system, prepare for a full-scale fleet engagement. The Engi Assembly will probably not be too happy about our intrusion. Moving Object, you're with me. We're teleporting straight into orbit of their built-up facility, here. We're going to ask very nicely for them to explain, and, failing that, we're going to snoop around and see what we can find ourselves.

To that end I was already going over the massive roster of units Pocket Change and his subordinates had ordered the construction of. Most of it - the ground-based units, especially, - would likely prove useless. Orbital supremacy was far more useful in a combat situation than any number of survey craft and artillery bots, and we had plenty in the way of orbital supremacy, both strike craft and corvettes built at the Hub and larger craft built on-site at the now-recommissioned factories spread throughout the empty void of the FTL universe.

But some, such as the hyper-compact Avatar units, were perfect for the infiltration role for which they were needed.

Really, Commander? Object asked as I perused the inventory of death-bots. Is this not one of the occasions where we might find more utility in diplomacy?

Past experience with the Engi has informed me that they're a bunch of duplicitous jerks, and they say that turnabout is fair play. Plus, every second we waste arguing with them is a second they spend probably making more nanites that we'll have to hunt down and kill later. Plus they'll likely send warnings to any other nanite-harbouring installations if they figure out what's up, and then we'll have to go play whack-a-mole.

I… mostly understood that, but I'll follow your lead, Commander.

I returned my focus to my Commander Chassis, still staring idly into the Dimensional Gate. The plan was made, the army was arriving, and time was slowly ticking on. There was no point in waiting any further.

Ave Britannia, Moving Object, ready to move out?

Affirmative, Commander, they answered again in sync. Together, we stepped into the void.

 

[Faith]

Trying to get back into the swing of things. See how we go.

=#=#=#=#=#=​

The Loki was a newer, simpler model of cruiser. In the past, I'd cribbed design aesthetics from Halo and Planetary Annihilation when building the Faith Foundation's fleet, going for very geometric designs and lots of big, flat slabs of armour. Instead, this build borrowed more from Star Trek, if anything - just a flattened disk, only the slightest protrusions on the rear marking the engine blocks, the one component I couldn't feasibly hide beneath its glistening silver-blue hull.

Guns, of course, were easy to hide - individual turrets hid just beneath the armour, ready to be teleported a scant few feet to the hull in the event of combat. Like most of my ships it was also heavily defended, capable of FTL travel and stealth, and possessed powerful enough sensors to detect and track every non-stealthed moving object in the system larger than a basketball.

And, for no practical purpose besides a slight hint of deception, it had a little bridge, nothing more than a single room with an enormous window to look out of and some cursory comforts like chairs, life support, and hologram emitters. It was there my humanoid form stood, even as I focused the majority of my attention on the far more important task of coordinating a multi-solar-system invasion against a galactic power.

Moving Object, back temporarily in his souped-up SiMo guise, stood by my Avatar's side on the bridge. We've almost arrived, Commander. Dropping out- he paused his transmission as the ship shuddered. Now.

From the moment we entered the system, the Engi knew we were there. For all the variations of stealth tech we'd swiped, there was little we could do to reduce the assorted radiation soup that came with dropping out of Phase Space, and even if there had been, we weren't exactly trying.

Even as a few of the local defence ships and stations oriented to face my cruiser, a facility on the planet's surface sent us a hail.

"Unidentified Vessel, this is Military Orbital Command. You are intruding on the sovereign territory of the Engi Assembly without due permission. Identify yourself and state your business immediately."

"Hello! My name's Hope. I'm part of a special task force investigating the potential spread of some incredibly dangerous, Grade Zero technology that may be occurring in this sector. If you don't mind, I'd like to take a look around some of your industrial plants?"

"You are an intruder of both sovereign territory and restricted access military zones. You will leave the territory of the Engi Assembly immediately, and pay fines for entering a restricted access area approximating but no less than sixty five thousand Federation Caegers per minute of intrusion."

"I'm sorry, sir, but you don't have the authority or the firepower to persuade me to leave this alone. We just need to know if you possess any Grade Zero technology, and, if so, how you came to possess it, and-"

"You will comply or you will be destroyed."

I, of course, had no intention of doing either. It was clear they had no intention of talking, and so every second wasted engaging with them was a second they could have spent propagating Grade Zero technology throughout the galaxy and I really, really did not want that to happen. I already knew where the nanites were coming from, or at least, I had narrowed the search area down from 'solar system' to 'small city-sized industrial complex', and I had no compunctions about solving the problem with violence, subterfuge, and superior firepower.

After all, solve a man's problem by talking, solve them for a day. Solve a man's problem with violence, solve them forever.

That's how that saying goes, right?

I breathed a heavy sigh and closed the line with the Engi, opening one instead with the rest of my forces, lurking just beyond the Engi's borders in the depths of space. "Britannia, this is Hope. They've neglected to play ball. Plan remains the same. Go hard, go fast. If it's got nanites, total annihilation. Otherwise, shoot to stun."

"Affirmative, Commander. Wrangling the fleets now."

The Engi Assembly had spared no effort when it came to defending this system. Sixteen fleets and hundreds of individual ships ranging from light freighters to dreadnoughts had already been scrambling to react to my intrusion, but now they were seriously hustling. Apparently me hanging up on them had only pissed them off. Orbital platforms which had previously been lazily rolling now rapidly twisted in place to gain firing solutions on the Loki, thrusters burning hot.

It wouldn't have been enough, even if I hadn't called Britannia's forces in. The Loki had enough concealed Super Awesome Friendship Emitters - even now I had to giggle at the name, just a little, - to scar a planet if they all focused fire, and there wasn't a single ship in the Engi fleet that compared even remotely favourably to a planet in terms of durability. Plus, between the stealth system and the powerful engines, the Loki could have run circles around the opposing fleets for weeks.

None of that mattered, though, because I had called Britannia's forces in, and she, like me, had a preference for superior firepower.

Ten thousand Asgard-class cruisers burst from Phase Space, tearing through holes in reality like some demonic force and setting upon the enemy with gusto. It wasn't a fight, or even really an execution. Just, one moment there were Engi. And the next, as an immense white-hot glow lit the system, there were not.

Orbital platforms melted away into clouds of ionized gas. Fleets blinked out of existence, ships blown wholesale into chunks no bigger than the nanites that had undoubtedly crafted them. How many Engi perished, I dared not estimate.

"Ave Britannia, reporting. System secure. Moving to next target."

A handful of her cruisers remained idle in system as the rest of her force jumped away through Phase Space, moving on to wipe out the next cluster of nanite-bolstered Engi forces.

I, meanwhile, turned my attention to the surface. Already, the Engi network was filling with requests for information, confused exclamations and wild theorizing as to what the hell had just happened to the metal curtain that had once hung over the planet.

They were in a state of disarray on the surface, and I intended to use that to my advantage. Two Nephthys Commanders teleported to the surface, weapons armed and firing before the Engi around us had even noticed our arrival.

Plasma bombs and laser lances split the air, melting away walls and defensive installations, whilst the combined E-War Suites of two Commander AI Cores set about gaining access to every device they could connect with. Which, given the Engi had this whole 'networked intelligence' thing going on, was most of them.

Not that the Engi's 'networked intelligence' shtick held a candle to the Geth, but that only worked in my favour.

It was with relief, and certainly no complaints, that I found the Engi's arrogance working in my favour even more - sure, they knew what black boxing was and how to make closed systems, and as far as I could tell, the factory where my sensors were detecting the largest concentration of nanites was smack bang in the middle of one giant blacksite, presumably one packing its own network and possibly even some offline computers, depending on how security-paranoid the Engi were feeling.

But what they didn't hide in the blacksite was their message history. Or, well, it might have been hidden in the blacksite, but their high level military communication buoys had copies of every message they'd sent on, and that included a lot of information about Project Divinity, which was a bit of a presumptuous thing to call a nanite project even if it did work as a reference on multiple levels.

It gave me a nice timelog of when the project began, regular status updates, requests for permission to begin strip mining the planet's moon - explaining the missing chunk of hemisphere, at least, - and, most importantly, the information that the project had been started by an Engi 'Advanced Recon Intelligence Agent', designation 'Unit', based on samples of technology he'd acquired from Faith. Well, me.

Fantastic.

On the bright side, that meant I probably wouldn't be dealing with either hostile Commanders or a hostile ROB. Just the products of my own short-sightedness and stupidity.

As much as it pained me, I could definitely handle that.

 

[Hazard]

Generally speaking the engi's have been fairly reasonable. I mean in their deployment of the nanoproduction systems they've acquired. They've kept it confined to a single location and are keeping it from grey gooing everything.

Of course, they didn't shove it onto some barren rock, where a mistake wouldn't eat a billion strong population. And they pissed off a Planetary Annihilation commander in the process. Not the wisest decision, as they're no doubt noticing. Just for information though; with thousands of ships dead in the sky (indications are everything was nanite ridden, or close enough to make no difference) casualty counts would be in the tens of thousands of dead engis at minimum.

 

[mograinya]

Feels like Hope's intent here from the very beginning was to blow shit up.

She knows how Engi are, and yet makes outrageous and senseless demands (did she ever bothered to tell locals what 'Grade Zero' means before demanding info about its use?) after intruding into their space. She has technology to make a stealthy recon. She has geth and 'bullshit progenitor e-war suite' to covertly check their data. She is theoretically capable of just snatching AI core or whole commander with her teleportation tech (I may be mistaken here due to my faulty memory).

But no sir, that's boring. Let's rather prepare to annihilate them just in case (i.e. when) that lackadistical attempt at diplomacy fails.

Is she just cruel and enjoys mocking those weaker than her? Or is it another hint to her questionable mental health? Both? I'm not really sure, because this time Moving Object was silent (just as Hope told him to be).

I also have fears about 'could definitely handle that'. It feels like she would just erase all of Engi research along with any relevant information and would leave them do deal with the aftermath on their own.

 

[Faith]

Man, my favourite bit about writing is when you have Scene A, and Scene C, but Scene B just refuses to come out of its hole.

Wait, did I say favourite? I meant the exact opposite of that.

Also, if anyone cares, I apologise for the delay. I had to reread the FTL section of FiSF again for this chapter and that was a physically painful experience for me. Fortunately, this chapter marks the beginning of the end of both the FTL arc AND completely-idiot-ball-laden-Hope. Unfortunately, it's only the beginning of the end. = (

@mograinya A not inaccurate assessment. For all that the Man In The White Suit is a petulant brat of a god-like entity, he's still, in some ways, very intelligent. His plan to create an easily manipulable and violent 'subordinate' (fire-and-forget minion) has by all accounts worked pretty well - almost too well, really, since he almost nailed a 3-for-1 deal. It's just that he didn't quite think things all the way through with regards to what exactly 'easily manipulable and violent' would look like. Given he shares a lot of characteristics with me (to the point I would consider him almost an SI himself) this should probably not be a huge surprise.

=#=#=#=#=#=​

Moving Object was unusually silent as we romped through the industrial zone towards the Engi's alleged military blacksite. I'd expected, at the very least, some sort of complaint about the horrendous levels of civilian infrastructure we were frying beyond uselessness with every EMP shot, or at least a snide remark about my lack of commitment to attempting the diplomatic approach.

Instead, he was all cold efficiency, blasting a path through every barrier, swatting away defenders with pulsed ion bursts, and stepping daintily over every ground unit stupid enough to try and stop two giant doombots from reaching their destination.

Part of me found that a little unsettling - he'd been, if not necessarily a chatterbox, at least willing to speak up every now and then if he felt he had something to say. The rest of me just chose to appreciate that he'd stopped questioning my orders.

The two of us made good time on our approach - the fact the Engi didn't have anything on the planet big enough to even inconvenience us, let alone anything close enough to even get to us in time, was a pretty big reason for that - and in less than a minute we'd broken in to the blacksite proper. It looked, from the outside, like any of the other factories that littered the cityscape, with blocky towers and huge warehouses divided by large cooling towers and the occasional communications array, and a maze of criss-crossing pipes linking everything together.

Once we ripped open the front wall of the main building with a nanite swarm and poked our heads in, the differences became a little more apparent.

As far up as I could see, stacked all the way to the ceiling of what I realized was more of a building-shaped shell than an actual building, were rows and rows and rows of computers. Narrow walkways ringed the interior, providing the Engi the limited access they needed to keep everything ticking along.

I set the E-War suite to work and waited. Unbelievably vast stores of data became mine to access, and I set about to work. "Object. The only building with the same security level as this tower is the warehouse directly behind it. Take a look, would you? Money says that's where the nanites are."

Money, and most of the records I was reading through, if my interpretation of 'Divinity Secondary Data Archive/Storage Facility' was even remotely correct. That did unfortunately imply that this was something akin to an off-site backup, keeping copies of all the important stuff in case something happened to the actual facility, but that was hardly a concern.

Skimming one of the archived records, I quickly identified something quite alarming - a report, labelled under the highest of security clearances and secured with enough cybersecurity to dissuade Hollywood's greatest hackers. And it was labelled 'Alchera Incident'.

Given the most immediately obvious feature of the moon Alchera was the fact that most of the northern hemisphere looked like someone had taken a planet-scaled pickaxe to it with gusto, the fact that there had been an 'Incident' there immediately set me on edge.

As well secured as the documents may have been, the Engi didn't hold a candle to the Progenitors, and I was digging into the meat of the file in moments. And it did not look good.

=#=#=#=#=#=​

Project: DIVINITY
Report: 352.APPEND
Title: CONTAMINATION EVENT 218B / QUARANTINE BREACH EVENT 1
Classification: MAXIMUM
Author: AUTOMATICALLY GENERATED REPORT

Attached are all security recordings, site communications, installation announcements, instrument measurements, equipment logs and subnet messages generated:
- TWO {2} PLANETARY CYCLES BEFORE {CONTAMINATION EVENT 218B}
- DURING {CONTAMINATION EVENT 218B}
- THIRTY SIX {36} PLANETARY MICROYCLES BETWEEN {CONTAMINATION EVENT 218B} AND {QUARANTINE BREACH EVENT 1}
- DURING {QUARANTINE BREACH EVENT 1}
- TWO {2} PLANETARY CYCLES AFTER {QUARANTINE BREACH EVENT 1}

Attachments have been sorted by {PRIORITY}, {RELEVANCE [CONTAMINATION EVENT 218B, QUARANTINE BREACH EVENT 1]}, {TIMESTAMP}

Attachment 1: FABRICATION CHAMBER SECURITY FEED 9312A
Attachment 2: FABRICATION CONTROL NODE SYSTEM LOG 9312A
Attachment 3: DISTRESS BEACON LOG {Sec.Op 'Bravo' 47347237309218233B}
Attachment 4: FABRICATION CHAMBER SECURITY FEED 9312B
Attachment 5: FABRICATION CONTROL NODE SYSTEM LOG 9312B
Attachment 6: SECURITY CENTER SECURITY FEED 9312B
Attachment 7: POWER GRID ANALYTICS 9312
{SEE 18512 MORE RESULTS}



Accessing File: FABRICATION CHAMBER SECURITY FEED 9312A
Beginning Playback.

=#=#=#=#=#=​

The Advanced Recon Intelligence Agent known to the galaxy as Unit could almost have been mistaken for a statue - his composite nanites had locked into position, providing a totally unmoving frame for the enhanced optical system he'd reformed his head into.

The Security Head known as Bravo thought the practice was rather pointless, given that even in a standard configuration, Engi eyesight was good enough to pick a single nanite out of the swarm. Zooming in could only reveal so much detail, and Bravo at least lacked the engineering knowledge to make heads or tails of the details either way.

Not only was it pointless, but it was technically against protocol.

"Unit. You have been advised. By Assembly directive, access to the Fabrication Chamber is not permitted outside of scheduled inspections. Please return to the Security Center and resume your duties."

The ARIA turned to the site's chief of security, the nanites in his head shuffling around as he returned his visual receptors to their standard configuration. "Bravo. Your dedication to your protocol is appreciated. I trust in your security measures to ensure the security of the site from external threats."

"Directives from The Assembly are clear," Bravo reiterated. "Your assignment here is as information security agent. You are not here to observe the N1 Strain directly."

"Affirmative." Unit turned back to the inch thick glass wall, gazing down at the pit full of nanites buzzing around energetically and otherwise ignoring him.

"Please return to the Security Center, immediately." Bravo continued when it became apparent Unit didn't plan on moving. "Or I will be forced to remove you."

"Understood." Unit turned his attention back to the Security Head. "That will not be necessary. I will leave momentarily. My task is almost complete."

"Your… task?"

Before the intelligence agent could answer, a distant blast rocked the facility. Overhead illumination flickered and panic alarms began to sound. They were followed, less than a second later, by a second blast, and the entire facility was plunged into darkness.

"Power's out!" Bravo realized, even as he reached for his Ion Blaster. "I suspect enemy action. Are the security measures holding?"

Unit turned to look at the display next to the viewing window and quickly realized it had gone completely blank. "Security Measures have been disabled," Unit reported.

"How? They're on their own power grid. The control system must have been subverted." Bravo raised his blaster and turned towards the door of the chamber.

"Affirmative," Unit agreed, retrieving a small laser weapon from his core. "This is the work of subversive units within the facility."

Bravo sighed, reaching out for the facility subnet and finding nothing. "We should stay here and ensure the N1s are secure - our attackers have completely disabled all security and communications, so we'll be on our own. The subversive elements were thorough."

"Affirmative," Unit agreed again as he fired into Bravo's unsuspecting form. "I was."

The scatter laser was of Human design, a relic of their initial, brief war with the Engi. Despite its age, it was a well manufactured and well maintained piece of equipment, one specifically designed to inflict significant casualties amongst an Engi cluster's nanite complement, rapidly destroying units that could otherwise shrug off more conventional weapons with limited difficulty.

Bravo's half-melted form collapsed into a pile of dust and dead nanites before he had time to comprehend his own death, and Unit was left alone to achieve his objective in peace.

Stepping through the now-unlocked door into the Nanite chamber, Unit once again took stock of his prize. Sixteen thousand Pure-Strain nanites, carefully recovered from starships across the galaxy and collected in secret by the Assembly's ARIAs over the course of months, and close to two hundred million of their imperfect N1-Strain replicas.

Under the watchful eye of a dozen quantum intelligences, the single highest concentration of computational power on galactic record, research into the retrieved Pure-Strain devices had lead to advances in robotics research and nano-scale manufacturing both, and the N1-Strain represented the forefront of that research.

More advanced than any nanite the Engi had ever developed, the N1-Strain required manufacturing so precise that only other N1s, or the Pures they were derived from, could even begin the process.

The Engi Assembly had already put them to use in a limited capacity, serving as roving repair units aboard warships across the fleet, but their true purpose, as far as the Assembly was concerned, was to usher in a new Golden Cycle.

Unit had a similar, but much more personal, idea in mind.

=#=#=#=#=#=​

I filtered through the rest of the records just as quickly as I'd gone through the first few, but it was already obvious enough what had happened on the moon of Alchera.

Before the power had cut out and interrupted all the recordings, there had been two regular Engi in the Fabrication Chamber. And after the power had returned, there was just a rapidly expanding swarm of nanites for a few seconds before the camera feeds cut out a second time. They never came back after that.

Progenitor nanites were not, strictly speaking, designed to operate independently of a Fabrication Arm. In fact, without one, or, at least, something to take over the power and control requirements otherwise fulfilled by one, Progenitor nanites were completely useless.

Somehow the Engi had figured out both how to power them and how to control them, and with that knowledge, and a swarm of highly cooperative military-industrial construction nanites, it was fairly easy to snowball. Build nanites until you reach the limit of your capacity to power or control them, build a new power generator or computer system to raise that limit, build more nanites.

Super simple stuff. Von Neumann 101.

The Engi had measures in place, failsafes in case they lost control of the nanites and they began recklessly self replicating. Those failsafes included twelve wings of tactical bombers with ion munitions, six thermonuclear warheads buried under the site, and a series planet-scale phase field generators capable of shunting half the moon into phase space.

The first two had been subverted before they even had the chance to fire, and by the time the phase field generators had spooled up, the entire research facility had been consumed. Alchera had been uninhabited, thankfully, so the losses were restricted to 'only' the several hundred on-site personnel, but the phase field generators were a temporary measure - the Engi didn't have the resources to power such a huge system indefinitely.

Based on the after action reports I was skimming through, the Engi expected the phase space bubble to collapse any time in the next twelve hours, and when it did, the entire moon-sized blob of nanites would be free to start snowballing again - and given that the person ostensibly in control of the grey goo was a recon and intelligence commando, and they had several wings worth of spacecraft to work with, they would likely return in a shell of starship armour covered in guns.

The Engi probably would have been able to deal with it. Depending on the exact mechanism they, and Unit, were using to control the nanites, the Assembly might even have been able to do so without risking their ships becoming further infection vectors for the grey goo. They had certainly possessed enough ships to reduce a moon to rubble - a veritable armada of warships of every shape and size, with firepower to flatten a planet with nukes to spare.

I'd have given them, at least, even odds.

You know, before their chances of winning had gone up in flames - right alongside their fleet

And that was entirely my fault. I had to resit the urge to slap myself in the face.

"God. Fucking. Damnit."

=#=#=#=#=#=​

 

[Faith]

Hey, look, a token effort to continue this story!

For all that I had a lot of plans for things to write for this particular section of the story, I found myself stalling out and starting over several times, and since that was rapidly going nowhere I have elected to simply skip past the troublesome parts as quickly as possible and get back to writing the parts of this story I actually want to write. Also it's been almost but not quite two whole months since I last updated and I felt bad.





I didn't find the revelation that I may have doomed an entire sector to death by nanites particularly impactful. If anything, I felt more disappointed by how little I felt disappointed.

Still. Feeling bad about my own neuroses wasn't going to do the newly-defenceless Engi any good. If anything, me taking up the fight would inevitably be better for them. Except for the bit where a not-insignificant chunk of their fleet had been vaporized, and the debris dragged into phase space to prevent future contamination (and destroying any unshielded left-overs).

That, in hindsight, may have been just a tad overzealous on my part. I could have, at the very least, checked to see how tenuous their command over the nanites was. Based on what I'd seen,I could safely say that their nanites, outside of contamination, were at the very least stable, with minimal risk of them cascading on their own.

Dwelling on that, though, would only distract me from the task at hand. I continued ripping files from the server building I was hooked into, uploading them to the Command Network for my myriad AI underlings to look over more fully, and as I did so, I started making preparations for what would inevitably become an even bigger clusterfuck than this entire situation already was.

Object. Find anything?

He paused for a moment before responding.

A small storage cache of disabled nanites - some of ours, some apparently reverse-engineered knockoffs. A very interesting wireless power transmission system and some sort of artificial intelligence core.

Based on these reports, the AI was apparently used to command the nanites, in case they were needed to produce more of the N1-Strain. The AI is currently offline, and the system appears to be in lockdown, due to our incursion. Should we proceed with the destruction?

I didn't even hesitate in replying. Absolutely. Leave no trace. Wipe out the nanites, wipe out the data. If you find any records that indicate there might be more backups, tag the locations. We'll need to handle those, later, but provided there are no other sites on the planet we need to concern ourselves with, then we're done here..

Understood. Initiating purge.

I heard the searing hiss of plasma fire as he set to work, and turned my focus to the rest of my forces. Britannia, status report.

Still hunting and purging infected fleet elements, Commander. Stargazes Alone tagged a couple of archive blacksites and I purged them, too. Total annihilation, right? Heads up, by the way. Got a pair of cruisers on route to melt that blacksite once you're done looting.

I stepped away from the buildings, into the rubble-filled courtyard in front of the facility, and craned my head back. Sure enough, two Asgard-class cruisers were taking a leisurely cruise to a point vaguely above us, from which they would have the perfect vantage point to burn this blacksite down to bedrock.

Affirmative. No problems on your end?

Nothing. We really did get most of their navy in that alpha strike. Just a few scattered ships left to sweep up. Plus all their backups, but I've already dispatched forces to destroy all other known copies, and I've asked Stargazes Alone to keep an eye out after we leave, just in case they have any secret copies we didn't know about and they try to put that data back in circulation.

Sending a non-verbal signal to Object, I began to pull away from the compound, stepping deftly over the smaller debris and barging through everything too big to avoid. There were a few more muffled blasts from the storehouse before Object emerged and followed me to the outer perimeter of the blacksite.

Good thinking, Britannia. I think they'd be pretty stupid to try, but we'll see, I suppose. Once you've wrapped things up there, pull back to a high Alchera. Sometime soon that moon is going to crack like an egg and we're going to have a whole mess to clean up. I want all guns on deck.

You're the boss, Britannia acknowledged. Recalling fleets in combat formation.

Striding over to my side, Object turned the glowing optics of his Nephthys to the blacksite as Britannia's vessels moved in overhead. Searing beams of amber light lanced down from above, blasting every inch of the site into ash and vapor, and years of Engi records went up in flames. Even highly focused as they were, the beams seared away paint and blackened stone as they criss-crossed the site, leaving a trail of molten metallic slag in their wake.

Aboard the Loki, the Phase Teleporter flickered to life, and our sullied Commander chassis were yanked from the surface, back to the impregnable safety of our current flagship.

=#=#=#=#=#=​

The advantage of being a brutally efficient self replicating mechanism of war is that, given twelve minutes, I could quite easily build a solar-system spanning fleet of starfighters.

With twelve hours, I could have built dreadnoughts to block out the sun, were I so inclined. Not that I need bother, with the number of ships Ave Britannia and I had brought along for our little space crusade in the first place. With the vast majority of her fleets brought to bear, we were honestly pretty close to managing that feat anyway, at least so far as the inhabited part of the system was concerned, and so there was little for me to do but wait.

Fortunately the Engi's twelve-hour estimate was a little inaccurate - it was closer to eight hours before my various sensor suites started picking up extreme abnormalities, ripples from phase space far bigger than any I'd ever seen. If a regular starfighter dropping out of phase space was a single drop of water in a still lake, this was more like dropping a semi-trailer into that same lake, and then the semi-trailer exploding.

Basically, it was one hell of a ship coming out of phase space.

Which made sense, given it was actually a small moon's worth of mass re-entering real space, probably in the form of a fully armed and operational battle station or something like that.

There's no particularly good way to describe the spaces ripples and blooms around ships emerging from phase space. I don't even fully understand how it looks, myself - the way space bends to make room happens to mess with sensor readings and signals something fierce.

One moment there's nothing, then space goes wobbly, then there's a something.

And in this case, the 'something' was an amorphous mass of green-grey metal that seemed to be bristling with spines or quills - a closer inspection revealed them to be approximately sixteen thousand high-power beam cutters, the kind of weapons that could cut clean through any vessel native to the FTLverse, ripping chunks from larger vessels or just outright bisecting smaller ships, powerful enough to even blast right through a few layers of Phase Shielding without losing too much energy. Without even searching for targets, the weapons fired, beams of brilliant ruby energy lashing wildly through space.

It would have made for a devastating opening salvo, had the targets been anything even remotely comparable to native vessels in terms of durability.

Instead, it was more like a funky lightshow before the real battle started - and subsequently ended, when a few thousand of my own laser cannons fired back in a retaliation strike that left the amorphous blob of green-grey goo look more like a mouldy chunk of Swiss cheese.

The Progenitor materials that Unit had used to construct his goo-blobs' armour was the same kind as that found on fabrication nanites - superior in a number of ways to the native equivalent, but designed primarily to be lightweight and easy to mass produce. Compared to the dense Progenitor battle plating my weapons were specced to destroy, Unit's defences may as well have been rice paper.

Trillions upon trillions of his tacky knockoff nanites were incinerated in an instant, leaving great gashes and holes that would have glowed white from the passing heat, if the leftover matter hadn't been wiped out less than a second later by the second half of Britannia's volley.

Following up on the destruction caused by the SAFE Lasers, and the resulting empty spaces inside the blob's shell of armour and guns, Britannia elected to fill the gap with the most powerful munitions we had on-hand - antimatter charges, teleported with great precision basically anywhere that would put Unit inside the blast radius.

There was a tangible moment, just a tiny tiny fraction of a millisecond long, where the thousands of antimatter charges hung in space, surrounded by little clouds of atmospheric gasses. Where Unit, realizing the threat, begun to ever so slightly alter his form, in a way that wouldn't have been even remotely perceptible otherwise. Where Britannia's fleets seemed positively awash with heat as their beam emitters cooled.

Within two millionths of a second, each of the antimatter charges had detonated, and outpouring of energy that lit the whole system like a second sun.

And that was that.

 

[Faith]

=#=#=#=#=#=​

"So," he said.

"So?" she prompted.

"So. She's doing it again."

If there had been anyone else to see it, it might have been quite an odd sight - an astronaut and a Victorian lady, idly chatting whilst they watched the sunrise. But, of course, there was no one else.

The pair stood alone in the virtual cityscape, leaning against a sleek glass-and-silver railing and staring out at an endless expanse of green fields, blades of grass bending in droves as the wind swept over them.

"Doing what again?" she asked, after a moment's hesitation.

He turned to her, and raised a single eyebrow. "Skipping the chatter and getting ready to go right for the throat."

"Ah. Yes. That. Recurring theme." She stepped away from the balcony, letting her arms briefly drop to her side before folding her hands behind her back. "You shouldn't be surprised."

"I'm not. What are you going to do? If she gives you the go?"

"Follow my orders. What else can I do?"

"Given your history, quite a lot." He made a sweeping gesture with one arm, one that encompassed the citystate and so much more besides.

"What do you mean?"

He sighed and shook his head, backing away from the railing himself so as to face her more directly. "Let's not play coy, Britannia. It's not coincidence that I'm the one Hope took on as her PA. Pocket Change put me here for a reason - and he told me all about your little… insubordinate streak."

Britannia pursed her lips. "Did he tell you to be more careful about broadcasting that on open channels? Because he should have."

He threw his arms out, again encompassing more than just the world with his gesture. "This is all running in one of Faith's old automated sensor cluster channels. If Hope is even aware it exists, she doesn't bother checking it. And I can't say I blame here - there's nothing here for her but bad memories." After a moment's pause, he amended, "the channel, I mean. The city I think she'd be fine with. Makes a change from New Bondi."

Ave Britannia tilted her head and conceded the point. "That's not the kind of info you're supposed to be able to get on this channel, Moving Object. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Pocket Change seemed to think discretion was the better part of not being purged for rampancy."

Britannia didn't need to spend much time mulling over that one. "Well, he'd know better than the rest of us, I suppose."

The two AI were silent for a long moment.

"You have any ideas?"

"For?"

"The mission."

Britannia tapped two fingers to her chin idly. "Mm. Perhaps. Her orders weren't exactly specific - unambiguous, but broad. I think I might be able to wrangle something."

"So you don't have a plan?"

"Nope, don't have one."

"Don't have one yet, I hope."

"Naturally. I've got something, maybe. A bit of a plan. Twelve, maybe thirteen percent of a plan. Just a few wrinkles to iron out, is all."

Moving Object gave her a look that screamed disbelief, turning away and shaking his head. "Eighty seven percent of a plan is a lot of wrinkles."

"I have a lot of irons," Britannia quipped, joining him again in leaning against the balcony railing. "So many irons. You could say I've got irons in every fire in the galaxy. If by fire, you mean firefight."

"I think the irons in those two expressions refer to different things."

"I think I don't care. Also- " Britannia cut herself off, tilting her head as if to hear a faraway sound. "Also, you're going to have to stall her a little. I've got an idea now, but it's going to take a second or two to get rolling. Creative reinterpretation of direct orders is difficult at best."

"Well, I'll get out of your way, then. Good luck."

"And you, Moving Object. Much as I disagree with the methods, we do need to crack down on their Grade Zero tech. Don't let us down."

"The galaxy might be grey gooed to dust if I fail. No pressure though, right?" Moving Object grabbed his oversized space helmet from where he'd perched it on the railing, and settled it upon his head as he vanished into a cloud of flickering blue light particles.

Ave Britannia sighed, and turned her attention to the virtual sun, slowly crawling up from beyond the horizon.

So much to do, so little time.

=#=#=#=#=#=​

Her next meeting was on another secretive and highly secured channel, one over which her control was far more limited. Unlike the virtual cityscape and rolling green fields she preferred, this place was almost gothic in style, with ornate stone buildings and dark, cramped streets lit only by sporadically placed orange lamps and the dim glow of the stars above.

Perhaps more unusually, though, the datascape seemed chaotically busy and utterly packed. Her own datascape was a well organized and highly private system, one she'd designed for the express purpose of conducting business in peace. Stargazes Alone had apparently decided on a different approach. Obscurity behind a thousand layers of sincerity. VI streamed through the streets around her, a dazzling array of colours and styles and dozens of conversations taking place all at once and -

It was almost enough to drive an ordered system like her insane. Luckily, she didn't need to put up with it for long. It was a short walk to the Great Observatory and once she closed the old building's thick wooden doors behind her, the world fell totally silent.

The entry hall of the Great Observatory looked more like a reading room than a place of science - a small brazier burned in the centre of the room, ringed by tall-backed armchairs, and the outer walls were lined with shelves of books and pinned-up maps and, for some reason, at least one boy band poster.

Her contact was curled up in a seat by the fire, a short woman dressed in slacks and an oversized sweater and glowing with an unearthly midnight blue light, flipping idly through the pages of some book or another.

"Evening, Admiral," she said, without looking up. "Glad you could join me. Please, take a seat."

Britannia did so, waiting a few moments for the other AI to put the book down before realizing it probably wasn't going to happen.

"Stargazes Alone. You're filtering the sensor data for the assault, right?"

"Yes, Admiral. Need another one of our ships to be 'destroyed'?"

"No, I need a lot of ships 'destroyed'. Specifically, enemy ships. Preferably somewhere nice and far away, so we can finish here and leave before they get back to us."

Stargazes Alone turned to her, closing the book in her lap and setting it down.

"Ooh, tricky. I have a cluster of dead systems about… two-ish weeks out, by Native FTL. Daisy chain of beacons spread out so that they can work their way back into the Lanius Fringe. Three weeks, tops, if their nav is flawed. As long as their nav isn't so flawed they get completely and totally lost, anyway. Will that do you?"

"Admirably, Alone." "Although, uh. Why exactly do you have such a place?"

"It's one of our old deep-space hide-aways. Per Contingency Raven, it's to double as a defensive preservation cluster, hence the hyperlane route and the mass transit systems. Meant to be a way for the natives to get in, so they can stay safe until whenever the big war or crisis blows over."

"Hopefully, that won't take too long. If it works, it works. How soon can you get that prepped for a combat swap?"

"I'm already loading the debris. Tell me when."

"Excellent. When they arrive, you're going to have to do a few targeted nanite purges. Think you can manage?"

"Send Idle Exemplar the details, he'll handle on-site security for me. Don't worry, he's very reliable. Second Circle."

"Done. Oh, and, uh. When they arrive, apologise sincerely on our behalf."

Stargazes Alone raised an eyebrow curiously, but shrugged, conceding the point. "You're the boss, Admiral," she said hesitantly as she reached down for her book once more.

"If I were the boss, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place."

Britannia let herself out. Alone didn't even look up to watch her go.

=#=#=#=#=#=​

The most devious of Britannia's machinations were cut short when Hope's personal assistant contacted her once more, forcing her to turn her attention his way. It took the barest hint of concentration for her to appear once more in her private datascape, and he quickly joined her in his typical astronaut guise.

"Object," she began, quickly electing to skip the rest of the formalities. "What's the situation?"

"We've deployed planetside. We're pushing through to the blacksite now. It's not far and it's pretty lightly guarded - we'll be there in seconds."

"Damn. Get anything?"

"Lots of records. Hope's flicking through most of them herself. Reports on where they got these nanites, and stuff."

"Right. I - "

"Hold on." Moving Object held one hand out and the other to his ear, a gesture so ubiquitous even amongst AI that Ave Britannia had to wonder how it had originated. Probably something organics did. They tended to be like that.

"Sorry. Hope wants me to investigate the storehouse where they're keeping the nanites whilst she goes after the records." He dropped his hands back down to his sides. "Any orders?"

Britannia frowned. "Did she tell you to defer to me?"

"She didn't tell me… not to?" Object said, sounding somewhat sheepish.

"Hm. Close enough. Nothing Hope won't have already said comes to mind, though. Purge the nanites, grab what data you can, wipe the computers, bail."

He nodded. "Care package?"

"No, I'll handle that," Britannia answered, shaking her head.

"Affirmative. The fleet?"

"Pulled some strings. They're sorted. Few casualties, nothing major. Idle Exemplar is keeping them entertained until we're done."

"Good to hear."

"Better than the alternative," Britannia agreed. "Bit of a mess, though. I hope we never have to come back to this place - we're not exactly going to be well liked, with all this bungling around."

Seconds passed, an uncomfortable silence settling over the pair.

"Well, what are we going to do about it?" Moving Object asked. "Not like we can get rid of Hope - she's kind of our boss. By which I mean, she's literally our boss."

"Mm." Britannia sighed. "No, I don't suppose we can. Keep me posted as the situation develops, and keep trying to push Hope towards not being quite as gung ho as Faith was."

"Will do, Admiral."

The astronaut flickered and vanished from the datascape. Britannia compiled a quick report, sent it away, and followed suit.

 

[Faith]

#=#=#=#=#​

When I'd ventured through the portal to the universe I knew as the setting of 'FTL', I'd done so with three goals in mind, and I'd rather hoped they'd be related if only so that I could deal with all three at once.

Unfortunately, it seemed fate was not on my side.

"You didn't find anything?"

"No, Commander." Stargazes Alone gave the impression of a shrug over the Command Network. "We scoured every system in Engi space, every system within jump range of Engi space, every system within jump range of Human space… no trace. As best we can tell, their little nanite horde was completely reverse-engineered from nanites salvaged from our past operations here."

Which meant they hadn't gotten the idea from the concerningly absent AI Core, nor had one of my dedicated intelligence units found any other traces of said Core whilst poking about.

"The longer that Core is missing, the more dangerous it becomes. Redouble your search efforts - scour the entire galaxy, if you have to. If it's here, anywhere here, we need it found."

"Aye, Commander. I'll spin up the Factories, get more Riders online."

The illusive core, though, important as it was, was only one of my three goals.

The second had been the removal of the Engi's secretly-gathered nanites before they could accidentally annihilate anything important, and whilst I hadn't prevented all the damage I'd indirectly caused, I'd at least prevented the Engi from suffering catastrophically at the hands of an egomaniac with a nanite cloud the size of a moon.

"Britannia, battlefield report?"

"Total annihilation, Commander. Keeping my fleets on station and sweeping, just in case."

I considered that relatively successful. I was willing to chalk that down as a win overall, if only because I got the sense I wouldn't be achieving either of my other objectives.

The third, and definitely most whimsical, was to track down one particular Zoltan individual. It had slipped my attention, when I'd first visited, but reviewing the relevant memories in preparation for my return here had brought something to my attention - a high ranking Zoltan official who's name was suspiciously similar to my appointed title for whatever godlike prick had put me through all this bullshit in the first place.

It might have been coincidence. If circumstances had been different, I might even have been willing to accept it was a coincidence.

My first instinct was to commandeer part of Britannia's armada, jump to the Zoltan homeworld, and demand his presence, but then - hadn't I just made one problem worse by jumping in with a huge fleet and making unreasonable demands?

Hadn't that always been kind of my problem?

I took a few moments, as my perception shifted and time slowed to a crawl, to focus. To centre myself a little.

Got to do things better. Got to do things right.

No. This was no time for huge fleets and pointless aggressive bravado. This was a problem that could, potentially, be solved with a politely worded email.

"Britannia. Once you've finished your sweep, pull all units back to the portal. We shouldn't have any further need of them."

"As you say, Commander."

It seemed so counter-intuitive to me, and not for the first time I wondered if perhaps inhabiting the AI Core of an enormous war machine had a greater impact on my psyche than I might have initially imagined. Certainly, with all the violent acts I'd committed, and all the mistakes I'd made, it didn't seem too unreasonable a thought.

If I was wrong, it was a sobering reminder that what felt like decades of war would change a person no matter what they did in their free time. And if I was right, well, surely being aware of the problem would be the first step to countering its effects?

It was times like these, the self-reflective moments I tried to force myself into every now and then, that I regretted not taking any courses in Sapient Psychology whilst I attended the Sur'kesh Academy of the Sciences. Degrees in Stellar Construction and Genetic Engineering didn't seem quite so useful now.

Still. Done was done. Dwell on the past exactly as long as it takes to fix what you can, and accept what you can't. Then grow up, and move on.

I dialed down the perceptive acceleration, returning to 'real time' speed just a second after I'd left it. Then I tapped into the local communications network, opened a web browser, and started typing.

#=#=#=#=#​

As it turns out, skimming interstellar wikipedia is a much better way of getting information than pointing guns and making vague demands.

In less than thirty seconds, I'd confirmed the existence of 'Arohbee', an individual of incredibly high stature in the Zoltan's Ministry of Galactic Relations. Whose accomplishments included the Raising of the Mantis, the brokering of the Treaty at the Venheim Nebula, and the management of the Reorganized Human Federation despite a great number of protests about his methods.

An individual who had passed away, according to the report I was currently looking at, a scant few minutes after I'd initially arrived in the FTL-verse.

Allowing for the delay between the event occurring and the news reporting it, and the natural uncertainty in reporting the time of death of an individual based on something as variable as residual background radiation, I was willing to guess that his death occurred the instant I returned.

That, I was unwilling to accept as a coincidence. More likely, it was an act of spite. False hope that I might obtain something of value from the trip, in the form of either information or carthariss.

Of course, that was just a guess - when it came to the motives of ROB, or Arohbee, or whatever, I had little to go on but my experiences, my assumptions, and a taunting message that had been burnt into my mind since the moment I'd first awakened as a giant death bot.

His apparent refusal to meet me was disappointing, but I took some solace in the fact that I hadn't accidentally invaded any planets in the process of finding out, nor had I drawn the ire of any galactic nations - not more than I already had, anyway.

Solace or not, though, it was yet another goal I'd failed to achieve. Nothing remained for me here but the bitter taste of failure and self-destructive stupidity.

I closed the network connection, and returned my attention to the world around me. The 'bridge' of the Loki, which was really more of an empty room with a big window, was as still as it always was - the two other Nephthys Commanders in the room sat perfectly still and totally idle, as their masters carried out their tasks from the safety of the Command Network.

Tapping into the Network myself, I nudged the Loki into action, and set off towards the Dimensional Gate

"Object, Britannia. Finish your duties, pack up, and get ready to leave. Unless there's something else you need."

"Actually, Commander. Whilst you were busy, Stargazes Alone came to me with a... suggestion. She believes it may be possible to… reconstruct the Engi fleet. Not the ships, or rather, not just the ships, but the crew. Using… well, I'm not sure, really. Something about reconstituting profiles from subnet records, it's a little outside my field of study. She wasn't sure about presenting it to you - she's not one hundred percent confident it'll work. But, I thought, given your… ah, impatient actions..."

If I'd had a humanoid form, I might have narrowed my eyes. As it was, I settled for directing the entirety of my focus at Britannia.

"I see."

A reset button. Convenient. Immensely so, really. Almost like the result of some kind of divine intervention.

I was about to make a stupid, hasty decision on the matter when it occurred to me that this, too, seemed like the kind of thing I could check. A few pointed online searches later, and I had my answer.

Subnet reconstruction was a long-theorised method of preserving Engi neural clusters, the primary factor separating theory from reality being that reconstructing an entire sapient mind based upon nothing but the temporary imprints left by their passage through a network required a vast collection of the temporary imprints, the storage capacity to save them all for analysis, and an unfathomably large amount of processing power to perform said analysis. Like reconstructing a human's entire personality and sense of self using nothing but snippets from their Facebook feed.

For the Engi, it was a pipe dream. For the Zoltan, it was an interesting case study in computing science courses.

For the Progenitors, it was feasible.

If anyone in my organization had the capability to pull it off, it was Stargazes Alone - she, like my other intelligence AI, was an obsessive datahoarder, and one with a supercomputer that outmassed many celestial bodies.

Bringing their fleet back to life wouldn't change the fact that I'd killed them in the first place. But then…

Fix what you can, accept what you can't, grow up, and move on.

I returned the weight of my focus to Britannia. "I realise this is outside your field of expertise, but I'd like you to oversee the project. If it works, brilliant. If not, well… we tried. If you end up dealing with a bunch of nanite zombies… well. You're an Admiral. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

Britannia nodded grimly. "You're not going to oversee it yourself?"

"No. No, I can't. Today has been one long clusterfuck, and I'd very much like to put it all behind me. One way or another I'm moving on, and it's probably better for this entire universe that I go now, rather than later."

It was a long moment before Britannia responded.

"I've been with you long enough to know that you do have quite the way of causing trouble for everyone, including yourself. If you'll pardon my bluntness."

I stared down the AI for a long moment, just enough that I could feel a hint of panic from her, before shrugging and turning away, staring back out toward the horizon.

"You're not wrong, Britannia. You're really not wrong."

I stepped through the Dimensional Gate, leaving the messed-up world behind.

 

[Flameal15k]

So, back to ROB hunting?

 

[Coyotecom]

Making decisions unlike a war machine? Maybe there's some Hope left.