The Wizard of Chiron

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 60: Terms of Agreement


"I will accept, on certain conditions."

"Go on."

"I work unsupervised. I choose my own assistants, and I choose whomever I want. That they will operate undisturbed, with a clean record and with immunity, goes without saying. I want full access to your records of citizens, also all your crime- and intelligence records. I choose my own weapons and equipment."

A cough. "To sum it up, we are to know and do as little as possible, while you are to know and do as much as possible."

"The less you know, the better. Do not misunderstand me on this. I see no reason why whoever is behind this already wouldn't know what you are doing, so the less you know the safer I, and my recruits, will be."

Lord ferrel smiles a humourless little smile. "Details, details. The conditions are acceptable, but we'll need to discuss matters of practice. For example, our data-systems are complex, and won't open easily for one not trained in their operation. How do you propose to handle that?"

"The second node-administrator Celan Barr will take care of that. You will, of course, make sure he has access to all parts of the registers."

"Very well. But what do you expect to find from these registers?"

"Suspects. I have suspicions of my own concerning the guilty party, and I might find leads in the records."

"Useless. Our criminals are interrogated by a psionicist, so we'd have found out if they are linked to these wars."

Hubris shakes her head. "Telepathic scans, while normally reliable, would not reveal a thing about the kind of person I am looking for.. and that is already revealing too much. Besides, haven't you already developed methods enabling you to hide your true motives and memories from such scans? Trust me, I know what I am doing better than any of you would, and much better than your Branch of Pruning. I have agreed to help you.. Honour my conditions and let me take care of everything else."

"There is one other thing. You must hurry. The Usurpers made a sneak attack on one of our border patrols only half an hour ago, and since then they've rolled over our border in an unstoppable stream."

"I will be fast." She is silent for a moment. "Cha is furious. And close by."

The doors to the Hall of Advisors slam open, and the advisors turn simultaneously. Ferrel is the first to bow deeply, and the other advisors follow his lead. Hubris turns around and comes face to face with Cha Dawn. She looks down, into his pink eyes, and notes he has menace on his mind.

"Stand aside, spy."

Hubris takes two long steps out of his way, and he walks up to Lord Ferrel. "Advisors.. what is this?"

Ferrel bows again. "The mercenary spy Hubris has agreed to work for the glory of Planet, oh Prophet."

"And did I tell you to ask her? Did you even tell me that she had recovered?"

"No, lord, we did not."

"Why not?"

"Lord, it is a minor matter, and you should not-"

"Minor matter? Should not? Lord Ferrel, do you maybe think I should concentrate on talking to Planet and let you advisors take care of the day-to-day business of the Cult? Maybe I will.. Maybe I will leave you altogether, and talk to Planet somewhere else? Do you think you'd survive? Have you an army that can stand up to the Usurpers? Do you know how to remove the young broods from planet's influence without diminishing their power, as the other factions are reduced to doing?" He points at Hubris and shouts: "Without me around, would she still be working against us, instead of being caught?" He grits his teeth. "You need a lesson."

The floor explodes around the petrified advisors, showering the entire room with shards of stone and marble. Ferrel tries vainly to stop the blood gushing from the numerous cuts on his arms. "Please, Cha, we were acting with the best intentions of the Cult and of Planet! We stand by you, but can only do so when you listen to our advice! Please.. curb your anger and see the wisdom in our actions!" His voice is weak and hoarse, and he sinks onto his knees. The other advisors are either trying to crawl away or are lying still and moaning.

Cha's face shows no mercy. "Which action is that? The failure to come to me with matters of state, or the unauthorized negotiations with a hostile spy?"

Ferrel loses his temper and pounds an intact part of the floor, smearing it with blood. "She is not an enemy anymore, Cha! She is our best hope of surviving.. You know what would happen, should the Hive, now of all times, decide we are a threat rather than a nuisance! Or a fruit ripe for the picking! We have no choice, for Planet's sake!"

Cha turns towards Hubris.. or at the empty wheelchair where he expects Hubris to be. Then he looks around quickly and spots her standing not far away, calmly picking a marble shard out of her arm. She looks at him critically. "You have tried to kill me, Cha. You might have fooled Planet, but you didn't fool me. It was your will, with Planet's backing, that drove me into the focus. I've got no hard feelings, but I do have some free advice. Just because you are the most powerful telepath on Planet doesn't mean you are invincible. Would I be here to kill you.. then you'd be dead. Period. And your advisors act as a shield against much of the world.. don't throw them away. Or else you, and a huge amount of other people, will be killed. Period. While I don't know everything, I suspect your nation is far, far up the creek without a paddle, and a lot of your neighbours have the same problem. Let me deal with it or pray to Planet for salvation.. or death."

Cha marches up to her, eyes blazing. "The spy speaks. Was your wisdom sufficient to evade me? No." His voice turns mocking. "If that was the extent of your power, then I might as well turn you over to the Branch of Pruning. They have a better chance than you, you insolent, bragging-" His eyes pop wide open and his face turns white.

Hubris smiles a neat little smile. "Can you match that, boy? Do you have a weapon of similar power? If not, then perhaps you'll make sure your advisors get some medical attention and then let me start my work." She pats him on the shoulder, and he flinches from the touch. Then she walks out of the room. After some hesitation, the guards let her pass.

Ferrel has torn scraps from his robe and bandaged his arms. Now he approaches Cha Dawn cautiously. "Lord, did she hurt you?"

Cha gives him an absent-minded glance and returns to staring after her. "No.. She showed me something." Then his thoughts return to the present. "Guards, send for the doctors.. and the builders." He turns fully towards Ferrel. "Be your decisions wise or not, next time you try to run the Cult without consulting me.. it will be your skull that explodes. Understood?"

Ferrel's head slumps towards his chest. "Yes, my Lord."


End of chapter 60.

[Raging Mouse]

The need for secrecy, and a way to relay those secrets without fear of interception, led to a general failure in attempts to enforce standards of technology and measurements, of which the wildly different designs of MMI were but a small indication. The factions of Chiron all developed different modes of communication to keep their messages safe. Pravin Lal, for example half-heartedly used techniques of compression and encoding, otherwise relying on standard radio-traffics. Rumours circulated that each Hive city was connected by hundreds of kilometers of optic cable, and even though the inhabitants of Chiron believed this to be untrue, it would have only ranked as a mediocre attempt. Truly off the scale in communications-scrambling were the two Progenitor nations, having salvaged several thousand tiny and extremely versatile commlinks from their escape-pods. They used frequencies and energies that would not be properly understood by Humanity until long after we had started colonizing the stars again. A good second attempt came from the Cybernetic Consciousness, with so many different modes of communications -many of which they could use simultaneously- that historians are still rediscovering and implementing some every now and again.

- Reprinted by permission from 'Encyclopedia Imperia'.


Chapter 61: Game.


See the scaffolding, as it starts fifty meters deep, in a pit, and towers a hundred meters into the air, against the background of a glorious Chiron day. Both Alpha and Beta are high, making the sky a vividly purple bowl with an orange tint along the horizon. A few pinkish cumulus-clouds seem nailed to the sky. The site of the former energy-bank has been cleared, and a new one is quickly prepared. Everything that would benefit from being bigger shall be so. If some component would be more efficient if it was smaller, then work has been done to reduce it's size. Everything will be better; it is the slogan of the times.. Tomorrow will be better, citizens. Stay calm and work hard, to make it true.

On the twentieth floor, wearing an atmospheric filtration unit, Jessica Parks Rho-Five surveys the initial construction-work with a pair of binoculars. As the chief architect, much of the responsibility is hers and every detail must be checked. Luckily, she has a memory honed to perfection by the splinter of the Algorithm sharing her mind. Unfortunately, that same splinter makes the presence of the guard necessary.

It is a good guard; one of the C-I:s best. Even up here, on a silksteel girder less than thirty centimeters wide, her full attention is on Jessica. The filtration unit she is wearing disturbs her not the slightest. Every move is noted and analysed. Even so, she is about to fail her assignment.

Faint shouts echo from the street below, and Jessica takes the binoculars from her eyes and looks down. The guard follows her gaze. "What is it?"

Jessica sees a large crowd gathered around two people holding a banner between them. She sees the military patrol arrive, and sees how the crowd reacts with hostility to their presence. She sees the man with a pair binoculars at the back of the crowd, looking back up at her. He sees how he makes quick and complex signs with his right hand.

What is the code to unlock your vehicle and defuse the alarms, he asks.

"What is going on?"

Jessica lowers her binoculars and turns towards her guard. "Some kind of demonstration is turning violent. Here, take a look." She hands her binoculars to the woman. As the woman grabs the binoculars and aims them at the crowd, Jessica flashes a rapid answer using her right hand.

Three-nine-nine-nine-zero-three-four. Then press the 'Cancel'-button instead of 'OK'. Now look away!

The guard's mouth thins out into a line, and she grabs her commlink. "Number four to central, what is going on at the corner of 135th and Tolstoi?" She listens for a while. "Thank you. Out." She turns to Jessica and hands back her binoculars. "Miss, we should move away from here; let's walk to the other side. After you."

Jessica steps onto a girder leading into the maze of scaffolding, and the guard follows her. "Your escort this evening will be a police-unit rather than the normal military vehicle. The soldiers had to arrest some dissidents and bring them to the lab-complex for questioning and medical scans."

Down on the ground, Lewis' and Jessica's car drives around a corner.

Jessica nods. "Very well. Will they be present immediately? I don't have many more tasks planned for today."

"They arrived as I watched."

"Good.. Let's go to site fifteen, it's almost exactly on the other side."


****


Lewis points at a complex device. "Those things, over there. Do you recognize them?"

The head engineer nods. "They're mark sixteen capacitors, aren't they?"

"That's correct. Their positioning and installation has changed quite a bit from the last bank. I want you to pay attention to sections 205 B and 105 A through C of the drawings when you install them; about a month from now if the schedule holds. I'll remind you later as well, but you might take some time off to study the changes already now. Okay?"

Some more nods. "I'll look at them, professor. Was there anything else?"

Lewis checks his list. "No, that's it. I'll see you next week."

They shake hands, and Lewis steps out of the huge shed containing the first material to be used in the rebuilding of the energy-bank. He grabs his commlink.

"Jessica, I'm all done for the day. How about you?"

"I still have about three hours of work to do. I can take a cab when I'm ready. Oh yes, a police-unit will serve as escort today."

"Oh? All right. See you at home." Lewis puts away the commlink and walks out of the construction site. Outside, he nods to a sergeant leaning towards an armored personnel-carrier painted in police colours. "Evening, sergeant."

"Evening, sir. Is not your wife with you?"

"No, she's still got work to do."

The sergeant nods. "I'll radio for another unit to come and wait for her." He nods towards a car. "Is that your car?"

Lewis glances at it. "Yes, it is. Do we have an assigned route today?"

"Yes. We'll have to avoid the central areas, as there's some unrest going on there. We'll take the route past the old industrial yards instead. It should be virtually abandoned at this time of day. Just follow us."

The old industrial yards are a remnant from the first century of University Central; large factories, stripped of all metals until only their skeletons remain, that served as the first nodes of infrastructure in a fledgling economy desperate for materials. Smelters, ironworks, assembly yards.. even a small-size spaceport; one of the last giant industries to be placed in the area. Three of the University's first satellites were launched from there. Then Zakharov geared the industry to use the new versatile assembly-lines, meaning that a factory could produce virtually anything with only minimal need for retooling. Those production centers were erected at a new and now better-situated site, since the city had moved. Left are only crumbling, ceramic exoskeletons of once majestic buildings, riddled with holes; a popular hideout for criminals and thrillseekers.

One or two structures are significant enough to draw the occasional group of well-guarded tourists; like the rocket pit. Gently sloping paths lead fifty meters down, forming a slowly deepening asterisk towards the center. On the edges of the pit, above the roads, are the shells of once-powerful cranes used to assemble the launch-rockets, who were then fired towards the stars with their cargo of instruments. Lewis is pleased to notice that the police-APC is driving onto one of the roads leading down into the pit; he has seldom been here, and is glad to be able to marvel at the structure's size. Girders and scaffolding criss-cross above the road as soon as it sinks far enough below ground level, their gnawed-out forms blending into a dark spiderweb when seen from underneath. The scene is quite beautiful, with it's network of shadows, and Lewis is so engrossed by it that he almost fails to notice that the APC is slowing down.

He taps the brakes quickly to avoid colliding with it. Then he starts to worry; what is going on? He steers slightly to the left to see if something is blocking their path, and sees a car.

His jaw slackens. It's his car, or an exact replica of it. Right then he hears a small pop, and sees how thick, yellow fumes boil out from under his seat. He puts his hand over his mouth and tries to brake, but the car won't respond. It is slowly coming to a halt directly behind the APC. Then he tries to open the door, but to no effect. In front of him, the back door of the APC opens and several people step out. One of them looks very much like Lewis, and is clad in similar clothes. There are also several people lying on the floor of the APC. They are almost naked, and obviously dead. Lewis deduces that they are what's left of the real police-unit.

The fumes have now evened out into a fine yellow haze inside the car. Lewis realizes he is trapped, and that his breath will run out in a matter of seconds.

End of chapter 61.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 62: Set


See Morgan Studios, one of the newest morganite bases. It is still a maze of scaffolding, as the initial mad expansion to make room for all the immigrants has not yet slowed down. In this chaotic time, the mayor of the base has still decided to look towards the future; his future as a mayor over content citizens. He's ordered construction of a hologram theatre, to keep the populace at peace.

This won't do at all to the Free Drone probe-team assigned to increase unrest until the base can be subverted. The base extends it's economic and military influence far into territories that Domai considers Free Drone holdings, so the base must either go or switch sides. So, to keep things going the way the Free Drones want them to, Balbo is hanging from a plasma-steel girder with his legs while he sets the time on the last of sixteen bombs, destined to break the massive supporting pillars they are attached to.

">How are you doing?<"

">Sheesh, do you have to ask twice every minute? I'm just done. Oh great- I nearly lost the spanner. Look, I need to concentrate up here.<"

">Suit yourself. I just thought I'd mention that we're being recalled.<"

">WHA- oh no, watch out below!<"

Balbo watches the silver twinkling of the spanner as it falls away from him. It bounces into a crane, sending it careening in a wild arc before it disappears from his view.

">I see it. Can you finish the job without it?<"

Balbo celebrates his solitude among the scaffolding by swearing viciously, taking care not to sound anything through his MMI. ">Yes I can, because I'm finished now! This last one will have to manage with only one bolt holding it.<" He grabs hold of the girder he is hanging from and hoists himself up. Soon he is descending towards the ground again, in one of the elevators. ">Why are we being recalled?<"

">I don't know. Jasonian didn't want to say much, except that Domai must be crazy.<"

">Well, the explanation had better be at least as good as that. I didn't sign up to the teams to be moved like some chess-piece all over the place.<"

The elevator reaches the ground, and Balbo nods towards Laysa.

"Balbo, how much time did you put on the clocks?"

He stops and thinks. "Let's see.. there should be some five minutes left."

"Good. Quick, let's find a restaurant with a view to the show."

They walk off. Four minutes and fourty-seven seconds later the construction-plans for a hologram theatre in Morgan Studios are reduced to shambles.


****


"Hello, Dorothy. You had a long day at work today."

Dorothy frowns. "Yes, well, I had to make two round-trips between the lab complex and the nanohospital. The second time, some engineer got panicked because most of the grade three nanites were threatening to escape from their cracked containers and into the sewers. I spent two hours trying to contain them in a magnetic field before the engineer calmed down and remembered that they wouldn't survive outside the containers unless a steady current of six volts flowed through them at all times. Needless to say, this has not been a good day." She looks around. "Is dad here?"

Jessica shakes her head. "He's asked that we spend the afternoon relaxing by the old rocket-pit. I've got food ready and packed, so we could go there immediately. The car's in the garage, so we won't need to call a cab."

"Sounds good. All right, I'll just freshen up before we leave."

Half an hour later Dorothy steps out of the front door and walks up to the police-APC. She looks at it curiously. A sergeant notices her and approaches.

"Can I help you, miss Parks?"

"Where's the standard military escort?"

"They had to arrest some demonstrators and bring them to the lab complex. We were assigned instead to escort you for the rest of this evening."

"All right." She nods at Jessica, who is opening the garage door. "We're going by car to the old rocket-pit."

The sergeant nods. "Very well, though I must ask that Jessica travels with us for security reasons."

Dorothy opens her mouth to object, but Jessica pats her on the shoulder. "It's a perfectly logical demand, Dorothy. I'll just stow the food in the trunk."

The sergeant salutes and smiles. "No need for that, there's plenty of room in the APC. Allow me.."

Dorothy shrugs and walks to the car while Jessica is being helped into the personnel carrier.

The old industrial yards bring back memories to Dorothy. While she's too young to have seen them in their primes, she's had many adventures in the abandoned shells. Significantly, many scars and bruises, plus some broken bones, were created here while Dorothy learned to control the mono-grav of her childhood. To these old ruins she sneaked away to meet with her friends and play 'hunt the mindworm', 'hide and seek', and various contests of skill and courage.

Then they heard about a girl missing from a similar group of children. A large search-party was organized, and the entire area was carefully combed until the girl was found. She had fallen into a deep shaft filled with rubble and water. Her head had hit the wall of the shaft, rendering her unconscious. She had drowned.

After that, no-one had dared go to the old yards again.

However, the memories are still numerous. Dorothy smiles or grimaces as the memories, happy or embarrassing, march by her inner vision.

She is brought out of her reverie by a small pop. She looks out of the front window and notices that the car is slowing down, even though it should be maintaining a steady speed. Next, she notices that she can't make the steering-wheel budge.

Only then does she notice the yellow mist boiling forth from under her seat. She shuts her mouth and pinches her nose.

Then she thinks for a moment, shrugs.. and takes a deep breath.

She is instantly unconscious.


End of chapter 62.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 63: Match!


Consciousness is slowly flowing back into Lewis' mind. With it comes messages from various parts of his body, disjointed at first. His head is throbbing in pace with his heart. His mouth is dry. His shoulders and wrists are aching.

He tries to move his arms, but they refuse to budge. As more feeling returns to them, he realizes they are bound. He cracks open his eyelids and peers groggily at the concrete floor in front of him. Apparently, he is standing upright. He straightens up and looks around.

He has been tied by his arms and legs to a metal pillar, in what appears to be the top floor of a run-down factory. There are large holes in the roof, exposing the sky. Lewis supposes that he is still somewhere among the old industrial yards. The hall is full of crates and equipment. Computers, weaponry, medical equipment.. and cameras. Several monitors are active, and some display the revolving logo of Channel sixty-three..

Lewis hears the silent shuffling of several people approaching. He tries to look behind him, and sees a familiar woman walk around the pillar until she is standing directly in fromt of him. Behind her, two men carry the unconscious shape of Dorothy up to a pillar, where they tie her in a similar fashion as Lewis. He notes, though, that Dorothy is tied much more firmly to the pillar. All the while, the hauntingly familiar woman has been standing in front of Lewis and studying his expression with every sign of amusement. Finally, he remembers.

"Rita."

He is answered by broad smile. "You remember me; I'm flattered." She shakes her head. "Tsk, tsk. You should have merged like a sensible person the last time I made the opportunity available to you." She trusts her face close to Lewis', and her eyes flash with hate. "You creep, do you realize what I've had to endure because of you? Nine years without a hope of upgrading as 'reward' for failing to capture you and Dorothy together." She smiles brightly again. "But now I have you both. My suffering will be over, finally. All I have to do is report the outcome of this, and I'll be upgraded to Iota."

Lewis stares at her in horror. "You want to be merged? Don't you want to be free?" He whispers.

She grimaces at him. "Of course I want be merged, you fool! Why should I endure one second of the alternative misery? Being merged is so much better in every possible way. And it is a true freedom, unchained by emotions. To think that you are trying to remove your wife's algorithm.. what kind of monster are you? Do you really think she could be happy without it? Confined inside her own emotions, forever insecure?"

"She has been happy for countless years without any, and she will be happy again!" He gives Rita a withering look. "She is in control of her emotions."

Rita shudders and shakes her head. "Luckily, your insanity will stop here. You see, there's only two ways out of this building for you, and both include you walking out of here as a fresh member of the Consciousness." She lowers her voice to a hiss. "The difference between the two is that in the first scenario your daughter accompanies you.. for you will have deactivated the defensive algorithms protecting her, and overseen the downloading and merger of her algorithm personally. The other is that you leave, alone... If you won't accept merger right now, we'll kill Dorothy." She smiles. "Then you will perhaps see the merits of merging with the algorithm and be free of your sorrow, hate and fear."

Lewis gives her a steady look. "What if I still refuse?"

Rita shrugs. "Then you won't leave this building. Ever. There's a pit in the basement.. it's over twenty meters deep. We'll drop you in and pour down some concrete until the pit is only ten meters deep."

Lewis is silent for a while. He looks across the hall at Dorothy, who has awakened as well.

"So, how long does it take before you accept matters as they are, Lewis? Will you accept merger now, or will you draw this out more than necessary, to the great disadvantage of Dorothy?"

Dorothy looks straight into Lewis's eyes and shakes her head. "Don't accept."

Rita turns around to face Dorothy. "Are you so eager to lose your life then, Dorothy? Has Zakharov cut away everything that is human in you already? Maybe you would accept the Consciousness.. if I let your father go?" She walks to a spot equally far from both Lewis and Dorothy. "One thing is sure. Your lives as citizens of the University will end today and within the hour. You'd both make an invaluable contribution to the Consciousness, so you can expect a luxurious existence as merged talents, in spite of all the trouble you have caused." She lowers her head. "However, there is one member of the Parks that isn't irreplacable. Jessica!"

Jessica walks calmly into view and stops next to Rita. "Yes?"

"I'm afraid your family is stubborn. So.." She motions to one of the other probe-operatives who throws a rifle to her. "You may have to pay for their stupidity. It's a shame, but that's life. What have you to say now, Lewis? Dorothy?"

Lewis opens his mouth to shout a curse, but Dorothy is quicker. "That won't help. I know you keep images of each and every merged person's mind in your databanks, together with their genetic makeup. Even if you shoot her, she can be speed-grown a new body, and her neurons imprinted with the most recent image. She'd only lose half an hour of her memories, at most." She smiles. "And we could still attempt to remove the algorithm."

Rita nods. "All right, I was bluffing. Partially. It's clear, Dorothy, that no-one could convince you to merge, no matter what. I wonder what Zakharov has done to you?"

Lewis snarls. "Why do you keep referring to Zakharov?"

Rita glances at him and flashes an evil smile. "You actually don't know? Bring a holo-projector here." The two probe-operatives quickly push a small-scale model in front of her. She places a memory-crystal into the assigned slot and operates the controls. The projector flickers to life showing an operating room. Lewis recognizes almost every detail of it, and knows he has been there plenty of times. It, and it's staff of surgeons, was assigned to his team as they started growing additional living interfaces for Methis.

Only this isn't a recording of that. The team of surgeons is the same, but instead of Lewis, Zakharov is leading the operation. And the subject.. is Dorothy, approximate age ten-eleven. As Zakharov wields the laser-scalpel, Lewis feverishly tries to spot any sign that he could latch on to and claim that it is proof of a falsification. But the image is too sharp. There is even sound. Zakharov's dry and strictly proffessional comments and orders to the surgeons. The dry hiss of the laser as it cuts skin and bone. The organic sounds as the cranium is opened, and the neural connectors applied. The hum from the machines as they are activated. By the time Dorothy's body starts to twitch in response to the invasive neural re-routing, Lewis feels so intensely sick that almost every ounce of his willpower is needed to calm his retching. He is almost glad, for it takes his attention away from the ongoing horror on the holo-display.

The view fades away. The probe-operatives wheel away the projector, and Rita walks up to Lewis' side. She speaks in soft tones. "We can help you get your revenge. But not as long as you refuse to merge. And what do you have left, keeping you back?"

Lewis looks at Dorothy -or, what appears to be Dorothy. His eyes utter a silent, pleading question.

"I am Dorothy, dad. You know that I am."

Lewis nods, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I believe you. I.. believe you."

Rita shakes her head. She speaks in a dead monotone. "I don't. I know what I saw. You are but a mindless tool for Zakharov." She aims her gun. And squeezes the trigger.

Lewis sees and hears everything in stop-motion horror. A dull thump and a brilliant clang sounds almost at the same time. Rita's arm is forced upwards from the recoil of her gun. Dorothy's chest quivers, and a red stain appears. A cloud of red droplets, combined with flakes of steel from the pillar she's been tied to, appears behind her. And far behind her, there is a pock and some cracks in the concrete wall as what's left of the bullet impacts into it. And last, the ears register a scream, his scream, that fades into a wail and finally ends in a single sob. Dorothy's head slumps down towards her chest, and the red stain spreads fast.

Rita grabs hold of Lewis' hair and forces him to look at her. "We'll bury your daughter -or clone, or whatever she was- in the pit. While we're doing that, you can decide if you want to join her or not." She looks at Jessica. "Think about your wife. She's now all that you have left."

Rita cuts loose the ropes around Dorothy's arms and legs, and her body slumps to the floor, revealing a gaping crater in her back. The two probe-operatives grab her arms and legs, lift her up and carry her away. Rita follows them, throwing one last comment before disappearing into view:

"Remember- you have time until we have returned."

Lewis doesn't answer. He lets his chin rest against his chest while he cries silently, the tears running down to the tip of his nose and dropping on his shoes. He doesn't react when Jessica touches his arm.

"Please, Lewis. You must see that this is pointless. Accept merger, and all of this pain will go away."

He doesn't answer. She grabs his chin and pulls his head upright, produces a handkerchief from a pocket and wipes away his tears.

"Please, don't throw away your life. You could do so much good, discover so much, if only you'd join the Consciousness. At least, couldn't you do it for me -oh." She looks at something behind him.

Suddenly, a soldier clad in black and wielding a fusion laser appears within Lewis' field of vision. He signals to Jessica to be silent, and then grabs her wrist and pulls her away. Someone else cuts Lewis' bonds, and he collapses on the floor. He is picked up by strong hands, and someone throws him onto a shoulder. A familiar voice murmurs to him. "Captain Steiner here. We'll soon get you to safety-" He is interrupted by the sound of gunfire, and he starts running even as he carries Lewis. Before Lewis realizes what is happening, Steiner has jumped out of a window. But instead of falling, he swings back against the wall, level with the second floor. He cushions the impact with his legs. Then he descends slowly until he is standing on flat ground again. He puts down Lewis and unties the rope around his waist. Then he walks away, leaving Lewis sitting by the wall of the factory.

"Who fired? Where are the suspects?"

A soldier runs up to the captain and salutes. "Sir, the suspects have escaped underground through some old maintenance-tunnels. We don't know where they lead."

Steiner starts cursing violently, and Lewis closes his eyes. He shuts out the world, concentrating on his aching body, and feels the tears start rolling again.

A soft hand caresses Lewis' hair. He smiles through his tears, raises an arm and squeezes the hand gently. It is a hand he knows well, for it belongs to-

His eyes slam open and he stares at the standing figure, clad in a black stealth-suit, carrying a rifle and looking mournfully down at him.

"Dorothy."

He faints.


End of chapter 63.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 64: The Explanation that Satisfied


See Free Drone Central, through the windows of a conference-room at the aerospace complex.

"Ah, Balbo.. Laysa.. good to see you. I hope your trip was uneventful? Great. Then, this is what you'll be doing next; there's a transport jet that will take off for an unknown destination four hours from now. It has room for you and your team, plus any equipment you might need. You will be met by your new employer, here's a file containing all we know about this whole affair. As you can see, it's one page thick. Any questions?" Jasonian takes a deep breath and grins at the stunned pair of probe-operatives. "Was that too fast for you? Want me to take it again, slower this time?"

Balbo stutters indignantly. "What's going on here? Why are we-"

Jasonian holds up a hand. "I'm sorry, I'm rather tired of this whole affair. The orders came from Domai, and he's unwilling to tell me why it must be you, or why it's such a hurry, or anything." He rubs his temples. "Do you think you have questions that I could answer?"

Laysa asks, quietly, "Are we being punished?"

"Not as far as I'm aware. Domai seemed.. excited." Jasonian sits down on a chair, leans back and crosses his arms. "He received a call from Provost Zakharov.. a long call.. and when he closed the connection, he immediately summoned his entire staff." He blinks. "He seemed almost in panic. He asked strange, searching questions to his medical experts, concerning MMI:s. Then he ordered the police to raid the offices of Margolith Mindsoft in Spannerworks, close down the company and arrest all executives." He sighs. "That was two days ago. Yesterday the report from the raid came, a damn thick document labeled 'top secret' even before it reached him. He spent two hours reading it, as far as I'm aware.. then he called Zakharov. They had another long discussion. And.. as soon as they were done talking, he summoned me."

"What did he say?"

Jasonian scratches his chin. "First he looked at me, suspiciously. After some time he asked, 'Jasonian, you don't happen to have an MMI, do you?' I told him no, I haven't needed one yet. Then he asked, 'What about the two foremen of that probe-team you have under your command? Have they used their MMI:s much in public networks?' I said I don't think so, since you only had had them for two weeks before I sent you to Morgan Studios, and that you were forbidden to use them for recreation while on a mission. He nodded and chewed on his knuckles. Then he raised his head, looked straight into my eyes and said, 'I have received a request for their probe-team to be assigned a rather special mission. And.. I'm going to say that they are on their way.' Then he almost smiles at me, and hands me that piece of paper without saying another word." He lets out a tired sigh."Look, I fully understand if you refuse to go on this mission unless you receive more information, and I am prepared to back you up if you want to take this to Domai. I don't see why the University sould have need of you and your team, or why on Chiron we should accept. Zakharov isn't honest, and he sure doesn't have any morals to speak of."

Balbo shrugs. "Oh, I don't know. It's just that this is so sudden and everything. If we really are heading to the University, then it would be fun to try and meet Dorothy again, or at least try to find out what has happened to her. I've wondered about that ever since our probe-trainees returned without her. No mention of her was made by the Morganites."

Jasonian nods. "Yes, I know. I tried some innocent questions, but they were only met with confusion. I don't think the Morganites ever caught her."

Laysa speaks. "Don't forget that Jim was with her. That old pirate is right at home anywhere."

Balbo and Jasonian nod, and silence descends over the group. Then Balbo stirs. "Well, I think we'll take the mission. We'll give you a call when we've arrived." He smiles. "If there's something fishy about this, me and sis will teach whoever's toying with us not to mess with the Free Drones."

Jasonian grins. "That's the spirit! I felt I should let you have prime pickings for this mission, since it's so vague. So, let's proceed down to the cargo-hall, where I've set up a little shop for you and your agents. They should be there already. You can take whatever you want."

They walk towards the nearest elevator.


***


Lewis wakes up, and sits up so fast that he nearly falls over. He is in his own bed, at home. The room spins, and there's a rushing sound in his ears, but he manages to sigh with relief, as he deduces that his last experiences have been a dream. He raises his arm to run his fingers through his hair.. and feels the fire in his wrist. He focuses on the patterned burns. The rope had been too tight, leaving marks on his wrists.

His thoughts skid to a halt.

He claps his hands over his eyes and starts shaking. Then he violently flings the sheet aside and stands up, swaying for a moment. He walks into the bathroom and washes his face, wrists and ankles. Then he returns to the bedroom and opens his wardrobe. He dresses with manic speed. He walks quickly to the door to the upper-floor hallway.. and halts with his hand on the doorknob. He swallows, releases the doorknob and spreads the fingers on his right hand wide. He watches them shake for a moment, and notes how pale he is.

Then he grips and turns the doorknob, and pushes the door open.

The hallway is empty. Off to the right, from the stairs, come the clinking sounds of lunch being eaten. He starts to quietly descend the stairs. He hears his wife murmur something, and he hears Dorothy answer. But is he hallucinating, or does Dorothy's voice sound strange? Yet it is her voice.. he is sure. Then he hears a third voice, that of Captain Steiner. He reaches the last step, and steps down onto the ground floor. He walks quietly to the dining-room, and stops at the doorway.

Jessica, Dorothy and Sebastian are all there, eating. A fourth place has been set.

He looks hard at Dorothy. Her facial features are more pronounced than he remembers, and her body is athletic. While Lewis knows that Dorothy has kept herself in shape, he also knows that she definitely shouldn't be so muscular. Her eating-habits are also slightly different; she is attacking the food with unheard-of gusto. Yet now she carefully positions the knife and fork on the edge of the plate, and then looks up at Lewis.

"Father, stop standing in the doorway. Come and grab something to eat. We didn't know when you'd wake up, so we started without you. The doc said you'd be ravenous."

On cue, his stomach rumbles. He walks up to the table, grabs the empty chair and sits down. Today's lunch doesn't only taste, it also looks like meatballs. He scoops a good amount and adds some rice. Then he looks up and lets his gaze pass from Dorothy to Sebastian and Jessica. Jessica returns his gaze for a moment while she chews her current mouthful. Then she swallows and nods at Dorothy.

"She hasn't told me anything yet, but insisted that we should wait for you. She also insisted that Captain Steiner should be present."

Lewis thoughtfully eats a couple of mouthfuls -the food is really good- and then he can't wait any longer. He lowers the knife and fork, and stares fixedly at Dorothy. "I'm waiting."

Sebastian clears his throat. "I think Dorothy wants me to start. About eleven years ago, me and Dorothy had just got the news that the University-Consciousness war was over. We were currently deep within Morgan Industries. I explained to Dorothy that Beta was unlikely to stop trying to kidnap her, and presented her with two options. We could head on into Data-Angel territory, or return to the University.."

Lewis nods impatiently. "Yes, I know. She chose to return here. Everything has worked well, with no sign from Beta up to now."

Dorothy looks down at her hands. "Actually, father, I chose to continue to the Data-Angels."

"What?" Lewis stares at his daughter, and even Jessica looks confused.

Sebastian continues. "That' right. She wanted to continue, since she felt that she'd be an easy target within the University's borders. My orders were to protect her, first and foremost, and I had no objections. We already knew the Data-Angels would protect her, thanks to Domai, and chances were good they would agree to train her in the arts of the probe-operative."

"But.. You were here when I arrived, or are you saying it wasn't Dorothy?"

"Yes, I am. Methis had suggested already earlier that she should be allowed to impersonate Dorothy to further fool the Consciousness. Cloning her was no problem, after your visit to the Longevity-clinic. Only I, Dorothy, Methis and Zakharov knew. We had plenty of time to prepare, since you were travelling by rover and would take weeks to arrive within University borders. It was generally agreed that neither of you were to be told." Steiner looks apologetically at Jessica. "You, obviously, would have exposed our plot, and you could even get suspicious if Lewis changed his attitude towards 'Dorothy'. I must say, that Methis is a good impersonator, since even I got confused at times. Anyway, once I had made sure that Dorothy would receive good care and the best training diplomacy and money could offer, and that Methis would be able to contact her and relate the things she had done, I flew back to University Central so I could play my part in Dorothy's 'return'."

"So.. all these years it wasn't you?"

Dorothy looks awkward,and Sebastian shrugs. "That's right. She 'graduated' from probe-training two years ago by successfully returning from a mission inside Caretaker territory. She returned to the University to be a bit closer to events, but her years in training, plus the mission, had put their mark on her.. you'd never be fooled if we simply switched from Methis' interfce to the real Dorothy. Also, her skills as a probe-operative was sorely in need, and she was almost constantly out on missions. We thought that, in the end, it would be better if we revealed the truth to you only once Beta had been taken care of in a permanent manner. We were quite confident it would work. What you don't know, but maybe Jessica does, is that three attempts, in addition to this one, have been made to kidnap Dorothy. First from the lab-complex, where the Consciousness didn't get close. The second time she, or I should say Methis' image of her, was just exiting the lab. Methis noticed something was wrong, and retreated. I personally chased the would-be kidnappers, but they got away. The third time was only one week ago, again when she was exiting the labs."

He shakes his head. "However, once the probes realized they had been spotted, they pulled their guns. They tried to kill her. I don't know what has changed, but the Consciousness seems to want Dorothy dead now, if they can't get her merged."

Everybody is silent again, and Lewis is prodding his food with the fork while he digests the sour news. While he is happy that his daughter is alive, he is incredibly sad as he looks back at the memories of his daughter these last eleven years. He wonders if they will fade, now that the falseness has been revealed.

Then Jessica speaks. "So, where were you one week ago?"

"I was on a mission to Freshwater Springs; it's a Pirate city not far from University territories."

"Oh." Jessica is silent for a moment. "Did Methis only create one interface in your image?"

Steiner answers. "I can answer that; she had a backup interface in case the one in use would get damaged, or should I say injured.. It's stored in a room close to your labs, and Methis will probably activate it now. It will be useful, even though the Consciousness will probably find out pretty soon that they have been fooled. They'll never be sure again if it's really Dorothy they are watching."

"Then.. neither you nor Methis' interfaces have ever visited the Cult of Planet?"

Dorothy looks up at Jessica with a start. "Why do you ask?"


End of chapter 64.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 65: The Explanation that Was True


Balbo stares at the aircraft. "It's huge! That's the Antonov 264 superfreighter!"

Laysa lets her uninterested gaze sweep over the aircraft. "So what?"

"It's an advanced University-made VTOL transport! It doesn't have a tremendous speed at ground level, as it's jets are built for power instead of speed. But beyond two thousand meters, it's ion-engines kick in.. max acceleration four G's, max speed depends on local air-density.. over thirty machs at ninety-thousand meters. Outside of an atmosphere the theoretical limit is one-sixth the speed of light.. Laysa, this thing can fly in space!

"Well, if we really only are going to the University we probably won't need to do that."

"Sis, after seeing that plane I'm quite sure we're not heading for the University."


****


"The Consciousness claims to have identified you there. A certain spy had been brought to Cha's infirmary. I even have a recording of it."

Steiner stirs. "Well, obviously they are wrong-"

Dorothy interrupts him. "Show me."

Jessica picks up a memory-crystal and a MMI-linked recorder from a pocket. "It's all here. Probe-operatives of the Consciousness can record their experiences directly. All you have to do is link up and press play."

Sebastian rises from his chair. "Now hold it! I smell another attempt at merger here."

Dorothy calmly takes the recorder and the crystal. "Mind if I check for any splinter-algorithms, just to be on the safe side?"

Jessica shrugs. "No, not at all. Captain Steiner is only being logically cautious."

Dorothy brings up a reader of her own, although this one is bulkier than Jessica's. She links it to her MMI and inserts the crystal. She sits immobile for fifteen seconds. "It's clear." She unhooks the reader and plugs in Jessica's, inserts the crystal again and presses play-

See the hand opening the door. See the dark room. See the bed. See the lying shape.

There is a click as someone turns on a flashlight and aims it at a clipboard. There is a voice. "Log five-nine-nine; first inspection of potential extraction-subject." The viewer turns to a monitor. "EEG shows waves characteristic of an ordered mind. A good plus." See a hand grab a folder lying on the bed and flipping through the pages. "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 then pages are quickly turned. Then the flashlight is aimed at the shape in the bed.

It's Dorothy.

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.."

See the viewer turning around towards the door, opening it, looking cautiously out, then exiting, and the door closing with a click behind him.

Dorothy opens her eyes, and slowly removes the link from her MMI.

"Thank you for showing this to me. But now we have a problem. We must make sure that what I am about to tell will not leave this room." She looks meaningfully at Jessica Rho-Five.

Jessica nods. "I want to hear this. So I suggest that after you have told everything, I should be taken to the cryolabs." She takes a deep breath. "I have anticipated this moment for some time."

Lewis flinches. "What are you saying? Should we freeze you?"

"Of course. That way, I will no longer be a security risk -provided that I am guarded, and I can be awakened as soon as you find.. the cure.. or as soon as the Consciousness invades the University, whichever comes first. It is the most logical course of action to take." She grabs Lewis' hand. "And I am willing to do it, for your sake."

Lewis take a shuddering breath. "Very well. Dorothy?"

Dorothy looks down at her hands again. "Not even Captain Steiner knows this.. it is true that I had decided to continue to the Data-Angels. It was perfectly logical, but I was so sad.. Then Methis suggested something radical. It was her idea, originally, to clone an interface of me for her. Now she pointed out that there was no theoretical obstacle to me being both at the Data-Angels and the University at the same time. After all, my MMI is greatly expanded beyond the basic function. It's 'reach' of my mental functions is complete. And the same is true for Methis' interface.. and she aleady had cloned me.. you see where I am getting?"

Jessica is staring slack-jawed at Dorothy. Not to mention Lewis and Sebastian. Dorothy continues.

"The initial interface was a crude affair, and I felt very strange. It felt like being an intruder in my own body. But it enabled me to be there, and greet you. That was the birth of my first research-project. The result is called 'simulacrum systems', and was ready after two years of hard work. I suppose I was actively in control of the interface for half that time, and let Methis impersonate me whenever I was busy studying at the academy in Data Decentral."

She takes a deep breath. "The S-systems, while enabling me to be both here and there, had one major flaw. As I have said, I had to alternate between being here and there. Then Zakharov suggested the next logical step; learning how to control many bodies at once." She shrugs. "It sounds near-impossible, and it is harder than it sounds. Eventually, I looked at your research to see how you solved the problem with Methis. Turning the matter over to a computer was out of the question, but I managed to incorporate a modified function into my MMI. And then all I had to do was try."

She sighs. "It was almost impossible, and a couple of serious flaws in my programming almost killed me, as impulses meant to control my heart were sent over the link, both ways. But I succeeded. Seven years ago, at the age of fourteen, I assumed full-time control over the interface originally meant only to look like me." She smiles shyly. "Then one of my tutors at the university happened to mention that some Gaian training in psionics would be invaluable to any probe-operative intent on longevity. By this time I had already earned a good deal of energy-credits doing small jobs inside the Data-Angel borders, so I could equip my own laboratory. Three months later I took control of my third body. A week after that I contacted the most powerful Gaian telepath I know. She proved happy to instruct me."

She shrugs. "And since then.. well, what can I say? I have seven bodies as we speak, and an eighth is currently being grown to replace the dead one. Five years ago I noticed that although I am indeed one mind in several bodies, each body has a unique personality. They're nowhere close to as diverse as eight separate humans could be, but there are tell-tale differences. You see, I didn't see any need for my new bodies to grow up brainless, so they all have perfectly normal brains.. though totally devoid of a mind. Then I install my expanded MMI and take over. I use the brains as a normal person would. The motoric center controls the motoric functions of the body -but is not independent. The outer layers store memories and experiences.. and that's, of course, why my bodies develop different personalities. I realized that my original body has special value." She grimaces. "This isn't the first time one of my bodies have died. It's like losing a piece of yourself, leaving a gaping hole in your mind. And I don't want to speculate what I would lose if my original body would die. So I've 'stored' it, so to speak, in a hideout inside Data-Angel territory. It's well defended there."

She pauses for a while to smile at her awestruck audience. "Almost immediately after I realized that the person that was me, Rachel Dorothy Parks, didn't change even if my bodies varied in their personalities -in essence, who I really am is the sum of all my bodies- I started 'customizing' myself. I conducted genetic experiments. I implanted cybernetics. All my bodies except the original are modified somehow. I also learned how to transfer the consciousness of one body into a new, 'empty' one. Thus, I had learned how to upgrade myself, and to diversify my bodies for different tasks." She nods at Sebastian. "Captain Steiner here for example has had no idea that I have no less than three times exchanged my body here at the university for a new version."

She glances down at herself. "What do you think, by the way? I call this model 'Hubris', taken from my Progenitor nickname. This body has triple the normal human endurance and twice it's strength and durability. Plus, my neural impulses are twice as fast. My eyesight is thirty per cent sharper. My hearing is over five times more precise, and the range is greatly expanded. Plus, the neurons of the MMI have been included since the beginning, only requiring installation of the dermal contact. And still, it is perfectly human in every possible way. It's excellent for probe-missions, but I have to concentrate hard to talk to you in a perfectly normal fashion. I'll replace it with my new basic body, that has more human capabilities, as soon as it is ready. Then I will return to probe-assignments with this one."

She looks at the shocked and stunned Lewis. "What I'm trying to say is, that for the last seven years it's really been me and not Methis who's lived my life here. And before that, I could be with you for almost half the time. So please don't think that you have been living with an impostor all these years. It's just that it was safer if not even Sebastian knew what had really happened. Only Methis, Zakharov and I knew the whole story."

Lewis finds his voice after a frantic search. "What does Zakharov think of all this?"

"He's ecstatic. I suspect he has even made use of my research to, uh, 'backup' himself. But since my model of MMI is needed, and that is a dangerous tool -especially concerning the current plague of sleeper-algorithms- I don't think my research will be publicised for some time."

Lewis leans back. "Well, I'll be.. But I see a lot of issues here I want to know..."


***


Balbo parks the cargo-truck behind the tail of the plane. "Right, let's get the pilot to open the-"

A metallic rumbling interrupts him, And the tail of the plane swings upwards, revealing the opening cargo-door. At the same time, the entire plane lowers itself down towards the ground by partially retracting it's telescopic landing-gear. Eventually, the belly of the plane makes contact with the ground with a dull thud. The cargo-door is now only one and a half meters above ground, and a ramp extends downwards, creating only a gentle slope when it is fully extended. The cargo door is big enough to swallow the entire truck, and Balbo slowly drives up the ramp. A cavernous interior is revealed, partially filled with boxes firmly secured with chains. A large sign directly over the entrance prohibits stacking.

"Whoa, this is big! We could have taken another truckload of equipment." Laysa exclaims. "Not that we left much behind, either.."

"Yeah, but it can't be everything. The plane is much longer than this room. Anyways, why not let the team unload and secure our gear, plus the truck, while we check this baby out?"

They work their way between the already-present crates towards the front end of the cargo-hold. A door is set in the middle of the wall, and beyond it lies what would pass for a spacious first-class cabinet, with extra goodies. There's a bar, a holo-projector, three recliners sporting in-built MMI-links, several recliners around a circular table, and a food-dispenser. What the room is missing is another exit. Balbo walks up to the front wall, as if disbelieving his senses.

"How do we get to the cockpit?"

He is answered by a voice that reverberates through the entire plane. "Good evening, passengers! This is Methis, your captain, speaking. Welcome aboard special flight one. Our scheduled departure is fifteen minutes from now, and is likely to proceed smoothly as the weather is fine. In case you wish to address me, simply shout my name, or 'captain', whichever you prefer. You can also use the MMI-links or the holo-projector if you wish to see who you are talking to. Unfortunately, this plane does not have a cockpit, as it is fully automated, so I cannot invite you to watch the view. However, the MMI-links are connected to all the external sensors, which should provide an even less restricted view of the outside. The food-dispenser can cater to your every tastes. Enjoy your flight."

Balbo walks up to the holo-projector. "Hey, Methis!"

The holo-projector hums, and Balbo is suddenly standing in front of a tall man, clad in a blue uniform and a white cap. "Yes, Balbo? What can I do for you?"

"Say, are you the same Methis that Dorothy spoke of? Dorothy Parks?"

"Yes, I am. She has told me much about you and Laysa."

"How is she? Will we meet her?"

"She is fine, but I cannot reveal anything about this journey." Methis smiles. "I hope you won't mind. Now, do you have everything you need or do you have to retreive additional cargo or passengers from outside the plane?"

"No, everything and everyone is inside."

"Good. Then, if you don't mind, I will close the cargo-door so I can start the preparations for take-off."

Balbo and Laysa return to the cargo-hold and watch as the ramp is retracted, entering a slot under the floor. Then the cargo-door closes, and a short rumbling, ending with a clang, indicates that the tail is lowered into place. The other probe-operatives have secured the cargo and the truck. Methis' voice echoes in the airy room. "All passengers are asked to take a seat and fasten their seatbelts. Take-off in ten minutes."


End of chapter 65.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 66: Additional answers


Lewis looks concernedly at Dorothy. "Have you ever pondered about the psychological effects of -of your experiments?"

Dorothy nods gravely. "Frequently. A major obstacle in my research was how to render the new bodies acceptable for my psyche with the minimum of effort, meaning altering my own mind as little as possible. Since then, I have observed a large number of minor and major psychological effects, and Methis has pointed out a couple that I had missed."

"Uh, what is the most radical change?"

"My definition of self, of course. It's a considerably more mutable definition for me, now, and partially detached from my original body.. Neither am I as concerned anymore with preserving the shape of my mind.. rather I strive to maintain my identity. Physical form matters little to me anymore. In fact, I'm experimenting with a totally synthetic body and cerebrum. However, I expect that any body far removed from humanoid form will require some 'dampers' in order for my mind to fully accept it as another part of me. I will probably find it hard to stamp my identity on non-humanoid forms."

Steiner, interested, asks the next question. "How many bodies can you control at the same time?"

"Hard to say, as there's no precise upper limit. I could probably maintain fifteen bodies at the same time without difficulty, especially if I manage their resting periods so they all sleep at different times. Of course, as I, uh, 'activate' more bodies I tap into more brains, meaning a greater capacity to control additional bodies. It's an endless cycle, if I only include bodies with human brains."

Jessica is the fastest with the next question. "Do you mean that you can sleep with some bodies and be awake with others, at the same time? Won't the different levels in consciousness come in conflict?"

"Not since I learned to adapt. It was a prerequisite for engineering bodies with enhanced senses and neural activity, like this one. Besides, we all live through our entire lives with mental processes going on at different levels of consciousness at the same time, so the mechanism I needed was there already; all I had to do was expand it."

Lewis asks, "What have you been doing these last years with all your.. bodies?"

"Mainly, gathering power. Jim Sturlasson taught me the customs of all the factions, plus a good many tips on business and corporate policy. The Data-Angels taught me the arts of the probe-operative. The Gaians taught me psionics. And here I've learned cybernetics and nanotechnology. I remember all of this; I have a good memory. Through various middle-hands I control numerous corporations in several factions. I didn't buy or create all of them.. there are other forms of control. Anyway, right now I am preparing for a new task, in which I will probably need every resource I have."

"What's that?"

"I intend to find and extract Aki Zeta-Five. That's the basic reason why I am also at the Cult of Planet."


****


The ascent has been nearly vertical during the last moments of flight, even though the plane has remained quite horizontal. Now, however, it starts to point towards the sky.

"This is Methis. I will engage the ion-thrusters in thirty seconds, and apply three G's of thrust. Now is a good time to relax and take a few deep breaths."

Balbo looks across at Laysa, grins and closes his eyes. He starts to breathe deeply through his nose, and manages to take four lungfuls before the ion-engines are activated. The padding of his seat is very soft, so he sinks far into the chair as the thrust pushes him backwards. He is startled when he hears the jets shut down, as his instinct tell him the noise-level should increase with the thrust. Instead, the cabin becomes eerily silent; he can hear his own laboured breathing quite well, plus a faint whistling produced by the last, weak currents of air against the hull of the aircraft.. or spacecraft. For as he opens his eyes and looks out the closest windows, he sees how the plane is swiftly cutting through layer after layer of darkening blues.. until there is no atmosphere to speak of and he looks out at the stars, blocked only by the now useless wing of the aircraft, gleaming green where it reflects the light from the ion-engines. The thrust disappears, and the passengers are awed by the view of Chiron slowly sliding into view as the plane rotates until it's nose points almost straight towards the planet.

Then Methis speaks: "Initiating one G of thrust in the direction of the roof. This will enable you to move freely within the plane as long as I'm maintaining thrust." The pressure returns, though not as strong as before. But the direction is new; the passengers are pushed straight down, towards the floor of the plane. "You may now unbuckle your seat-belts. We will be maintaining a constant thrust of one G for one hour. Then there will be a pause of five minutes as I turn the plane around in preparation of deceleration, followed by one G of thrust for another hour.. only this time to reduce our speed. Enjoy the view. We'll reach the night-side of Chiron in fifty-five minutes."

Thirty seconds later, every member of the probe-team has his or her nose glued to a window. They spend an exhilrating ten minutes marvelling at the bizarre scenery, as Chiron now seems to be a wall that the plane is swiftly climbing. A large window in the ceiling of the spacecraft even allows Balbo to watch where they are heading. Even though the view is astounding, he is the first to gather his thoughts and ask some seroius questions.

"Do we have a mathematician among us?"

A young man called LightEning, fresh from Data-Angel training and replacing Jim, raises his hand. "I took advanced mathematics and physics at the academy, sir."

"I've told you to lose the 'sir', LightEning, and call me either Boss or Balbo. Can you calculate our destination? You heard how long Methis would accelerate and decelerate, and you know where we started, how long it took to leave the atmosphere and where we are now." Balbo gestures out the window, where the northern forests of the Gaians are giving way to the barren fields of xenofungus characteristic of the Data-Angels.

LightEning nods. "I will have to approximate, but I will manage a very good guess." He takes a small computer from a pocket and powers it up. "Let's see.." The rest of the team watches him for five minutes as he frowns at the small screen and lets the fingers on his right hand dance over the controls. Then the frown disappears, to be replaced by a stunned stare at the screen. He looks wide-eyed at Balbo. "There's no doubt. We're heading for the Cult of Planet."

"WHAT!?" Balbo walks up to the holoprojector. "Methis! Say we aren't heading to the Cult of Planet!"

Methis' image of a airplane captain materializes and looks inquiringly at Balbo. "What's wrong with them?"

"They're a probe-team's worst nightmare! Fundamentalist governments are the worst, when you measure ease of infiltration. We'd be blasted fools to go up against them!"

"As far as I am aware, you will act with their support."

"We've been hired by Cha Dawn!?"

"No. By.. well, she's called 'Hubris' by the locals."


End of Chapter 66.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 67: Arrival


"I am ready to begin. I have everything I need."

"Most excellent.. may I ask, what do you intend to do?"

"First, I intend to introduce some of my assistants into the Branch of Pruning, as well as your Diplomatic Corps. I will require your help to ensure the insertion is discrete."

Lord Ferrel nods. "This can be arranged. But what will they be doing?"

"Watching. The foreign representatives and your internal security-force are good places to start."

"Very well. I will tell Lord Paidar to-"

"Please, you must do this yourself. I understand you are Cha Dawn's chief advisor, so you should be able to do this single-handedly."

"Well, yes. But I would hurt the trust my fellow advisors put in me if I acted without telling them. Lord Paidar is bound to notice the increase in our Diplomatic Corps, especially as he handles many of the meetings personally."

"You may trust Lord Paidar, but I certainly don't. His position makes him a prime target, and he is ridiculously exposed. You can tell him, of course, of the additional staff -in fact, introduce one of them as his assistant- but don't tell him what they really are." Hubris is silent for a moment. "Why does he have an MMI?"

"A what?"

"A Mind/Machine-Interface. The plug in his neck."

"Oh, that thing. It was a gift from the Peacekeepers' ambassador. They wanted to exchange the technology for -what was it we gave them? Ah yes; the Centauri Genetics." He frowns. "Paidar was unimpressed by the things, but our scientists said that the technology had useful applications, so we swapped. It was a bad deal, I think."

"Hmm. Who uses MMI:s in the Cult of Planet?"

Ferrel scratches the back of his head. "To tell you the truth, I have no idea -oh, wait; the Palace Guards use them to communicate. Cha said they would interfere with his contact with Planet if they used telepathy to keep in touch. And... I believe they are standard equipment for any member of the Branch of Pruning. They are frequently in situations requiring delicate application of psionics, so they also tend to have need of -what did you say, oh yes- MMI:s. Ask High Reverend Willard about that. She heads the Branch of Pruning."

"I will not, but one of my assistants will. Good; then all that's settled." She starts turning away.

"Hubris, how long will this take?"

"I will find the problem in.. a month." She starts walking away.

"And.. can we rely on you to present us with a solution?"

She stops, and half-turns around. "No. If what I suspect is true, then it's not your problem anymore. It's everybody's." She walks out of the Hall of Advisors.


****


"We'll land in five minutes. Please return to your seats, and fasten your seat-belts."

LightEning fiddles with his data-pad. "Where will we land? Dawn of Planet has no airport."

Balbo and Laysa look at each other, and then stare at Methis' image.

"Remember, this freighter has VTOL capabilities. We'll land on the yard of a decommissioned iron-smelter. It is currently being refitted into a high-pressure alloying plant by the Ferro-Chiron corporation. It shall act as your base of operations. Is everybody secure? Good. Then.." The plane decelerates sharply in the direction of the floor. Then it starts gliding, with it's jets at minimum. It starts to vibrate as it passes through a layer of turbulence, and the lighting turns softer as it dives into some clouds. Finally, Dawn of Planet comes into view. The probe-operatives gasp in awe.

"It's beautiful!"

"And big! It must hold several hundred thousand people!"

Methis appears in the holo-projector again. "Actually, it's slightly smaller population-wise than your Free Drone Central, holding approximately a hundred and fifty-thousand inhabitants. All that beauty is detrimental to solid efficiency of layout. Notice the big mottled-green spot in the center? That's Cha Dawn's palatial gardens. It's the largest Chiron Preserve ever built."

The city changes from stain on the ground to sprawling metropolis, beginning to show depth. As the plane descends, Cha's palace is lost behind a hill. Then the view is abruptly cut off by a tower-like building, it's function indeterminable. Finally, the large buildings of the smelter rise into view. The plane applies a burst of thrust that slowly weakens, and only after a couple of seconds of silence do the probe-operatives realize the plane has landed.

"Welcome, everybody, to Dawn of Planet. I will now open the tail-end door and prepare the plane for off-loading of cargo. You can load your truck and prepare for exit."

The probe-team quickly reloads their truck. Then they watch as the ramp slowly unfolds, and digs deep into the reddish earth of the yard.

Three men, clad in workers' helmets, overalls and gloves, stand by the ramp, gazing up into the cargo-hold. One of them nods to the other two and walks briskly up to the door. Balbo and Laysa watch him appraoch. He walks up to them and extends a hand.

"Evening, folks. The name is Storgard. Rolf Storgard. I am senior engineer here, and was told to meet you." He gazes into the hold and continues before anyone can interrupt him. "You got all your stuff in the truck? Good. We'll take care of the rest. See that garage-door there?" He points at a gaping hole in the side of one of the smaller buildings. "You can park your truck there, and unload. The entire building is reserved for you. There's a connecting passage to the main building on the second floor, when you are ready to meet the boss." He gazes at them for a moment. "Any questions?"

Balbo lets out something between a snort and a laugh. "Yeah. For starters, what's going on here?"

Storgard raises his eyebrows. Then he sweeps with his left arm towards the smelter. "Ferro-Chiron has bought the place, and I'm in charge of retooling it to an alloying plant. Mainly, we'll produce alloys of silksteel and plasma-steel, as well as some high-grade ferro-fibrous weaves and fabrics. That only requires the smelting-hall, so there's a lot of room over; the main building will become the branch-office for Ferro-Chiron, and your building -the old crew-quarters- have been refurbished into living-quarters." He grins cautiously. "You're lucky; the place has a large kitchen, and a well-equipped gym. Plus, a workshop and a computer-room. Whatever you do, the boss is treating you good."

"The boss?"

"Yeah. Miss Kojl herself is here. She even chatted a while with me, as she came to inspect our progress. In fact-" He glances at his watch. "I'd better have these crates unloaded before she arrives." He nods at Balbo and Laysa, and walks into the cargo-hold. After a quick inspection of the crates, he looks up at the ceiling. "Hey Methis, do you have the list of cargo?"

Methis' voice resonates within the room. "Yes, Rolf. Everything is here. Ten crates from Data Decentral, to be delivered to the stores in the special operations -building. Plus, one crate from Data Decentral that is to be delivered to Miss Kojl's private quarters."

"Good." Rolf turns towards Balbo and Laysa. "Well, I'd need to get some forklifts in here, so if you'd get going I'd be grateful. The controls to the garage-door are on the left side, and atmospheric recyclers will give you a breathable atmosphere once the garage is sealed."

Balbo jumps into the drivers' seat, and Laysa takes the seat next to him. As he starts the truck's engine, Balbo glances at LightEning via the rear-view mirror. "Hey, you got info on one Miss Kojl, some kind of boss over Ferro-Chiron, in that data-pad of yours?"

LightEning nods at Balbo. "That would be Rebecca Kojl. She's the founder of the corporation, and it's prime shareholder. She has fifty-five per cent of all shares." He plays with the keys on the datapad. "Let's see here.. Hmm. Age twenty-two.. The corporation is four years old, having grown at an exponential rate. Standard success-story. It's expected to level out somewhat during it's next five years of operation, so the other shareholders are slightly nervous. Marital status unknown. Education.. unknown. Hmm, she's a big question-mark. There's a picture, though."

He hands the data-pad to Balbo. Balbo takes it and looks at the picture on it's screen. His hand starts to tremble. He hands the datapad to Laysa, who takes it, looks at the screen and gasps.

They look at each other, their faces showing awed surprise. Balbo steers the truck into the garage, brakes and turns off the engine. Then he turns to the other probe-operatives, handing back the datapad to LightEning at the same time. "You people set up shop here, we'll go find out what's really going on here."

He and Laysa exit the truck, look around quickly for some stairs and start sprinting up them, taking the steps three at a time. The stairs emerge in the middle of a corridor on the second floor, with similar stairs leading further up on the opposite side. Balbo and Laysa, however, look around briefly and head for a glass door in one end of the corridor. It leads to the passage-way; a tunnel made of transparent material. At it's end is another door, leading into a large, dark room. Computer terminals line the walls, and a cluster of five holo-projectors occupies the middle of the room.

Baldbo and Laysa stop and stare. There's a large group of people in the room, mostly seated at the terminals, but some are standing at the holoprojectors. Everybody looks up at the two probe-operatives. Then a man leaves the holoprojector and walks up to them. He is clad in a traditional Cult of Planet robe. He extends a hand in greeting.

"Welcome. You two must be part of the new people that have arrived. My name is Celan Barr."

They shake hands with him. "I'm Balbo Orlov, and this is Laysa Orlova. We'd like to meet the boss, and were told she'd be here."

He nods. "Just a moment. The boss will be down in a second."

***

Two men put down the crate outside Rebecca Kojl's office. They walk away.

For a short while, nothing happens. Then the door to the ofice slowly opens. Hubris, alias Rebecca Kojl, looks around at the empty corridor. Then, with an ease that would have severely embarrassed the two men, she puts her arms around the crate and lifts it into the office. The door closes.

Inside, she carries the crate towards a non-descript wall. A slight hesitation in her walking rythm, and a section of the wall silently retracts and slides to the right, revealing a room as big as the office, but crammed with computers. She puts down the plastic crate against a wall and opens it, taking away both the lid and it's sides. What is revealed is a dull-grey, metallic crate, two and a half meters long, one and a half meters wide and one meter high. There are no markings of any kind, nor any lights. Only two seams break the surface, dividing the crate into three equally large parts along it's height.

She brushes a corner of the crate, and a muffled beep is heard. Seams appear, and a small lid opens to reveal two sockets. One for power, and one for control. She plugs the crate into the wall, and also connects it to one of the computers.

Then she stands back, regarding the box. For an instant, her eyes unfocus.. a gurgling sound emanates from the crate for a moment. Then the upper third of the box separates from the rest with a hiss, and rises about half a meter into the air on telescopic supports.

She inspects the contents of the top half of the box, or sarcophagus, carefully. Then she pushes the lid shut again and steps back. Another short pause, and both upper thirds rise as a unit about a meter into the air, revealing the bottom half of the box.

It looks like a dull-gray mould, for humans. It is empty, save for a socket.. at neck-height.

She undresses and climbs into the mould. A moment's wriggling, and something goes click at neck-height. The box closes, and some gurgling sounds can be heard..

The upper half of the box opens, revealing it's contents again. Dorothy, alias Hubris, alias Rebecca Kojl, sits up stiffly. Apart from slight details of musculature and bone-structure, she is identical. She climbs out, and stretches. Muscle and bone clicks; for the first time. With this body, that is...

***

Hubris appears in the doorway and enters the room. She smiles at Balbo and Laysa. "Welcome to the Cult of Planet."

They walk up to her. Balbo grins, tilts his head and squints at her. "It is you, isn't it, Dorothy?"

She nods and smiles. "Long time, eleven years. I was afraid you wouldn't recognize me, anymore."

"What have you been doing? And how come you're here? Why are we here?"

Dorothy/Hubris turns serious. "Well, the first question is easy. Three years living in Data Decentral, trying to qualify for probe-training. Four years of Probe-training. And another two years of advanced studies with the Gaians. That's the short version. As for the next two questions.. It's a long story how I got here, but I've found that this continent is a mess. And, frankly, I'm trying to clear it. I need your help with that." She walks up to a chair and sits down. "This is what has happened, and what I'm trying to do now."

She speaks for nearly an hour.


End of chapter 67.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 68: A Shape in the Night


Overhead, dark purple clouds against the blackness of the night sky, Proxima Centauri giving the southern sky a red tint, and the clouds a crimson lining. Below, University Central is coloured deep red where the city's own lights are too widespread to compete with the distant star. A soft breeze delivers a hint of Xenofungus from the north, while the forests a bit closer add a touch of sweet sap to the scent.

Dorothy gulps the night-time air hungrily as she stretches to soften some muscles. Then she looks down the side of the recycling center again, to a shoddy network terminal in a forgotten alley.

">Steiner here. Are you guys all awake still?.<"

The MMI-controlled thoughtlink buzzes into life, superimposing on normal hearing as the four C-I operatives report.

">Smith here, sir. Everything's quiet here.<" Dorothy lets her gaze fall on the lobby of the Energy Bank. As far as she can see, it is empty. She ignores the shape of Sergeant Willard Smith, half-way up some gantries on the opposite building.

">O'Malley here. There's two amorous youngsters having fun at this terminal. I'm trying not to let them disturb my reading.<" Dorothy looks at the red-lights district's last operational terminal, shrugs, smiles and turns away.

">Wendels reporting. Everything is quiet. Out.<" Lieutenant Katharine Wendels' stakeout is on the outskirts of the old industrial yards, overlooking one of the University's oldest network terminals. Dorothy inspects her view through the MMI-link.

">Rotwald here. Nothing to report.<" Wilhelm Rotwald, Second Lieutenant, guards the remaining terminals in the recreation commons. Dorothy accesses it's security-cameras and quickly inspects them all.

">Good. Stay alert, people.<" Steiner sets his MMI to send only to Dorothy. ">How are you doing up there?<"

">So far so good. And quiet. Methis' systems indicate all terminals are operating normally. No uploading is being processed.<"

">Right. Maybe they gave up after we rescued Lewis.. But somehow I don't believe that. Okay, I'll get back to the monitors now.<"

Dorothy strolls casually around the edge of the roof, looking down on nearly empty streets. To the enhanced senses of her 'Hubris'-type body there is no greater relaxation than a quiet night with a soft breeze. High places has been her refuge from the world for almost a decade now. She remembers..


***


The streets of Data Decentral have traditionally been crammed with people, as most of life takes place on the streets. Pedlars in electronics might share a booth with a minworm-charmer. An electronics-expert, repairing comm-links and datapads, could sit on the edge of the sidewalk, while his waiting customers are entertained by a holoartist, creating spectacular illusions using a hand-held holoprojector linked to his MMI.

From Dorothy's eleven-year-old, low vantage-point, it seemed as if the crowds parted upon spectacle after spectacle. But the biggest show, in her mind, was the mass of people itself, each individual living his or her life mainly on the street and at the top of their voice through their breathers (Data-angel cities weren't domed). University cities were deserted even during rush-hours, in comparison. Dorothy started feeling uneasy. She tugged Captain Steiner's sleeve.

"Basti, I don't like this. I want away from the crowd."

Jim, having heard the remark, stopped and smiled at Dorothy. "It's quite lively here, isn't it? We could take the bridges, as long as you aren't scared of heights." He pointed upwards.

Dorothy saw, between the two closest houses, a bridge. To say it looked rickety was an understatement; it swayed merrily as a handful of people crossed it. Basically, two cables of steel had been strung between the houses to serve as railings, and bits of plastic, front hoods from old rovers, or whatever other flat material had been available, had been connected via chains to the railings to serve as a walkway. Dorothy let her gaze fall, and saw stairs circle the outsides of most of the buildings.

She nodded. "Let's try."

Jim nodded. "If we're unlucky, some gang might demand a toll for the right to use the bridges. Generally, smooth-talking or intimidation will see us through. Violence or the threat of it, however, is a bad idea."

They started climbing the nearest stairs, and Dorothy was immediately relieved as she got higher than the throng of people. A cool breeze blew among the buildings, whose circular construction offered little shelter. Up at roof-level, Data Decentral took on a different face. Here, the roofs were as circular islands, forested by antennae, chimneys and microwave-dishes, and connected by narrow bridges that disregarded most changes in height. The closest bridge rose sharply due to the fact that the opposite building was one storey higher.

Sebastian let his gaze sweep over the labyrinthine paths. "Well, you are the expert on Data-Angel society among us, Jim. Where should we go?"

"To the nearest administration-office. Most are actually up on this level. Look for the Data-Angel flag."

Dorothy scanned the horizon. Then she pointed. "There. It's quite far."

Steiner shielded his eyes with his hands and peered in the direction she pointed. "Oh, yes. Now I see. You have good eyesight, Dorothy. Let's go."

The first bridge was a nerve-tingling experience. The old sheets of aluminum and other scrap-metal issued a high-pitched whine as soon as Dorothy shifted her weight. They groaned and clanged against one another as the wind buffeted the bridge, and the entire thing swayed alarmingly. But they were well made despite their haphazard appearance, and the third bridge was crossed with little concern.

By the twentieth bridge the admin-office was close, and they paid little attention to the bridges anymore, simply wanting to reach their destination. However, before Sebastian could step onto it, a man barred his way.

"What does Feargus see here, then? Hmm? Stinken' Gaians, breathing Planet air as if they owned it? Mmm? Well. They might own the air, but this bridge is owned by the Flicks, and if they wants to cross, they needs to pay. Hmm?" The man was clad in tattered jeans, and a makeshift ringmail consisting of thin, interlocking cogwheels with a base of coarse plastic. On his head he sported a raised welder's mask, lacking the smoked glass, and his face was covered by an old-fashioned breather; basically a modified gas-mask.

Steiner's face darkened, but Jim stepped in front of him before he could react and raised a hand at the man. "Pay? Do you want it be known that the Flicks are so poor they have to toll their bridges? No respectable contact would go near your turf then. You'd be stuck up here, fighting the others forever. And they'd know you are in trouble, so they would be bold and arrogant, taking your turf from you."

The man grinned. "Feargus hears a load of junk. The Gaian pukes will pay extra for earwash, mmm?" He spread out his arms. "Flicks own all behind Feargus, mmm! We're strong, and the contacts know it." He thrust his face close to Jim's. "So we take whatever we want as payment, mmhm!" He snorted. "Gaians give.. everything they own. They can keep their stinken' clothes."

Jim glanced at Steiner and shrugged imperceptibly. Steiner set his face into a deep scowl and took a step forward. As if by magic, a pair of stilettos appeared in Feargus' hands. "You want into Flick territory, you pay what Feargus wants. Mmm? Otherwise, mmm, Feargus opens your stomachs!" He demonstrated a quick slash that passed very close to Steiner. Sebastian reacted by quickly grabbing hold of the man's arms and pressing his thumbs against the inside of Feargus' wrists, blocking the flow of blood to his hands.

As Feargus's grip on the knives slowly weakened, Sebastian spoke in a low monotone. "How about this? We pass without paying, and you walk away without those knives buried up to their hilts in your buttocks."

Feargus looked panicky for a moment as the stilettos slid out of his limp hands, and then he nodded silently. Sebastian slowly released his grip. "You can pick them up when we're gone. Be too eager, and you will fly.." He glanced down, towards the street below. "..About twenty meters, I'd say. Give or take a meter, depending on where you land." He smirked.

Feargus crouched aside silently and watched fearfully as Steiner, Dorothy and Jim crossed the bridge.


***


">This is Smith. I have Two men and a woman entering the energy bank. They are accessing the terminal.<"

Dorothy's attention returns from the memory, and she looks quickly towards the bank. She focuses on the distant trio, and regards their faces for a moment. Then she activates the MMI-link. ">Speak to me, Methis.<"

">The terminal is accessing the network node. The user has logged in as a guest. The protocols for security were quickly accessed, now the uploading instructions are read. Yes; uploading is commencing. I'll intercept the file. Hmm. It's about the right size.. let's unpack. Yes; it's the shell for the algorithms' delivery system. They are attempting to infect the terminal.<"

">Thanks.<" Dorothy switches to another link. ">Steiner, this is it.<"

">All right! How is Methis doing?<"

">He's maintaining appearances. We'll have the entire program soon.<"

Steiner pauses for a moment. ">People, we have an ongoing uploading. Gather near the energy bank, but keep out of view.<"

Dorothy doesn't bother with the stairs. When it comes to boosting physical abilities, be it through the MMI, genetics or cybernetics, she has incorporated it into the Hubris-model. A brief spurt, during which the body is already gathering energy like a tightening spring, until the edge of the roof is reached. Then, an explosive release of energy through her legs launches her into a shallow arch, far out into the air. However, there's a long way to go to the next high building, and it's several floors lower in any case.

She concentrates. Imperceptibly, at first, her momentum lessens. However, it is enough to let her bounce, unharmed, from the concrete roof fifty meters beneath (and seventy meters away from) her starting point, into a lazy, tumbling arc. She stops concentrating, and the increased weight brings her feet to the roof with a thud.

She runs on, towards the energy-bank.


End of chapter 68.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 69: The Diplomat


"What manner of foolishness is this?! I have never needed an assistant!"

LightEning smiles slightly. "Lord, 'assistant' is merely my official title. You may certainly treat me as one... mostly. However, I'm really here as an extra pair of ears and eyes. I am, of course, trained in diplomacy, so I could meet with your diplomats by myself, but Ferrel feels this would make me too conspicuous."

Lord Paidar shakes his head stubbornly. He is blushing slightly. "This is most irregular of Ferrel, I must say." He pulls himself together. "But, come to think of it, you might prove useful." He thinks. "Follow me, then. First, Colonel Watts, the Spartan ambasador, has asked for an audience. Likely, he wants to suggest another alliance."

LightEning notes the frown on Lord Paidar's face. "Which is a bad idea", he fills in.

"Yes, as long as he can't suggest better terms. You see, there's a lot of talk about trade and reduced tension along the border -of which we have but a small stump with the Spartans- but what it boils down to is that Santiago wants to stab the Peacekeepers in the side, by manoeuvering troops through our territory. Essentially the same deal as the Santiago-Yang alliance back in 2128. It's a stable alliance; everyone can see that, but it's too openly aimed at the Usurpers. Plus, we are at a continuous state of red alert against the Hive, so we can't really ally ourselves with anybody who's also allied with them."

"I see. Is there anything else I should keep in mind during the meeting?"

"Yes. Our Colonel is, of course, a military man, and they hate circling the issue, at a rule. He's very likely to reveal his true agenda in some obscure way. I'd like you to see if you can spot it."

LightEning nods. "I will do my best."

Lord Paidar starts walking, and LightEning follows him. eventually, they exit the palace and walk a short bit through the garden. They come to a small square of smooth, granite tiles, with a circular table and a couple of cushioned chairs. The Colonel is already sitting in one of them, with a large glass in front of him, and as he spots Lord Paidar he rises and bows slightly.

"Afternoon, Lord Paidar." He is quite obviously old, though of course the possibility longevity-treatment discourages estimates. He has jet-black hair with a few streaks of gray, cut relatively short but not too short to allow it to settle in slight waves. He also has a short, ash-coloured beard without any moustache or sideburns. He is clad in a parade-uniform coloured deep brown and rust-red, identifying him as once belonging to the infantry. Several medallions decorate his jacket.

"Afternoon, Colonel Watts. How goes the home front?"

They sit down at the table. "All is quiet, all is well. Though Santiago has asked why I am taking such a long time in getting your acceptance of this alliance."

Paidar smiles slightly. "Oh dear. I can assure you, we can speak on your behalf and explain that it is no fault of yours, should it be necessary. By the way, this is Gustav Thunder Nineteen, my new assistant. I hope you don't mind his presence, as I am getting slightly senile as of late. Too long since my last longevity-treatment, and I don't know if I will qualify for yet another."

Watts nods politely. "Be assured, you have much to contribute to this world still. And no, I do not mind mr. Thunder's presence."

"Well, then. How can I assist you this fine day?"

"As I said, Santiago is concerned about my lack of.. progress here. She fully understands that, since Cha Dawn runs such an intricate form of government, sometimes some disruptive personality can come in the way of what everyone recognizes as a good thing. So, to soothe possible malcontents, she is prepared to spice up the deal. We have seven resource convoys currently travelling close to your border. We could turn them over to you, together with the blueprints for a real marvel of military and civilian technology; The Cyborg Factory. We estimate, that with the aid of those convoys you could upgrade your current recruiting-centers to utilize the factory in, say, three to thirteen years, depending on where you build the actual factory."

"This is interesting. We've of course sketched some initial drafts for such a project, but nothing more has come out of it. Tell me more."

Watts leans forward enthusiastically. "You should see the difference between soldiers trying to pilot a chopper 'raw', so to speak, and soldiers with an MMI plus the standard neurochemical enhancers, flying the same. It's like night and day! Their effectiveness is way up." He grins, his eyes unfocusing on some distant memory. "And I remember what bliss it was, when I first learned to recognize the Progenitors' alteration for fright. It was in the wolverine-campaign a few years back; this Usurper had sneaked up on one of my guards, and had applied a couple of kilowatts of plasma to him before we knew what was happening. Ah, the sight as Jones, that was the guard's name, turned around with melting skin dripping from him, looked at the lizard for a second, and then proceeded to tear it to bits, with his metal arms glowing from the heat!" He laughs heartily. "I tell you, run your recruits once through this beauty, and you'll have soldiers nearly matching our own."

"This is an intriguing offer. However, Cha cannot be hurried.. so, shall we meet again three days from now? Next thursday?"

Colonel Watts calms down and nods solemnly. "Same time is fine."

Paidar rises and bows at the Colonel. "Same time it is, Colonel. Now, if you will excuse me, I have another meeting I need to prepare for.." He walks away, followed by LightEning.

He doesn't say a word until they have entered the palace once more. Then he stops and turns to LightEning. "Well, what was your impression of that meeting?"

"Lord, the Colonel obviously considered it imperative, for some reason, that your troops have military-grade MMI:s as their standard equipment. He is going to great lengths to make this happen."

"But the offer must come from Santiago herself, mustn't it?"

"Not really. She delegates quite a lot. In theory, she controls every slightest detail of Spartan society.. but in practice, that's impossible. This Colonel has troops and support assigned to him. It's most likely his own supply crawlers he is offering."

"Why, for Planet's sake?"

LightEning shrugs. "So you will accept the offer of alliance.. and so your troops will be fitted with MMI-links. I see no logic in this, but that's how I interpreted his words."

Paidar nods. "So be it. We shall see where this leads. I will inform Cha of this new offer.. and I think he will accept. He likes grandiose plans. Now, next I will talk to the diplomat for the Peacekeepers, one Stephen Ray Burton. He is waiting in the hall of fountains."

"What shall I pay attention to while you talk to him?"

Paidar looks embarrassed. "Actually, the man is something of a mystery to me. I haven't figured him out yet. He will most probably involve you in the discussion, though, so be alert. Come, it's through this way."

The man, clad in blue and light-grey and sporting the Peacekeeper insingia, is sitting by the largest fountain, his attention caught by something in the water. Paidar smiles. "Admiring our goldfish?"

Stephen looks up at Paidar. "Yes. Though a show of vanity, meant to impress, they are.." He smiles. "..Impressive." He stands up and extends a hand. "Thank you for having time to see me."

Paidar shakes hands with him. "No need to thank me. Now, how can I help you?"

"Commissioner Lal is, frankly, concerned about the Cult of Planet. He fears that, caught as you are between the Believers and the Hive, you might make the mistake of seeking aid from the Spartans, which they would be only too happy to give."

"Mmmhmm. And how is this bad?"

"They would have you hooked. Their aid-packages always provide short-term relief to your problems, indeed, but to get them you have to allow ever-increasing freedom of action for Spartan troops within your borders. And mark that I said 'short-term'; they won't end the problem, only reduce them for a while. Then they will be back, commenting your hopeless situation and proposing an 'alliance', that means they will defend you." He raises his right index-finger in a warning gesture. "Beware; they might call it an alliance, but what it means is that you'd become a protectorate of the Spartan Federation. Soon, there would be talk of arranging support for the forces from your cities, 'to shorten the supply-lines' and so forth. Little by little you'd pay more and more for their presence, with your independence and freedom as the ultimate price."

Paidar nods. "We are well aware of the risks, however we feel that they are manageable."

Stephen gives him a dark look. "Don't underestimate them. After you allow their troops on your territory, there's no turning back. You will be trapped. I urge you not to ask nor accept any offer of help from them."

Paidar shrugs. "Well, how else can we get help? The Usurpers don't care what happens to us, and the Pirates negate any chance of receiving aid from Ixion."

"From us, my good man. We are more than capable of assisting you, and with something significantly more effective than mere material help. We could set up a technology-exchange program."

"Ambassador Burton, I am sure you know that we consider our knowledge of Planet and it's native life-forms a holy privilege, not to be given away as soon as we're in a bit of trouble." Somehow, Paidar fails to sound convincing.

The ambassador smiles and holds up his hands. "Did I mention ChironTech? Surely, you have researched into other areas as well? If you could, say, provide us with a safe and efficient technique for bio-engineering, we'd be grateful and repay you with, for example, the theory and practice of the hover-vehicle. And so on."

Paidar's eyes narrow. "You don't have the technology to build hovertanks!"

"Well-" Stephen stops, and looks questioningly at LightEning.

Paidar clears his throat. "Ambassador Burton, this is my personal assistant, Gustav Thunder Nineteen. You can speak openly in front of him." LightEning nods severely at the ambassador, who returns the gesture.

"As I was saying: Yes, we do have the technology. We just haven't built any yet." He sighs. "For a vehicle as complex and expensive as a hover-tank, advanced training and state-of-the-art equipment is logical, even essential. This means, basically, everything from a computer using advanced military algorithms, MMI, and so on up to whatever you have that is cutting-edge military technology. And Lal is rather unwilling to utilize the military capabilities of the MMI -technology, for some reason. Our army has suffered somewhat as a result, though not disastrously. You, I trust, would have no such reservations. I understand you are, in fact, working on a purely telepathic interface that would remove the need for MMI:s?"

"Where have you heard such nonsense?" The tone is slightly amused, but Lord Paidar's face is perfectly emotionless except for a slight quivering of his eyes.

Stephen turns to LightEning. "How about you? Do you recall any such project?"

"No, sir Ambassador. I can't say I can recall ever hearing of such a thing."

Stephen smiles and turns back to face Lord Paidar. "Then, let's say it came to me in a dream. Anyway, what do you say? Lal would be very happy if we can somehow come to an agreement, thus saving you from having to risk becoming dependent on the Spartans."

"I will, of course, pass on your suggestion to Cha Dawn. He will consider the facts most carefully before coming to a decision; you have my word on that."

Stephen rises and bows. "Then I can go now, and await his wisdom without worry or fear."

Paidar bows in response. The ambassador leaves, and Paidar sits down on the spot he just left. "Have a seat, Gustav.. I can call you Gustav?"

LightEning sits down. "Of course, Lord."

"Good. Then, what did you think of the esteemed Stephen R. Burton?"

He thinks about it for a moment. "He is good. He presented the mirrored version of the Spartans' offer, but in a much more flattering package."

"But did he promote the MMI?"

"That's the funny part. He didn't have to; he let the technology sell itself. I know some about hovertanks, and one fact is that you need a very advanced interface with the vehicle to fully utilize it's awesome potential. This almost automatically means a mind/machine-interface. It's self-contained; where you have hovertanks, you get MMI:s in every soldier."

"I see. Obviously, however, you have a suspicion concerning these frequent marketing-attempts for the MMI?"

LightEning hesitates. "Mere speculation, right now. I'd have to study the concept carefully.. however, clearly they are not solely concerned with our continued prosperity when they offer these deals. They expect to gain something themselves."

"They always do, according to my experience."


End of chapter 69.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 70: Memory Lane


Steiner looks through the binoculars. The three persons in the energy-bank have done little except use the node-terminal the last ninety minutes. He activates his MMI-link. ">Methis, how are things going?<"

">Smoothly, I'd say. So far, I've had no problems in simulating the terminal. The downloading actually consists of several, modular programs, who activate as soon as they're completely downloaded. They assume quite effective control over the terminal, and even contact other terminals. My analysis shows, that there's modules enabling infected terminals to cooperate, reaching a much greater effectiveness and making the intrusive programming harder to counteract. Quite well-planned. Attention: The downloading has stopped, and the last program has activated. The simulated terminal is almost completely re-programmed, so this is a quite extensive modification. They are manually requesting systems-checks.. My simulation of the terminal is an exact replica of the terminal's own functions, so the checks will show only what they expect. They are logging out.<"

Steiner punches the air. "Yes! We've got the entire program! Team, follow the suckers to their hiding-place." He watches them leave, and then turns around as he hears a sound. Dorothy has dropped down onto the ledge he is standing on. "What do you think?"

She regards the retreating backs of the probe-operatives for a moment. "They have already been spotted. They will be taken alive." She raises a finger. "Don't warn them. Don't recall them. We might just save the day, but they'll have to meet whatever's coming their way.. and I know what that is. They will be merged with splinter-algorithms."

"I can't allow that to happen, Dorothy. Anyway, they wouldn't accept merger."

"Sebastian, I've checked the programs they downloaded via Methis. Mainly, they consist of three things; one, a bunch of programs designed to upkeep the terminal's previous functions, as well as defeat any attempt to detect or erase the extra programs. Two; A set of programs designed to study the mind and MMI of the current user. Those then activate the third group of programs using the most suitable parameters; namely, programs designed to defeat countermeasures of the MMI and suppress the mind of the user." She shudders. "Beta has found out how to merge unwilling humans. And he does it remotely; the terminal contacts a network node inside Gaian territory that links it further with a node inside Cyborg territory. This terminal could install both sleeper- and active algorithms. And you can't resist." She glances towards the probe-operatives, now disappearing behind a corner. "So those operatives are heading for mental slavery.. Or, at least, we must let whoever captures them believe this is the case."

Steiner shifts impatiently. "How do we do that?"

"I'll track the probes, and keep you updated on events. Once we've found out where the center for this entire operation is, I'll get them free. Meanwhile, you arrive with as many guns and people as you can. How about that?"

"You make it sound like a piece of cake, Dorothy. But do it anyway." Steiner looks ashamed. "I have orders, Dorothy. Zakharov said my probe-teams are expendable."

"Don't worry, I'll get them out of there unmerged, though I can't make promises about their health."

He nods. "I'll have to live with that. We're too close to call this off. When you see them, tell Smith, Rotwald, Wendels and O'Malley that.. I'm sorry."

Dorothy hurries away.


****


"I'm sorry." Steiner looked sadly at Dorothy. They had, these last three weeks, tried every conceivable office that was reachable by the public, the influential or the well-paying. Everybody had given the same answer. No, we relax our procedures for no-one. Only agents recruit probes. No, we do not know how you contact an agent. No-one knows.

"It's all right." Dorothy wasn't crying, but the silent gloom she projected spoke volumes about how miserable she felt.

Jim stared at the sky. His arms were crossed, and he was chewing on some strands of his beard. "The fact is, you almost have to be a criminal to become a probe. Stage a daring theft, or pick up a name as a man you don't want to meet in a bar-brawl, or something similar, and you can be sure the agents will come looking for you." He gazes at Steiner and Dorothy. "Then, rumour says, they give you the Offer with a big oh. Become a probe-trainee.. or become a prisoner." He shrugs. "Personally, I suspect there's additional ways that don't cause so much harm.. but they are few. There's a reason why gangs rule the streets of the Data-Angels, you know. It must be a good system; Angel probes don't get caught alive, as a rule."

Sebastian looked at him. "Could we contact Merlin somehow? Maybe he could help?"

"No. He wouldn't help. He told me that he thinks Dorothy has what it takes, but that she'd have a difficult time proving that." Jim froze for a second, and started to search through his pockets. "Where is it.. Ah. He did give me this address, though." He gave a piece of paper to Sebastian, who took it and eyed it critically.

"Number fourteen, the Fading House, Merchant's District, west of the airport." He wrinkled his brow. "What kind of address is this?"

"Few streets have official names here. Instead, a house or a group of houses are issued a name by it's inhabitants. There's three Merchant's Districts in Data Decentral, but only one of them lies west of the airport. Once we arrive there, we'll ask around until we meet someone who knows the house in question. It's too far to walk, so let's take a cab."

Data Angel society used de-regulation as a theme. Only trade was taxed, and only industry was regulated. No public health-laws existed. Crime and punishment was mainly a matter between the perpetrator and the victim, the roles reversing for the latter. Overall, the system worked. Trade was brisk, and the government's metaphorical coffers were always well-filled. Industry managed to survive and prosper, despite being constantly pressured by the public to reduce pollution. And if someone mugged you, there were plenty of opportunists who would seek out your assailant and beat nine kinds of regret out of him, provided you could pay enough.

Some concepts, however, couldn't function in such a society. Like streets meant for cars. Or traffic-signs. Data Decentral turf was solely the disordered territory of the pedestrian and the bicycle.

Matters were different in the air. Only the vicinity of the airport had restricted air-traffic, through the simple method of threatening to shoot down any pilot not taking orders from air-control. The rest of the skies were open for entrepeneuring fliers, and were filled with everything from people wearing old jump-jets bought in an army surplus store, to huge blimps sedately transporting several thousand tons of cargo to anywhere in the city. The fusion-engine had made electricity a viable source of power and ion-thrust a good source of propulsion for every conceivable form of aircraft; it meant you could make a living by transporting people quickly through the air. The airtaxis had quickly agreed on a hailing system; a metallic pole containing a transmitter, operatable by a row of buttons detailing how many people were waiting. Once the signal was transmitting, it was usually a case of first come, first serve.

Jim now walked up to a pole of this kind and pushed the button for two to four waiting persons. After a short moment the sky was blocked out as a smallish blimp, propelled by ion-engines, drifted over the house and positioned itself directly above the street, then lowered itself so that a door on the side of the gondola was level with the roof. It opened, and a man wearing an oxygen-mask extended a plank, forming a bridge.

He removed his mask for a moment. "You lot Gaians? I don't mind. Hop in, people! Me's captain Teefer, and I's got some other passengers to ship as well. I'll see to you after I's dropped them off."

They entered the gondola, and found it quite homely. There were seats for twelve people, around two tables. A small family was seated around one of the tables, and four pairs of eyes glanced disinterestedly at the newcomers. Scores of decorations in various styles hung from the ceiling. The cabin wasn't airtight, so everyone wore breathers. The captain had disappeared through a door in the front wall after asking their destination and closing the outer door.

The trip was smooth, if a bit tiresome, and offered a splendid view of Data Decentral. The family was dropped off in an area of the city containing wide but not particularly tall houses, and therefore called 'The Squat'. The blimp veered sharply and hurried towards the airport.


End of chapter 70

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 71: Assignment


LightEning enters the living-quarters and starts to search for the rest of the team. He finds most of them in the gym, working out. Balbo looks up and grins. "Hey, LightEning! How was your day?"

"Not too bad. But all this diplomatic talk is giving me a headache."

Balbo nods. "Well, me and Laysa went and had a look at the BP:s head office. Dorothy -ah, Hubris- wants us to stage a raid on the place, to see if there's something fishy about them. She thinks they're infiltrated, but she refuses to say by whom."

LightEning raises an eyebrow. "Do you know Hubris?"

Balbo looks embarrassed. "Well, we met a number of years back, and she played an important part in the first subversion of Morgan Entertainment. Plus, she is one of the reasons why I was assigned this." He slaps the back of his neck.

"The MMI?"

"Yes. I know you're interested in that sort of thing, so I recommend trying to see her in action as she uses the thing. She was something out of this world back then already.. I can't imagine how good she could be right now. Anyway, you'd better go and write your report."

"Sure thing. Wanna spar when I'm back?"

"Why not. See you soon."

LightEning leaves the gym and heads for the connecting passage. Eventually, he opens the door to the operations-center. Unlike the last time, only Celan Barr is present. He looks up from the holo-projection he's been studying.

"Oh, hello, er.. Lightning, right?"

"Almost. LightEning." He looks around the room, and decides to take a seat at a terminal in a corner. He starts writing his report, but after a moment he stops and leans back. He stares at the monitor.

"Mr. Barr?"

"Call me Celan, please. What's the matter?"

"I just have to write my report, right, and tell the computer to process it, and Hubris will read it?"

Celan nods. "That's how I've understood the system, yes."

LightEning starts chewing a fingernail. "How many reports have been made today?"

The node-administrator furrows his brow, and starts gazing at his fingers. "Hmm. Let's see. Oaken and Starbright came back from inspecting the headquarters, and a couple of their friends had reports too. Then there was Balbo and Laysa, and a few others from your team, reporting on the BP:s.. Plus, I've fed the major news-headlines for today, and some interesting personnel-files.." He looks up at LightEning. "About fourty, I should say. Give or take a couple."

"She reads them all by tomorrow?"

"Hm. Now that you point it out, it does seem a bit unlikely. However, I can't say I've noticed an occasion when she wouldn't know what we have reported. Maybe she's a really fast reader?"

LightEning scratches his head. "Or a really fast MMI-user."

"I'm sorry?"

"Never mind." He is quiet for half an hour as he finishes his report and tells the computer to file it. Then he looks up at Celan. "Can you tell if she's online right now?"

Celan looks up, frowns speculatively, walks to a terminal and punches in some commands. "She seems to be. There's two data-streams with very large transmit-rates currently active, and one of them is most likely hers." He looks at LightEning. "Why do you want to know?"

"Oh, just curious. No reason." He stretches. "Well, I'm off for some sparring. See you around."


****


Rolf Storgard opens his eyes, and tries to move. All he manages is a slight squirming. He seems to be staring directly at a lit lamp in the roof, but he can't recognize it. The room is dark, despite the lamp, preventing any possibility of him finding out where he is. He finds it hard to concentrate, and is suffering from a headache of galactic proportions.

"Rolf Storgard."

He rolls his eyes desperately. "Yes?" The answer is automatic, and escapes before he has time to gather his wits. Then he starts cursing, and lets out steam for several seconds. "...Set me free, you unprintable bastards!"

The voice takes no notice. "Is Rebecca Kojl still present at the Ferro-Chiron construction-site?"

"Like I'd ever yes she is tell you, you unprintable..." Rolf's voice fades out as his ears register what he's just shouted. "You unprintable bastards, what have you done?"

"A truth-serum, coupled with a couple of hundreds of thousand nano-inhibitors aimed at your brain's neuro-chemistry. Quite simple, untraceable, and very effective. Now you will tell me all of the routine events in her schedule you have observed, plus all new arrivals to the construction-site."

"You.. You-" The sentence is long, and spiced with over sixty adjectives.

The voice is mocking. "I appreciate your strength of feeling, Rolf. I also appreciate the useful information you just gave me." The voice chuckles, while Rolf screams in frustration. "You might be worrying what we're going to do with you? Well, we're just going to make you forget. That's all. Oh, and implant some diffuse memories of a rough night at the local bar.. there will have been a fight, which you won, to explain some bruises you might receive due to.. various factors. Isn't that nice? Now, off to sleep you go."

Rolf's eyes remain open, but his body relaxes visibly and a slow hiss escapes from his mouth.

"Take him away. Remove the nanites, inject alcohol until he's at two promilles, give him some bruises and a cut in the lip -but be careful so you don't knock out a tooth- and dump him in a taxi."

He is carried away.


****


The ops-center is full of people, chatting. Most of the people native to the Cult of Planet are awed by the Free Drone probe-team, so they are also the center of attention. Oaken and Starbright are chatting lively with Balbo and Laysa, Celan is comparing scientific data with LightEning, and so on.

Dorothy enters. The noise of conversation fades away, and all heads are turned towards her. She walks up to the group of holo-projectors, and they hum into action as she approaches.

"People, we have collected enough information passively. It is time to act."

The holo-projectors each display different images, and the one closest to Dorothy shows the Peacekeeper logo. "I have singled out two factions we shall investigate closer. The first is the Peacekeepers. They have more land, more cities, more resources and more manpower than any other faction on Zeus, yet Lal is paralyzed. He is fighting two wars; with the Believers and the Spartans. Why? How come he is so hesitant to act? Why does he tolerate this constant warring between factions? And why does he fear the MMI? If we find the answers I suspect, you will soon realize how important that last question is." She walks to the next holo-projector. "Then there's the Spartans. With possibly the finest army on Chiron, what is she doing? Fighting two drawn-out wars with the Peacekeepers and Usurpers, with little gain but with horrible losses on both sides. How is this possible?"

She lets this sink in while she walks in front of the third projector. "On the domestic front we also have two items to investigate. The Palace Guard and the Branch of Pruning. Both are influential parts of Cultist society, and both are vulnerable to infiltration. They need to be checked."

She stops. "Any questions, before I assign tasks?"

"Hubris, how will we be able to detect any signs of infiltration, if the Branch of Pruning and the Palace Guard can't? I mean, they use regular mental probing by a specialized telepath on their members. It's considered a failsafe method."

Dorothy shakes her head. "It is far from perfect. It can't detect treachery in a mind who's basic neurochemistry or composition varies significantly from the standard human. For example; people with braindamage, or with cybernetic implants. Like MMI. The further the target brain is removed from a standard, the less accurate and complete is the result from the probing. There are ways to scan an MMI as well, but the Cult hasn't implemented any. I simply expect you to keep your eyes and ears open, since you aren't too sure of yourselves."

She looks around the room. "Very well. Balbo and Laysa, your team will check the Peacekeepers and the Spartans, in that order. Meanwhile you, Oaken and Starbright, will investigate the BP and the palace guards. You will have full authority to do this, to the greatest extent. Celan, you will assist by providing a list of all members of the Guard and the BP that have an MMI, or who have travelled outside Cultist territory." She lets her gaze wander from person to person. "Everybody get that? Then, let's start."


End of chapter 71.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 72: Recall Street


See the old town of the University. The buildings are simple boxes with few windows, and with steel girders protruding out of the wall between each floor. The streets are narrower here, and wires cross the air above them. Bill-boards, public infodisplays and the occasional traffic-sign are hung from massive supports also strung between the buildings. Almost all of the air-purifiers embedded in the walls are old and worn-out, leaking indoor humidity in a steady stream of billowing mist, lending a foggy atmosphere to the streets, visible even in the light of day.

Dorothy crouches down on a support for some rest, while she looks for the best route further. Down below, sergeant O'Malley hurries a bit onward so he won't lose sight of his three teammembers in the crowd. He's the rearguard, and must be ready to alert them via MMI should someone try to sneak up on them. He isn't expecting trouble for himself.

Despite the streets being thronged of people, Dorothy is the only one able to spot what happens; a man casually hurries past O'Malley's left shoulder, barely brushing into him. There is a snapping sound, which only she is able to hear, and Dorothy sees a faint, blue light between the men. O'malley sags without a sound, only to be caught by the stranger and pushed into a van. No-one in the crowd reacts, or even spots what is happening. The van drives away, past the remaining three probe-operatives.

She moves on, after the van. It has stopped a couple of blocks further towards the old industrial area. She is now ahead of the cyborg three probes, and sees the woman part from the men at a corner. They wave goodbye to each other and smile. Dorothy notes the conversation they carry out with their eyes.

The three C-I agents arrive at the corner. She can see how they decide what to do; Smith and Rotwald plan to go after the two men, while Wendels and O'malley will go after the woman, they decide. Then they start looking for O'malley; Dorothy can practically sense the remaining agents' vexed confusion as he won't answer via MMI and is nowhere to be seen. A sensible, cautious probe-team leader would stop the mission, or at least wait and observe his surroundings for a while. But Lieutenant Wendels has been told that the success of this mission is priority one. Besides, everyone knows that it is through merit...


***


...."that you advance inside the University. A real nice idea, though your system is far too elitist. Here, everyone gets a chance, while at the University you'd need some good connections to make sure the right person knows of your merits. Anyway, it's what people know you have done, or what they know you are capable of doing, possibly to other people, that lends you respect and provides you with food on the table in this country." Ralf, the manager of the Fading House; apartment condo, orphanage, trades-school and mechanical workshop rolled into one, scratched his chin, coaxing a sound from his beard like someone sandpapering a stub of celery. Small, white particles cascaded onto his denim overalls, creating a nice contrast with the dark stains of oil. "What I mainly mean is, you must be good at something in order to avoid having to do jobs no-one else wants. Survival can be a harsh affair. Now, I've taken care of my orphans as good as I can, so they are all good at something they can use to live with. But I started training them early, and hard. Now, you are.. what? Twelve? Do you know any down-to-earth job that will let you earn credits, or are you willing to learn recycler maintenance and the correct usage of trash vaporizers? 'Cause that's the options you got here."

Steiner laid a hand on Dorothy's shoulder. "Somehow, I don't think Dorothy here will be forced to learn general property maintenance -procedures."

Ralf straightened up. "Well that's good, but she has to speak for herself. She'll be doing a lot of this, as I expect all my kids over eleven to do that. So, Dorothy, what are you good at?"

Dorothy looked shyly at the man. He appeared good-natured, but there was a directness in his manner of speech that alienated her. "Well, I can play chess, do tricks with a mono-grav, operate MMI-based software and hardware, create and maintain up to grade two pre-sentient algorithms, use a stealth-suit, assist a research-team, drive a rover, operate a holo-projector, cook cocoa, do simple designs with a VRAD-system and program an industrial robot provided I have the list of commands ready. Oh, and I have finished eighth grade at school."

Ralf stared at her, with his mouth open. Dorothy sensed that he half expected her to continue listing skills. She shifted nervously. "Will that do?"

"What? Oh. Yes. Yes.. it'll do..." He nodded absentmindedly a couple of times.


***


Wendels starts walking after the woman. Smith and Rotwald follow the two men. Dorothy pushes back her memories and silently leaps across the street, onto the opposite roof. She casts a final glance towards the Lieutenant before walking along the edge of the roof looking down onto the street Smith and Rotwald are using.

Up ahead, the van has stopped by the side of the road, apparently broken. It's hood is open, and a man is lying on the sidewalk, exploring the underside of the van with his left arm. The Cyborg probes walk past, soon followed by the two C-I agents, who pay no heed to the stricken van. As they walk past, the lying man withdraws his left arm from under the car; he is holding a chemical sprayer. Quickly and silently he lets loose a mist of clear droplets that envelops Sergeant Smith's left leg. The sergeant walks on without noticing anything until he suddenly stumbles and falls, a look of pain and surprise os his face.

"My leg!"

Rotwald tries to pull him back up, but to no avail. Smith's left leg seems totally paralyzed, and by the grimace on his face it hurts a lot.

The man from the van approaches, a concerned look on his face. "Do you need help? I have a first-aid package in my van."

Rotwald silently communicates to Smith, who hangs his head in frustration. Then the Second Lieutenant turns to the man. "I have urgent business to attend to for both of us, but if you could be so good as to help my friend I'd be very grateful." He walks away.

"No problem. Here, let me help you up!"

Smith finally manages to stand on his right leg, aided by the stranger. "Thank you for your help, mister.. aow, this really hurts! I think my whole leg is cramping."

"Well, it certainly seems to twitch, so I'd bet you're right. I got local pain-killers and I think there was a relaxant in the package as well, the last time I looked.. Oh, you can call me Mandra." He helps Smith to sit down with his back against the van, and then walks around and opens the back door. He pulls out a hypodermic gun and a couple of ampoules. He returns to Smith while loading the gun with one of the ampoules. "Here, this should stop the cramping." He hand the gun to Smith.

The agent gratefully pushes the nozzle of the gun into the back of his shin and presses the trigger. He lets out a sigh of relief, and it is obvious that the pain is greatly relieved. He lets himself slump against the van. Then his brow knits in puzzlement for a moment before his face relaxes, and he slowly keels over. Mandra shakes his head and smiles. "Looks like the ampoule wasn't meant to be used all in one dose, friend. Oh, well.. let's get you nice and safe." He picks up the limp agent and climbs into the back of the van, closing the door behind him. Dorothy, via a window in the van's roof, sees him open a large box and deposit Rotwald inside it. He inserts the second ampoule into the hypo-gun and injects it's contents into Rotwald's arm. Then he closes the agent's eyelids with his fingers and closes the box. Mandra, or Armand, then quickly opens another box and checks that O'Malley is doing fine, before moving into the driver's seat and starting the van. The hood closes automatically, and the van drives off.

Dorothy shakes her head, sighs and bounds away, while remembering..


***


She had been accepted into the Fading House, even though she was no literal orphan. The other children had understood, though, once she'd told her story. Jim agreed to stay in Data Decentral and keep an eye on her, but Captain Steiner..

"I have to return home, Dorothy. I'm a known figure among probes, and the chance of getting detected is doubled when we are together. Once I'm back at the University the cyborgs won't be able to deduce that you are around if they spot me. And.. there's Methis' plan." He sighs. "Normally, I'd be dead against cloning, Dorothy.. and knowing that it's only another interface of Methis makes little difference. For Planet's sake, the whole idea is to fool everyone into beliving you have returned to the University!"

Dorothy gazed steadily at him. "Then do you have a better suggestion?"

He grimaced. "Less immoral, yes, but none as effective. Of course, keeping you safe is my top priority, so my morals can go hang." He smirks. "Anyway, you're settled down here, and I can't help you much more.. I've given you what advice I can -remember to develop an eye for details, or you won't spot gangmembers or borders- so there's no point in me staying.. I have a plane to catch tonight." He watched Dorothy. "Don't be too sad; if all goes well, I'll be able to come and visit you now and then. And Jim's still here, yes?"

Comfort was hard to find. She had retreated to her new room and cried. Later that evening, her comm-link had beeped. She picked it up and noticed it was a transmission meant for MMI-communication. She connected to it, and saw Methis. The sentient algorithm was appearing in her original, ape-like form.. that is, the form she'd always used in virtual reality- a healthy, large chimpanzee with a startlingly human face, and large, dark eyes hinting of the grand sentience they represented.

"Hello, Dorothy.." Methis appeared hesitant. "Has Steiner departed? Are you in privacy?"

Dorothy nodded, but then remembered that Methis couldn't see her unless she activated an avatar for her as well. "Yes, I'm alone." She let out a shuddering sigh.

"I miss you, Dorothy! I had hoped you'd return, now that this is over." For a moment, Methis looked accusingly at Dorothy. Then her expression softened. "But I must admit that coming back wouldn't have been the best option. It's just that.. I want you here, where we can talk and play."

Dorothy smiled. She knew that by now the ape/algorithm could outthink a city full of geniuses, but that didn't stop it from being playful, emotional or downright childish at times. Lewis had expected this, she knew, and had speculated both on methods to remedy and ways to benefit from this. "I wish we could, Methis. Now I'm stuck here, and there's nothing to guarantee that I'll eventually get any training to become a probe-operative."

Methis waved her hands dismissively. "Oh, don't worry about that.. the sense-booster, as long as you use it, should quite quickly catch you some attention. Just remember that it's a good idea to be able to blend into the crowd as well as stand out from it. I'd recommend practicing both." She gazes thoughtfully at Dorothy. "I'm here to make you an offer."

"An offer?"

"Yes. You cannot tell anyone about it! They'd disapprove, or say that it's wrong -or dangerous- and try to stop you. Zakharov knows, but nobody else should."

"Yes?"

She leaned forward conspiratorially and said, "I've thought of a way to let you be both there and at the University! To let you live both here and there! This is how it goes.." She talked for a long time, and Dorothy sat and listened; awed, horrified... intrigued and relieved.


End of chapter 72.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 73: A Strike in the Dark


LightEning awakens due to the fact that someone is shaking him. He opens his eyes and sees Balbo. The probe-leader indicates to him that he should keep quiet, and then points towards a locker, where he keeps his probe-equipment. A certain sign of trouble.

">Are we in trouble?<"

">Big. Someone is attacking the admin-building, and I can't contact Hubris.<"

As LightEning dresses, Balbo goes to the door and listens. Then he goes back to Lightening and motions him to dress up in armor. LightEning puts on his vest of fibrous silksteel and hangs padded plates of plasma-steel on his trousers. Then he grabs his 'silent shredder' silenced plasma-shard rifle, checks the power-level and indicates to Balbo he is ready.

">Okay, you head over there, and see if you can find any of Oaken's troops. The comms-room is priority one. Laysa is already up there. I'll go alert the others.<"

With the University's help, the Free Drone probe-teams have acquired a technological edge superior even to the Data-Angels, which tends to compensate for their sad lack of finesse. LightEning is well-acquainted with the usage of MMI:s, and has received extensive training in it.

">>Request Combat-link with Unit Two; Laysa Orlova.<<"

He moves stealthily up the stairs. As he steps out into the dark corridor, he hears a synthetic voice:

>>Combat-link established.<<

The spectral form of Laysa appears, supplied by the MMI, glowing faintly green and apparently hovering in mid-air some twenty meters ahead and to the right of LightEning. She seems to be crouching. Another person, rendered in flashing red, is also superimposed on his vision; Laysa is spying on a stranger. LightEning deduces that they are both inside the comms-room.

">Laysa, what's up? Why aren't you pulling his plug?<"

">I can hear another one, but I can't see him. Can you try to spot him?<"

The unknown foe is obviously keeping guard, as he is carefully keeping an eye on all exits from the room. LightEning sneaks up to behind the door, and waits for him to look away. He quickly and silently opens the door a crack, then pulls to one side.

The man turns back, but fails to notice what has changed. LightEning peeks through the crack, and spots the second man. He is lying under one of the holo-projectors, apparently meddling with it's machinery. LightEning wills his MMI to mark the man as a foe, for the combat-link.

">Good, you got him. Okay, I will-<"

">Wait. There's something..<"

LightEning is suddenly feeling uneasy. The nape of his neck itches, and he involuntarily glances around. Nothing seems out of place, though; there's just him and the tunnel, suspended above- the tunnel- the tunnel is transparent -you are exposed!

He is leaping forward, through the doors, even before the thought has fully unfolded. A cacaphony of booms and splintering noises erupts behind him, but he has no time to think about that as there is a man with a gun in front of him, and he seems to be prepared. LightEning rolls to the left, feels a searing heat on his thigh, hits a chair, steadies himself and fires. His shot zooms through the air where the man stood a moment ago. As he tries to see where the man has gone, he hears a series of metallic groaning sounds in the direction of the connecting tunnel. The final one is the loudest, and it ends abruptly. Next, the doors fly open and he feels the wind on his neck, and a sweet smell that hints of xenofungus. The MMI-rendered images of the foes slowly fade, indicating that Laysa has lost sight of them.

He dons the ever-present breather. ">Laysa, the tunnel's gone, and the atmosphere's entering.<" He suddenly spots one of the men, apparently the one who was lying under the holo-projector. He is ducking from cover to cover towards the door. LightEning calmly raises his gun, and waits for him to try to reach the next cover.

Move!

He he is startled by the telepathic command, but he has enough presence of mind to act. He bursts out of his cover, firing wildly. His gun emits weak popping sounds, and the bullets fly away with an audible buzz. He hears how they smack into equipment, followed by hard thudding noises, and dismembered electronics start flying through the room. Behind him, the corner where he sat is disintegrating from a series of high-powered shots. Only now does he realize there's someone outside with thermal imaging and a very big gun, and that these people also have a way of communicating silently. Probably MMI:s. But he grins. Hubris must be somewhere out there as well.

Then he sees both of the strangers, one to his left and the other right in front of him, rise from their cover with their guns pointed at him.

He lets himself fall, while ripping off a volley of shots towards the one in front of him. He is lucky; one shot bites into the man's shoulder. There is a pained cry, followed by a dull boom. Then he rolls around, trying to find cover from the other man.. but there is none. Also, there is no shot. LightEning slowly pulls himself upright, and sees the other stranger. He is generally plastered against the wall, parts of him still smoking.

Laysa chuckles over the MMI-link. ">Them University scientists sure pack a mean little punch into these guns, don't they? What does plasma-shard technology mean, anyway?<"

">Beats the mindworm-juices out of me.<" He shudders. ">And any poor sods who get in our way.<"

">>Unit Zero, Hubris, is Sending an Update to the Combat Interface. Receive?<<"

LightEning glances at Laysa, who returns his gaze. She shrugs.

">>Receive.<<"

The download is quick, and the updated combat-link initiates. LightEning stares around him in awe and wonder. Objects further away than three meters have been turned into translucent shadows, while the walls of the room, and of the entire building, have been reduced to ghostly green outlining. He can even see a representation of the ground and surrounding buildings. Also, numerous people can be seen, in red, green and yellow. A team of five red individuals grabs LightEning's attention, as they are heading his way and are clearly expecting a fight. Briefly, as he seeks cover, he wonders where Hubris could be, to be able to get all this data.

Laysa gasps over the MMI. ">Look at all this info! And look at the front yard!<"

Directly blocking the entrance to the yard, is a hovertank. The behemoth is still a very rare sight on Planet, and LightEning eyes it nervously. It flashes, and a text appears next to it:

Mk III 'Pacifier' Tank. Power-level 100%. Shields 100%. Fusion Engine 100%. Heavy Quantum Laser 100%

Suddenly, a blue line touches the tank. LightEning follows it to it's source, and sees a group of five people -the probe-team, he realizes- quickly sneak out from the crew quarters, into the yard, and head towards the tank.

He returns his gaze to the advancing team of five hostiles. They are now directly on the other side of the door leading further into the admin-building. Sod silence, he thinks, and twists a knob on his rifle. Then he takes support on a table and rips loose on full auto towards the door. It caves in amid a keening boom, and the shapes beyond are either mowed down by the furious volley, or manage to duck. He manages to take out two foes this way, but the rest of the burst is wasted as his aim is way off by it's middle. He stops to take new aim, and Laysa rips loose with a similar volley, partly chewing up the door-frame in the process. She takes out two additional people, leaving one last survivor to stagger away. The woman stops though, gropes at her belt and tosses a grenade into the room. It rolls under one of the computer consoles and explodes, tearing the console apart. Little shrapnel is created, but the shock is stunning and reduces LightEning to a painful state of semi-unconsciousness. He has no chance to react as a shelf full of circuit-boards falls on him.

His lungs are squeezed until no air remains, and all blackens.


***


Balbo stops, out of sight of the tank. ">Hubris, what is it you want us to do to that thing? It's shields could take hits from our weapons all day without showing so much as a flicker. And we won't be able to shoot a second time; we'll die after the first shot.<"

">You are underestimating the technology of the University. Those rifles you are holding are specifically designed to punch through any armor, up to and including neutron shields. Just get withing fifty meters and then take out the turret. It is the main threat. Fire off a coordinated volley towards it, and watch it disintegrate.<"

Balbo looks down at the gun he is carrying, and turns it this way and that. "Trigger, stock, barrel, nozzle, sights, MMI-link. Looks like any other rifle in this day and age", he mutters. ">All right, people, the boss says our rifles will go through that tank like hungry mindworms through a blonde. Aim for the turret, and when it shows signs of disintegration you are to switch to the propulsion. Ready? Then.. One. Two. Thre-<" He spins around the corner, rifle raised, starts firing and then aims towards the turret. In that order.

The tank fades away, quite unceremoniously. From behind the wall surrounding the yard comes a loud, echoing pop, and several canisters spin lazily over the wall. They burst noisily, gushing forth thick, black smoke. The low hum of anti-grav engines powering up can be heard.

Balbo wastes no time gawping. "FALL BACK!" he screams. ">Hubris, it was a damned ghost-unit! The real tank was on stealth behind the wall!<"

">I see. Get away from it; you can't risk going up against it when it knows you're coming.<"

">You read my mind. Running like blazes right now.<"


****


Dorothy/Hubris stands over the corpse of a man and looks curiously at the tank as it parks in the middle of the thick cloud of smoke it created. To her the cloud is transparent, and she inspects the hovertank carefully. It is an amazing device, no doubt about that; probably the third or fourth revision of the basic design. She can tell. She remembers how desperately the University is trying to develop the technology, but the shortage of scientists due to the sleeper-algorithms is putting a stranglehold on research. She notes that it is designed for stealth and deception, rather than outright cannon-to-cannon duels. As such, it has less than optimal defenses, and it's cannon is smallish -while still perfectly capable of levelling any and all buildings in the city, if unstopped and used to it's full potential.

One thing a unit designed for stealth does not have, is much active surveillance. And Dorothy knows many ways to hide from most surveillance, be it active or passive. She walks up to the tank and feels it's smooth, cool surface, quite unconcerned about the swivelling, searching cannon-tower. She gently probes it's shell with her mind, and smiles. All that stealth, not to mention the ghost-generator -a pure Progenitor-technology- has taken so much room and power, that only the skeleton of a psionic defense exists.

She lets her will brush the defenses aside and enter the tank, and senses it's interior.. and a point of darkness. Someone is psionically shielded, in addition to the tank's defenses. The gunner and the driver are totally unprotected, and would succumb to her first assault, but this third person, in the commander's seat.. She brushes with her mental tendrils against the darkness; a direct psionic signal of challenge. Usually, the target will either instinctively recoil (if the target is unskilled) or slowly unfold into proper mental gearing for combat (to show off the target's skill and level of control), but neither happens. In fact, nothing happens; the darkness remains unchanged.

Dorothy makes a mental shrug and summons up her will-power, letting it fly like an spear, insubstantial but deadly, against the darkness.

Her attack splashes harmlessly, as if stopped by an impenetrable wall! Despite her bewilderment, she manages to notice the momentary rise in pitch in the sound from the engines. She senses how a slumbering electric circuit awakens, and a light in front of the commander's seat begins to blink. She senses the laughter that resonates inside the tank, causing the gunner and the driver to look around. Anger rises within her, and she reaches out into the gunner's mind, pushing his thoughts aside and possessing him.

She looks out of the man's eyes, for a moment with the double vision of the inside and outside of the tank conflicting. Then the images part, and she is able to focus on the man in the commander's seat. He is looking back at her.

He smiles, and speaks. "That sudden spike in power, the alarm, the short surprised cry from my gunner.. Greetings, Hubris.. or should I call you Dorothy?"

She is unable to collect her wits for a few seconds. Then she grips the gunner's vocal chords with her will. "Both will do. But what, ambassador Stephen Ray Burton, is your name among probes? And what are you hoping to accomplish here?"

Ambassador Burton rises and bows mockingly at her. "I am Sprayber. Here, first and foremost, I wish to strike a blow for the continued stability and future of the Peacekeepers, and the for rest of the factions on this continent as a good second point."

"I really don't believe you."

He shrugs. "It was a good enough excuse for me. Now, obviously you can render my gunner quite, quite unable to perform his tasks." He glances away. "And my driver as well. But I assure you it won't be necessary, as I shall drive away now. You can, of course, scramble their minds if you feel justified, or if you have some thirst for violence that must be quenched, but.. it is unnecessary. I shall withdraw."

"But you will, of course, be back."

He nods gravely. "Naturally. I intend to finish what I have started. Of course, tradition states that it is now your turn to attack me, as if this was some kind of game where we trade punches. But you still need to comb through your buildings... I know there's a bomb or two ticking away there. So, I think you will only have time to catch your breath and secure your base. Then you will have to wait for me to return and punch the last of the air out of you and your sorry band."

Dorothy smiles through the captive gunner. "You sound like a Cyborg I know."

She is rewarded by a satisfied smile. "I am a big player, Dorothy. Compared to me, your impact on the life on Chiron is insignificant. Does it surprise you, then, that I sound like a certain Cyborg? And does Zakharov really sound much different?" He nods to her. "I'll be gone now.. Make peace with the world before I find you again."

He sits down and nods to the driver. "Take us home."

Dorothy pulls out of the gunner's mind, putting him in deep sleep just in case. She watches silently as the hovertank drifts backwards, through the gate. Then it turns around and zooms away along the street.

Balbo walks up to her. "Dorothy, are you all right? What happened?"

"We came one big step closer to the source of the troubles."



End of chapter 73.

[Raging Mouse]

Chapter 74: Flashback Alley


The woman turns into an alley. Wendels hurries silently up to the corner. There's almost no people around; this part of the old town is dead during night-time. She listens for a moment, until the footsteps of the Cyborg probe are suitably weak. Then she steps into the alley. A silhouette ahead of her is receding further into the alley; Wendels stops long enough to note that this is a dead end.

The woman bangs a complex rythm on a reinforced door. After a moment, she is let inside.

Wendels sneaks closer. Halfway down the alley she spots a man, dressed in ragged clothing, cradling a bottle containing a clear liquid and lying among some plastic boxes. She sneaks over and prods him. The man grumbles a bit and shifts position. A short moment of silence is ended by a light snore.

She had intended to ask the man about the building, but now she has second thoughts. She sneaks closer to the door. Behind her, eerily silent and in a cascade of old newspapers, the man rises to his feet in one fluid motion, holding a tazer.

He has fired it before the first of the newspapers touches the ground. Wendels hits the ground before the last. The alley is filled with the scent of ozone. The door opens, and the woman appears. Together, they carry Wendels' inert body inside. The door closes with a very final clang.


****


The man turns into a doorway. Dorothy watches how Rotwald slowly walks up to it, then stops.

">Wendels, come in.<"

He turns his head to look down the street the way he came.

">Wendels, come in.<"

He stands motionless for a moment.

">Smith, come in.<"

He eyes the building as if it just insulted him.

">Damnit, where are you people?!<"

He kicks around some dirt.

">This is Wilhelm Rotwald. Can any agent hear me? Central, can you hear me?<"

Dorothy, from her much higher vantage-point, regards the radio-scrambler on the roof of the building for a moment. Then she concentrates.

"Sebastian."

His reply is immediate. First, a purely reflexive string of cursewords. This is followed by some well-selected blasphemies that would seriously offend no less than five religions. Finally, he gathers his thoughts.

"Dorothy, why on Planet aren't you using common MMI-link communications?!"

She regards a particular van, parked in an alley and hidden by a sheet of plastic. "Because I am opposite a very functional scrambler, that's why. Rotwald is right now entering what is very likely the wolves' den, so this would be the time to get prepared. Give me one minute, then slam these coords with whatever you can pull loose. The old records say the building is condemned, and has twenty-eight subterranean floors in addition to the three above ground. Common pre-dome construction. It should be a nightmare to clean out. I'll give you a telepathic beacon to lock on to once I've gotten your probes out of the fire."

"Gearing up already." For a moment, Steiner's surface thoughts are dominated by shouted insults mixed with commands obviously meant for some probe-teams he is in the vicinity of. Then his attention returns to Dorothy. "You just be careful, you hear? What I really can't afford to lose is you. Multiple redundancy or not."

Dorothy withdraws her mental link to Steiner. She takes aim, jumps and lands on the ledge outside a first-floor window. She inspects the window for a moment. Then a click sounds and the window opens. She enters.


****


Beta Sixteen walks back and forth in front of the three captured probe-operatives. They are sitting in chairs, restrained by bands of silksteel across each limb, plus torso and head. Sergeant Smith is still unconscious.

"Here is a deal for you. The first of you to willingly merge with a splinter of the consciousness will be the leader of your probe-team. You'd stay together."

Beta waits for a while. No-one speaks. Then two cyborg probes walk into the room, supporting Rotwald between them. He is extremely groggy, and mostly his feet simply drag along the floor as he is half-carried forward. He is secured to a fourth chair.

Beta raises his eyebrows. "Well, which one of you is the highest-ranking?"

Wendels takes a deep breath, but O'Malley hushes her up. Beta walks over to stand in front of her. "So, who are you? If I'm to treat you with every right due a prisoner, I need to know your name, rank and number." He smiles.

Wendels squints at him, deep distrust apparent on her face. "Lieutenant Katharine Wendels, 061196229543".

"A lieutenant. Very good." Beta nods happily. "Won't you volunteer? Sacrifice yourself and set a good example to your fellow team-members?" He clears his throat. "The alternative is that I assume control of your team. Specifically, you will be converted into a node for the Beta-algorithm."

Weak curses can be heard from the other probes. Wendels just shuts her eyes. Then O'Malley leans forward. "Ma'am, say yes. Being merged is bad, but being a Beta-algorithm is being dead.

Rotwald coughs and takes a deep breath. "No, Lieutenant. Don't do it. Being dead is better than being merged. Don't let him mess with your mind."

Beta shakes his head. "Agents, you have failed to understand. I don't require your cooperation any longer to merge you. It's just that if you cooperate, you can receive a higher class of algorithm from square one. You'd start with an advantage. But the decision, merge or convert, is entirely mine to make. You can only affect your subsequent status within the Consciousness. I am, you could say, throwing your Lieutenant a bone here. Either I will convert her, and you will be obeying the undisputable command of a beta-algorithm, or she agrees to merge willingly and retains her free will, plus you would be able to interpret her commands in a way that suits you. That's not an option if I convert her. I am always obeyed to the letter by the lesser algorithms."

He lets this sink in. "Well, what do you say? I am not very patient."

Wendels, gray in the face, speaks. "I will merge", she whispers. The other agents close their eyes. O'Malley sighs. "I'll merge too."

Rotwald grits his teeth. "Damn you. Damn you all. You got me. I'll merge. Willingly." He spits.

Beta grins. "Your poor unconscious friend can't choose for himself, but don't worry. With the three of you backing him up, he should advance to your class of algorithm quite quickly." He nods to the two cyborg probes. "Link them up."

They attach cables to the MMI-ports on the back of each agent's neck while Beta walks over to a computer console. He thinks for a moment, moves his right hand so his index-finger hover over the 'enter'-key, turns around and eyes the University probes. "This first program will enable your MMI to enhance your relaxation, so you can enter a light meditative trance. Simply go with the flow from here on." He presses enter.

After a moment, the agents visibly relax, and their eyes close. Beta nods, calls up a link to a node within Consciousness territory, selects four splinters of the algorithm to download, and then the lights go out. So does the computer console.

The room is pitch-black.


****


Rita Iota-95 Koskinen fumbles for a flashlight from her equipment-belt, turns it on and looks around. The building is now very silent; even the ventilation has stopped. Then she steps out of the room, into a corridor. She walks down to it's far end, and opens a door leading into a large hall. In the middle of the hall is a small fusion-reactor. In operation, it should be the source of a deep humming, but right now it is silent. She starts to walk towards it.

Then a hand grabs her neck from behind and throws her into the concrete wall with force enough to make it crack. She slumps to the floor, severely injured. Her bones have been cybernetically strengthened, so nothing is broken, but many of her internal organs are wounded. She still manages to raise herself on her arms, to peer at the approaching attacker.

She becomes the living image of utter, utter amazement.

Dorothy stops and raises her gun. "I want you to remember, Rita, that this is for making Lewis see me die. And I will make sure you remember, by helping you." She throws a collar with an MMI-link in front of Rita. "Put it on. It's a transmitter with an independent battery and a slight delay. I've hacked a direct link to the Consciousness, but I don't want your latest version to arrive there in time to contact your friends."

Rita obeys silently, and Dorothy watches her relax.

Dorothy nods. "Good. Until next time, Rita." And she fires. There is a soft pop as Rita's body implodes. The collar falls to the floor, unharmed, and a flashing light indicates that the timer is counting down.

Dorothy picks it up and walks away.


****


Beta blinks in the darkness. Then he picks up a flashlight from his belt, turns it on and looks around. A door opens, and Armand enters, holding another flashlight. Beta nods to him. "Find out what's wrong. Take your team as backup."

Armand nods, motions for the probes to follow him, and the three exit the room.

Beta listens to the calm breathing of the captive agents for a moment. Then he walks to a cabinet, opens it and lifts out a combat-suit. He puts it on. Next he picks out a rifle, checks it's power-levels and turns it on. He mounts the flashlight on top of it.

When he turns back, the four chairs are empty. O'Malley, Smith, Rotwald and Wendels are nowhere to be seen.

For a moment, he stands completely still. Then he starts to slowly edge along the wall while carefully eyeing the room.

A shadow moves in the corner of his eye, and he snaps his head around in that direction to find nothing. A second later, the door to the room closes with a slam. He can hear the sound of running feet through the wall. Four pairs of feet, running away. Then something slams into his chest, causing him to lose his balance. He stumbles, and sits down heavily.

He switches to thermal imaging. He still can't see anyone, but the floor in front of him is getting warmer. He throws himself to one side and rolls along the wall. Then he springs to his feet and shoots into the corner. It disintegrates into a ball of fire, and shrapnel flies around the room. He switches to ultra-violet vision. Still nothing. Then something hits him in his right shoulder, jarring him and causing him to drop his rifle. He leaps to the left while activating the suit's psi-shield. Finally, a human form seems to fade into existence in front of him.

Nothing prevents a member of the Consciousness, including Beta, being surprised. This nearly costs him a foot planted in his face. He staggers to the left, while removing his helmet and cautiously prodding his left ear. Dorothy runs and leaps into a flying kick, but Beta throws himself flat against the wall and punches Dorothy in the stomach, with the force of a pneumatic hammer, as she flies past. She slams into a chair, falls, rolls to the side and stands up.

Beta shakes his head, smiling slightly. "Dorothy, Dorothy. What have you done to yourself? A simple human would have been smeared around my fist by that blow. Not to mention the slight inconsistency in you walking around alive."

She smiles back. "Actually, I have done noting to my self. And my self never died."

Beta straightens, an expression of understanding forming on his face. "Ah. So how does it feel, being a single-unit, multiple-node consciousness?"

"Quite fine, thank you. Tell me, how does it feel, knowing that your grandiose plans are crumbling?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. It hasn't happened yet." He gently puts the tip of his right index-finger on his lower lip, while smiling. "Oh, you mean that it would happen right now? Then you fail to understand how 'grandiose' my plans really are. This is but a slight delay, nothing more. Really, Dorothy, you must learn to play the true game if you ever want to be something else than a small player, and an amusing distraction. I don't move people across the board; I move socio-economic forces, and they are a bit hard to face down with a gun and a flying drop-kick."

Dorothy laughs. "I knew it. Sprayber is another Beta-convert."

"Wrong! He isn't even merged. Ambassador Burton is a super-talent, Dorothy, and he has seen the glory of the Consciousness even without being merged. Such talent is rare. So rare, in fact, that I won't offer a splinter to him until I am very sure he will lose nothing of his multi-faceted personality. He is, to put it simply, one of my most powerful allies. And with allies like that, why do you bother trying to fight me, instead of joining?"

She shrugs. "Because someone has to. Because I can."

Beta suddenly launches himself towards Dorothy, fists ready. She simply steps out of his way, turns around and gives him a kick that sends him, head first, into one of the chairs. It rings with a low booonng, and Beta slumps to the floor. His head comes to rest at an unnatural angle.

Dorothy gives him a prod. "Damn." She straightens up. ">Sebastian, how are things going?<"

His MMI-produced voice echoes in her head. ">Quite well, thanks. I picked up the four probes; they seemed all right. I also caught Armand alive. His two thugs got killed, though.<"

">Well done. You might want to come in here and help me check if there's anything interesting in the computers.<"

">All right. Please turn the fusion reactor back on.<"

She sends out her will, repairs some control circuitry she severed, and a couple of rooms away the silent reactor awakens it's fury. The lights come back on.

As Steiner arrives, Dorothy is sitting in front of the computer console, with her MMI attached to it. After a moment, her blank face resumes a semblance of life and she glances up at him.

"We're in luck."


End of chapter 74.