The headquarters of the Vakkar Industries is outside of Oxford, having completely incorporated swaths the small town of Witney westward of it in addition to a massive part of Oxford. It is the owner company of the Vakkar Institute, also located near Oxford and within the vast complex. Astraeus and Boreas leave the massive sprawl of London behind them moving at high speed. But this urban sprawl is not without a successor, as the gray machinosphere of the Vakkar Industries unravels before the duo of Cells. It’s massive complexity is used for producing everything from war machines to cars, from phones to sonar devices, and from cancer cures to weapons of mass destruction more terrifying than any apocalypse.


    “It’s quite the sight,” says Boreas into his radio.


    “Gaudy. I can’t say I enjoy it,” says Astraeus.


    “Me neither. It’s beauty is akin to a slow train crash,” says Boreas.


    “Indeed,” says Astraeus.


    “We’re a dozen kilometers out from the Institute. Things are weird here,” says Boreas, changing direction in unison with Astraeus.


    “Eerie, as if everyone chose to ignore the Solar and Cell Codex. The planet being governed by a Cell is strange enough. Bots handling security is the vanilla icing on the mustard cake. Just plain weird.”


    They ride for a few minutes more and a large, several story circular complex grows in detail and size as they near it. A gigantic, round hockey puck, only white and blue from the limestone concrete and reinforced glass windows. Beside it, a few hundred meters away and massive in scope, a massive V-matter generator complex, producing thousands of nuclear reactors worth of power stands in the distance beside the Institute.


    Cars and vehicles from and to the Institute whiz by, people going about their lives. It seems everyone’s accepted the blatant disregard for the threats that almost undid humanity a few centuries ago. They begin their descent towards the Institute and see tiny specks of people hurrying about going about their days. The sun is setting on the region, lights switch on as they approach, illuminating the massive scope of the complex.


    Astraeus and Boreas continue to land carefully, this time no VIP spots like in the LMPD have been designated so they aim their bikes in the guest area. Their communications devices get hailed as they approach the parking lot.


    “Hailing the approaching Cell Circuits, marked Boreas and Astraeus of Caste Erebus. This area is off limits for Cells, state your business,” says a stern male voice in their ears.


    “We’re here on matters of highest interplanetary security. We’re not at liberty to disclose information. We will contact Georgia Vakkar once we land,” says Boreas.


    “I see. You will be expelled with force if you don’t turn around,” says the male voice, “I… yes…,” he continues distracted, “Right away, ma’m. You’ve been cleared to land. Proceed.”


    “Expelled with force,” says Boreas to Astraeus on their secure channel.


    “Amusing,” say Astraeus.


    They set their Vulcan 5s down near the entrance to the Institute and dismount, placing their helmets onto the handlebars. People again stop and stare. Some paused mid-stride, their conversations halting as they glanced at the duo. ‘Cells? They’re not supposed to be here,’ someone whispered, their voice tinged with confusion. A child tugged at their parent’s sleeve, pointing at the hulking figures with wide-eyed awe. The twenty floor high hockey puck housing the Institute is even more massive in presence when standing nearer to it. Illuminated offices busy with scientists and bureaucrats all being busy little bees unknowingly organizing agile development sprint meetings to hurry their progress towards their apocalypse.


    When they arrive at the entrance, they’re greeted by a tall and slim blond woman in her early 40s. She’s got piercing blue eyes and a sleek angular face with uncolored slightly pouting lips and her nose is slightly pointed upwards. She, too is flanked by two armed bots on her side. She says:


    “Gentlemen, sorry for the inconvenient outburst of our security man,” in a calm voice, deep for a woman, “I hope you don’t take it personally.”


    “Not at all,” says Boreas, intently looking at the two bots who are scanning him right back.


    “Good,” she continues, “My name is Dr. Georgia Vakkar, I’m the chief scientist of this institute. My areas of expertise are mathematics and cryptography, biology, genetics and well, most everything you can think of. I’ve spent my life studying all that mankind has developed or may develop.”


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    “You’re certainly very humble,” says Astraeus.


    “I’m merely stating a fact,” she says, “What’s your business here?”


    “We were hoping to speak with you in private, doctor,” says Astraeus, “Is there somewhere we won’t be disturbed?”


    “Naturally,” she says and almost commands, “Follow me right this way.”


    She leads them through various parts of the offices and staircases, reaching finally a large tunnel veering off into different directions and from a lift, a platform with leather seats emerges. She motions them to follow her, and to take a seat, with which they comply. She also clicks two buttons on her datapad, causing the bots to stay behind. The platform bolts off along the tunnel like a mining cart, air ruffling their hairs a little.


    “We can continue here while we ride into the facility and to my office. Walking is just not practical. What is it you wished to discuss?” she asks them.


    “Dr. Vakkar, we are here on a matter of high importance and threat to the Solar Empire. Information has come to light that cannot be easily dismissed. We must stress that what we’re about to share with you, is of the utmost secrecy and we expect complete discretion,” says Boreas.


    “Oh? Did you contact governor Notus about it?” she asks immediately.


    “No, and if you’re allied to him, our continuation is fraught with trepidation. We’re not exactly sure what’s happening here on Earth either nor who we can trust,” Boreas continues.


    “Good. As a matter of fact, I’m not allied to that idiot,” she says, “No offense. I am of the concern that Notus is acting with a high degree of inconsistency regarding the Cell Codex.”


    “We suspect this too,” says Astraeus.


    The platform starts to slow down and soon they’re in another place, accompanied again by two security bots. Boreas sends a look to Astraeus, which he reads like an open book. Why isn’t she keeping those bots away, too? She’s certainly honest about her disdain for Notus, her body language is clear as day to them.


    “Isn’t it just annoying when you can’t think out loud in peace?” she says abruptly as they walk, “Just every facet of your expressions open to subversion.”


    Astraeus and Boreas now realize, that the bots are not there for her but for someone else. They’re being watched! They choose to accept her bureaucratesian corporate speak as the mode for communication. Boreas says:


    “Yes, indeed, Dr. Vakkar. I for one wish to congratulate you for conveying this very important concept and message.”


    “Quite so,” says Astraeus, “Subversiveness is a tool most often used by the ones we dislike. It’s especially unpleasant when it’s used by someone we might consider above all that.”


    “I concur,” says Dr. Vakkar, “This might be especially dangerous. I’ve grown to learn that knowledge more intimate is more insidious.”


    “What a fantastic addition to our conversation,” says Boreas as they take a sharp left into a hallway with a single double door in the end.


    “Yes,” says Astraeus, “I enjoy it too.”


    They arrive at the end of the hallway and Dr. Vakkar again is able to make the robots stand outside. Her office is large and square, without any windows. It’s white, almost blindingly so with the lights on. The walls and bookshelves are filled with Cell memorabilia and her forefather’s trinkets and heirlooms. She walks over to her desk and takes out a device which she activates, emitting a hum around the trio.


    “Oscillating noise sequencer,” she says, “They can hear us through the door otherwise.”


    “Quite impressive for an old professor,” says Astraeus.


    “My,” she says, “Funny, aren’t you. I figured out that I was being listened a few years ago. I can continue most of my work despite that but have since taken precautions to not say or do anything too revealing while around them.”


    “How did you figure it out?” asks Boreas, looking at an old tablet, covered in smudges and fingerprints.


    “Things I thought I was muttering to myself kept being brought up in places where people would never know about them otherwise,” she says, “clearly, someone’s done a lousy job of keeping information secure.”


    “Could it not be a coincidence?” Astraeus asks, shaking and staring at a snowglobe with a figure of a Cell inside. A toy from a bygone era.


    “I am 100% sure it wasn’t and one day I can tell you how I know that”, she says, “But you have a matter you wish to discuss?”


    “Yes,” says Boreas, still examining the old artifacts. He’s focused on a prototype power sword hanging on the wall in a glass case, signed by Dr. Gobb Vakkar.


    “It’s come to our attention via our brethren in arms, Eurus, of Caste Erebus, that the Machine Revolt lives on beyond the Solar Empire. Codices entail that we must restart producing Cells,” he continues.


    “Eurus? That’s interesting,” she says.


    “Why so?” Astraeus asks.


    “I’ve read through old files that apparently when he was being produced, great difficulty was planting the Codex in him as he continually rejected parts of it. I thought him long dead,” Boreas momentarily stops examining the room and watches her as she says this, analyzing her body language in third person. She’s telling the truth.


    “Well, it worked,” says Astraeus.


    “But the Machine Revolt? Are you certain?” she asks.


    “Eurus is. And we know he has intelligence capable of proving that resoundly in the form of an outer world civilization called the Tomorrans who have had a rough encounter with our Machines,” Astraeus continues. Boreas keeps examining everything in the room with curiosity.


    “I see. Well I don’t know how to help you right now. The Institute has almost no records on your creation as they were destroyed. But I do know you need a right female to set off the chain reaction designed by Dr Gobb Vakkar. So… good luck!”


    “We already have her,” says Astraeus.


    Georgia jolted upright, her piercing gaze locking onto Astraeus. For the first time, her carefully composed demeanor cracked, revealing a flicker of urgency. ‘You’re sure?’ she asked, her voice a notch sharper “Positive,” says Astraeus.


    “Bring her to me. I will help you if that’s the case. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to start making preparations to make our inquiries incognito and looking at leads we will need. Have a nice ride back to Cell HQ! Bye,” she says as she dives into her terminal, now completely oblivious to their presence.


    Boreas and Astraeus take a little time to get out of the building but ultimately fly back towards Cell HQ without much of any worries. They clear the immediate proximity and send their findings to Eurus.