The Wizard of Chiron

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 45:What Is Your Name?


This was a no-holds-barred kind of mission. No expenses too large, no quarter given, no surviving of capture. The commander of the sixth through ninth University probe-teams had never before sent all of his teams into action -and never in University history had any commander had the opportunity to coordinate all of his teams in their mission. For this was also the first time that four probe-teams had been sent against the same target.

"Ace of Diamonds reporting. We're at the south emergency blowout vents, awaiting the signal."

There was no visual feed, but Lieutenant Severonikos couldn't stop himself from nodding in response to the leader of the Diamonds. "Received. Stand by."

There was a pause of some seconds, which Severonikos spent efficiently by re-checking the proposed plan against all the known details of his target (and what a target! Never before in University history.. It was that kind of mission; a record-breaker).

"Ace of Hearts reporting. We've reached ledge five. Awaiting signal."

Another nod. "Received. Stand by."

"Ace of Spades reporting. We've exposed the communications-tunnel, and our sonic sensors are detecting activity."

Severonikos' brow furrowed. "Ace of Spades, can you estimate the number?"

"Negative -too much echoing. What do you advise?"

"Stand by, and report when activity disappears, as well as direction." Severonikos pressed and held a button on his communications-console. "This is Base of Aces to all Aces. I want a status- and an equipment report." He released the button and pressed another one. "Ace of Clubs, do you have any sightings?"

"Clubs here. So far no sightings. Visibility and sensors will soon drop to zero, since that sandstorm is arriving on schedule. We have maybe five minutes of clear visibility left."

"Good. Stand by."

Three minutes crept by as The status- and equipment reports trickled in. The teams were ready to go, and had no problems with their equipment.

"Spades reporting. Activity has disappeared in outward direction. Awaiting orders."

Severonikos wiped his cheek with his hand, and only then became aware of the sweat there. He glanced around the dark interior of the command rover, as if trying to memorize as much as possible of the details surrounding this moment. Behind him waited six of the University's finest (and, in four cases, most notorious) code-crackers (or technicians, as they were neutrally called), each at his or her own console. Then he pressed yet another button.

"Provost, This is Base of Aces. The cards are on the table."

Zakharov's voice sounded casual, completely failing to acknowledge the gravity of what was beginning. "Very good, Lieutenant. Proceed."

A deep breath; "This is Base of Aces. Spades, Hearts and Diamonds -go!"

Instantly, the dark interior of the rover lit up. Several displays, both two- and three-dimensional, now glowed with an electric aura. Automatic mappers, data-feeds, radio-frequency monitors, gun-cams, helmet-cams, biometric displays -even MMI-received pictures of what some of the probe-operatives actually saw- now occupied all available space from floor to ceiling.

Some monitors showed the team dubbed "Spades"-

The pit was two and a half meters deep, even in this relatively deep valley. It had been dug in record time, and on it's bottom the (actual) spades had encountered synthsteel. Now, though, plastic canisters had been placed on the bottom, and the Ace of Spades held a remote trigger. He pushed the button- the canisters detonated with a concussive sound.. and that seemed to be it. But the specifically reactive gas settled slowly into the pit and came into contact with the metal, which corroded with tremendous speed. Soon the roof collapsed, leaving a big hole. Into it the team disappeared.

"We're in. I see tubes, wires, etcetera under the grating of the floor. Anything you recognize?"

Severonikos glanced over his shoulders at one of the 'technicians', who frowned and shook his head. The Lieutenant turned back towards the monitors. "No. Scorch the place."

Another small canister was left behind as the team raced onwards along the tunnel.. A minute later it burst open relatively silently, but into a flower of superheated plasma. An instant later, everything in a two-meter radius either melted, vaporized or exploded, depending on the material's thermal qualities.


Some monitors showed the team called "Clubs"-

"Whoa, Base! We just picked up some nice seismic readings. We can't see much anything anymore, but we got the coordinates- isn't that where the Spades were digging? Was that something they did?"

"Base here. Yes, it was the Spades. We have knocked on the door, so you might see if it opens- Clubs, go!"

No matter what electronic aids you employed, visibility in a Chiron sandstorm was always abysmal. Of course, there were frequencies in the electromagnetic spectrum that saw through the storm, but those wavelengths could see through several meters of solid rock as well, and were therefore impractical for surveillance. The Clubs carried the heavy weapons, and their job was to guard the exterior of the base. Now they were moving closer to it, using the sandstorm as cover.


Some monitors showed the "Hearts"-

"Base, can you see the purpose of this room?"

"Hearts, Technician five says those structures look like the casings of network routers, but she says they're much bigger than any she has seen."

The Ace of Hearts ran her hands along the bottom edges of one of the metallic cubes. They were standing on a metal pedestal which supposedly contained the network cables and the power-supply, and their surface was perforated by tiny holes.

"There's screws here -King, open it."

The King of Hearts loosened the electric screwdriver from her belt and fastened a hexagonal head to it. Fifteen seconds later she lifted off the cover of the cube, revealing an interior of electronics.

"Shall we connect the remotes, Base?"

Severonikos glanced over his shoulder again, and got nods from all six technicians. "Base here, connect remotes to as many routers as possible."

The six crackers bent over their consoles, visibly tensing. Then, one by one, they launched into action. Two of them seemed to become raging maestros in front of their instruments -the keyboard. Three sat back, and only the random twitching of some facial muscle betrayed the torrent of commands they issued via their MMI. And one -the best, according to some- used both.

Then one of them leaned back. "Hydroponics breached. What now?"

Severonikos nodded. "Lock it with a password, but leave it otherwise alone." He turned back to the comm-link. "Hearts, reconnect remote four to another router."

Next, a cracker shouted "I'm through to life-support, but they are fighting back and I can't stay long! What will I do?"

"Crank up the heat, stop all vents and scramble the system." Again, back to the comm-link. "Hearts, reconnect remote one."

One by one, the routers were explored and their potential utilized, while the crackers fought off steadily increasing interference.


And finally, some showed the Diamonds-

The Ace of Diamonds turned towards one of his team-members. "What's the reading?"

The probe-operative was passing a small instrument back and forth over a cable in the roof. "Sixteen point nine."

"That's good enough; let's follow it. Which way?"

The team ran under the cable through a couple of turns and intersections. They were deep below ground, and the air was cool and moist. Here, the walls were natural rock rather than any treated surface. Then the cable entered a large box.

"Okay, where to now, Jack?"

The Jack used a screwdriver to open the box. Among capacitors and fuses lay several cables, seemingly mixed into a mess, which he inspected with his meter. "Damn, the main comes out of the wall. We need the roach."

The roach, a small six-legged robot connected to a thin and ultra-light cable for communications, was inserted into the small space between the main power-cable and the wall of the small hole. It travelled quickly even in that small space, and covered thirty meters in less than two minutes. The small monitor on the control unit showed a huge room on the other side, and even the poor microphones on the roach managed to capture the electric humming.

"That's our first stop." The Ace pressed a key, and the roach started to emit a powerful screech in the ultrasonic range; impossible to detect with human hearing but easily measured by the team's hand-held audiometers. "Get a minimum at the hole, and then search for stronger intensities."

The sound became steadily stronger down one corridor, and the team let themselves be guided by the rising intensity to an armored door. The door had no lock, though, and swung open easily. Inside hummed an industrial fusion reactor.

"Jack, how's the meter?"

"Doing fine at the top of the scale, sir."

"Good. Very good. Find the control-cable."

Four minutes later -twelve minutes and sixteen seconds since the start of the mission- the reactor shut down.

"Diamonds, this is Base. Good work, people! Trap the room -with the last charge wired to the reactor- and get out of there. Power is at sixty per cent, and that is still enough for standard operations, so you need to find another one."


End of Chapter 45.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 46:Networking


Power can go unnoticed. Only after Celan's meeting with Hubris did he realize exactly how much power his status of second node-administrator lent him. The nodes of a district actually contained all administrative information about every citizen living within the district. Social, finalcial and criminal records were all present. The node-administrators headed an entire bureau dedicated to keeping the information up-to-date, and secure from unauthorized reading and editing.

Of course, Celan had until now had no reason to access or modify any data for any other reason than updating information, so he hadn't thought of the databank as a tool of power.

But now he knew his own value.

Within the six thousand homes of the Rose Petal District lived several hundred individuals suspected of anti-loyalist actions. With a few touches on his display, Celan could sort these individuals according to any conceivable trait, from intelligence through chromosomal irregularities through haircolour.

So. He wanted intelligent people merely suspected of anti-government sympathies (which was enough for punishment anyway), and in a non-descript work away from the eye of the public (like garbage-processing; a common punishment meant to break the spirit of those suspected of anti-government sympathies).

This left him with a hundred and thirteen possible candidates.

Further remove all those with psychological instabilities, or generally a low psych-rating. Also, all those who were currently under investigation by Branch of Pruning (The Cultists' bureau of domestic security) had to be removed from the list.

This left twenty candidates. Celan beheld every recorded data about these men and women. They were all very promising, but very unlikely to all feel disloyal towards Cha Dawn. Celan was at a loss as to how to proceed.

He decided to let the problem lie for a time, and restore some of his lost prestige within the bureau. He now worked with a new vigour, since work no longer was associated with dullness, and his superior, the Prime Administrator, took note.

After a week of hard work, the Prime visited Celan just before the workday was over. "Celan", he said in friendly tones, "I had almost written you off as nourishment for the worms -so I am extremely happy you have found new strength and are serving the Planet with more vigor than ever before. Keep it up, Celan, and advancement will not be far off."

He had returned to his home smiling to himself and nodding amiably to strangers, while he basked in the memory of the words.

This explained why he had not noticed the absence of the affirmative chime as he inserted his key-card into the slot meant to unlock his front door, and there hadn't been much cause for wonder, since the door had opened anyway. He had even gone a couple of steps into the darkness of his living-room before he wondered why the lights had failed to turn on.

This is why he was extremely surprised when there did appear a small point of light in his apartment -the light of a naked flame as it caressed the stub of a cigar.

Then the room was bathed in light as the lamps were finally activated. He was surrounded by at least a dozen persons, and all were armed. A man was sitting in his sofa, and was drawing some appreciating puffs from the cigar. After a short moment he waved towards a woman standing behind the couch.

"This woman here will warn me of any hostile act on your part before you even consciously consider it."

Celan stayed still, and merely blinked slowly at the man. In fact, the man's face was familiar.

"Right; now, what we want from you are answers, and in return you will be left with your life -minus any memory of this event. Starbright can take care of that as well. So cooperate quickly, and your life will be disrupted by only a small amount."

Celan nodded, and frowned. "Starbright? As in Starbright Sixteen? Then you must be her brother, Oaken Vale Sixteen. You lost your parents six years ago to the brood pits -right?"

Oaken's face darkened, and he made a move to rise, but Starbright's hand was upon his shoulder. "He still shows no hostility, Oaken. Remember to hesitate before judging someone." Her brother relaxed, and stroked her hand. "Or we are no better than the Branch of Pruning. Yes." He fixed his gaze on Celan.

"I am here since I have become aware that data concerning me and several of my friends" -he gestured across the room to the other persons present- "has been accessed in depth from the terminal you are assigned to at the Node Administration Bureau. Don't ask how I know. I was under the impression that the Pruners were getting interested in me. Are they?"

Celan shook his head. "Not as far as I know."

"Then who accessed these data during work hours, six days previously?"

"I did."

Oaken raised his eyebrows. "Really? Why? And don't try to lie. You will find it impossible, and will merely make you seem constipated. Starbright is straightening out every word in your head that might be twisted."

Celan shrugged. "I was looking for possible recruits into a little network I have been assigned the task of creating. People with potentially minimal loyalty to Cha Dawn were a priority. Useful, but not essential."

Oaken nodded, and regarded Celan in silence for a while. Then he started speaking to his sister, even while keeping Celan trapped in his gaze. "Star, why isn't he nervous? He isn't shaking, there is no sign of perspiration and his voice is strong and uncracked. Why is he not afraid?"

The woman gazed at Celan intensely, and he felt a slight itching in his neck. He scratched it on an impulse, but the feeling disappeared as soon as he moved his hand. Starbright's eyes widened in surprise.

"He is protected, Oaken. He is already under influence -and has unlimited confidence. He's been made immune to fear. And the influence is active!"

Oaken cast a quick glance at his sister, and then snapped his fingers. Several people rushed out of the appartment, while those remaining started poking into every corner and closet.

Celan drew a deep breath. "Oaken and Starbright, you have said enough to condemn yourselves -so I can be as careless. I am tasked to assemble a covert network; primarily for intelligence gathering, but my employer will allow anti-government action by it's members as long as it does not interfere with any missions assigned by said employer. It is a job with a payment. And I am confident my employer is capable of bestowing considerable protection to any members of this network. But I see now that you have a ready organization, something even better, although it makes the matter of payment unclear. I'm sure it can be sorted out, however."

He looked at them both. "What do you say? I can also protect you in my role of second node-administrator."

Still, Oaken and Starbright seemed unsure. Oaken shifted position, and spoke in a loud voice: "We'll need to talk about this. It sounds promising." Then he looked around the room as if waiting for something.

Celan nodded uncertainly. "I will tell you all that I can. My employer calls herself Hubris, and that is what she says she is fighting. I have no way of contacting her, but she has assured me it will not be necessary. She will find me when she wants to talk to me. Your payment would be three thousand morgan-credits per month."

Still, Oaken seemed to wait for something, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the group. One by one, the members of the company sent to scout the surroundings returned with nothing to report. Once the last one was back, Oaken turned to his sister again. "Is the influence still active?"

Starbright nodded. "Yes. I think it's created by someone much more skilled than me. I have rarely sensed anything like it."

Celan coughed uncertainly. "Well.. what about my offer?"

Oaken scratched his chin. "Tell miss Hubris to contact us and work out the details. And make sure she understands that assistance goes both ways in this game. Only Cha Dawn thinks people are expendable." He rose, and the entire group was gone in thirty seconds.

Celan helped himself to a glass of water and sat down in the sofa. "Well, that's a good start, I'd say" he mumbled.


End of chapter 46.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 47: What is your Quest?


Severonikos sits back, enjoying the sensation of seeing all his teams in action at the same time. Now, when everything is running smoothly, he can relax until the teams start encountering resistance. He picks up the mission briefing on his MMI-menu, and sits back while the introduction text flickers into view. After the mission name (simply A2) and a reminder of it's level of security, there comes the text:

Target: Epsilon Center, pop. 62.400 estimate.

There is much information about the major mineral and nutritional deposits that it dominates, as well as a list of known military units defending it. All in all, it is a short list. But the next definition is the one that makes Severonikos' heart sing:

Mission: Subvert Epsilon Center.

He will make history, whether or not he succeeds. This will be the University's first conquest by probe-teams; if he fails, it would be the worst recorded probe-team disaster in history.

"Whoaaa!"

Severonikos gazes rapidly at several monitors as the sounds of gunfire crackles over the comm-link. "Who said that? Who's firing?!"

"Base, this is Ace of Spades! I just ran into some firefighters, by the look of their clothes -probably.." Here the words are cut off by more gunfire. "Holy smoke, they are armed! Take cover! Ta-" A strange hiccup sounds from the speaker as the noise exceeds the microphone's ability to capture sound. The curves on the biometric displays for the Ace of Hearts become flat.

Severonikos switches quickly to another member of the Spades while cursing with a strangled voice. "King of Spades, you're in command of the Spades now. Report."

The answer comes as a shout. "Sir, we're being pinned down by extremely heavy gunfire! We have good cover, as there's a sharp turn to the east here, but whatever they are packing chews up a great deal of the wall. It seems the preliminary intelligence missed the fact that the armed forces and the fire-fighters of Epsilon Center are one and the same! Those men pulled guns after only a moment's hesitation. What do you advise?"

"You are inside the base perimeters. Throw a small plasma-charge at them and punch a hole through the walls or floor to continue. If you find no adjacent space you'll have to come back out and try the alternative entryway."

The King of Spades grabs a small canister hooked to his belt. He pushes and turns a knob, pulls a ring until it comes loose from the canister, and lobs the canister towards the far wall of the turn, causing it to bounce and land somewhere beyond the corner. A small pop sounds, followed by a deafening roar, and the corridor is illuminated by a fierce, blue light. The light suddenly snuffs out while the roar subsides, giving room to a reddish glow and loud crackling.

"Incendiary delivered. Jack, find a way out."

The Jack of Spades closes his eyes and rests his forehead on the nearest wall. He passes both hands in broad sweeps back and forth over the wall a couple of times. Then he thumps the floor. "Right here. About half a meter of concrete, I'd say."

The King aims his gun. "Stand back, everyone." A couple of blasts rip open a crater, then a hole, in the floor. "Queen, take the point."

The Queen of spades readjusts his grip of his weapon and leaps through the hole, and is soon followed by the rest of the spades. In the command rover, Severonikos leans back with a sigh of relief.


End of chapter 47.

[Raging Mouse]

I never saw the reason behind Lal's fanatically endorsed Council of Planet. Why, if you strive to maintain peace and goodwill between all of humanity's factions, do you create a form of planetary government where backstabbing, bribery and mistrust flourishes? But to partially redeem Lal, he did try to stop the Santiago-Yang axis from driving through the principle of assigning each faction-leader votes in proportion to their factions' populations.

I simply can't comprehend what made him try to impose such an outmoded form of democracy on persons who, each independent of the others, had chosen to rule their factions as life-long dictators.

-Reprinted by permission of Dr. Prokhor Zakharov out of 'The Memoirs of a Runner-up', book two.


Chapter 48: The Powermongers

A holoprojector flickers to life and emits a soft chime, indicating an incoming live communication. Pravin Lal raises his eyebrows and fingers some buttons on his desk. The ghostly image of one of Lal's secretaries appears.

"Commissioner, we have the entity 'Beta' on hold. He demands to speak to the chairman of the council."

"Tell him-" Lal glances down at a replica of a nineteenth-century clock on his desk. "He has twenty-two minutes."

The secretary nods and his image disappears. Lal makes a mental effort to reset his face into a neutral expression before Beta's image appears. Then he studies the hologram. It shows the image of a young woman with a great deal of indian features.

"Evening, Commissioner Lal." A deep and steady voice, with the curious lack of pitch-variations present in all merged. Lal realizes that Beta has chosen to appear in the person of this woman to unbalance him.

"Evening, Beta. I am rather busy at the moment, so I hope this will-"

"Are you too busy to prevent a war from starting?"

Lal frowns. "Don't be dramatic. What war?"

"A war between the Consciousness and the University. Normally, I would not bother to contact you, but as I am currently in a police operation against the Caretakers, I don't have the resources to retaliate at him. So- I seek alternatives."

"Retaliate, eh? What has Zakharov done?"

"Half an hour ago all communication with Epsilon Center was cut off. Since then, we've only caught sporadic and weak singals, and nearly all are either warnings of pleas for help. It seems they are under attack by terrorists, presumably to subvert the base."

"So he's sent some probe-teams and you're about to lose a base. It happens, and is quite a mild version of foul play. Why do you want to waste the council's time with that?"

"Commissioner, don't you realize? Zakharov is betraying the human species. He is in leauge with the Progenitors. We, the Cybernetic Consciousness, are the only ones strong enough to keep the Caretakers in check, precisely as you are the only ones keeping back the Usurpers. If he attacks now, or even interferes slightly, then my efforts will be inadequate, and the Progenitors will conquer the continent of Ixion."

Zakharov shifts position uneasily. "You have a point. Do you have proof?"

"No. Did you expect it? Suspicion is bad enough; I think they would operate in enough secrecy to prevent proof from ever reaching us. No, let's simply discuss his treachery in the council and force him to stop. It will be quite enough."

A moment's silence. "I will summon the Council; we will meet soon."


End of chapter 48.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 49: What is your Favourite Colour?


The King of Diamonds is peering at a small monitor in his right hand while holding a minuscule camera steady in his left hand. The camera is really only a very, very small bulge at the end of a fiber-optic cable. The cable is currently bent into a turn, and the camera, at it's point, is projected ever so slightly around a corner in this underground corridor. The rest of the Diamonds wait close by, in complete silence.

No-one needs to speak out loud.

">Ace, I see three on the right of the door, and two on the left. Heavy armor and armament.<"

">Everyone getting that image? Good. You, Jack, throw a magneto-optic charge at their feet; I don't think a frag will do any good. Remember to keep your electronics turned off as it goes boom.Then we all rush them. I take the two on the left, you take the three on the right.<" The Ace tiptoes to the corner and readjusts his grip on a 'salvaged' Cyborg chaos rifle. ">Any questions? Then on with the show, Jack.<"

The Jack of Hearts pulls a rather large grenade from his belt, pulls it's pin, and tosses it around the corner. Then he flattens himself against the wall and covers his eyes with his hands.

The flash is incandescent, and the boom thunders in the corridor.

The Ace dashes round the corner, his chaos rifle wailing like a jetplane. He quickly lands several charges on the two soldiers to the right of an armored door, and their armour-suits explode. Meanwhile the King, Queen and the Jack fire their smaller, but more advanced, fusion lasers at the three soldiers on the right, whose suits are ripped to shreds.

In three seconds, all five Cybernetic soldiers are dead.

">Base, this is Ace of Diamonds. Outer guards disposed. Securing fusion reactor two.<"

The Ace walks up to the door and signals to the Jack. ">Anyone in there?<"

The Jack presses his forehead against the door and stands completely motionless for a moment. ">No guards.. but a static defense grid. Wait.. Lasers with thermal tracking, and a booby-trapped floor.<"

The Ace nods. ">Base, this is the Ace of Diamonds. Reactor two has static defenses. Suggest we sabotage; over.<"

A short pause. ">Ace of Diamonds, this is Base. Okay to spoil the reactor. We'll manage with the one you took earlier once we turn it back on.<"

The Ace grabs an EMP-grenade from his belt. ">Stand back, people, and keep away from the opening.<" He pushes a button on the wall, and the door disappears into the roof. He turns the dial on the EMP to four seconds and lobs it into the reactor chamber in a high, slow arc. Then he rams the button again, causing the door to start closing.

Inside the room, the EMP-grenade bounces once from the outer shell of the reactor and is about to land on the control-console when it detonates. All controls, inluding the power-supply to the magnets, are killed. The ring of plasma is no longer restrained, causing it to expand.. and hit the wall of the reactor.

The door to the reactor-room closes just in time; the crack from the splintering shell sounds a split-second later, and is loud enough, even through the door, to severely stun the Diamonds.

Then the lights, and almost every piece of machinery in Epsilon Center, die. Slowly, the emergency lighting turns the corridor into a maze of shadows, and a whir from the ventilation indicates that the emergency power-supplies have restarted all vital equipment.

The Ace smiles. ">Base, this is the Ace. Power is critical, and all non-essential systems should be offline.<"


In the command rover, Severonikos whoops of excitement. "We're almost there, people!" He turns to the hackers. "You all got lines open?" They nod. "Right. Bring the system to it's knees."

Into the remaining nodes of Epsilon Central are injected several pre-sentient algorithms, who quickly fight for control over each node. Once a node is conquered and it's passwords changed, the algorithms move on to assist those still fighting. In five seconds, the hackers control all of the remaining data-network.

In the command rover, a hacker looks up at Severonikos and nods. "We're done. There's no resistance left."

Severonikos glances at the mission briefing, which contains, among other things, a full account of professor Lewis Parks' description of the Cybernetic civil war. "Let's see if they are as crazy as we give them credit. Upload the messages." The hackers set to work, and soon every network-node still operational in Epsilon Central display orders to transfer command to the University.

Inside Epsilon Central, the Ace of Hearts looks up, startled, at the ceiling as an obviously automatic voice starts to relay the orders to surrender. "Citizens, Epsilon Central has fallen. To ensure the safety of the Consciousness, lay down your arms and await orders from the University officials. It is useless to continue fighting.." And so on. She picks up her comm-link.

"Base, this is Ace of Hearts. The message is being declared over the loudspeakers. What next?"

"Ace of Hearts, we need to test if they're actually open to surrender, or if this strategy was useless from square one. Try to make contact with the citizens and see if they follow orders. Act as if you own the place. Which you do, indirectly. Meanwhile, the clubs will enter through the main airlocks and set up a temporary command-post. Head towards them, once you've made peaceful contact with the natives."

Ace of Hearts closes the comm-link and snorts. "Come on, Hearts, we need to see if the locals still want to kill us."

Grimacing, she leads the way out through a door and into the base proper; the cavernous central chamber containing all the actual habitation- and administrative structures. The team emerges on a landing about six meters up in the air, with paths heading off in both directions along the wall. A spiral staircase not far off connects the catwalk to the floor below. In here, the darkness is almost total. Only a few emergency lights at the entrances to various buildings illuminate the space below. They shine on small parts of a great crowd. It is obvious, from the noise, that the entire hall is filled by a sea of people, unsure about what they should be doing.

">Base, link me to the public announcement-system.<" The pre-recorded voice dies away.

"Testing, testing.. Attention, citizens of Epsilon Central. You are now citizens of the University. A general curfew will start in half an hour, during which you will be required to stay in your living-quarters. Anyone wishing to leave his or her quarters during the curfew will contact the University officials via the network terminals in your living-quarters. All military- and police officers will report at the main airlocks in ten minutes' time. Proceed to your quarters in good order. That is all."

The noise from the floor below drops considerably. From the few patches of light, the Ace of Hearts can see that her message is being obeyed. She shakes her head and smiles.

"Base, they are peaceful like lambs. The Epsilon Central is ours. See you at the main doors."


End of chapter 49.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 50:The Branch


Celan had woken up this morning with the knowledge clear in his mind. Hubris is coming. At first, he had thought of calling the first node-administrator and report that he was ill, but he thought better of it. After all, he didn't know when and where she'd arrive. Only the knowledge was there, firm as a rock. Hubris is coming. Be prepared. He'd managed to focus his mind on work, but once he got home the thought again dominated. And it's presence was growing. Hubris is coming. Be prepared. Summon the others.

Summon the others! Once that thought cleared in his mind, his hand darted to the comm-link. Ten minutes later, his apartment is once again heavily guarded by Oaken's associates.

"Where is she? When will she be here?"

"She's close. She will be here soon."

Oaken stands up and starts pacing back and forth. "I'm not a patient man, mr. Barr. The Pruners know my scent, and if I stay in one place for too long I will be revealed to them. Starbright helps, but she cannot hide me perfectly. Somehow, they always find me despite her best efforts."

Celan raises his eyebrows. "What's this 'scent'? Do they track people by smell?"

Oaken grimaces impatiently. "No, no. Some twenty years ago, Dawn's brightest researchers realized that the entire planet is psychotropic. To you and me, what it means is that the local xenofungus reverberates to the presence of a localized mind, like mindworms or humans. They resonate for several hours or days, depending on the power of the mind and the time said mind stayed in the vicinity. Now, each mind causes unique disturbances, if you will, and these can be tracked. The Branch, when I was first suspected of being anti- Cha Dawn, recorded my particular signature, and they can use it to track me down with frightening ease. Starbright can scramble these disturbances to some extent, but apparently the Branch can also detect that."

"Oh." Celan smiles apologetically. "I didn't know that."

"Neither did I", says Hubris from the corner she has been standing in.

Starbright and Oaken fly simultaneously up from the sofa, and several of the guards half-aim their weapons. Celan is the first to regain control of his tongue. "Why- Hubris, I'm sorry, I didn't notice you-"

She raises a hand to silence him. "You weren't supposed to. I know the art of staying unnoticed, and I use it frequently. You wouldn't have paid attention to me, had I chosen to sit on your head."

Starbright's eyes are wide. "I have never heard of such a skill!"

Hubris smiles. "There are many powers known among the citizens of the Cult that you have heard nothing of, Starbright. What psionic skills you have been taught is one way to differentiate between your castes." She shrugs. "In any case, I know many others using this skill, but not as extensively as I do. But enough of me." She nods at Oaken. "How many members does your team have? I need to know what I'll pay you."

"I have twenty-two -eh, associates, so your offer of three-thousand morgan-creds is a little-"

"No, no. I offer three thousand per person."

You can almost hear Oaken's train of thought backtrack. "Oh. Well. But payment in morgan-creds is impractical. We need weapons, equipment and food. And places to hide. Morgan-credits will get us none of these things."

"Very well. I can provide you with the first three. You will need to find your own hiding-places, as I rarely need to hide out of sight. Is this a deal?"

Oaken nods eagerly. "It will do. Now, what do you have in mind?"

Hubris smiles. "Actually, I was a little unsure until you explained about the psychic scents. I want everything the Branch of Pruning knows about that. And I know how to get it. I'm planning to have as many of their operatives as possible chasing you."

Oaken pales. "What?"

"You'll create a diversion. We'll plan something loud and spectacular in the vicinity of Cha's temple, followed by a swift chase through the streets of the city. I'll have a cargo-lifter waiting at one of the airports that will take you away from your chasers. In the meanwhile, I will assault the BP:s headquarters. It shouldn't be too hard, once you are chased by every military and police in Dawn of Planet. Of course, we need a big diversion. I can tell you have an idea forming."

Oaken looks as if he'll doubt his own words. "We could assassinate Cha Dawn. That's what I call a diversion."

Suddenly, Starbright looks around wildly. "Someone's activated a beacon!"

***

Outside, with his ear pressed to the back door, William 'Stout Branch' nineteen gazes down at the blinking psi-beacon in his hand. He can't understand from where it came, or why he activated it. But he is sure of one fundamental wrongness, and he repeats it like a mantra under his breath. "Planning to assassinate Cha Dawn is high treason. Planning to assassinate Cha dawn.."

He feels his mind scatter like a school of frightened fish as something large rises from the depths, which is what is actually happening. Out from his subconscious rise thoughts both new and old. His uncertainty melts away together with his fake identity, as he realizes his name is William 'Firm Root', ninth level officer in the Branch of Pruning, given an implanted personality to enable him to infiltrate a group of terrorists. He knows now that the moment has come to capture them all, together with their potential employer.

And that's the last thing he thinks before the back door is kicked into his head, causing him to faint.

Hubris shoves the door hard against his prone body, and manages to open it enough for her to slip through. She pushes him off to one side and opens the door wide. "Go on. Down this alley, over that fence and into the sewers. You should be safe, as long as you keep an eye out for the occasional errant mindworm."

Oaken and starbright with their team rush away, but Celan hesitates. "Won't you follow?"

Hubris shakes her head. "I must know how good they are before I try to infiltrate their headquarters. Now go! Follow Oaken, and I'll contact you when I can."

He nods and sprints towards the fence. He glances back once before he leaps over the fence, and sees Hubris carrying the unconscious man into his apartment.

***

William 'Firm Root' sits up with a start, and nearly bumps his head into that of Reverend Marthens, who is bent over him. The reverend seems displeased as he straightens up, and William groans silently. Then he looks around; he's still in the apartment of that node-administrator. There is no sign of the others.

"Reverend, I-"

The reverend quickly motions him to be silent, and then casts a searching glance across the room. William realizes with a glimmer of hope that he is hunting someone.

Then he remembers how the reverend -a psi-tracker- hunts, and looks down. Sure enough, the apartment's floor is crawling with the individual members of the Reverend's pet mindworm-boil. Under the command of the reverend, the worms are silent and display great caution in their motion. One brushes against William's hand and twitches aside, as if the contact had been painful.

I can't have failed too bad, William thinks, or I would by now be a brainless incubator for the Reverend's brood. He stands up and brushes himself off, while scanning the apartment more carefully. Now, what had he heard.. ah, yes! He signals the reverend that he has something on his mind, and feels the familiar, ghostly crawling of his skin as Marthens rummages around his surface thoughts. He concentrates wildly on the discussion of Hubris' appearance that he overheard through the door.

He feels the Reverend lock on to the memory, and sees his eyes widen. For a moment, Marthens' entire figure radiates the feeling you get when you realize you've probably been observed while doing something utterly stupid for half an hour. Then he clenches his jaw and signals to William to leave, while on his silent command the mindworms clear a path to the door. Gratefully, william rushes out of the house.

Once outside, he sees the familiar APCs of the Branch's anti-terrorist unit, and sees a lieutenant waving frantically for him to take cover. He sprints towards the APC and dives behind it.

The Lieutenant grins at him. "Lucky bastard, you aren't even drooling. We all guessed you had been fried by -whoever's in there- when Reverend Li reported your presence."

"You mean Reverend Marthens, right?"

"No. It was Reverend Li who originally stormed the building. When he'd been in there for thirty seconds, our meters registered a spike on the Keldhart-scale, reaching a nice and pure seven."

"Seven!"

"Yes. To be frank, I half-expected the roof to be blown clear off, but as it turned out the attack was purely telepathic; it was enough to vegetate Li. Marthens brought him out. He's being rushed to the hospital as we speak, but no-one really belives he'll ever be sentient again."

"What's the best Marthens has managed?"

"Well, I hear he managed nearly eight Kays while high on adrenaline and steroids, but that's just rumours. So, to say the least, he's worried in there."

An urgent beeping sounds from the chest pocket of the Lieutenant. He quickly fishes out a small cube, that seems to be a simple display. It traces a slowly-climbing line, while a number in the upper left corner shows the current value. It reads 1,4 and is slowly climbing through the tenths.

The Lieutenant waves wildly to the rest of the team, and every man seems to tense. Then he whispers to William.

"He's spotted our perp and is warming up. You'll see; the Reverend usually goes on the offensive once he reaches two kays. Hold on to your thoughts."

1,9...2,0...2,1..

William has never heard of artillery based on chemical explosives; Planet's artillery has been magnetic- or plasma-based for nearly a century. So he can't know that the sensation he feels, once the psionic battle starts, could best be compared to standing close to the muzzle of a really big cannon as it fires, minus all sound. There is only a tremendous shock, that seems to disarray every organ inside him. His ears seem to pop, his forehead feels like it will burst, and bright blotches of colour streak across his vision. And before he has time to re-establish his grip on reality, there is another shock.. and another..

He quickly loses all conscious thought, and is reduced to passive sensation. He realizes that he is lying, face down, and manages to raise his head. In front of him, the Lieutenant is unconscious, with his eyes open and a string of drool from his chin to the ground. A little way from his open hand lies the cube, with it's display pointing skywards. With a light-headed, detached feeling, William watches the curve as it dips to below three, and then turns around once more, to jump above eight Keldharts. Then the last shock hits him, and shatters what's left of his sanity.


***


William 'Stout Branch' feels his forehead hit the ground, and he opens his eyes. His body feels wrapped in needles, and his sight keeps wandering, but he manages to push himself up against the side of an APC. At the second attempt, he even manages to stand up. He staggers around, gazing slack-jawed at all the unconscious people, completely at a loss about what has happened, until he comes to face Celan's apartment. Dead mindworms litter the front door, and lying with his back over the doorstep, eyes and mouth gaping at the sky, is Reverend Marthens. He is obviously, even for William's fragmented mind, stone dead. Standing over his body and leaning against the doorframe is a woman. She looks deathly tired.

William stares at her, for a moment struck completely dumb. Then he raises his left hand and points at her.

"..br-s?" He slurs. "Hhh..brehhs?"

She finally hears him. She looks at him sharply, turns around and staggers into the building, disappearing from view.

William sits down and stares after her for a long time, at first thinking about nothing special. Soon, though, his real personality slowly reawakens, and it's time to count the dead and mentally wounded.


End of chapter 50.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 51:Divide et Impera


A holoprojector bursts into action, displaying the rotating logo of the University, superimposed by data about an incoming live communication. Zakharov notes that it is from Lal, but in his position as chairman of the Council, not the usual one of commissioner for the Peacekeepers.

He puts on a smile opens the channel, and notes that Lal is indeed clad in the official uniform he uses while the Council of Planet is in session. "Lal, what a pleasant surprise. Has someone decided to convene the council?"

"The council has, in fact, been gathered for the last two hours. We'd now request your attendance."

Sensing trouble, Zakharov looks at Lal uncertainly. "I'm sorry, there must have been a glitch in my lines of communication; I have not heard of any previous request."

"There has not been any previous request, Zakharov. Now, if you will-"

"Wait, wait. Last time I read the U.N. charter, as revised by you two years ago, all members of the council must be present before it has legal power. Why wasn't I called?"

"If you'd have studied the charter in closer detail, you'd find that when we are discussing future scenarios concerning a certain faction, that faction's leader does not have to be present until the preliminary discussions are over. This is now the case, and we request your further attendance. Note, that if the timing is improper, the charter states that you can decline to participate, in which case we can continue without you."

"The mindworm's teeth you can! Send the frequency."

While the virtual room of the Council appears around him, Zakharov punches in the code to lock his door and display a 'do not disturb' -message. Then he looks around the council, now twelve members strong. Even his occasional allies look somewhat sternly at him, and looks from others, like Miriam, are decidedly hostile behind their neutral expressions. Zakharov realizes he is at a huge psychological disadvantage thanks to his late arrival.

"Who summoned this council, and what is the agenda?" He can't avoid sounding brusque.

Beta rises. "I did. The only item is your apparent betrayal of the human species."

Zakharov tilts his head. "Against the human species? Explain."

"In subverting the base Epsilon Central, rightfully mine, you have deprived me of an important link in my chain of logistics as I combat the Progenitor menace, manifest in the Caretakers. Unless they are stopped, all of humanity might very well face slavery at the hands -or claws- of an alien master -or worse, extinction. Your dishonorable act has considerably hindered my efforts in what has turned out to be a very evenly-matched fight. Would you not say that you therefore are hurting the chances of all humanity? Would that not be outright treachery of your species?"

"Well, no." Zakharov is still studying Miriam. Good old one-track Miriam. One God, one Truth, one Track which you chug along. Let's see if I can't give you another Truth and force you to change track.

A general babble has broken out, and Lal rises. "Order, please. Zakharov, you'd better explain yourself."

"First off, the Cybernetic Consciousness is not the only faction on Ixion strong enough to check the advance of the Caretakers. Second, were this war so even and so critical for the future of humanity, why isn't Beta asking for assistance? The answer is simple; he is disguising a downright atrocious blizkrieg intended to support his imperialistic fancies as a crusade for humanity. Well, I'll be the first to caution you; there is nothing 'noble' or 'holy' in his attack. Did you know, for example, that he is using mortar shells filled with ozone? I'm not sure you know what effect that has on a progenitor, but I have an instructive little recording here, which-"

Lal raises a hand. "I'm quite sure it won't be necessary to display that recording. We are all well aware of the basic chemical differences between humans and progenitors."

Zakharov blinks at him for a moment. "In other words, you have just eaten and wouldn't want to see something.. unsettling. It doesn't matter. There is one thought I'd like to present to the council."

Lal nods, and Zakharov takes a deep breath. "Beta is a fine one to pretend he's the guardian of humanity. He is merged with an algorithm -basically, an advanced computer-program- to such a degree that there is no discernible psychological or physiological boundary between him and the algorithm. On several occasions I have heard him voice the advantages of this state with such a fervor that he sounds like some half-deranged prophet foaming about some outlandish religion."

He observes the council while he takes another breath. Yes, Miriam, that little start tells me all I need to know. But I'm not done yet, and you are not the only member of this council. "If he had his way, every human on Planet would be part of the Cybernetic Consciousness, and merged with his or her personal splinter of it. He calls it greater freedom, but I call it imprisonment within the cold laws of logic. I have on several occasions benefitted greatly from that unpredictability and contrariness to logic that stems from what he frowns upon as 'Right-Brain thinking', in a direct echo of his predecessor, Aki Zeta-Five, and I am quite convinced it is a major and crucial part of humanity."

Another breath. Some members of the council now have quite unreadable expressions, and Zakharov wonders if he's going too far. But he is determined to finish. "So, let's see.. He accuses me of betraying humanity, does he? Well, let's define that. Do we, as you may think I would do, try to define humanity by our genetic makeup? Folly, for several species of apes, like the chimpanzee, would be more than ninety-nine per cent human in that case. And we have all experimented with improving our genome, haven't we?" His gaze sweeps over the council, and only Lal challenges it. "So let's turn away from matter completely. Let's look at the mind; the brain. Now there, despite a less-than-one per cent difference in genome, the human is easily distinguished from our closest simian relatives. We are unique, there."

He shakes his head. "But what of the Cybernetic Consciousness, then? Devoid of all emotion. Exclusively devoted to rational, logical thought, where the slightest irregularity is mercilessly erased. My fellow leaders of Planet, does this remind you of Humanity? Not in the slightest. The chimpanzee is a closer match to the human in this case. So, how can I betray Humanity, when my target can scarcely be called human anymore?!"

The last shouted sentence is matched by an equally impressive uproar from the Council. Beta, a curious expression on his face, terminates his connection to the council and vanishes silently. Lal, a nice crimson colour in his face, shouts down the rest of the members, and when a modicum of silence is reached he turns to Zakharov, eyes flashing with rage.

"Zakharov, you may consider all charges of treason against humanity withdrawn, but be aware that further speeches of that nature may quickly lead to similar accusations. Personally, I have always defined humanity by adaptability and an urge to experiment with new things, and by those standards the Cybernetic Consciousness is very much human. I suggest you keep your opinions on the matter to yourself in the future! This council is over!"

Zakharov turns off the holoprojector, and the gloom of his office surrounds him once again. He chuckles half-heartedly for a while.

"Ooops!"


End of chapter 51.
[This message has been edited by Raging Mouse (edited January 29, 2001).]

[Raging Mouse]

The Cult of Planet, now.. I could even then plainly see that they would be high on Beta's list of 'things to kill'. A colorful blend of mass psychosis and cult mentality had formed a nation that was vibrant with life and power, and who ranked as one of the middle-weight factions of Planet. In the later stages, they even surpassed the University in population and landmass, coming close to the Cyborgs and the Usurpers...

-Reprinted by permission of Foreman Domai out of 'When Our Work Was Done', chapter three.

Of course, they (the cultists) were also my favourite proof of some of my more cynical views on humanity and it's paradoxal nature; I once had the pleasure of meeting a diplomat from Cha's court that was a stupendously talented haiku poet. But for some reason she boasted more of how many workers she had condemned to the brood pits in Cha's name...


-Reprinted by permission of Prokhor Zakharov out of 'Myths and Monsters of the Second Age', chapter nine.


Chapter 52:Into the Eye


Cha Dawn closes the connection to the virtual Council Room. Around him, a smattering of applause sounds. His chief advisor, Lord Ferrel, approaches his cushioned divan, kneels and bows his head.

"An excellent performance, my lord. The glory of Planet has once again been upheld in the Council."

Cha Dawn's eyes narrow. "Ferrel, I did not utter a word in the Council. You are babbling nonsense."

With a barely perceptible glance sideways, Ferrel signals the other advisors, who also approach Cha Dawn respectfully while praising his patience, his regal presence, his bearing -and so on. Eventually, Cha is suitably flattered and waves a hand at them. "Enough. Let's proceed with the business of the day."

Ferrell sits down cross-legged, and is immediately imitated by the rest of the advisors. "Lord, High Reverend Willard begs you to favour her with an audience. She has urgent matters of security to discuss."

Cha nods. "Very well."

Ferrel turns around towards the double doors at the far end of the hall, where two guards are positioned. "Send for High Reverend Willard!"

One of the guards opens the door closest to him and booms, "The Voice of Planet, the Prophet to Our People, Emperor Cha Dawn commands the presence of High Reverend Willard, commander of the Branch of Pruning!"

Willard enters, and immediately kowtows by falling to her knees and pressing her forehead to the floor. Then she stands up, walks halfway to the divan and kowtows again. Then she stands up and waits.

Cha regards her for a short moment, and then waves a hand. "Speak your errand", Ferrel commands.

"Lord, a powerful terrorist is at large within the city at this moment. We know only that she is an amazingly strong telepath, and that she calls herself 'Hubris'. She has already defeated two of our best Reverends, and her current whereabouts are unknown. She has been gathering a network of spies and terrorists, and is known to have planned your assassination. I ask the assistance and wisdom of Planet to locate her, before she is able to cause more harm."

"Do you have her scent?"

"Yes. Here it is." Willard holds up a transparent crystal, in which is embedded a strand of xenofungus. Ferrel takes it from her and delivers it to Cha Dawn.

Cha fingers the crystal for a moment. "This is a very strong and clear signature. It shouldn't be hard to locate anyone with this kind of scent. Why do you bother me?"

"Lord, we suspect Hubris has learned how to camouflage her scent. She is masterful, and leaves very little trace."

Cha thinks for a while. "A bad hunter chases his prey. A good hunter sits in one place and waits, for he is sure his prey will pass by the place he has chosen." He focuses on Willard. "Go to the Plaza of Flowering and erect a hidden surveillance there. Have your people pose as devotees, but make sure nothing seems out of the ordinary and stay well away from the foci. Make sure you are prepared when she arrives. Oh, I want to see her once she is caught. Now go."

Willard kowtows again and leaves in a hurry. Cha turns to his advisors. "I must communicate with Planet. All errands are postponed until I call for you. Now clear this hall."

The call goes out, "The Voice is calling Planet! All meetings are postponed!" His advisors quickly exit the hall, followed by the guards. As soon as the door is closed and Cha is alone, he manipulates some controls. Out of the floor around the divan rise several metallic pillars, about one meter high, arranged in concentric circles that become denser towards the center. Then gigantic screens descend in front of all the windows, plunging the room into total darkness.

Cha concentrates...


***


A middle-aged woman clad in the plain orange and purple ceremonial robes of the Cult passes by a doorway and stops. In the doorway a figure in a similar robe is hunched over itself. The woman kneels down. And stretches out a hand.

"Are you all right?" She brushes back the hood and reveals the tired face of a young woman. "Oh dear oh dear.. what hardships you pilgrims must endure, I don't know.. Have you visited one of the congregations yet?"

The young woman shakes her head feebly. "No.."

"Well, I'll help you there. They'll have a nice line of soup and bread for you blessed folk from afar, and it will strengthen you while we wait for a sermon to begin. Oh, my name is Rebecca, but you can call me Becky." She helps the young woman stand up.

"Rebecca? That's my name, too.."

"Really? What a coincidence! You can call me Snowdrop then. Usually, I'd go to the Plaza of Meditation, which is closest, but now that I've met you I'm going to the Plaza of Flowering. It's a bit crowded at this time of the day, but it's also closest to the palace. Once, while I was there even, Cha Dawn himself appeared on one of the balconies to talk to the people! I was so excited..." Snowdrop chatters on while leading Rebecca through the streets.

After some fifteen minutes they come to the edge of a large open area, thronged with people. There is a long queue of people leading to a checkpoint, but Snowdrop walks directly past it and up to the guard.

"Hello, Ash! How are you doing today?"

"Thank you, Becky, I'm doing fine. Who's your friend?"

"A pilgrim! I picked her up in the Rose Petal District, where the poor creature was resting in a doorway. Her name is Rebecca! Can you believe it!" Snowdrop beams.

Ash chuckles. "Well that's a coincidence! Let's see your papers, ladies, and I'll let you through."

Rebecca pats her robe, and then pulls out a wad of papers from an inner pocket. She hands it to the guard, who glances through it.

"Welcome to the Plaza of Flowering, miss Kojl. You may be in luck, ladies; Cha Dawn is communicating with Planet right now, and he's usually in a preaching mood once he's done." He nods his head at the shuttered windows of the palace. "One word of caution, though; I know you pilgrims like to sit as close to the foci as you dare, but that's not advisable while he and Planet are discussing. The food queue is by that fountain over there. May your stay be enlightening!"

Snowdrop pats Rebecca on the shoulder. "You just go and enjoy the food, my dear. I want to see if some friends I know are around. See you later, maybe!"

She wanders off to find her friends, and Hubris walks gratefully up to the end of the food-queue. In five minutes, she is carrying a plastic bowl filled with a thick and steaming soup, plus a combined fork and spoon. As she eats, she inspects her surroundings: The Plaza is a rough trapezoid, with the shortest side abutting on the palace. Various buildings with monumental architecture confine the Plaza on the other three sides, with several streets between them, and hubris notes with some curiosity that none of the buildings have their fronts, or any entrances or windows at all, towards the Plaza. The former is true for the palace as well, whose unbroken walls stand at least three floors high, with three guarded balconies jutting out from the upper third of the wall. Some trees and bushes overhanging it's top indicate that the ground is much higher on the other side.

At first Hubris thinks the Plaza interior is featureless, but the movement of the crowd reveals glimpses of several groupings of short, stubby metal pillars, obviously arranged in some concentric pattern. Also, the tiling on the ground is made of varying colour; Hubris is sitting on some almost black tiles arranged in a circular fashion, but disrupting this monotony are a few white tiles not far off. Hubris can also see, among the legs of the crowd, a sharp border beyond which the tiles seem to be pinkish.

It dawns on her, with some unpleasantness, that she is sitting in the pupil of a huge eye. And she knows of only one person that has pink irises. A queasy feeling of being observed descends upon her, but she forces herself to continue eating. The soup is quite good, and the warmth is pleasant, causing her to relax. When the soup is finished, she is content to sit and rest, head bowed by drowsiness, quite secure by the anonymity of being part of an immense crowd.

She nods off into sleep, and dreams.


***


Harm her not we.

"But she wants to harm me, Planet! I am your friend, and I am special to you, why won't you protect me?"

Protect you we. Harm her not you. Harm her not we. Yes you special. She special.

Cha pauses to rethink. With so much of his conscious mind in direct contact with the immensity of Planet, this is a difficult task to manage without any of it being 'audible' to the giant mind.

"She is also special? I thought I was your friend, Planet! What will you do to help me?"

Like this song not we.

"What song?"

I me I me I me I me I me..

"All right, all right. You will not harm her. What can you do, then?"

Tell her harm not Cha we. She in focus, talk we.

Cha makes an effort not to let his victorious -and devious- smile shine in his mind.

"I will bring her to a focus, and you can talk to her. All right?"

Yes. More poems made we. Cha listen?

"Not now. Not now. When you have talked to her."


***


Hubris awakens with a start and a thought-scattering headache. The drawn-out rumble from a big gong is still echoing through the plaza. She stands up, and sees how everybody is peering towards the palace's balconies.

She follows their gaze, in time to see a small figure in pink and gold emerge, followed by eight persons in robes of varying shades and mixes of orange, brown and purple. A loud droning explodes among the crowd, and Hubris can barely make out the word "Chaaaaa..". Then a man by her side sits down on the ground and starts to slur, at an incredible speed, "Chadawnchadawnchadawnchadawn.." while he sways rythmically back and forth.

Cha raises his arms, and the noise weakens somewhat. Then he speaks, and his voice booms in the entire Plaza. "Children of Planet, gather at the foci to receive your blessings, or cast away this illusion of life to embark upon the greater path we all shall tread upon!"

The noise becomes a roar, then almost a solid presence. Slowly, the seeds of rythm and structure emerge, and while Cha Dawn's name is shouted hoarsely from a hundred thousand devout throats, the crowd begins to gather around the four foci, but only a few take up position immediately next to them and no-one ventures inside the formations. Hubris finds that she is staring, apparently right through the wall of bodies, into the center of the closest focus. She tears her gaze away with an effort of will and notices that the babbling man has fallen onto his back and is now rocking from side to side. His mouth is foaming and his eyes are rolling, and the actual words are now only made out with difficulty.

On an impulse, she pushes aside vision and lets her mind sense that of the man. His mind seems to pulse in pace with his rocking, with a weaker pulse corresponding to his furious rambling. He is still accelerating, while his mind is losing all it's normal barriers. She realizes he is quickly falling into a trance, with his mind completely open to any external psionic influence.

She feels, as if reading the notes of a play, that this external influence is only moments away. She switches back into normal vision and finds, to her surprise, that she has walked up to the crowd surrounding the closest focus. They are again watching Cha Dawn.

Cha raises his arms, holds them still for a moment, and then lets them drop. Up from somewhere within the palace rises a huge, swirling cloud that is, at fist glance, strangely transparent. Then it comes closer, and Hubris recognizes it as one of the largest swarms of Locusts of Chiron she has ever seen. Three similar swarms are also flying through the air, and by now descending towards the foci. They do not land completely, even though the focus is covered with them, but instead they begin to fly around in the air immediately above the foci, tracing beautiful and complex patterns through the air. The effect is mesmerizing.

The noise from the masses of cultists increases yet more, into a throbbing physical force. The crowd closest to Hubris begins to shift, with some people slowly walking away from it with their faces locked in religious extacy, and their eyes curiously blank and glazed. They generally stop and collapse after only a few steps, but some walk further away and sit down, beginning to shout out at random or chant at a furious pace. Hubris finds that she is pressing forward, towards the focus.

She stops dead as she reaches the inner edge of the crowd.

***

Cha smiles fiercely, and his eyes flash. He rests his hands on the balustrade and lets his gaze sweep over the crowd. "She's down there somewhere, already close to a focus. What a presence!"

Lord ferrel leans to his side. "Lord, what do you intend?"

Cha half-turns towards the advisor. "I intend to test her. I remembered your teachings on the.. what was it? Ah, yes. The Dark Ages, and the witch-hunts the superstitious people would conduct. Especially, their 'foolproof' tests and trials were very amusing. But I had a flash of inspiration; we don't have a nice big bonfire, but we might substitute.."

Ferrel swallows heavily. "Honoured lord of the flower, remember your promise to Planet; you can't kill Hubris just like that without angering our benefactor and protector."

For a moment, rage flashes onto Cha's normally composed face. "You are questioning my wisdom, Lord Ferrel? No? I won't kill her. And if Planet does, then am I to blame?"

Ferrel bows deeply. "Your wisdom is infinite, child of Planet."

Cha nods. "Indeed. Now for you, Hubris. Step into the focus like a good girl." His eyes lock on to a point beyond normal human vision, and for some reason his breath condenses as if he was enveloped in a personal bubble of freezing air. One more whisper escapes his lips. "Into the focus. Into the eye, Hubris..."

***

The ground, inside and immediately surrounding the focus, is covered with locusts, and the air above it is choked with them. From this close, Hubris can hear a gentle rustling, as of wind shaking the leaves of a tree, as their wings happen to meet in the air. Some people slowly approach the focus until they are a mere arm's reach from the swirling cloud. There they stand absolutely still for a moment, and then stumble backwards and fall. They rise again after a short while, some in tears of emotion, and the crowd parts to let them walk away.

Then Hubris sees a woman walk up to the focus. She stops closer than anyone else before her; one of the locusts actually brushes against her hair. She is off to the right, so Hubris can watch her face. It is locked into a blank neutral, but her eyes flash of undeterminable emotions. She slowly raises her arms until they are horizontal, and then begins to dance by shifting weight from one foot to the other in small skips. Suddenly she leaps into the focus, and is covered by locusts. Hubris fails to catch any further glimpse of her, or what's left of her, but in her mind's eye she suddenly recognizes the woman. It was Rebecca Snowdrop.

Then a flood of raw psionic energy envelops Hubris. To her fatigued mind it is drugging, and what's left of her self-consciousness is washed away. She almost smiles as a man hurls himself into the focus while laughing happily, followed by another outpouring of psionic energy.

Then she senses a faint mental tugging. She reflects, in the light-headed way of the drunken, that she is in complete control and can stop whenever she wants to -but there is no reason to stop, is there? She takes a step forward. And another. In front of her and to the right, a woman falls backwards from the focus, and her head lands on the edges of Hubris' robe. She watches the woman's face for a while -it is quite blissful, she thinks- but then she senses the tugging again, stronger than before.

She stops at arm's length from the closest pillar of the focus. She is now so close to the swarm that she can see the the light from Centauri A shimmer on individual locusts as they fly past her face. She can also see some features within the circle itself, like some locusts gnawing on a ribcage. It lies, Hubris thinks, about where Snowdrop had fallen.

But that's not concerning, since none of this really concerns Hubris. She is only watching, clearly not a part of anything. She can stop whenever she likes.

Almost exactly on the other side of the focus, another man literally dives into the cloud of insects. Hubris can see the locusts scatter so they won't be crushed beneath him as he lands, and then he is also covered by them. She fancies she can hear a faint crunching sound. By now several people are standing by the focus at the same time, and about one in ten hurl themselves forward instead of falling back.

The view changes, not by her own will, to that of the mind's eye. She is standing on a vast, featureless plain that is vaguely illuminated with a grey light. Nothing can be seen on it, all the way to the horizon, except dust, rocks and ice. She sees her breath condense in the freezing air. But right at her feet there is a large pit, without apparent bottom. A soft, warm breeze blows from it, carrying with it a faint smell of strawberries and the wisps of tinkly, happy music. She realizes that this is not real, but warmth, food and entertainment is better than this cold gloom, no matter how phantasmal both alternatives are.

So the choice is clear. She steps forward, over the edge of the pit. She stumbles as her foot hits a surface, contrary to expectations, but she manages to take some staggering steps and remain standing, if such words can be used while falling down a pit. She stretches out her arms to revel in the feeling of the wind, but is disappointed as there is no sensation but an increasing heaviness.

Then her normal vision cuts back in, and she sees the concentrically arranged pillars of the focus. From inside the focus. She feels again the weight on her arms, and turns her head. Worming their way along her arms, shoulders, neck and head, taking off and landing, are dozens of Locusts of Chiron.

Then darkness swallows her once more.


End of chapter 52.
[This message has been edited by Raging Mouse (edited January 31, 2001).]

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 53:Tyrant


"Someone has been eavesdropping on our network nodes."

Zakharov raises an eyebrow. "Hmm? What else is new? I should be furious, I really should. But it has happened too frequently. I'm merely gravely disappointed, once again."

Captain Steiner shifts position nervously. "Their interest is new. What they took has no scientific value. They copied some stored footage from a surveillance camera in the red lights -district."

Zakharov chuckles. "Sounds like young, bright rebels looking for some cheap entertainment to me."

"Hardly, sir. The camera shows a monorail station, or more specifically, the network terminal of the station." The captain takes a deep breath. "At sixteen terran hours yesterday, some C-I agents apprehended a morganite businessman accessing that terminal. He was, unknowingly, uploading a new version of the Algorithm, and I wanted to stop him ASAP, as well as trace the Algorithm back to it's source. It was that footage they took."

"Ah. Well." Zakharov sits down, his face unreadable. "That.. was bad. Do you have any idea whose agents it was?"

"The m.o. suggests the Morganites, sir, but I think that ultimately the blame should fall on the Cyborgs. I think we've been doubly set-up here, and that we have failed to understand the true nature of the problem."

"I abhor cryptic statements, captain!"

"The facts are suspicious, Provost. For instance, the reason he stayed so long at the node-terminal was that he had trouble with the interface. I have ordered tests on the terminal and his MMI, and both have performed flawlessly. Further, the man's MMI is of Morgan design. It's electronic, with an electronic merger-upgrade.. and a sleeper-algorithm. I fail to see the logic in that, since it would require surgery to install the necessary MMI-upgrade, and it is too dangerous to waste on sleeper algorithms. Anyway, I suspect that an active algorithm is equally capable of infecting a network node. I don't know what to make of this, Provost."

"I think I do." Zakharov's fingers dart over the inlaid keyboard on his desk. "Observe this."

The holoprojector by the desk flickers to life, and the rotating logo of a morganite holovision-channel appears. It disappears quickly, to be replaced by a corporate logo, while in the background some upbeat music starts. Then an announcer greets the viewers.

Do you have an appendicitis? Is your nail-polish flaking off? Do you want to upgrade your MMI, but don't have time for surgery? Or do you think you need to lose a couple of inches around the waist? Well hesitate no further, for Morgan Industries, in cooperation with Margolith Technologies, has brought you the 'D-X 3000 deluxe' super-surgery-unit! Capable of performing any cosmetic procedure, and all light and medium surgical procedures, at the same time and with staggering precision, it will save you several hours of work and hospital time every week! Just find your closest surgical shop, find an empty booth, give it the instructions and climb in! Maximum duration for any conceivable combination of procedures is two hours, guaranteed, with no rest required afterwards!

The view changes to the inside of a surgical shop, where a middle-aged, fat and bald man climbs, with some difficulty, onto the bed of the machine. He waves and grins at the camera as the bed slides into the belly of the machine, and the hatch closes. Then there is a perceptible flicker of the image, and the text Ninety minutes later appears on the screen. The machine opens, and the bed slides out. The man seems to have lost twenty years and fifty kilograms, and gained considerable amounts of hair on his head. His face is more handsome, and his teeth are all perfect as he grins at the camera. The believability is spoiled somewhat by the fact that the striped boxers he wore on the way in have turned into leopardskin shorts, several sizes smaller. The announcer returns, accompanied by a heavenly choir.

Find your closest D-X 3000 and ask yourself, 'who do you want to be today?'

The commercial ends, and Zakharov drums his fingers on the desk. "The media-research department collects all similar commercials, and this one caught my eye. Basically, it's a downgraded and automated surgical unit with some added cosmetic abilities. Very crude. But I think you see my point."

Steiner is silent, while his lips move. Then leans back in his chair. "How stupid I am, for not spotting that earlier. Margolith, Argolithm, Algorithm. Let's see.." Steiner accesses his MMI. "Margolith was the sponsor of Dorothy's school nine years back, and it was through them that Rita Koskinen became a teacher there.. Now, what of Margolith Technology, hah, itself? Hmm. Branch-offices in.. Morgan Industries. Spannerworks -that's the Free Drones. Forest Primeval of the Gaians. Also the Data Angels. And.. HERE?!" He springs to his feet. "They have an office two blocks away from here!"

Zakharov's fingers fly over the keyboard while he watches streams of information flow past on his monitor. "I'm finding more, Captain. That morganite salesman is working for one of Margolith's subsidiaries." He stops, and leans back. "Very well, the problem is global, and much more organized than we thought. If my suspicions are correct, the Media-Research division will soon issue an alert. I suspect Nwabudike has already seen that footage, and his plans for revenge are well underway."

"Why not tell him of the sleeper algorithms, sir?"

"The technology is too advanced for his security-forces to detect, and I suspect the Morganites are probably much worse off than we are already. Remember, they are supposed to be friends with the Cyborgs. I doubt we could make him believe us. There's a chance that he is already carrying an algorithm." Steiner's comm-link beeps. "You'd better answer that, Captain. I won't mind."

Slightly embarrassed, Steiner activates the link. "Yes?"

"Sir, this is lieutenant Davies. There are riots forming in several cities! Something on the networks have really gone up the noses of the people. Some want you prosecuted."

"Me!? What the- oh no. Have you found the transmission?"

"Yes, sir. It's channel sixty-three."

"I'll get back to you." Steiner closes the comm-link, and Zakharov is already summoning up the correct channel on the holoprojector.

Both the Provost and the captain gasp as they see what is being transmitted. Not only the recent arrest of the businessman, but several raids on the homes of University citizens follow each other in rapid succession with only brief commentaries in between. They both watch in silence, until Zakharov's desk beeps. He glances down.

"That's de Villard from the M-R division. I'll let him in."

De Villard enters, nods at Steiner and shakes hands with Zakharov. "Provost, the Morganites have launched a campaign of defamation against the University. They are hitting us with everything they've got, and the channels are full of it. They are calling you a tyrant!"

Zakharov glances at Steiner and the holoprojector, and then lets his eyes rest on de Villard, one eyebrow raised. "What else is new?"


End of chapter 53.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 54: Knowledge is Power


Lord Ferrel gingerly approaches the center of the hall.

"We have placed the woman in the infirmary and under guard, my lord. There is no change in her condition."

Cha Dawn merely snarls at him. The boy emperor is trying to deal with his wrath; a feeling he has seldom experienced. Ferrel raises an eyebrow and backs away until he is out of the hall. The guards close the double doors in front of him, and he puts on an expression that would endanger his life if shown to Cha Dawn. Then he spins around and storms through the hallways into the chamber of advisors. It is not as vast or as densely decorated as Cha Dawn's, but it will still humble any visitor unaccustomed to luxury. The other seven advisors are already gathered.

"Jonothon, how is our patient doing?"

"Hard to tell, really. I suspect she is actually in communication with Planet -there is activity in the extra-sensory regions of her brain- but I can't be sure, with nothing to compare her case to. We really should convince Cha to let us record one of his sessions with Planet."

Ferrel shakes his head. "Impossible. You know how pathologically suspicious he is of anything -and anyone- that might pose even the slightest danger to his position as sole spokesman for the Planetmind. That's why he is so incensed now- he is mad with the urge to dispose of this 'Hubris' since she is also special to the Planetmind, but Planet has told him not to, and doing so would presumably anger the entity. And Cha can't afford to do that now, when it is evident that the Planetmind actually might turn to some other person for social interaction. No, Cha will guard everything concerning his dealings with Planetmind with even greater paranoia now."

Jonothon bows his head. "You are right. It is a pity, though. What we could learn!"

Ferrel's face breaks out into a smile. "But you forget- now we have another, according to your diagnosis. She might prove helpful in other ways as well, but we will certainly ask how she communicates with the Planetmind when -or if- she comes to."

"Please remember, Lord Ferrel, that my diagnosis is an educated guess, nothing more. My next best guess is that she has suffered massive brain damage. You know that the locusts are literally psionic lighthouses when dancing in the ritual of the path. In fact, I used Nordberg's fractal equations on the dance -I had to approximate, but I think the result is valid- and came up with some interesting figures. Did you know, that in such a dense and complex formation, augmented by the nodes, the neural connectivity could contain micro-currents with an intensity of over fifteen Keldharts?"

"Mmmh. Impressive. So.. Do you have evidence pointing at one of these cases?"

"Well- I have an enigma that would be answered by the first alternative. Let's move to the projector."

The central area of the Hall of Advisors is void except for a collection of large lenses in the ceiling and a small console on a pedestal. The projector is obviously meant to enable it's viewers to walk around and even into the object they are observing. Lord Jonothon walks up to the console and punches in a long code.

"As per standard procedures when Cha Dawn makes a public appearance, the airspace above the Plaza was filled with dozens of small independent surveillance units. I procured the footage from the Branch of Pruning and had it compiled into this three-dimensional representation of yesterday's ceremony. For ease of tracking, Hubris has a yellow outline." The holoprojector hums to life, and the floor below it becomes a miniature of the Plaza of Flowering, complete with bustling crowd. Jonothon points at the image. "See, there she enters the plaza. She's together with one of the communal aides, one Rebecca Snowdrop. I suspect their meeting was partly engineered, but by whom I don't know."

The events of the ritual are narrated, up to the moment Hubris is about to walk into the focus. Jonothon freezes the image and smiles apologetically to the other advisors. "The department of information processing nearly choked when I asked them to track the movements of the individual locusts in this swarm. It paid off, though. Had they merely substituted with a realistic pre-recorded swarm we'd never be able to notice this." He points to the swarm directly in front of Hubris. "I'll outline the locusts with a colour corresponding to their proximity to the viewer. See; they are opening a passage in front of her. Let's go forward five seconds." Hubris takes a long step, followed by some staggering, into the exact center of the focus. The locusts land on her, she glances at them and collapses. And then the locusts fly away from her, accompanied by disbelieveing gasps from the advisors and a grim smile from Jonothon.

"Yes, you were prepared and yet this total change in behaviour shocks you. But you haven't seen anything yet! I'll continue the recording, at half speed. Please try to lean over the image, so that you can observe it directly from above. But don't get in the way of the projector. See? See? Their dance is changing!"

One of the advisors turns half away from the image and scratches his temples. "It's like she's in the center of a vortex. Are the other three swarms reacting in a similar manner?"

"Yes. In fact, their dance becomes ellipsoid, with the point towards this focus. This is the basic pattern. From here, it evolves, as if the swarms are trying out what works in this new pattern. This is the same image an hour later. See how complex it has become? And yet another hour later. Now it's almost indistinguishable from the starting formation. The hole on top has closed, but out image-analyzers have determined that there's a globular 'no-fly-zone' centered on Hubris. Right.. The ceremony lasts for another sixty-four minutes, with a total tally of three hundred and seventy-four taking the ultimate path, Rebecca Snowdrop among them. Let's watch from the point when the locusts leave.. no sound."

Suddenly the seething swarm becomes diffuse on the top, as locusts start breaking off from the intense dance. They are followed by more and more locusts in a steady pace, so it seems as if an invisible bowl of pink and shiny ball-bearings is being slowly emptied. They disappear in the direction of Cha's palatial gardens, while the crowd looks on with arms uplifted in praise, and silent cheers on their faces. Then one of the foremost devotees lets his arms fall to his sides. He turns away to leave, casts one final glance towards the focus.. and stops dead. The advisors can easily imagine his cry of surprise and bewilderment as he rushes towards Hubris' unmoving shape in the otherwise completely empty focus. in seconds, a new and chaotic dance is started as confused and excited cultists run into each other while shouting and cursing. Then some guards appear and clear the space around the focus. At first they approach Hubris with caution, but when they determine she is unconscious, she is quickly removed from the Plaza. After some additional milling, the crowd leaves. It is already quite late by the terran clock.

One of the advisors clasps his hands. "I wonder if any of you have thought of this.."

Ferrel waits for a while, until his patience fails. "Yes, lord Paidar?" he prompts.

"If.. If we could convince Cha to experiment with this.. Say, have him preside in the center of a focus during one of the less complex ceremonies requiring locusts of chiron, then.. who knows? At least the effect on the public mentality would be worth it. He'd be closer to the masses than ever before, and yet totally unapproachable thanks to the locusts." Paidar's face switches from dreaming to serious. "But we'd need to test this first, as it wouldn't do for him to collapse like Hubris."

Ferrel nods. "Very good idea, Paidar. Let's work on it, and prepare the matter for presentation to Cha. He'll probably take some convincing. But this all is still conjecture, since before any of this occurs we must prove -and I stress this- beyond any doubt that Hubris really has communicated with Planet. While impressive, the recording won't do that. So.. how do you plan to go about awakening Hubris, Jonothon?"

"With patience, Lord. With lots of patience."


End of chapter 54.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 55: Misinformation is Power


Lewis looks up as the sounds of forceful knocking rings through the house. He rises slowly and strolls towards the door. Whoever is knocking is in a hurry, and starts to shout.

"Lewis Parks, are you there? This is sergeant Niejev of the CounterInsurgency! Please come to the door!"

Lewis is already opening the door as the young soldier finishes his sentence, and he looks sternly at the man. "Yes? What is it?"

The man shows his badge. "Sir, I have been ordered to escort you with all haste to the laboratory complex, since we have reasons to believe that your safety would be inadequate if you remained here any longer. Is Dorothy Parks and Jessica Parks with you?"

For a moment, Lewis looks like he is going to cry. "No, they're not here.. Dorothy.. my daughter is at the nanohospital. My wife is with her.

The soldier opens his mouth to ask the obvious question, then stops himself and looks over his shoulder. "Then they are safe. The hospitals are well-guarded. Please, professor Parks, you must gather whatever essentials we are able to carry and come with me; we'll be able to carry a great deal as I have an armored vehicle waiting for you. You may have to spend the night at the laboratory-complex."

Lewis nods and motions for the agent to come in. He talks while he grabs a bag and heads for the bathroom. "What is going on? Has the epidemic broken out?"

"Epidemic? No, there's nothing like that. No, riots have broken out in University Central. Even some of the army is supporting the rioters."

"So? This house is in a guarded neighbourhood. There's been fences and checkpoints around the area ever since my daughter got kidnapped. Won't I be safer in here, with the police watching?"

"Trust me, the police is powerless to help you right now. If the mob comes here, it will be with the specific purpose to attack you."

Lewis nearly loses his balance. He leans back against the wall while staring at the agent with a blank expression. "Why?"

"Information about the Mindwash Project has leaked. Also, there's several bits of false information circulating, including a rather artfully made holoprojection of you gleefully dissecting a living University citizen, among a large amount of other things. Simple face-pasting, but they've taken pains to find someone with almost identical measures and proportions to yours. The acting and props are also very good, and very untraceable. Um, that's not the worst of them. Someone really wants to see you destroyed."

Lewis clenches his fists. "Who are 'they' and 'someone'"

"S.L.F. That's all we know, those three letters. Your guess is as good as mine as to what they stand for."

Having packed what he wants, Lewis rushes to the door. Sergeant Niejev lays a hand on his shoulder. "Please, sir, let me make sure there's no danger." He steps casually out of the door and glances quickly left and right. "No problems, professor; the way is clear. The APC is this way."

The APC is extremely low-profiled, yet has room enough inside for Lewis to walk only slightly bent. He sits down on one of the seats along the wall and looks at a blank monitor. "Do you get the public channels on that one?"

The sergeant glances back as he links his MMI to the vehicle's controls. "Yes. What channel?"

"I don't know. What channel distributes those rumours?"

"Number sixty-three. I'll see if they're still on the air.. yes, they are. I'm actually impressed. That's some first-class hiding they must be doing."

The monitor flickers to life, and after twenty seconds of a recording seemingly involving Doctor Zakharov randomly dealing out powerful electrical shocks to a group of people that are bound to metal chairs, the scene changes to something familiar. The voice of the commentator cuts in.

"This is another footage liberated from the archives of the Mindwipe Project. This features the head researcher of the project, in more incomprehensible and cruel tasks." The recording shows Lewis and a team of surgeons opening the skull of a woman and linking a mass of cables to her brain. Suddenly, the woman breaks out in violent seizures, but Lewis does nothing to stop them. He merely watches the monitors and keeps her head still, while chatting with the surgical team.

Sergeant Niejev watches the recording via his MMI-link. "Disgusting! They must have a different actor for that one, since he looks far too young. They've done some sloppy image-processing. But I'm afraid the public will believe it, sir- sir, are you all right?"

Lewis clutches at his chest while staring at the monitor. His face is locked in anguish. His response is hoarse. "That's only half-false. It's a very old recording, and it's perfectly true.. except for the details." He looks wild-eyed at the sergeant, who answers with a blank stare. "I can't explain that recording without revealing some of the University's best kept secrets, sergeant. The fact that someone has it is amazing enough. Please believe me, that wasn't a human being!"

"Would that be.. the Zakharov definition of humans?" Lewis can feel the APC slowing down.

"No, Zakharov doesn't really believe that himself! Uh, I hope. My wife is.. merged with an algorithm, against her will... and while she's lost much of what she was, she's still human."

The APC keeps slowing down. "And.. who did that to your wife..?" Lewis gazes wide-eyed at the monitor as he understands why anyone would ask that question.

"A cyborg called Rita Koskinen did the actual work, but the orders came from Beta himself. Or themselves."

The APC has stopped. "I think you are lying, mister Parks." The agent's voice is a quavering monotone. He removes the link to his MMI. "Perhaps there is more to the truth than I thought. I.L.F. may be right. Even your own wife, for Planet's sake! How could you.." He turns around with a gun in his hand, but he is alone in the APC. The back door swings slowly back and forth, fully open.

Lewis runs around the nearest corner and stops. He leans carefully back and peers at the APC. Sure enough, the agent opens the driver's door and jumps out, gun in hand, and looks around. Lewis pulls away from the corner, turns around and takes a few steps. Only a few meters in front of him is a police blockade, and behind it is an angry mob. There is no more fitting description. The people throw themselves at the police in an attempt to break through, and angry screams fly through the air. Lewis stares at the scene, unsure what to do. Then he sees that some people are pointing at him. In a flash, the rage of the mob increases by several orders of magnitude.

Then someone fires a gun, and a policeman collapses. In the space beyond, Lewis can see a man aiming a laser-pistol at him, but the man is knocked down by the mob that is surging forward through the opening he created. However, the mob also has murder on it's mind. While some leap at the policemen, most seem to be heading straight for Lewis.

He turns around and sprints back towards the APC. He spots the agent, some fifty meters away and running in the wrong direction, and sees his chance. Niejev, however, is alerted by the shouts from the mob. He turns around, spots Lewis and starts running back. He also raises his gun.

Then the sergeant's chest implodes. Someone in the mob has misinterpreted his intentions.

Lewis reaches the APC a good distance ahead of the crowd, and he throws himself into the driver's seat. He rams home the wires of the MMI and leans back as the APC screams to a start. He hears the disappointed roar of the crowd fade in the distance, plus some zip and zing of ricochetting ammunition. Then there's a dull crash, and Lewis looks back to see pieces of the monitor strewn all over the floor. The back door is still open, and someone had a bit better aim than most.

">Agent Niejev, respond immediately! Why did you stop? Why are you leaving your assigned route?<"

Lewis is both startled and relieved to hear the familiar voice over his MMI-link. ">Captain, this is Lewis Parks. Niejev has been killed by a mob, and I'm now driving this APC. How do I find the route?<"

">Professor! Good to hear that you are alive. The APC has a quick-help list accessed via MMI. simply look under 'navigation'. Oh, wait.. there's a security code, too.. Here's the code.<"

">Thanks.<" Lewis looks up the correct entry and explores the functions of the APC via his MMI. In seconds, a map of the city with a clearly marked route is superimposed on his normal vision. ">Captain, I want to get my wife and daughter. They're at the nanohospital.<"

">Blasted Planet, I hate civilians and their wishes!<" Steiner's mental chuckle sounds over the MMI-link. ">But I'd want to do the same. Hang on, we'll feed a new route.. there! Just to be on the safe side, I'll have a chopper assigned to escort you.<"

">Thank you again.<"


End of chapter 55.
[This message has been edited by Raging Mouse (edited February 07, 2001).]

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 56: Planet Dreams


Hear the humming of all the electronics in the room. See the bed. See the woman. The restraints.

Hear the door opening. Hear the footsteps, stopping by the bed.

There is a click, and a voice. "Log five-nine-nine; first inspection of potential extraction-subject. EEG shows waves characteristic of an ordered mind. A good plus." Hear the rustling of paper. "Medical analysis shows an excellent physique. Subject has the fitness of an athletic. Analyzer found no history of drugs. Hmm.. the CAT-scan of the cranium shows some interesting-" There is a pause, and more rustling of paper. A quiet curse, hissed between tight lips. Then the speaker resumes, in an excited voice. "Positive identification! The inspection is terminated, as I must report this quickly.."

Hear the retreating steps, and the door closing with a click.

Hubris dreams, undisturbed.. of Planet.

***

Harm him not you!

Hubris tries to move. She feels like her entire body, from the ends of her hair to her toenails, has gone to sleep, and can't be sure if she is achieving anything. Then she tries to open her eyes. Slowly, the world.. a world.. swims into focus.

"Where am I?" Her voice seems a mere whisper.

EarthHuman calls it PlanetDream. we understand not why; like Earthhuman dream not we.

Hubris can't move at all. She seems to be held firmly by a thick carpet of xenofungus. Only her face is free, and she is looking straight into the canopy of a fungal tower. Her head, she muses, must be resting practically on it's base. The tower, and everthing about her, is pulsing in a slow and powerful rythm, as if fed energy by a mammoth heart.

"But what is this place?"

What mean you, this place?

"This- this fungal tower? Where is it? Why is the fungus growing around me?"

Tower you see? Place we remember you, this. All memories of you. Tower many memories keep, many strange memories. Not know we meaning of many memories.

"But why all the fungus, holding me down?"

Not understand, we. Fungus around tower yes. Hubris here not. Only memories here. Hubris somewhere else. Somewhere close to PlanetCha. Better remember we not. So many memories. Fungus helps remember. Also fungus keep secret.

"What secret?"

Smoothrock here. Helps we remember Hubris. Helps Planetworm and Planetflower grow and be strong. Gives much power to Planetsong. Many more smoothrocks like this, only this smoothrock let we grow and sing with it. Other smoothrocks push away Planetflower and Planetworm. A thought have we. Come here you, teach you Planetsong we. Smoothrock help you learn. Smoothrock help we poetry learn.

"Thank you, Planet. I'll think about it. But could you release me -or send me back- please?"

First promise you not harm PlanetCha.

"Why would I want to harm him?"

For a moment, the great pulse permeating every aspect of this place seems to hesitate. know not we. You want to hurt him, said PlanetCha.

"I don't want to hurt him. Some other people want to hurt him, but that's because he has hurt them. He has pruned some of their brood or parents."

Understand we not. Pruning of animal we, also human you, necessary. This not bad. Hurt Cha not because of this. Stop others.

"Very well, I will try. But it seems very likely that Cha is going to prune me, if I'm not dead already."

Prune you not we. Gave his word, Cha, hurt you not. Live and grow strong, Hubris. Lay many eggs in animal shell to grow your brood and give greater power to Planetsong. Now go.. Tired we, from remembering Hubris. Rest we now..

Hubris feels as if she is being drawn into the fungal tower, and darkness envelops her again. Then a piercing light intrudes upon her consciousness, and she peers around through nearly closed eyelids. From somewhere off to her right there is a beep.

The alto voice of a woman is heard. "Lord, she has awakened. Her neural activity is quickly becoming relatively normal."

Hubris tries to move, but finds she is as restrained as in the dream. A man clad in light brown robes and carrying the symbol of the Cult of Planet on a large necklace walks in front of her bed.

"Greetings, Hubris. I am Lord Jonothon, medical and biotechnical advisor to Cha Dawn, and I have some questions.."


End of chapter 56.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 57: Urban Myths of the University


"Professor Parks, we have found no evidence of the Prometheus Virus in your daughter, and are prepared to transfer her to our recovery-rooms."

Lewis rises from the chair he has been sitting in the last nine hours, right outside the high-risk infirmary of the Lab-Complex. He has seldom felt so tired, yet so relieved, as he does now. "Then what is the current diagnosis?"

"Collapse due to overwork. Her brain seems to have simply said, 'sleep', and there was nothing her body, or we for that matter, could do to change that. She's obviously returning to full health and use of her mental skills, and her MMI is clean -or, at least, the part of it that we could check. I understand we need a special permission from her as well as Doctor Zakharov to bypass the security barriers."

Lewis nods. "That's right. Project M.E.T.H.I.S, highest secrecy." He sighs.

The medical technician, trained in empathy, tilts his head. "What's the matter?"

"I've always wanted to know everything there is to know. That's part of my motivation to rise as high as possible within the research community. And then my daughter got involved in a project concerning MMI:s -she's had several more after the first, actually- that is so secret I'm not allowed to know more than the title and make my own assumptions." The frown is replaced by a happy smile. "I'm so proud over her- she hasn't said so much as a syllable about her work, which is admirable considering how much I have learned about what's going on here over a glass of beer at the closest bar."

The technician smiles slightly. "I see. On one hand, you are dying to know, and on the other hand you would be disappointed if your daughter told you. Well, I can tell that it's something big." He taps on his portable infodisplay. "No-one has been allowed anywhere near her except the doctors with the highest security-ratings, and the authorization for this arrangement included those same letters. M.E.T.H.I.S. On the Provost's orders, of course. I, a first-class senior technician, was about trustworthy enough to fetch the high gents their mugs of coffee from the vending machine, and they still wiped my infopad clean after every visit, just in case."

Lewis snorts, then chuckles. "Ahh, you bring back memories. I was actually first assistant quantum-physicist when we researched on fusion power, and some of the dilemmas I was asked to solve were -on purpose, of course- so far removed from the pure equations that I was at a loss how anyone could benefit from the solution -or what they represented. I've read the entire theory afterwards, and everything I did became clear; I saw where the small contribution I had done fitted in. It is one of my greatest experiences."

"Well, whatever your daughter's been working on, it's on par with your story, at least concerning the security measures. But is it usual to experiment on yourself? I mean, I can't imagine anyone doing that."

"It's not too uncommon. We've lost three heads-of-teams that way, who were all assigned, one after another, to the longevity vaccine -project. However, there are strict rules. You must be quite, quite sure that what you are planning on doing will work without serious risks involved."

The medical technician nods. "Good. That should eliminate my pet theory- that she's been testing something that doesn't work as it should."

"I doubt it. M.E.T.H.I.S, while an open-ended project, was declared a success three years ago already. By the stars, she was only thirteen when she was assigned to it, after completing the simulacrum systems -program. At first it was merely basic research into MMI:s, and then one day she told me that Zakharov was going to declare her project top secret. She got her own lab-time, in my lab since she didn't have her own." He shakes her head. "She was perfectly calm when she told me, as if it was the most natural thing for a thirteen-year-old to be assigned her second top secret research-project."

"I'm amazed, professor! I didn't know this. She must be the youngest person to accomplish this!"

Lewis shakes his head, and his face becomes worried. "No. She's the second youngest. The youngest was ten years old; he'd developed a crude prototype for the particle weapon -principle in his dad's garage." He shakes his head again. "He's dead now; he had a nervous breakdown during the end-stages of the resulting project and tested the finished product on himself."

"Well, don't worry. I can tell that your daughter is quite healthy overall, mentally. If this diagnosis of collapse is correct, then she is very lucky. Another person could have developed serious mental disorders before he collapsed due to overworking. Only a strong and disciplined mind could have steered clear of these more immediate dangers."

"All right. So what now?"

"Well, I've been assigned as her doctor while she recovers, but that mainly means I'm allowed to ask how she is doing every morning. But I'm also ordering a holiday from work. She must have rest, and she must find some hobbies. All right?"

Lewis nods. "Thank you."

"Good. Then I suggest we'll go to the infirmary and see how she is feeling at the moment. It's this way."

They walk away.


End of chapter 57.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 58: Bought


"What if we imprison you?"

"Wouldn't do you much good."

"So, what if we simply kill you?"

"I'd come back."

"From death?"

"No. Not from death. I'd just return here and finish what I have started. Besides, I'd tell Planet. Can you risk losing the favour of the Planetmind?"

Lord Jonothon stops the recording and looks at the assembled advisors. "As you can hear, she has no fears whatsoever for her own safety. Even death, she claims, would not stop her. I assume she is talking about clones. We might not be dealing with the real Hubris here. Obviously, if the original is a strong telepath, she can be in constant contact with all of her clones, thus eliminating the benefits of killing any part of her. Also, this removes several psychological levers we could use on an isolated individual, and even if we somehow manage to crack her, there is still the chance that she mentally conditions her clones to die by telepathic command. In short, even though she is still too weak to rise from the hospital bed, we can't do anything to her."

Ferrel scratches his chin. "Did you ask if she was communicating with Planet?"

"Yes. She said that whatever they talked about was none of our concern." Jonothon shrugs apologetically.

Lord Paidar stirs. "I say, kill her. That'll at least mean it takes some time before she's back with a new clone."

"That's an option, certainly. But not the first one I intend to try. You see, I have the impression that we might negotiate a deal with her, and thus gain access to her talents and resources. I suppose you all see what benefits such an arrangement would have."

Lord Ferrel nods. "You are talking about the wars with the Hive and the Believers."

"Well yes, except I wouldn't call what we're having with the Hive a full-scale war.. nevertheless, we should try to negotiate with her. Do you agree?"

Jonothon lets his gaze travel from person to person, receiving nods as ackowledgement from everyone.

"Very well, then. Let's have her brought to us."

The order is sent, and soon after the double doors open wide to enable two guards pushing a wheelchair to enter. Hubris sits in the wheelchair, her hands and feet chained.

Ferrel nods at her. "I am Lord Ferrel, first advisor of his excellence Cha Dawn. Are you here on a mission to harm us or Cha Dawn? Answer yes or no."

"No."

"Good. Then you are not likely to assault us right now. Guards, remove all shackles but the one around her right foot." The guards obey, while the rest of the Lords squirm nervously. "Good. Now, then.. what is it you really are here for, if it's not that? What do you want from the Cult of Planet?"

"Do you expect me to answer that?"

Lord Paidar growls. "Insolent scum! You will behave more respectfully-" He is silenced by a wave from Ferrel.

"Paidar, cease your charade of injured dignity. This is no mere subject, fit merely for the brood-pits. This is an artisan." He turns to Hubris. "Indeed I do expect you to answer, because depending on it's nature we could come to a compromise."

"What kind of compromise?"

"There are certain mysteries we hope you could illuminate in exchange for what you seek -again, provided your target is something we could afford to lose."

"You wouldn't lose the target; the target would lose it's uniqueness."

"You wish to copy something? Record- ah, you want technology. Do you seek new technology in general or are you here for something special?"

"I want your knowledge of Chiron's ecology and evolution."

"Well, then. We could even provide you with that -up to a point. However, we will do this only after you have helped us."

"How?"

"We are at war. As are the Usurpers, Peacekeepers, Hive, Believers and Spartans. Oh, and the Pirates raid everybody indiscriminately just to keep us out of the seas. Why this state of affairs continues is a mystery. Every time there are peace-talks they fail. Every cease-fire is broken. Diplomatic incidents occur daily, and open sabotage and terrorism is common. What's more, Lal has been phenomenally stubborn in disbelieving most of these incidents, claiming everyone is trying to frame everybody else. What we'd like you to do, is to find out who is pitting us against each other -personally, I suspect the Usurpers- and how it is done. When we have enough knowledge to keep most of our interests safe, we will award you with ChironTech. Mainly, we'd ask you to spy on visiting diplomats, and should you find something out of the ordinary you would follow them to their home country. What do you say?"

"I say I want to think about this. Give me one day."

"You have two hours. Under guard."

Hubris shrugs. "Two hours it is."

"Guards, take her to an empty suite away from the imperial quarters. Should she want nourishment, you will send for some. Do not let her out of your sight. Once two hours have passed, take her back here."

Ferrel smiles as soon as the doors close. "She will, of course, accept."

A tall and spindly man is slowly turning crimson. "Ferrel, I certainly hope you aren't planning on honouring this agreement! ChironTech is our most sacred treasure and should not be given to outsiders for any reason!"

"Quit your spitting, Leward. Don't you think she'd find out the microsecond we decide to betray her? No, if she does the job she'll get what I promised. We'll not include our very latest discoveries, naturally, but still enough to be new for -for whoever is paying her." He grins, and his eyes narrow. "Besides.. what's the best way to spread the word of Planet to the unfaithful? Hide it among something they want to accept and believe in. We'll give her ChironTech, all right.. and much more besides that. Knowledge is power, they say.. and power is what you need to change a state of being; even a state of mind. She'll accept, and become both our spy and our ignorant prophet."

Laughter echoes in the corridors.


End of chapter 58.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 59: S.L.F.


See the room high up in the lab-complex. It is large and white, with spartan furnishings. Formed like a square, with two sides cut in half by a diagonal wall, essentially one large window. Through it shines the light from the two Centaurian primary stars, bathing the interior in rust-red and purple hues the depth of which were never seen on Terra.

Lewis rests his head against the window, gazing out over the cityscape below. From up here, everything seems like business as usual, with the ever-flowing lights of humanity progressing steadily through the city. In reality, however, a small-scale war is fought between rioters -some now calling themselves rebels- and loyalists. The deaths are up in the hundreds, and no-one has even tried to count the wounded. Demonstrators all over the University are loudly demanding that Lewis and Captain Steiner be convicted of a host of crimes. Channel 63 is still sending out new material, some of it filmed from the streets as rioters and police clash.

"What are you looking at?"

Lewis smiles at Dorothy's voice. "The University." He turns towards her. "It doesn't feel like the one I've spent so much time in. And yet I have been instrumental in shaping it." He turns around again and nods at a large structure jutting out from the lab-complex. "That's the fusion-labs. After I had helped discover the practice of fusion, I was assigned as scientific advisor to the engineers who built that. I still remember all of the design-solutions I influenced." His forehead bumps against the glass. "I met Jessica while working on that project." He hits the glass with his fist, producing a dull sound. "What scares me, Dorothy, is that I'm losing everything I've leaned upon for support. Jessica is caring and patient, as she used to be, but there's not a hint of emotion in her. She's only loyal to me or the University because it's what is logical right now. Would a spy from the Cyborgs get to her, she might vanish without a trace."

"And then there's me, isn't there? I'm a scientist like you, now. And you know how time-consuming research is."

Lewis shakes his head. "No, I'm not blaming you or Jessica, or holding you responsible in any way. We do see each other every day, still. But this.. whatever happened to you? Do you know how cool and distant you have appeared these last years? Sometimes you have seemed nothing more than an acquaintance or colleauge, with no family ties. And then this. The riots. People calling me a murderer.. and worse." He sighs. "It makes me wish I could take both of you somewhere else. Living a carefree life in some coastal base, or among the giant forests of the Gaians. Or maybe a modest life with the Free Drones."

"You know you are deceiving yourself, dad. You could never relax away from your labs and your research. It would be the slow and painful wasting of the addicted, should you try to stop researching. As for me.. I am content. But right now I'm not allowed to work for three weeks, so once the chaos is over I could assist you for a while.. Should be nice and relaxing, and we get some time to talk. All right?" She rests her hand on his shoulder and looks out the window.

He pats her hand. "Thank you. We could see if we find some new lane of assault against the Algorithm's encryptation and biological encoding, though I haven't worked with that lately. How about you?"

"No, I haven't. I'd rather wait with that.. let's work on something else. Something nice."

"Very well. Let's make some beautiful science. Do you have anything in mind?"

Dorothy doesn't answer. She looks out of the window, and a strange spark flickers in her eyes. Lewis follows her gaze and sees the nanohospital encased in an expanding cloud of fire and smoke. Then the shockwave reaches them, rattling the window, while a dull thunder vibrates the entire building. Then a second explosion rips out large parts of the facade higher up on the hospital. Great chunks of silksteel tumble down onto the crowded streets below. Then, at the far reaches of the city, a brilliant globe of plasma erupts from what was the main distribution-center for electricity. In a flash, most of the city's lights (and all other electrical equipment) are darkened. Then the globe cools down enough to let the plasma resume gaseous form, and the resulting explosion tears apart everything within a kilometer.

The scene is so monstrous that both Lewis and Dorothy stand paralyzed at the window. Then a warning klaxon starts to hum, and both unfreeze. "Come, Dorothy. That's the general alarm. I'm supposed to find Zakharov, and so are you."

They run out of the room and down several dark corridors. Everywhere, doors are being thrown open and people are emerging; screaming, shouting, swearing or complaining loudly. Eventually, they reach the Provost's office, now illuminated by faint red emergency-lighting. Captain Steiner and some other high officials have already made their way there. Methis, in the form of Mayor Robert Karmazov, sits in a chair in the corner.

"Ah, good to see you, Lewis. And you, Dorothy. As I was saying, prior to your entrance.. Who is detonating bombs in my capital? And what are we capable of doing to stop them?" His demeanor is icy calm.

Captain Steiner salutes. "Their name is the Sentience Liberation Front. They made a public statement on the network nodes ten minutes ago, declaring that they were now at war against the University government due to our 'frequent breaches against the rights of humanity and the sanctity of the mind and soul'. They say they have sent distress-calls to our neighbours, asking for military intervention to 'stop further crimes' and to bring us to justice. They also say they will take action immediately to weaken the government's stranglehold on the citizens of the University, and apologize beforehand for the regrettable loss of innocent lives this could result in. All in all, a very impressive declaration, sir. Someone very skilled has composed the message."

Zakharov's face still reveals no trace of anger. "Captain, they are priority one. Understand? Operation Mindwash is priority two, as long as this group is at large." He turns to another official. "Commander Vabek, what is the situation on the streets?"

The aged soldier nods at Zakharov and stares out into space for a moment. Then; "The civilians have been shocked by the bombs, sir. Most of them are now dispersing, and there are signs that a curfew will be obeyed at this point. I need your signature as well as Mayor Karmazov's for that, however. Also, there are a few pockets of graver civilian disobedience; some drones have acquired improvised weapons and are violently resisting arrest. However, without the backing of the masses they will be a minor matter. The city will be returned to order within the hour, sir."

Zakharov thumps a monitor embedded in is desk. "Here, on my monitor, is reports from four mayors. Edinstvo has lost it's recycling tanks in what they call a methane explosion. Zarya and Svobodny had their hab complexes bombed. While the structures are still standing, they are unsafe for civilian use and will have to be torn down and rebuilt. And.. Mir Lab had it's Centauri Preserve bombed. They are still hunting mindworms in the downtown areas." He looks up. "Commander, put the military on alert. The curfew is concerning all non-essential facilities University-wide and will last all hours of darkness. Labs are, of course, essential. All economy- and science-structures will have round-the-clock guards. Understood?"

"Yes." the Commander salutes and leaves.

Zakharov turns back to Steiner. "You, captain, will change tactics. Every node that you clean from now on will have it's uploading functions disabled. Should they still become infected, you will shut them down. Thus, whoever is distributing these sleeper-algorithms will need to change nodes. Guard the still operating nodes round the clock, and see if you can spot the person or uploading a new algorithm. If so, don't arrest him or her. Put the person under surveillance. Track every move. And as for S.L.F... they will be looking for recruits. You know what that means. Now go."

Steiner leaves, and Zakharov turns to the Parks. "How do you feel, Dorothy?"

"Fine, thank you, Provost."

"Good. Lewis, I need you and Jessica supervising the reconstruction of the energy banks. Since she is still under the influence of that cursed algorithm, we might as well utilize that. She will be guarded, of course. Dorothy, do you think you could direct the repairs on the nanohospital?"

"Yes, no problem."

"Good. Then let the firemen and the police work, and once the rubble is cleared away you can inspect what is salvageable.. although I suspect it won't be much. Good luck, to both of you."

They leave. As they walk towards the elevators, Lewis looks curiously at Dorothy. "When did you study nanotechnology?"

"Two years ago. I headed a research-project on the subject last year. How so?"

"You are spreading out rather widely, aren't you? Cybernetics is a subject with no discernible boundaries, so why investigate another subject?"

"Actually, it was a combined nanotech/cybernetics -project. I can't tell you the details, I'm afraid." She smiles apologetically. "Sorry about that. You know how it is."

Lewis chuckles. "Much better than I'd prefer."


***


In his office, Zakharov turns to Karmazov/Methis. "What do you think of all this?"

"It is quite clear. As a steadily larger portion of the MMI-users receive sleeper-algorithms -remember, that the public nodes are but one of many possible sources of 'infection'- they are becoming increasingly negatively disposed towards you and your staff. Unlike Steiner, I suggest that the algorithms are 'awakening' slowly, rather than in sudden bursts. The carriers will feel more and more benign towards the Consciousness, which will correspond directly to their likelyhood of assisting any agent of the Consciousness. I estimate, that when every fifth MMI-user, or ten per cent of the entire population, is carrying a sleeper algorithm, the unrest and antipathy will reach a climax.. a rebellion. The algorithms will fully activate, providing leaders and coordinators."

Zakharov nods. "And with the civilans here, and the army patrolling the Consciousness/University border, nothing will stop the populace from succeeding. Very well, what's the current estimated ratio of sleeper-algorithms?"

"Seven point three nine per cent of the entire population."

Zakharov leans back and gazes at the roof. "Do you see any way out of this, that lies within our abilities?"

Methis is silent for a moment. "No. Unless outside factors contribute to change the situation in our favour, there is little hope of avoiding the rebellion. Increasing the military presence in University Central would merely postpone the inevitable."

"We should warn the rest of the world about this. Even if we are lost, others might be able to fight Beta. I'll prepare a statement to the other factions. Also, I will buy time. Pull back two of your regiments from the border. They'll get some rest while they serve as a military police."

Methis nods. "Very well."


End of chapter 59.