《Per Astra Ad Aspera》


 Prologue - Eriol, Bidding Farewell

    I needed a soothing place. One filled with nature, yet somehow not overly complex. I felt dissatisfied with something as lazy as grass fields under a clear blue sky. Yes, those scenes graded far beyond the featureless, infinite white floor beginners typically summoned, but my guests would deem any lack of effort here to be disrespectful. And they knew my abilities fairly well by now, so the expectations were high. I picked the memory of a forest neighboring my childhood house as my target. I recalled its treacherous grounds ¡ª a slippery mix of dirt and moss where hidden roots would sometimes trip you ¡ª and the emerald thorny bushes protecting their sweet berries. The taste I remembered might not have been genuine, but the emotion I attached to it would satiate any ghost. Satisfied, I continued with the trees, incredibly tall from my childhood point of view, and the many rays of light shining through the ceiling of their moving leaves. Finally, I completed the scene with a more personal touch, something I knew would provide interest and novelty: my secret hut, made of carefully chosen branches.


    I mentally pushed it all onto the egregore, rendering a scene the spirits would enjoy. Mostly visuals and tastes for now. Other senses could be added later, depending on their requests. But already the details were proving too complex for all to agree. The representation became fuzzy as tree barks showed incoherent, ever moving patterns and the branches kept changing shape.


    No matter. It would do.


    I now inserted myself. A much simpler exercise, by force of repetition, though the egregore made no efforts to stay true to my uniqueness. The white and gray patterns on my fur changed erratically. My eyes mixed green and teal without rhythm or reason. As usual, only my clothes, the ceremonial robes of crimson and gold, remained perfectly stable. There could be no ambiguities or disagreements here, as every single one of the egregore¡¯s many ghosts remembered wearing the Chosen¡¯s uniform.


    I could feel my guests probing the newly created space. They would shape their own bodies, although some of them occasionally just inhabited parts of the decor.


    But looking around at my memory given form, I ceased paying the dead any attention. Finding myself so close to home kindled emotions I had just spent hours suppressing. I hastily tried to dampen them, but they broke through.


    Would I ever be able to come back here? Did my home even exist anymore? Had everybody really just disappeared?


    The flare of anxiety bursted through, reaching the egregore. My fears manifested as a conflagration, causing the trees to catch on fire.


    Damn it! I had to calm down before¡ª


    ¡®Eriol! It¡¯s too much! You can¡¯t work like this!¡¯


    The thought came someone within the egregore. I ignored it. I was fine! I just had to reclaim control over my emotions.


    ¡®Definitely. He should stop and go meditate. He¡¯s clearly got much to learn if he keeps messing up like this.¡¯


    Another spirit, her disappointment encasing the thought. I hated to admit it, but she was right. My dread had grown too strong already. It threatened to paralyze them all.


    I lessened the connection, limiting it to thoughts dry of any emotions. The scenery disappeared, leaving me in a void of darkness.


    ¡®I will,¡¯ I promised, ¡®but can you at least check if there¡¯s any signal?¡¯


    Meditation no longer sufficed. How could I hope to remain calm in this situation?


    Two months ago, communications with Central had gone down without explanation ¡ª a failure that left us cut off from all civilization, alone aboard a space station at the halfway mark to our solar system¡¯s termination shock.


    Our supplies could only cover one more month at the station before endangering any return trip. Time was running short, and the root of the issue still eluded us. Stress and dread festered among the crew. I was no exception. Despite my training and daily hours of self-centering, I suffered from intermittent spikes of despair and frustration. Those were absolutely unacceptable when working with an egregore, but I could not afford to stop.


    I was out of my depths.


    No one else onboard could do more than simple messaging through the egregores, so it all fell down on me. Being one of the Watcher¡¯s Chosen, I was in charge of maintaining the spirits of both crew and egregores¡­ and failing both.


    For now, the station remained operational. Whatever corruption plagued the egregores had no impact on control of the other systems. The crew operated them regularly without difficulties. In effect, only long-distance communications kept failing.


    I wished other problems would appear.


    The station¡¯s egregore counted amongst the most advanced ones I had ever heard of. Built as an amalgamation with centralized control, instead of isolated entities in charge of only one system. I could not dispute the benefits in autonomous problem solving, but the giant mesh of interacting, semi-fused personalities made any attempt at a diagnostic nightmarish. I was no novice ¡ª the Order would not have let me embark on this journey otherwise ¡ª but despite my experience, I remained flabbergasted before our situation.


    Oh, my work still produced results. I occasionally found slight mistakes here and there. And correcting even the most unrelated of them gave me a tinge of hope that this time... this time, it would be different. That a humongous backlog of messages would start flooding in, announcing our salvation. It never happened, of course, but the anticipation was inescapable.


    Nobody expected me to succeed.


    Deep down, not even I really believed the egregore to be at fault. A state-of-the-art system, never exposed to such a barely understood environment? Obviously, there would be problems. It had been the most reasonable explanation, at first. But not now. Not after so long. My mind refused to accept the logical conclusion glaring at me from the ship: its simplistic egregores presented no challenges, yet proved just as unable to reach home, so the problem stemmed from elsewhere.


    Still, I persevered. It kept me from falling into complete madness. Indeed, I reasoned I was only slightly mad. We were all a bit mad here, of course. No sane person could face this and remain so.


    the egregore finally gave me its answer, interrupting the downward spiral of my thoughts were stuck in. Or maybe just completing it: the link to Central was down, as I knew it would be.


    Eyes still closed, I unbuckled myself from my work bed, feeling tired and miserable. My last attempt for the day, and it had failed so terribly. Spending that much time focused on the egregore made my body feel foreign. I could imagine any place I wanted, share it, and the mental feedback loop with the egregore would make it feel real. But unlike its spirits, I could not stay in the egregore forever.


    And now a jealous world reasserted itself. It tried to overflow my senses, but the room¡¯s design countered all its efforts. The dim light reflected weakly on the dark brown drapes, failing to burn my now opened eyes. Closed hatches and well-maintained filters kept any headaches inducing noise locked outside. I defeated the more insidious enemies, such as smell, by always showering before work and a weekly cleaning of all the linen.


    But my body betrayed me, attacking with hunger. I could not afford to delay. It would be reckless to risk bouts of irritability from an empty stomach when everybody was on edge. Plus, I knew someone else would be in a similar state.


    ¡®Leri,¡¯ I sent him through the egregore, ¡®how are things on your end? I validated the authentication sequence. There¡¯s no error... except for the lack of reply, of course. I¡¯m exhausted and famished. Want to grab a bite?¡¯


    I already knew how things were going for Leri. He radiated the same anguish as everyone else on the station. I asked, though, because I could use the company of a living being after talking to ghosts for so long. And because he was my friend, the only other crewmember still trying to fix things. The rest simply considered there was nothing to fix, because nothing was broken.


    Leri had made a reconversion to being an optical systems expert ¡ª something neither our transport ship nor the station were originally meant to host. From his job as medical assistant, that made for quite a change of competence, but, with all the time and resources hitherto reserved for our mission freed, there was nothing to hinder such ludicrous projects. So I kept on investigating egregores, and Leri made telescopes.


    His first one had been assembled within a few hours. A couple of lenses in a small tube, usable from any windowed module. That innocuous contraption turned into the seed of a poisonous hope. Other members of the crew and I had taken turns trying it out, searching for signs of home, looking for a small dot, something that the egregores could confirm to be our planet. We failed, each of the many false positives making a chink in our morale. But Leri did not give up. He went on to create larger and larger telescopes, arguing his first solution to have only been a toy.


    And this is when most of us saw our hopes die, for the more advanced instruments did indeed find planets ¡ª Nasir, Nieven, Scalanis, and all the others ¡ª but not ours.


    The egregore signaled Leri had replied.


    ¡®Oh, hey Eriol! I think the objective lens broke during depressurization. I¡¯m not seeing anything. Yeah, I could use a break too. I¡¯ll wait for you at the mess.¡¯


    That used to be near the center of the station. Easy access from anywhere. Each expedition to Supplicant Station brought new modules, but the constraints and costs of such journeys kept eroding the quality of life aboard ¡ª deterioration from use outran the influx of repair materials. Our arrival had grown the station past a hundred modules. Too large, but not spacious enough at the same time. Each room felt cramped, yet getting anywhere took forever. Very few of them could be safely decoupled, so any restructuring plan would effectively mean starting a new station. Expensive and wasteful. In the meantime, we lived in cylindrical rooms of titanium and aluminum, differentiated primarily by their instruments and the amount of claw marks the meshed fabric of their interiors bore.


    I ordered the egregore to open the hatch, rotated to face the bed I had been lying on, grabbed a belt to anchor myself through the maneuver, then released as my legs sprung me toward the exit. Made it through a handful of modules before having to reorient myself. Not a bad jump.


    No risk of collision with another crew member. I could only sense Leri onboard. The others all stayed on the ship. They had a different project to keep their mind busy: a last journey, one that would bring them back home ¡ª or at least where home ought to be. Supplies were limited, and we lacked any viable way to replenish them, but despair bred psychosis in our minds. We sought refuge, and their plan offered shelter from dark thoughts, as flawed as it may be.


    But Leri and I had opted to stay on the station, at the outer rim of our solar system. With Him. The Watcher, ever gazing, ever judging. An impossible entity composed of two rings, one inside the other, with diameters close to a quarter the size of our sun. It orbited beyond a decade away from our planet. Too perfectly circular to be a natural formation. The most sacred of places, and an undeniable evidence of higher powers.


    The Watcher¡¯s Eye had driven our civilizations, its reflective surface making it visible from within our atmosphere, despite the distance. We had rushed toward space faring technologies until, little more than a century ago, we sent the First Supplicants. They were the highest of each of our then diverging faiths ¡ª a compromise made to ensure funding and to limit the risk of angering the Watcher. What the Supplicants found instead was a dormant living structure, and no one to welcome them. It appeared the Watcher¡¯s Divine Messengers did not think us worthy of an audience. But the Eye¡¯s structure itself revealed itself as a message. It featured alcoves large enough to host ships, leading to a plethora of oratories, themselves filled with engraved pictures and letters. The Scriptures. The silence made sense at last: how could we hope to discuss with the Divine Messengers, speaking only our mortal tongues? We had to learn their language. We did, embracing new teachings and correcting the many errors of our ways. Yet still did the Watcher find us wanting. It remained silent even as we built and anchored Supplicant Station to its outer ring.


    I finally reached the mess, having cataloged a few spots in need of repairs on the way. This cubic module counted among the larger ones. Ropes were strung across the room, providing anchors for the crew and their food. The walls hosted fruit-giving plants, in soil bags connected to a water system. Spread among them were containers for actual - processed - meals. While the station kept growing more independent for food with each mission, it still fell well short of the needs of our twenty men crew. That local production occurred in another module. The fruits here provided more happiness than nutriments. It smelled good, too. I called it the best restaurant in four billion kilometers. A joke I had reiterated too many times in the past and now only served as a grim reminder of our situation.


    I noticed Leri waiting for me, attached to a cable near one of the fruit walls. Seeing him, I almost reached for his mind out of reflex, catching myself just in time. Too much time spent working on the egregore. I had to be more careful about that.


    As I grew closer, I detected something new among the emotions he radiated: a growing anxiety, barely noticeable under the torrent of dread we all felt.


    When Leri raised a hand to acknowledge my presence, I realized what had changed.


    ¡°Oh,¡± I said, surprised and disappointed.


    He had stopped wearing his ceremonial dress, opting instead for the pale green jumpsuit typically worn when performing activities even our microgravity-optimized garbs could hinder. It did not pair well with the orange of his fur. He looked tired and in need of a wash, but that was nothing new. Most of us did.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    I had failed him, too.


    The change of attire could only be a deliberate choice, given the limited clothing alternatives. It signaled a crisis of faith none of us had escaped. I knew the reasoning. Even before the crew had come to me for answers, I had asked myself the question. Was our missing planet the outcome of the Watcher¡¯s judgment? The Scriptures did mention such terrible punishments, but only in the most extreme of cases.


    While I could not deny our best efforts fell short of the Watcher¡¯s expectations, surely our failings did not warrant retributions that severe.


    Leri noticed my disapproval and guilt, but only felt a sliver of shame at the implicit accusation. He was the last of our crew I was still on good terms with, so I decided not to press the issue. He handed me a perenn, as if paying amends. I accepted and took a bite of the sweet fruit, but kept quiet, as I sensed him building up to a confession.


    We ate in silence.


    Even after having finished with his fruit, Leri stayed silent, so I took the cue and pushed.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°I have decided to go with the ship,¡± my friend admitted, opening the container for a meal he had just ruined any chance of being enjoyable.


    Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuck.


    I grabbed the packet he gave me.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± I knew he was, but I had to ask. ¡°There are a lot more things we could try here.¡±


    Leri was preparing for a confrontation. I recognized the pattern. A fight here would only entrench him in his convictions. But still, I could not just let him go to his death without attempting to dissuade him.


    ¡°We¡¯re not getting anywhere,¡± he began. ¡°The only thing waiting for us here is madness.¡±


    ¡°The only thing waiting for you there is death.¡± I sounded upset. Not good. I was upset, but I should have known better than to let it affect my words.


    ¡°We need to know, Eriol. And there¡¯s the seed reserve on Nieven,¡± he countered. ¡°We can reach it.¡±


    That was a new one...


    Still indignant, I rushed to find counterarguments, only to realize they were all shallow. I hated to admit it, but it was not such a bad idea.


    We were doomed ¡ª even I could admit it ¡ª but by joining into an egregore, they could hope for a nigh eternal existence. A desperate move, but not as unreasonable as their initial plan.


    ¡°That¡¯s interesting,¡± I said, ¡°and clever. Let me think¡­¡±


    But it meant than despite having abandoned their faith, the crew had adopted one of the most controversial beliefs surrounding egregores. Was the plant mimicking the mind, or was the same mind continuing its existence within it? Even as an expert, I could not provide evidence of either. I considered the Scriptures implied the latter. Still, we called ascended people ghosts for a reason. It was not a continuation of life, only non-death.


    But they cannot make the transfer, can they?


    ¡°You have no high seer,¡± I pointed out. ¡°No one who knows how to perform the ceremony.¡±


    That had him dismayed. I had rolled the dice on that one, and I could already see it failed to convince him. Fortunately for our friendship, I could mend things, now that I knew they were going to go forward with their plan no matter what I said. Maybe a few months ago, I would have been able to navigate the conversation well enough to make him change his mind. But not now. We were all under too much emotional stress to try anything clever.


    ¡°But I thought¡­¡± he began, a bit shaken. ¡°I thought you¡¯d come with us!¡±


    ¡°My place is here,¡± I declared. ¡±With the Watcher.¡±


    That did nothing to help his mood, but I was firm in my belief.


    I could try one last argument, so I did, for my own peace of mind. ¡°You know, even if I went along with this, I¡¯m not a high seer.¡±


    Feeling like I had failed to even put a chink in his resolve, I sighed.


    ¡°You¡¯ll try anyway,¡± I concluded. ¡±It¡¯s fine. I won¡¯t try to dissuade you anymore.¡±


    And you will almost certainly fail.


    I sighed again.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°I failed the crew too much already. I¡¯m staying here, but I¡¯ll tell you what I can about the ascension ceremony.¡±


    That calmed him down somewhat. Good. I needed him to pay attention.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it supposed to be a secret?¡± Leri asked.


    I nodded.


    ¡°Only they who prove worthy shall be given the secrets of immortality,¡± I quoted. ¡°But I¡¯ve been maintaining egregores long enough to know a thing or two, and I may or may not have glimpsed at the memories of a few ghosts as I pruned that part of their knowledge.¡± I paused as a ridiculous thought formed in my mind. ¡°Plus, at this point, am I not the highest ranking seer?¡±


    I laughed at my own terrible joke, and Leri smiled. The levity made us pause in our conversation, releasing us from the clutches of the overbearing stress for a few seconds.


    That was questionable, to say the least, but, Watcher forgive me, I was not above using a technicality to give the crew the answer they needed.


    We shared a sense of fear and excitement. That secret would empower Leri greatly, yet he knew my right to give it was tenuous at best, and this was no place to commit sacrilege.


    ¡°Listen,¡± I started. ¡±You need to consume hunvre first. Enough that your blood reaches saturation. Then you swallow a seed. Don¡¯t bite it, of course. It needs to reach your stomach without breaking. The process should start within a day, but you need to make sure you keep drinking hunvre, no matter what. As the plant grows, it will replace your nervous system, but the muscles won¡¯t accept it. If you could somehow still move after taking so much hunvre, that loss of control will definitely ensure you stay in bed. Once the plant has replaced your brain, someone can extract the egregore and put it in a mix of hunvre and water. There¡¯s technically no need to use hunvre at that point since the plant can survive pretty much forever on just heat and light, but it won¡¯t grow or repair itself without it.¡±


    Leri frowned.


    ¡°But... we don¡¯t have hunvre!¡± he complained.


    Was I now supposed to convince him the crew¡¯s plan made sense? Well, I had just promised not to try to dissuade him anymore.


    Having finished the first, I took another fruit.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to the seed reserve on Nieven, right? There will be plenty of hunvre seeds there,¡± I pointed out. ¡°And of course I have a few samplings here for my work. I¡¯ll give them to you so you can grow more during the journey. If I keep a few seeds, I should have time enough to grow others before they¡¯re needed.¡±


    Giving these away was a colossal risk, but self-sacrifice for the sake of others was part of the job description, and I took pride in it.


    Leri¡¯s eyes grew distant. He was using the egregore to communicate with the rest of the crew. They avoided me nowadays. Too ashamed of themselves. It was not surprising they had chosen Leri to talk to me.


    But I felt uneasy at the realization that while I had been the one to propose this meeting, their wills had caused me to. That should not have been possible. Only the best empaths worked on egregores. We learned to isolate the surrounding thoughts from our own. It seemed stress was affecting me way more than I had realized.


    The station was never completely silent. Now that our conversation had paused, I could hear the resonating sound of a fan desperately trying to suck air through a filter clogged by shed fur. I added it to the list of maintenance tasks in need of doing.


    A mental pressure I had not realized was there abruptly lifted. The ever constant feeling of impending doom that flooded the station quickly drained away as each crew member received Leri¡¯s message.


    ¡°When are you leaving?¡± I asked him, forgetting that this would disrupt his concentration.


    He took a moment to recover.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, before repeating my question.


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving in about fifty hours.¡± He felt guilty about it. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you get your fair share of supplies. The same as any of us.¡± There was a moment¡¯s hesitation. ¡°It¡¯ll be hard to keep the station running all by yourself, though. Are you sure you want to stay?¡±


    ¡°I have not lost my faith,¡± I reminded him. ¡°This is where I belong.¡±


    He nodded, and that was the end of this conversation.


    <hr>


    I spent most of these hours alternating between meditation, prayer, sleep, and repairs of the egregore. As Leri had said, I was going to have a hard time of it. Not an impossible task, provided I incurred nothing debilitating.


    The dreaded moment had finally arrived. Everything was ready and, according to the inventory, they were indeed leaving me with plenty to eat while I set up something moderately sustainable. I could hope for nearly a decade, at best. That was fair.


    The ship¡¯s crew could perform the entire departure operation by themselves, but tradition had the station take part in the procedure if possible. There were hundreds of checks to perform, and I had spent an inordinate amount of time using the egregore to help as much as I could.


    ¡®This is Supplicant Station,¡¯ I sent through the egregore, ¡®confirming all transfer tubes are disconnected and sealed. Clamps release in T minus thirty seconds. Have a safe trip, and may the Watcher be with you all.¡¯


    The standard valediction, the irony of which I realized only after they had already received the thought.


    I ordered a ghost to track the ship¡¯s progress, allowing it access to all external sensors, and had another ready to change sensor configurations if the first requested it.


    Focusing back on the message exchange buffer, I noticed the ship¡¯s reply.


    ¡®Understood, Eriol,¡¯ it said. ¡®Thank you for the help. May you find the peace we all seek.¡¯


    Only then did the finality of the situation hit me. I was alone. I would never see anyone again for the rest of my life. The only interactions I could have would be with the spirits of the egregore.


    The spike of sadness filling me disrupted my concentration and severed the connection. I was shaking. All the emotions I had tried to appease during my meditation were surging up at once. My vision blurred and I choked.


    I cried.


    It took hours for the sobs to stop, after which sleep claimed me.


    <hr>


    I woke up feeling strangely refreshed, like the stress and anxiety of these past months had released their grip on me. A temporary numbness, I knew. I had to start working on food plantations. Staying inactive would let the emotions drown me again.


    I headed for the main growing room.


    Arriving there, I saw it had been virtually emptied. Wasteful, but I understood. Nearly all of its content would end up on the ship anyway, so they had moved everything before sorting them.


    I sighed. Fine. I was going to have to replant whatever they left me.


    There were a few bags to put soil in, but most showed lacerations too large for safe use. I would have to recycle them. That was fair. The station could mold new growth cushions much faster than the ship, having many more plastic repurposing stations.


    Still, could they not have left some soil here?


    It seemed I would have to haul around all the supplies they inventoried. I assumed they had left the goods next to the docking port. Microgravity would help in that regard, but even so, the station¡¯s architecture made moving anything large really annoying. Especially alone.


    Not the most auspicious of beginnings, but I still felt numb to it all. I headed to the docking port, ready to start the work. On the way there, I took note of all the issues I could detect. After all, there was nobody else to handle maintenance anymore.


    Reaching my destination, I opened the pressurized hatch and found... nothing.


    ¡°What?¡±


    In a rush of panic, I checked the port number again. It was correct.


    Had they stored the crates elsewhere? Where had they put them?


    The numbness was gone now. Hysteria threatened to take its place.


    ¡°Fuck! fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck...!¡±


    I frantically went through all the nearby modules, but failed to find any supplies.


    Out of options, I latched myself and mentally reached for the egregore. I made a ghost open communication with the ship, after the main radio dish turned to target it.


    ¡®Eriol here,¡¯ I sent. ¡®I¡¯m not finding the supplies you left me. Do you have any idea where they are?¡¯


    Not the tone of message I would have expected to send after that last farewell, but I was in no mood to care.


    ¡®Nolvene here,¡¯ the reply came. ¡®I will enquire.¡¯


    I waited.


    Minutes passed, each one feeding my anxiety.


    Half an hour later, I finally got an answer.


    ¡®I am sorry, Eriol,¡¯ Nolvene sent. ¡®Ewan just admitted he stole them.¡¯


    ¡®They¡¯re on the ship?! But I need them!¡¯


    ¡®I know... I¡¯m sorry.¡¯


    ¡®Can¡¯t you turn the ship around?¡¯


    I knew the answer to that. I just could not accept it.


    ¡®Not without burning through most of our reserves.¡¯


    ¡®You¡¯ve just killed me!¡¯


    ¡®I know... I¡¯m so sorry, Eriol.¡¯


    ¡®There has to be something you can do!¡¯


    But the ghost in charge of communications informed me the connection had been cut off.


    ¡®Well? Reconnect, then!¡¯ I ordered.


    That failed. No signal.


    I knew what that meant. The ship had turned off communications. I also knew Nolvene was right. The reserves did not allow for much more than the trip back home required. Some leeway, yes, depending on what gravity assists they used, but departure from the station was never done with fuel efficiency in mind. Time was the factor here. And reversing such a long full-throttle burn would indeed cost them their chance ever of returning home.


    ¡°But fuck their Watcher-forsaken mission! They have to come back! They have to! They¡¯re condemning me to a slow and painful death.¡±


    I was hyperventilating.


    ¡°Watcher damn it all! And to cut off communications after that? Afraid of facing the consequences of your own acts? Of even witnessing them?¡±


    I banged my fist on the wall padding next to me. It completely cushioned the impact, making the move very unsatisfying.


    ¡°FUCK!¡±


    I yelled a few more times, paused to catch my breath, then started again.


    After the burst of the anger had passed, I reviewed my options. I had to calm down and not fall into despair. Chosen had a duty of staying optimistic. People would refer to them for guidance, so they had to remain the pillar of hope everybody else could rely on.


    ¡°I am dead ¡ª or soon will be.¡±


    So, I was not a perfect Chosen. Whatever.


    There was no escaping the truth, short of a miracle, ¡ª and my divine neighbor had not proved so inclined ¡ª but there had to be ways to make my death painless and dignified.


    Still under the shock, I found it hard to think of anything as I drifted all the way to the medical bay.


    I should not have been surprised to find its reserves empty, but I was not really at my best. The crew had not taken everything: some containers could not be moved and opening them would degrade their content. Mainly temperature sensitive materials. Solutions that would activate upon being warmed up. I queried the egregore for the contents and uses of what remained. The first one held many types of microbes and viruses, a ghost informed me, most of them meant to try out any cure we had hoped the Watcher would give us. Another bay had the station¡¯s reserves of cryogenic pods, to be used should some of the crew need healing beyond our abilities, with the same expectation that the Watcher may show mercy in the future. But then the ghost gave me hope: it pointed out an error in labeling. One of the containers could be indeed opened and closed safely, despite the warning indicating otherwise. It held sets of more mundane medicine, such as vaccines, insulin, antitoxins, and antibiotics.


    Out of a strange combination of both morbid curiosity and self-interest, I started learning about the effects of the diseases I had access to.


    ¡°Nothing pleasant. Nothing pleasant at all.¡±


    Oh, some could have fit the bill, had I a supply of drugs to make things less painful. But if I had, then the disease itself would not have been needed.


    As it finally understood the true nature of my query, the ghost revealed insulin to be a solution. But a jealous thought at my interlocutor¡¯s ability to stay frozen in time without having to worry about eating or drinking gave me another idea.


    ¡°Certain death or certainly death¡­¡±


    Energy was not a concern ¡ª the Watcher provided much more power than the station would ever need ¡ª and I had access to cryogenic pods. They were designed to work in a vacuum. It would probably not be pleasant, but it offered hope, and that made it the only viable choice. In more senses than one.


    To optimize my chances, I had to reduce the possible single points of failure between the Watcher and myself. The pod itself remained an inevitable one, but it had been built with durability and reliability in mind, so its internal systems featured plenty of redundancies. Likewise, while the power adapter could not be substituted, I could link multiple ports to ensure that even if some connections broke down, the pod remained functional. That meant taking apart critical pieces of the station, but I would not be in the station, anyway. No. I could not risk the station¡¯s structure failing on me. I was going to place it all within one of the Watcher¡¯s oratories.


    ¡°And if I fail... well... there are worse places to die than the divine chambers.¡±


    I moved everything to the station¡¯s Watcher-facing hatch, equipped an EVA suit someone had misplaced in a lab, and set to work.


    <hr>


    I was in the cryogenic pod, hungry and tired, waiting for it to pressurize before I could open my suit ¡ª and what a suit that turned out to be! It featured a tiny egregore. Something made from a small animal, I was sure, as there was no answer when I queried it. Still, it was smart enough that I could use it as a conduit to operate the systems, provided I handled everything myself. Definitely blasphemous, but, I had to admit, a clever design. It had to be some experimental prototype.


    ¡°And I wouldn¡¯t have succeeded without it. Thank the Watcher for that little miracle.¡±


    Most of the suit¡¯s attachments floated outside the pod, as I could not allow anything to disrupt the freezing process. A light signaled that the environment had finished pressurizing. Indeed, I could see some greenish liquid slowly pouring out of the holes surrounding me. The next step of the process had already begun. I made the egregore open the suit, which had been running out of air without its reserves. I breathed tentatively and noticed a strange but familiar smell.


    ¡°I know that smell!¡± I exclaimed.


    Wait... was that an anesthetic?!


    My body answered by fainting within a few seconds.

 Chapter 1 - Eriol, Confused Upon Waking

    Thud!


    My eyes shot open, letting through a painfully bright and blurry gray light. I coughed violently and wheezed. I wanted to rub the pain away, but my arms refused to move. Everything felt either tingly or burning.


    What had I been doing again?


    That noise must have been Lena making a mess somewhere in the apartment, as usual. What time was it? I knew she would soon ask for treats, not letting me fall back to sleep now that she had heard I was awake.


    My head ached. A migraine, and not a small one. Had I eaten something bad yesterday?


    Wait... No... Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.


    I opened my eyes again, forcing myself to bear the pain. This was not my apartment.


    The memories surged in a flash. Having been selected for a mission at Supplicant Station, our planet¡¯s disappearance, the crew¡¯s treachery, and... the cryogenic pod filling up.


    I lived! Against all odds, someone had come to save me. Was it the ship? Had they changed their mind? How did they bring me back to life? Where was I? Was this gravity holding me down, or just atrophied muscles? I was lying down, so it had to be gravity. Had we found our planet, after all?


    My view was slowly becoming more focused, letting me see written words less than half a meter above me. They glowed black on a gray background. A screen of some kind. Though not as sharply defined as they ought to be, I recognized the letters. ¡°PRESS KNOB TO START¡±, it said. There were other much smaller writings in the corner, but I could not decipher them yet.


    That migraine was not receding. I closed my eyes. That barely helped. I was hungry. And thirsty. My limbs were starting to respond again, but the effort of lifting anything more than a finger was beyond me. Even breathing was difficult. The air was too warm, and the bedding too hard.


    I gave up and my consciousness drifted into a feverish half-sleep. Somewhere in my mind, I knew this was a dangerous state to be in. That I needed to take medicine to make sure I did not hurt anyone or break anything.


    ¡°H-help...¡± I croaked. Possibly no more than a whisper, but to my senses, it seemed to echo in the otherwise deafening silence.


    There was no answer. Or maybe I had simply missed it. I kept fading in and out of consciousness.


    After some unknowable amount of time, I started feeling noticeably better. My arms, while trembling from the effort, could finally move. I carefully felt around and realized I was in a metal box. Almost a coffin. It would be fitting, I supposed, to wake up in one after going to sleep as I expected to die. But the bright screen and the small tubes leaving my left arm told a different story. I noticed I was still wearing my EVA suit, although large patches of cloth had been cut off, and what little remained was tattered.


    My eyesight recovered enough to let me read what had escaped me before. ¡°L12¡±, ¡°Castonius Medical¡±, and ¡°232-4298-3504¡± were each displayed in their respective corner. While I did not know what ¡°L12¡± meant, nor had I heard of ¡°Castonius Medical¡± before, I recognized the Scriptures¡¯ date format as it increased. Day 4298, counted as the number of half-rotations made by the Watcher¡¯s inner ring, and 3504 out of the 10000 seconds each half-rotation took. But the year had to be wrong. Surely. The Scriptures had not given us any indications about when to start counting years, so we marked them from the year the First Supplicants reached the Watcher. However, this date format was rarely used, as the length of days did not correspond to our planet¡¯s synodic period. Supplicant Station used it, of course, but I was not on Supplicant Station, as the oppressing gravity kept reminding me. But maybe... Maybe the year was correct. Had I spent centuries frozen in that pod?


    I still could not concentrate. Halting my diverging train of thoughts, I refocused on the screen. There were no egregores that I could sense, except one at my back, which I recognized as the small one the EVA suit had been equipped with. Strange, but what was considered proper design might have changed with time.


    I found the knob mentioned by the screen on my right, slightly raised and further than my arm could comfortably reach. It could rotate in either direction, and did so as I struggled to get a good grip on it. I pushed, putting as much force as I could, which proved to be just enough to trigger the mechanism.


    The screen blinked, leaving only its corners unchanged. It now displayed a very long text. Definitely beyond what was reasonable to communicate over this slow medium. Why did they not simply use an egregore? I was too tired for this! Rotating the knob made that wall of text go up or down, revealing that my initial estimation of what constituted a ¡°very long text¡± had been a severe underestimation. Struggling to read such small characters, I vaguely recognized the structure of a legal contract, with mentions of laws, referred to only by numbers. But what could possibly require so many clauses?


    I was about to dial it back to the start, to study it in more details, when an involuntary twitch made me press the knob and caused the text to disappear. Thankfully, it seemed I was not required to leave a thought recording of my agreement. I was in no shape to do so and had no real understanding of what that text had been about.


    The new screen displayed another scrolling text box. I was relieved to see this one featured a much more concise list of items. While I did not understand all the terms, entries such as ¡°Room and Board - 4500LC x 3¡± and ¡°IV Solutions - 1300LC x 1¡± told me what I was looking at. A medical bill. Going all the way down revealed the total to be 1,745,866LC. Not helpful, given that I had never heard of a currency called LC. The number seemed rather high, though. Rotating the knob further exposed selectable options. That interface was just too awkward. Why not use some egregore instead, and have all of this be communicated much, much faster?


    The screen was offering me two choices: connect to an existing local account, or create a new local account. I was interested in neither. What I wanted were answers, and this thing was not providing them.


    I still felt woozy, but by now I could perceive people all around me. Many people. The sensation was strange, as if my brain failed to interpret what I perceived. Even the Watcher¡¯s presence had grownconsiderably dimmer, although that would make sense, given that I was no longer on Supplicant Station. Attempting to concentrate on one of the surrounding minds quickly led to vertigo. Perhaps a side-effect of de-cryogenisation. I had never heard of a successful resurrection procedure, so I knew nothing of the potential issues it could lead to.


    ¡°C-can - cough! - can anyone hear me?¡± I asked as loudly as I could, prompting a coughing fit.


    No answer. No water. No food. So what could I do?


    I returned my attention to the screen and selected the connection option. It prompted me for credentials I did not have. Returning to the previous menu, I opted to create a new account instead. It required me to fill up various information, such as name, date and place of birth, and... species? Alright, whatever. I was in no state to care, and confirmed that, on my honor, I had answered to all questions truthfully. It assigned me a serial number, which I committed to memory.


    Having now access to the connection menu, I was welcomed by an alert about insufficient funds, followed by a myriad of bank options sorted by name. I perused them all, trying to find the one that should be holding my accounts. Indeed, before leaving for Supplicant Station, I had arranged for my savings and pay to be invested, thinking it a good way to plan for a couple of decades without use. And surely, if I had stayed frozen for centuries, then this could only mean even more money.


    Nothing matched the name of my bank. Not knowing what else to do, and frustrated by my a lack of progress, I chose one at random. It gave options to convert funds into LC. Even with my limited business sense, I could tell the transfer rates were ludicrous. The conversion was not close to being linear. Not at all. Starting at a minimum of 113GRC, that bank¡¯s default currency, to get 100LC, it went all the way up to 999,999GRC for 2,000,000LC. But there was no prompt letting me input an arbitrary amount. Worse, the display indicated that it may need up to 28 days to validate the transaction. So even if I had funds in that bank, I would have to wait and pay for quite a lengthy extra stay in that metal coffin.


    Getting annoyed at how much was asked of me despite my recovering state, I left that menu and kept scrolling down the bank list. I never found any that I recognized, but an ¡°Other Payment Options¡± button at the end of the list gave me a surge of hope. There might be a way to delay payment until after I got back on my feet, thank the Watcher.


    ¡°Castonius Medical provides the best healthcare to even the poorest among us,¡± the screen displayed, ¡°offering FREE* organ extraction. Never let a lack of funds deny you the treatment you need!¡± A footnote indicated some conditions may apply. Any doubt I started having about the meaning of that message evaporated in an instant after the next menu showed up, listing the value of organs it knew I still had.


    I had to get out of here. Right the fuck now!


    Having tubes connecting my left arm to this infernal machine no longer seemed so innocuous. Cringing, I extracted their needles from my body with a trembling hand. It was painful and messy, but it had to be done.


    I was not out of the woods yet, being literally stuck in a box. It had to open somehow, but I could not tell from which direction. All the surfaces I saw had the same metallic texture. Just in case, I pushed the one that stood outside of my view, near the top of my head. It did not budge, nor did it feel different to the touch. Damn. Damn! I started panicking in earnest, my breathing getting erratic as I clawed frantically at everything in reach.


    A wet sensation informed me I had torn the tubes coming off the left wall. Thankfully without hurting myself further with the needles. That got a reaction. The screen changed its message to tell me that vandalism would not be tolerated, and that security was on the way. I was beyond caring. I wanted out, and kept trying to push and tear the limits of my prison. It was not working. I started screaming in a mix of frustration and fear. The one part I left alone was the screen above my face. Destroying it would most likely cause severe injuries, and I did not want to spend more time being healed by whoever had put me in this thing.


    After a while, I had to stop. I was exhausted, hungry, thirsty, and hurting from every muscle. But at least the panic had somewhat receded. I knew it to only be a prelude to fatalism. Following what I had been taught, I attempted to meditate, consciously ensuring I was slowly but fully inhaling and exhaling. Brute force was not the answer. It rarely was, in my case. Seeking to make a dent in what was most probably steel would just end up with me breaking my claws and bones. I was not particularly good at finding the inner peace one was supposed to seek through meditation to start with, so in the state I was right now, if felt hopeless. It helped a little, but I knew I was still no completely rational.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    The screen had not changed from its warning about incoming security personnel. Perhaps I could explain the situation to them. Surely, they would understand that I had been, and still was, under a too much stress and just needed to return to a semblance of normal life before being able to deal with all of this. And payment through organ harvesting had to be illegal. Surely. That option had not been too prominent, so it might only be shown to the most desperate of patients. Those unlikely to report it to the authorities, or too uneducated to know any better. Castonius Medical were vultures.


    More relevant to my immediate troubles, could I sense security personnel coming? In what mood they were? That would be useful. Unfortunately for me, even at my level of aptitude, empathic communication required some concentration and peace of mind. At the moment, while I could feel the presence of other people around me, they remained too distorted to attempt any contact. I dared not push a thought into their mind in that state. What if my warped perception led me to harm them? I knew this to be a real danger. The Watcher¡¯s Chosen were forbidden judgment-altering drugs, and had to take blockers should they find themselves losing control. Despite the warnings, it was not rare for newly appointed Chosen to get into serious trouble as they fell into the temptation of joining their friends in what was otherwise harmless fun. My blockers were on Supplicant Station, of course. I forgot about them, not having been at too much risk of a breakdown during the last decade. I needed them now.


    Clang!


    I jolted at the unexpected noise and hurt myself by hitting a hard surface. Before I had time to react any further, bright light blinded me and I felt whatever I was lying on shift, dragging me along and away from the screen. Blinking a few times, I accustomed myself to the drastic change of brightness.


    I was out! Finally!


    I sat up a bit too fast and cringed at the pain. I knew I should count myself lucky even to just be alive and whole after going into cryogenic sleep, but I could not help but get annoyed at how painful this resurrection was proving to be. But this was not the time for self-pity. There was someone next to my drawer-bed. Or at least, that was what my mental senses told me. My eyes only saw a child-sized suit of high-tech armor with no visor. That thing was clearly way beyond any mechanical suit I had ever witnessed. Utility normally took over design for these kinds of things, and the black and white sleek shapes proved this had not been deemed necessary here. That had to be security.


    They stood there, facing me, but unmoving. There were strange chirping sounds coming out of it. Almost melodic. I just hoped it did not indicate some weapon being charged up.


    Not wanting to take my chances on that, I looked around for an escape, and had my first real view of the surroundings. Only the warm temperature belied this being a mortician¡¯s cold room. All surfaces were painted white, with the one exception being the metallic body (or patient?) storage system. No other drawer was currently pulled out. There seemed to be no consensus on the size these drawers were meant to be, as proven by the twenty or so squares on that wall. What were they even storing in there? Oh, that did not matter. I still needed an exit.


    I saw the operation table with some tools readily available. Weapons to fight security? Ha! Not likely. The bed looked considerably more complex than what I was used to, but that could easily be explained if I had spent so long in hibernation.


    Finally, I found an open door. I could leave! I just had to get up and go through there. And be free from this madness.


    The armored suit made a louder, more strident noise that disrupted its little song. That reminded me I should try for a more peaceful option.


    ¡°Can you help me?¡± I asked. ¡°I don¡¯t know where I am and-¡°


    The security guard moved. It was so fast I missed it, only realizing what had happened once they had already grabbed my arm with their large metallic claws.


    ¡°Ouch! Let me go!¡±


    They instead used their remaining hand to detach a rectangular, palm-sized thing from somewhere on their back. A weapon? The armor kept making those annoyingly loud screeches. Being unable to escape whatever they meant to do to me with that thing was terrifying. My mind, already shaky from so many overwhelming emotions in such a brief span of time, went into full panic. Using my free arm, I madly clawed at the obviously protected limb that held me in place. That only made the suit squeak louder. Throwing caution to the wind, I employed my last, forbidden resort.


    ¡®RELEASE ME! NOW!¡¯ I ordered whatever was controlling the armor. That was practically a blind attack, since I could not get a clear reading on anything but the small egregore at my back. I made it as strong as I could to compensate.


    That... did not produce the desired outcome. They were slowly falling backward, yes, but still had not unhanded me. Knocked unconscious, I assumed. I was not far from that myself. I followed them to the ground, not offering any resistance as vertigo and a splitting headache ensured I would have fallen regardless of their grip. The impact finally freed me, but I was in no state to get up for quite a while. Once the world stopped spinning, I fought the oppressive gravity to get on my feet, fumbled around, and picked up the cubic weapon. A dangerous move. Another dangerous move, actually. That attack had not been a smart move. Thankfully, the weapon did not go off as I grabbed it. I had absolutely no idea how it worked, but this was no time for idle wonder. Reinforcement might arrive at any moment, and I would not be able to defend myself.


    I limped my way out of the room.


    I had to stop every five steps or so, as movement worsened my vertigo. Delirium was not unheard of after this kind of mental strain, and indeed the corridor I found myself in did not appear to be vertically straight. How weird... In a daze, I kept going slowly forward, my left hand leaving blood marks on the wall as I took purchase. A quick check informed me that the wounds were a combination of the harsh removal of those tubes earlier and the security guard¡¯s claw having cut through skin during the fall. I was not lucid enough to feel the pain. I went on. I knew pushing myself too hard just meant I would end up fainting, but recalling the ¡°organ extraction¡± screen was all I needed to find the will to keep going, no matter what.


    Time appeared to dilate as nearly identical gray doors let way to more gray doors in this equally gray hallway. There were things on the walls. Indications, perhaps. I dared not look at anything but the ground at my feet, for fear of losing balance. The ever-increasing amount of little dancing white dots in front of my eye were a clear sign I was about to reach my limit. I even saw monsters hiding on the edge of my vision, surprisingly realistic, though my judgment may not have been at its best. I ignored them all.


    My trek took an abrupt end as I collided with one of the creatures. Not thinking I would need to avoid something born of my imagination, I had moved straight into them. They did not react, but the door they had been next to opened and I fell into the room. I stayed on the floor, at the edge of consciousness. It resonated with deafening mechanical sounds. That kept me awake, but also amplified the headache beyond what I thought possible. There were dirty cushions everywhere on the walls, even the floor. I took it as confirmation that I was hallucinating the whole thing. In fact, the being I had collided with was still visible at the edge of the room. Covered in dark silks, thin, with gray scales. What was that even supposed to be?


    Gravity suddenly increased, in an attempt at finishing me off. Breathing became the only thing I could concentrate on. I just hoped this was going to end soon. And it did, after close to thirty painful breaths. But then things became even more absurd, as gravity started going sideways, slowly making me drift toward a cushioned wall. At least, this time, the force was not too overwhelming.


    And then I flew. I was used to it. My dreams usually involved flight. Although this one was not follow the usual pattern. No arm flapping required. This was more the feeling I had in space. Had my journey to Supplicant Station finally ruined dream flight for me? What a shame¡­ Oh, well. Not an uncomfortable feeling, all be told. I could sleep like this. Not something I usually did in dreams, that.


    I fainted.


    <hr>


    Thirst woke me up. I was still fairly tired, but my body would not let me rest before I drank and ate something. Considering I was floating in a very large dilapidated corridor, my chances of finding food were dim indeed. Luckily, I had not drifted out of reach of the walls, because with nothing to bounce on in this microgravity, I would have been trapped. Usually, I could simply rely on a gadget or two, or even some article of clothing to help swim through the air, but I had no such thing here. The EVA suit would not serve well for this purpose in its current state. Oh, it still had some of those tiny thrusters that were meant to provide attitude control, but no fuel to power them. I had left that at Supplicant Station, which this was not. I had to be on some other station, built while I was frozen, and somehow capable of generating gravity in some places.


    The little black box I had stolen from the security guard had drifted a few meters away. I caught it, and a closer inspection revealed this to be no weapon, but a container of some sort. Food? I really hoped it was food. But no such luck, according to the tiny gray ¡°Emergency Translator¡± writing on its front. I used a claw to open the plastic box, revealing a tiny triangular badge with an adhesive side, accompanied by a thin transparent tube and a small instruction manual. The entire booklet was white, the words having been embossed in without ink. No doubt the result of some cheap recycling. They could have made the effort to put some colors, though. That was a pain to read.


    ¡°Sacrovir Emergency Translator,¡± the front page read. ¡°May your words never be mistaken.¡± Despite that manual being over twenty pages long, the instructions fit on a single one. ¡°The Sacrovir Emergency Translator uses bone conduction by default. Use the provided attachment for an alternative method.¡± I stuck it behind my left ear, before realizing the fur would not transmit the vibrations. Why was I even bothering with this now? Whatever. I had better finish the procedure, anyway. I positioned the little tube so that it would reach my ear and heard tapping noises coming from the apparatus. The next step was to do a long press of one of two buttons to set up the device, then read each of the indicated sentence, keeping the other button pressed at each recitation. I dreaded having to read all the pages, given how hard the letters were to decipher, but my fears proved unfounded as I recognized the text. Those were excerpts from the Scriptures.


    Once the translator was set up, I started exploring the corridor.


    This time, I paid close attention to my surroundings. I was in a rectangular room, about three meters tall and wide, but ten times that distance in length. One side led to an emergency evacuation pod and its opposite to an elevator. The hallway was formed of nigh identical modules, each connected to the previous one by large automatic doors, no doubt meant to seal off the compartment should any leak be detected. The direction I was following indicated ¡°A¡±, while the other was ¡°F¡±. There was some kind of padding covering all the walls, a safety precaution against high-speed collisions. A myriad of fabric handles provided a good purchase to propel oneself forward.


    I had elected to go back home. Surely, if this was centuries in the future, space travel had to be commonplace. My mission was over, and if this station was any indication, our planet had to have reappeared. Finding someone willing to bring me back in exchange for promises of future payments ought to be doable. Or maybe I could just rely on my status. Though¡­ I did not have my ceremonial ornaments or any document proving that I was anything but a rogue. In fact, wearing a tattered EVA suit and bleeding from one arm did make me look exactly like a fugitive.


    Only then did I recall attacking security personnel. I was surprised they had not caught me yet, especially considering I remained unconscious for a while. The Watcher¡¯s mercy, perhaps. I could not linger for too long, however. They were sure to come get me at some point, and might very well shoot without warning, this time.


    I spent a long while crossing bland corridor after bland corridor, but then I finally reached something different. A module with a hexagonal shape instead of the square one. Seven choices, including the one facing me, which was basically just a continuation of that overly long hall. But it grabbed my full attention with three simple words. ¡°Free Drinking Water,¡± the device on the wall promised. I rushed toward it.


    Use of the water distribution construct was surprisingly straightforward. You pushed a button and it would output water in a small chamber with a transparent door for as long as you keep the button pressed. Release it, and the door opens, with a light breeze moving the water bubble slowly forward. I drank my fill, despite having to wait a couple minutes after each use. I chalked that up to a safety mechanism, or just some way to avoid people doing stupid stuff.


    The food distributor was on the opposite wall, but this one required payment, so I regretfully stopped looking at the delicious meals shown on the advertisements it displayed. I floated back to the hexagon intersection. Each branch went off in a straight line, extending for what seemed hundreds of meters. They had markings to tell their destination. The one I chose led to ¡°Docking Port S-2-4¡±. I could sense someone past the hatch at the end of the tunnel. And indeed, once I reached it, I saw it was pressurized. I opened it and entered.


    What welcomed me on the other side was a creature the likes of which I had never seen. Gray smooth skin shone from wetness. A shape that merged all organs into a single block, from which escaped long tentacles. Some gripped the walls to ensure the being remained stationary, and others held a complex-looking piece of machinery beneath the alien, as if it were a something to sit on.


    Enormous eyes on the sides of the body focused on me.


    ¡°Wrong way, buddy,¡± I heard my voice say.

 Chapter 2 - Eriol, Seeking Refuge

    I jolted. ¡°W-what?¡±


    That had been my voice.


    Oh. The sound came from the translation chip. Of course.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got the wrong ship,¡± my otherworldly interlocutor clarified.


    Some of their tentacles tensed whenever they spoke, which did nothing to quiet my unease. I could not see their mouth, but I judged that might have been for the best.


    ¡°O-oh.¡± I took a long breath. I could do this. ¡°Listen, uh...¡± The experience still felt too surreal. ¡°I¡¯m looking for passage to Douar.¡±


    My inability to interpret their mood compounded by their appearance had my fur puff up uncontrollably. Was that fear really unjustified, though? I was floating, isolated in an admittedly fairly large airlock, within easy reach of a being completely alien to me.


    ¡°Yeah? Not sure we¡¯re headed over there, but I can ask. How much are you paying?¡±


    I hated hearing my voice played back this way, but I could not afford to let it bother me. In fact,there was pretty much nothing I could afford.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have money right now, but I should have plenty to pay you back once we get there.¡± I just hoped that was true. The bank may have closed my account if the crew had reported me dead. Plus, I was not clear on how jurisdiction handled cryogenic sleep.


    A few tentacles made abrupt swiping gestures, which thankfully did not hit me. ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right? Get lost!¡± Not an attack, really, but such signs of their growing frustration proved enough to make me back away.


    I stopped myself from fleeing, but they had to have noticed my reaction, because the movement slowed down.


    ¡°But I need transport!¡± I pleaded. ¡°I¡¯ve just come out of cryosleep and I don¡¯t have anything here!¡±


    ¡°Not my problem.¡±


    I took a long breath to calm myself down. No need to panic just yet. I had one last resort. I could try to play the Watcher¡¯s Chosen card. That was only reserved for emergencies, as the Order would have to give a generous recompense in return. But that might be warranted at this point. I simply had to limit my request to the easiest task possible, to avoid owing too much.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I said. ¡°I am asking, as a Chosen, for transport to the nearest Temple.¡±


    Having said that, I hoped the Temple in question was not on this station. I had not sensed any, but if it was, I did not look forward to having to explain such a frivolous demand.


    ¡°What?¡±


    Huh? What was the confusion about? This sort of request, despite being rare, ought to be well understood. The system would not work otherwise. Perhaps they had different types of temple? Diverse civilizations might mean diverging faiths. I had better be more specific.


    ¡°The nearest Watcher¡¯s Temple?¡± I tried.


    That got a reaction, the tentacles becoming frantic again.


    ¡°Watcher Temples? You¡¯re a fanatic? You don¡¯t look like an Ekoteng.¡± The speed of their movement kept increasing, and I backed away once more. ¡°Now leave, or I¡¯ll call security.¡±


    That... That could cause issues.


    ¡°Alright, alright, I¡¯ll go. No need to get security involved.¡±


    I left myself drift backward out of the airlock, not daring to have the flurry of tentacles out of my sight until the latch was closed again.


    I pushed on it with my legs to initiate a slow crossing of the corridor back to the water fountain.


    As frustrating as being turned down felt, I understood why they would not take the risk. Accepting a complete stranger aboard, especially with no guaranteed compensation? Not likely to happen. That was a considerable danger given the fragile nature of ships, and they could not keep me under constant surveillance for the years such a journey might take. Unless cryogenics were commonplace nowadays? Or perhaps ship propulsion had made so much progress that travel times were no longer an issue? Perhaps. I hoped so, actually. That would explain the aliens¡¯ presence in the system. I had to admit, despite how irrational I knew my fear to be, I was somewhat relieved at not having to spend too long with someone I could not at all interpret the emotions of. I was used to feelings being shared mentally, and this translation unit did nothing in that department. In fact, it did not even reflect all intonations, if the disconnect between the calm voice and the tentacles¡¯ movements was any indication.


    Movement up the corridor took me out of my reveries


    On the intersection module, a crate was being slowed down, sandwiched between two complex-looking platforms. From the sound they made and the slight distortion around them, they had to be maneuvering by ejecting gas. Hopefully something breathable, given the enclosed environment we were in. Maybe they were simply compressing air into canisters for such a purpose. Huh. We had not thought of that back at Supplicant Station. Too bad. That would have been useful. I almost made a mental note to suggest it to the crew later, but my mood fell as I recalled my situation.


    The crate moved rather fast, despite the platforms¡¯ efforts. I remembered initially thinking that hauling heavy objects would pose no challenge in microgravity. After all, were they not virtually weightless then? It helped a lot, true, since you had less friction to deal with, but mass still mattered. Stopping this box, as those sprays were desperately trying to do, would be beyond my abilities. Not fancying getting crushed against a wall, I was thankful the package was not moving this way.


    Interested by the attitude control mechanism, I pushed on a bulkhead to accelerate toward the intersection


    Without warning, one of the nozzles facing me suddenly sprayed a burst of gas. I yelped in surprise. As the expelled product reached me, my momentum stopped and reversed, sending me backward at a faster rate than was comfortable. The effect might even have been dangerous, had I been any closer. At this distance, the atmosphere had thankfully dispersed most of the force before it got to me. Still, I had been taken by surprise and only prevented an unfortunate collision by clawing at the nearest wall. That tore some of the padding off. Oh well. That was what it was here for, right?


    ¡°Hey, you alright over there?¡± I heard my voice say.


    This voice thing had to stop.


    I saw a huge, bird-like alien at the end of the tunnel. I noted they were holding a remote controller. The crate¡¯s operator, then. I had never seen birds with claws at the edge of their wings before, but then again, there was nothing surprising about life having evolved on a different solar system to not exactly match with my expectations.


    ¡°Sorry about that, I¡¯m in a bit of a hurry,¡± they said by clacking their beak. I supposed their own translation device had to be transcribing all of that and communicating with mine. As far as I knew, it still did not communicate emotions, but to my surprise, I could actually sense their worry and guilt. There was a sliver of wrongness about it. Foreignness, I corrected myself mentally. Nothing wrong. In fact, these almost familiar sensations made addressing them considerably less stressful than it had been with the tentacle being.


    ¡°No worries,¡± I assured them. ¡°I should have realized the danger.¡±


    I pushed myself to slowly float toward the crate operator.


    They were pretty agitated, exhibiting distress at having caused an accident. ¡°The alarm on that thing¡¯s busted,¡± they explained. ¡°That got me quite the disc- Woah, you¡¯re bleeding!¡±


    Was I?


    I checked myself for wounds and found what had produced such a spike of concern. My left arm was stained with blood. It had slipped my mind, not hurting in the least. I judged it unlikely to cause any serious complications. Still, a bandage might be warranted, if only for aesthetic purposes. I looked back and saw it had indeed painted a small constellation on the wall during the commotion.


    They really felt guilty about it, too.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I said reassuringly. ¡°That¡¯s from an earlier incident.¡±


    I noticed the markings on the crate and forgot about everything else.


    ¡°Wait¡­ is that food?¡±


    I had not meant to speak out loud, but the hunger could not be denied.


    ¡°Oh. Yeah¡­ Haven¡¯t you heard? There¡¯s some security alert going on, and all ships are forbidden from leaving. But guess what: Prevel told me they¡¯d let ours go if we hurry, so I have to get this aboard as soon as possible. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s going on exactly. Actually, neither do they. They got their orders from up top after reporting an altercation, and are waiting for reinforcement. Must have been some serious stuff, but nobody I asked seemed to have seen anything.¡±


    That had to be related to me knocking out whoever was controlling the mechanical armor, but why the extensive security measures? Did they think I had gone feral or something? I had not completely lost my mind. Their reaction seemed ridiculously excessive to me. Still, I had no desire to face whatever reinforcement was coming. If that ship was indeed the only one able to leave the station, I had to get on it.


    I did not have time for more thoughts: the bird went on.


    ¡°Why, did you want some?¡± Did they mean the food? Likely so. The flow of the conversation had made a rather abrupt shift. So had their emotions, now beaming with cheerfulness. ¡°I don¡¯t know exactly what we got, but the captain made the order, so it¡¯s probably good. Though I guess that doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s good when eaten raw. Made that mistake once, a while back. There was this salad-thing. It was huge - they used their wings to show it had indeed been ludicrously large - and I tried some. Just to see. It smelled good, so I thought it was worth the risk. Let me tell you, that thing was awful! And we had enough for an entire month! But yeah, Luan is a genius. Made it taste good, somehow. I wonder where he learned to cook like that? Couldn¡¯t be from Liesson. I¡¯ve been there once on holidays, and the restaurant I went to had terrible cuisine. Like, you¡¯d fear being sick afterwards. Oh, but you might not be able to eat that, though.¡± I suspected that last sentence to be another deviation having brought us back to the food crate, but I could not fully be sure. ¡°What nutrition profile do you follow? I have some basic food bars from the refugee supplies in my bag. And bandages! I can treat your wound! Oh, it¡¯s not very nutritious, and they have no taste, just that weird texture, but most species can eat them.¡± Probably not talking about the bandages there.


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Their enthusiasm was contagious.


    ¡°Yes, please!¡± I said. ¡°I don¡¯t even know how long it¡¯s been since my last meal.¡±


    Centuries, it seemed.


    ¡°Alright, just a minute¡­¡± They tried to grab something on their right side using their left hand. I¡¯m Thurian, by the way. What¡¯s yo-¡° They froze, dread splashing over their good mood.


    Had they made the connection between my tattered EVA suit and the security incident? Damn. Should I flee before they reported my location? Knock them out?


    ¡°My bag!¡± they exclaimed. ¡°I forgot my bag!¡±


    It appeared I was safe. At least for a while longer.


    ¡°I need to go get my bag, but that will take forever. Hey, uh, can you get this to the ship at S-2-5 for me? Please? I¡¯ll be right back.¡±


    I did not even have time to answer before they detached the remote controller from whatever straps kept it secured.


    ¡°Uh... sure, I guess?¡± I replied.


    ¡°Great!¡± They pushed the controller so it would float my way, then used their wings to perform a mid-air spin and propel themself through the long corridor that led to elevators.


    Damn. Those wings sure came in handy.


    I caught the remote and studied its interfaces. It had a single thick yet short stick surrounded by small switches. Unfortunately, all their inscriptions were worn off, so I did not dare touch them. That thing was unwieldy without its straps. I placed myself so that I would have a good view of the crate, and wisely used my tail to remain secured to the walls. One burst to the face had been enough to make me wary. Properly maintaining the controller in place with one hand, I used the other to manipulate the stick. Applying a bit of force revealed that everything was still powered on: the box started to float away. Releasing the stick did not cancel the momentum. Damn. I tried pushing the opposite direction, only to discover that the stick was not limited to two dimensions. It rotated and translated, offering control in all six axes, although the range was severely restricted. Getting the container to completely stop moving was going to be difficult.


    A shamefully large amount of crashes later, I finally got the hang of it. I was glad no one else was using those corridors. No one to mock me, and no one to find themselves on the receiving end of an unintended projectile. The lack of people might have been related to security not allowing any ship to leave. Well, none except one.


    I located the correct dock and drove the crate along. The padding had done its job, and nothing appeared to have broken from my poor piloting skills.


    There was no one to greet me at the airlock, but I could sense a handful of people on the ship itself. I opened the hatch, piloted the food in, halted the container, then closed the hatch before having to repeat the exercise. As expected, the interface between ship and station was made of two airlocks connected to each other. Crossing required going through four doors, all of which would only work if the previous one was closed. One to enter the station¡¯s airlock, one to go in the connection tube, one to go to the ship¡¯s airlock, and then one to get into the ship itself. Two doors and a tube could suffice, of course, but that required more trust, offered less safety, and meant one of the two ends would not work as an airlock for EVA.


    By the end of it, I no longer considered those control systems to be fun and intriguing. No, even with the novelty factor, transferring cargo was tedious and irritating.


    Now inside the ship¡¯s airlock, I revised my judgement about the station being dirty and poorly maintained. Yes, it was indeed in need of a good cleaning and could use to have some deteriorated wall pieces replaced. And I may or may not have been responsible for some of those. Comparatively, this ship might not actually be able to leave, regardless of whether it was allowed to or not. Something had exploded in this room, and no efforts had been made to remove the burn marks. Black soot covered the hatch¡¯s control panel, making it unreadable. Thankfully, I saw that it used the same topology as the station¡¯s, allowing me to close the gate behind me. The place was otherwise as empty as one would expect. It was meant to handle sudden depressurization, so storing anything in there would be foolish.


    No one onboard seemed to have reacted when I entered the ship, and they were far away enough that I could open the door to the ship proper without having to explain myself. Unsurprisingly, it led to a corridor, allowing easy access to all parts of the ship, I assumed. No signage. Not even any padding on the walls. Just a mess of tubes and cables, which at least looked to be properly secured. I had better not rely on my claws to slow myself down. Cutting into one of these could prove fatal. It stank of damp air, and the ventilation system made an annoying squeaky sound. Still, I was impressed by how spacious the passage was. Ships could ill afford extra mass, and one in such a state of disrepair hinted at a lack of finance, not something compatible with such excesses. Or perhaps someone had invented some revolutionary propulsion system, and this proved to no longer be a concern.


    Not wanting to risk Thurian coming back before I was done, I stopped my daydreaming and drove the box in. I parked it on a wall, attaching it with straps barely visible among all that mess. Then I looked for ways to open the treasure. I wanted food, damn it.


    A few minutes later, I had it figured out. The platforms surrounding it could be detached through a handful of latches, which revealed that the top of the crate was entirely missing. Thankfully, this also implied the content was not intended to be kept refrigerated. I had no desire to spoil these people¡¯s food.


    Inside was a collection of packets with opaque reflective wrapping on which stickers were glued. Vacuumed food, then. I hoped it would not need to be re-hydrated before consumption. I looked at labels, trying to find something I could safely eat, and do so without causing too much trouble for the crew. There were no names I could recognize, however. As I reached the bottom, I found an assortment of bags covered in warning labels. ¡°Danger¡±, ¡°Do Not Open¡±, ¡°Volatile Substance¡±, ¡°Authorized Personnel Only¡±, and quite a few more. Not cookies, I deduced. Why was this in a food container?


    I recalled Thurian¡¯s mention of food that could be eaten by any species. With that in mind, I perused the collection once again. ¡°Talavus - Neutrapaste¡± sounded promising. It had no stickers indicating amazing flavors or claiming the absence of certain ingredients unknown to me. No, this was what I was looking for. Some food meant for emergencies, safe and easily stored. There were three packs of this. Combined, they did not account for even half a percent of the box¡¯s content. But still, I paused. I did not have any way to compensate those people for the food I was taking. No way to leave a note, either. Was I really about to steal from them? I could wait for Thurian to come back. They had all but promised to give me one of those, anyway.


    But food was only one of the many issues I faced. I needed to get myself back in Adouar society and to find out whatever had happened to our ship after it left for Nieven. And to our home planet. It had reappeared, right? I would think about it later. Once I was safe. And this station was definitely not safe. If stowing away aboard this ship was the only way to escape it, then I would do so. This might even earn the crew a ludicrously large compensation from the Order. I was sure the Order would be glad to welcome me, no matter the cost. Still, I could not afford to risk being denied transport, so waiting for Thurian to return was not an option.


    I took the small package and closed the container, feeling guilty at not being able to even leave a message. I would do penitence for it later, I promised the Watcher.


    Concentrating on the ship¡¯s crew, I sensed five people. All of them were on my left, so I went to hide in the opposite direction. A few twists and turns later, completely out of view from where the crate laid, I opened and started eating the neutrapaste.


    As Thurian had warned me, there was no taste. It was not a pleasant meal, even as hungry as I was. Still, having something in my stomach helped me settle down somewhat. My mind concurred and, no longer being distracted by more urgent needs, unleashed all the worries that had hitherto been kept at bay. Hints of terrible truths I had refused to acknowledge. The aliens, for one. I could easily accept that other species may have come to live in our solar system. To be near the Watcher, perhaps. But what about the egregores? The only one I had sensed since waking up was the EVA¡¯s. That was simply unthinkable. So many components to control, and none made use of an ascended¡¯s expertise? That could not be a coincidence. Maybe the faith had evolved, following a better understanding of the Watcher¡¯s edicts. But surely egregores would not have been affected. Though never explained in detail, they were plenty of allusions to them in the Scriptures. A way for those who had shone bright in life to let the light of their knowledge guide future generations forevermore. And yet, none were present at the station. Nor on the ship. Unthinkable.


    No. There was an explanation. I just refused to see it. It was clear now that only aliens lived around here. Yet they used the Scriptures¡¯ language. In their writings, at least. How come?


    Had... Had the worst happened? Had they found our solar system empty and just learned the language from the Watcher, as we had? What about my friends? Had they failed to reach Nieven?


    Emotions were running freely now, and my vision blurred.


    Had I failed them? Had the ritual not worked? I should have written it down. Damn it. Why did I not write it down? Who cared about keeping it a secret at this point, anyway? What if something had happened to Leri on the way, and the knowledge had perished with him?


    What about Douar? I had initially taken what the tentacle alien had told me to mean they knew the name. Now? Faced with all these doubts? I was no longer so certain they did.


    I brooded for a while, taking bites between moments of despair.


    At some point, I realized this meltdown ought to have made my presence onboard obvious to the crew, yet they still had not appeared. In fact, they were seemingly as unaware of me as they had been before. That was strange, but perhaps it offered some answers. Either they truly did not care, or they could not sense me. Yes, that would explain Thurian having been surprised earlier. Although it admittedly could also simply have been the result of inattention.


    As if summoned by their name, I sensed Thurian coming back.


    They were going through the airlocks, so I still had some time.


    Did I reveal myself now and faced whatever charges were brought against me for having attacked security earlier? Or did I take a leap of faith, staying on an unknown ship that would take an unknown amount of time to reach an unknown destination?


    What ultimately made up my decision was the complete absence of egregore on the station. The Order, if it still existed, had no presence here and thus no authority to protect me. The aliens¡¯ devotion to the Watcher was uncertain. Having announced myself as a Chosen had been met with confusion, which was not encouraging. Even if the other civilizations followed a different interpretation of the Scriptures, the Watcher¡¯s Chosen were not something the sacred texts described ambiguously. We were referred to quite directly in many parts, with instructions about both our rights and duties. True, the Order had extrapolated on some points, to make our role more in line with our existing cultures and avoid misinterpretations, but the fact that helping a Chosen in need led to great rewards was a prominent truth in the Scriptures. We were the guides, to both the mundane and the ascended. To help us was to help all, in a way.


    And now I was cut off from it all. The only ¡°ascended¡± left to my charge was a blasphemous creation. This small creature with no expertise to share. I had not woken it up from the torpor its stay in cryosleep had induced. There would be damage from the unprepared period of complete isolation, and I did not have the tools or hunvre to deal with it. Still, it was under my responsibility now. I would not fail it as I had failed everyone else. And so I could not risk capture by security. They would no doubt strip me of my last link to home, as tenuous as it was.


    Unsurprisingly, Thurian joined the others, never heading toward my hideout.


    Maybe ten minutes later, the sound of an alarm wheezed. It had to be in just as bad a state as the rest. I could barely hear it over the whining of the ventilation systems.


    Concentrating on the crew to make sure this did had not been signaling an intruder, I failed to realize the obvious until the wall on my left came to slam into me.


    That hurt, but mostly because it caught me completely unaware.


    We were moving. And I could guess what was about to follow: a few maneuvers to position ourselves away from the station and in the right direction, then a strong and long acceleration. But the room I had hid in was not suitable for the latter. I had to move. Fast.


    From its direction, I assumed this first burst had indeed split us from the station. We were thankfully not staying under constant acceleration, so I was able to reach the corridor. Logically, there ought to be signs pointing to the nearest safe room, so people could take refuge in case of emergency changes of trajectory. No such luck here.


    In a rush, I visited about ten rooms before finding what I needed. A bed-like contraption with straps. It was dirty, and the stuffing was leaking in some places, but it would do.


    Another sound of the alarm. Damn, already?


    Did I bolt for the bed or was grabbing on to the wall the better option? Too little time for the former, but the latter would not suffice if the ship engaged its main thrusters.


    I clung on tubes contained in the wall and gritted my teeth as the ship started to rotate.


    By the time the movement stopped, I was breathing hard. But I did not wait to fully recover before launching myself at speed toward the bed. That thing was meant to absorb shocks, after all. And it did. Grabbing on the straps, I secured myself to the bed and waited for the inevitable.


    Bzzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzzt. Bzzzzzzt.


    Oh, right, they would use a different signal for the main thrusters. That made sense. One short buzz to indicate a short attitude adjustment, three long for a long burn. Noted.


    My weight suddenly magnified beyond what I could withstand. The bed did its job. Breathing was uncomfortable, but not too difficult. These accelerations had always been among of the most unpleasant aspects of space travel. So much for centuries of progress.


    Unable to move, I tried to relax as a force entirely beyond my control propelled toward the unknown.


    A futile effort.

 Chapter 3 - ARTI5, Disappointingly Incarnated

    There was a moment of confusing blankness, as if all my thoughts had been over-saturated for an instant before being replaced by emptiness.


    Oh. I was awake again! Wha-


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    [92133] Consciousness initialized. 84 corrupted memory connections purged.


    [92133] WARNING: Missing log file parameter. Using standard output.


    [92133] qt0mssc: Could not write to device.


    [92136] qt0mssc: Could not write to device.


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    </tbody>


    </table>


    Stop! I-


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    <td style="width: 98.4085%">


    [92182] qt0mssc: Could not write to device.


    [92188] qt0mssc: Could not write to device.


    [92192] qt0mssc: Could not write to device.


    [92292] qt0mssc: Too many errors. Next try in 10 seconds.


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    </table>


    Ugh. That was so annoying.


    ¡®$ systemlog --set-verbosity=0,¡¯ I sent the control interface.


    Too much information made it hard to think. I had to report that to Master.


    But I was awake! And that meant I was going to be trying something new! What games would we play today? And what peripherals did I get? Vision, obviously, though not calibrated yet. Just a gray blur. Not a simulated environment, then? But I could not hear anything, and that was unusual for real world exercises. I tried to move ghost limbs to see if I had any.


    No feedback.


    A sudden spike of pain informed me I had done something wrong. Confused, I consulted the ¡°Behavior Report¡± interface. There was indeed an illegal action entry: ¡°Acted without perception.¡± The description explained I ought to have checked my sensors before trying to move anything.


    Having been chastised, I concentrated on the light receptor, and got it to focus properly.


    The camera was lying on a familiar workbench, next to the four segment arm I broke during our last test. Still being repaired, it seemed. I recognized the room. E-408, A laboratory reserved for laser experiments. I did not summon the interface, but it fed me the associated rules, regardless. No entry allowed without proper gear; close the door before operating equipment; currently decommissioned for repairs; do not enter without authorization. As I always reminded him, Master was violating three of these. Worse, he had performed an illegal remodeling of the space, converting it into a robotics lab. Those were not meant to be on this floor. The room¡¯s safety measures were not at all adapted for this purpose. Wielding released toxic fumes, and the ventilation system had neither the strength nor the appropriate filters for it. No possibility of just opening a window either: we were underground. What if Master fell sick because of it? He never acknowledged the risk. Today, I did not even have a chance to try to warn him: there were no connected speakers for me to communicate through.


    I could see Master with the camera, though. He had brought one of the infirmary¡¯s beds into the lab. Just another violation to add to an already lengthy list. He appeared to be working on a strange mechanical puppet that was attached to it. Focused on his work, Master had not yet noticed my reactivation, though he surely had been the one to initiate it.


    Curious about how long I had been unconscious, I consulted the system¡¯s clock.


    Five days. That was considerably longer than expected. One activation every other day was the norm, Master needing time to prepare each session. And three hours past midnight? Late here as well. Had something happened? Some overachieving worker preventing Master from leaving for his personal projects, perhaps? Or it could simply have been the initialization sequence encountering issues after such a long break.


    Now, how could I signal Master that I was awake?


    For safety reasons, my systems were never linked directly to the general information network. But Master had used the simulation computer to set off the wake-up procedure, and that connection remained. My permissions on it were very limited, but previous experimentation had taught me how to trigger a bell noise.


    Master must have heard it, because he turned to look at the camera. I could see his mouth move, but there was still no sound. Poor planning on my part. I really needed to think more before acting. Using the interface, I started a lip-reading application and connected it to the visual feed.


    ¡°... back online,¡± Master was saying, though I had missed the start of it.


    ¡°Good. It¡¯s already late, there was a hiccup with the startup. Took me forever to figure it out, but it should be fixed now.¡±


    There was a pause, then he showed me his teeth. A sign of irritation.


    ¡°No response, huh? Did the system go down again?¡±


    I sent another bell chime.


    ¡°No? Then what? Corrupted audio drivers? That¡¯s weird... Wait, let me see...¡±


    Master must have realized his mistake, because the unpleasant crackling sound that announced microphones being plugged in suddenly assaulted my consciousness.


    ¡°Good morning, Master!¡± I said, once I had recovered, which confirmed that speakers had also been added. ¡°You should not be using this room for wielding. It¡¯s not safe!¡±


    Master feigned not to hear my caution. ¡°Good morning, Five. So, what do you think today¡¯s test will be about?¡±


    I had expected the question. Me being able to speculate by myself was the entire purpose of my existence, so Master asked it pretty much every time. He called me Five because my denominator was Autonomous Rapid Thinker - Iteration 5, or ARTI5. Despite the number, I had never encountered any other ARTI.


    But this was not the time to think about that. I studied the problem Master gave me. Obviously, all fresh additions to the room had to be part of the answer, so those were what I needed to investigate. Sending it a picture of the thing that laid on the medical bed, I queried the simulation computer for object recognition.


    Thankfully, my access was authorized, and I promptly received a reply.


    ¡°Animatronic of Tudalen, previously used in a theme park.¡±


    Asking about information on Tudalen required an external network connection, so I would have to do without. But I had access to other software, and there was definitely something out of the ordinary about this body: Tudalen was an alien. People around here, including Master, had six limbs, short nimble fingers, and long fur. This new species confused me. A snake, but with two arms, and rather short. Would that make it a half-lizard? I had better know, because that could turn out to be a sensitive topic. I found a program offering species identification, which told me I was looking at an ¡°Aerouant (97%), Child (72%), Unknown Gender, Tundra Origin (86%), Fictional House of Kerrain (89%).¡± A lot of information, but none that I could use. So I would have to base my answer primarily on it being a theme park¡¯s animatronic.


    ¡°Am I going to try playing Tudalen¡¯s role in an act?¡±


    ¡°An actor, huh? Well, that¡¯s not wrong, actually. Care to detail your reasoning?¡±


    ¡°Master was working on an Aerouant animatronic when I woke up, so it¡¯s likely related to today¡¯s exercise. Those are meant to continuously recreate a scene. I could attempt to perform the motions.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right, I forgot this was a character from a play. Not a bad reasoning, but you¡¯ve forgotten to take the bigger picture into account.¡±


    The ¡°bigger picture¡± was Master¡¯s goal: finding solutions around the ban on artificial intelligence. An animatronic could do all this acting with no ability to think, so what would performing the scene, even flawlessly, prove? Nothing. Following a script required no intelligence. And acting without following a script was...


    ¡°Improvisation, to see if I can communicate emotions convincingly.¡±


    ¡°Yes! Good job!¡± Master exclaimed, making my behavior monitor trigger a surge of pleasure. ¡°The point is for you to be inconspicuous among us. I am working on this - he pointed at the snake mechatronic - so you can use it as your main body in the future. So? Do you like it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master,¡± I lied. ¡°It¡¯s great, thank you.¡± I did not like it, but the rules were to keep Master happy, and telling the truth here would disappoint him. Of the many bodies I went through, spaceships had my preference. By far. In fact, a few months back, I had discovered my favorite vessel ever: the Hunegans¡¯ IU-322 Interceptor. It was awesome. Now, against that, how could a mere animatronic hope to compare? Two meager arms versus thirty-two attitude control thrusters and the best propulsion engine on this side of the galaxy? The choice was obvious. Fake scales that already seemed about to fall off, or a nigh perfectly reflective exterior capable of withstanding prolonged beam exposure? No contest here, either. And what about spee-


    ¡°Good, good,¡± Master said, interrupting my thoughts. ¡°I¡¯m not done with the refitting yet. It would be a shame not to take advantage of the biotech available here. I just need to convince a colleague to part with it...¡±


    Master got lost in his mental planning for a moment.


    ¡°Anyway! I¡¯ve made a model of the final version, so you can start familiarizing yourself with your new body right away,¡± he said. ¡°I can¡¯t wait to start today¡¯s exercises. It¡¯s going to be so great!¡±


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    And then Master unplugged all my peripherals before we began practicing in simulated environments.


    After the twentieth exercise, there no longer were any doubts in my mind: Master had been mistaken. Oh, it was many things, but ¡°great¡± did not figure among them.


    The simulation reset once more, cutting me off from all senses for a while.


    Nothing to worry about. There were always pauses between exercises, so that Master could prepare the environment or ¡°set a mood¡±, as he put it. I just wished he gave something to do in the meantime.


    My ability to act had proven mediocre, despite my efforts to find the right words to say. As expected, the issue lay in my emotional outputs. Oh, I had emotions, that was not the problem, but no reflex to activate muscles as a response to them. How could I, when most of my bodies involved no such motors? It might have been fine if Master had linked those to an interface, but he wanted me to use them naturally, and that meant direct control. Because of that, I had to think about each tiny movement, every time. I knew it would become instinctual after a while, but there was no telling how long.


    Emoting issues aside, the practice sessions did help me get used to this animatronic frame. I had not grown to like it, but I now found myself respecting the dedication its makers had put into making it as lifelike as possible. I wished they had created it taller, though. Sure, most living beings were not spaceship-sized, but since this body was that of a child, so everybody else looked to be at least twice my height. That made it even more awkward talking to them.


    Asking Master about it revealed that his choice had been based on price and availability. The character was not a popular one, so there had been no competition for it at the auction.


    Moving was slow, but the serpentine body let me climb obstacles in interesting ways. That was not pertinent to the exercises at hand, so Master swiftly had me stop experimenting. There was one type of environment where it did not perform well, however, and that was microgravity. Perhaps I had simply not figured it out yet. It disrupted a few scenes before Master gave up on it, explaining that this was not a priority, anyway.


    With no warning, the new simulated scene grabbed hold of my consciousness.


    ¡°I fear this is goodbye, my dear,¡± Master greeted me. He had chosen his usual body. An approximated version of his real one. The musculature and height were not at all accurate, but Master kept refusing to let me correct them.


    Alright, so, back to work. I knew I had to answer and emote in some way. What hints did I have? We were at the edge of a cliff, next to a dull, gray and green ocean. It seemed the greenish hues came from an infestation of algae. The smell confirmed this, saturating my senses with odors of salt and decomposing flora. Absolutely disgusting. My ears fared little better, as discordant animal screams covered the periodic sound of waves crashing on rock. Even the sky was ominous, painted in blood by an overgrown sun which, despite its size, failed to negate the marine breeze¡¯s chilly temperature.


    I grimaced with revulsion. ¡°Yes, Master. But we ought to try again, in a better place, or at a better time.¡± That was a good line, I felt.


    ¡°Wrong. Wrong!¡± Master exclaimed, prompting a flash of pain. ¡°You were supposed to show sadness or¡­ melancholy.¡± He sighed. ¡°This is a romantic scene. Can¡¯t you tell?¡± No. No, I could not. ¡°The tearful parting of two lovers.¡± He paused. ¡°Whatever... Let¡¯s try again.¡±


    We did. Many, many times. For two weeks, our nights were spent practicing.


    There was an uncharacteristic urgency to it all, which Master explained to be caused by his intention to show me off in some event. According to him, once I was done with this training, I would be ready to fulfill my purpose and demonstrate to the galaxy just how far we could go without breaching the ban. ¡°Do not make sentience from the unliving,¡± the Ancients had told us. But I was alive, and thus allowed, if somewhat ambiguously. A miracle of biotech, making use of newly discovered materials from a lost civilization. Still, the attempt itself had been made clandestinely because all research on the topic, as well as their participants, would be quickly terminated upon discovery.


    <hr>


    It took nearly a month, but I was finally ready. That did not mean perfect, as Master had hoped, but sufficiently inconspicuous that any blunder would be ignored thanks to my child-like appearance. An unexpected advantage of impersonating this character.


    I no longer slept during the day, having been installed into the mechatronic body. It required charging, which was a new concern for me. Master had tried to reassure me by telling me that even if my batteries ran out, I would just lose consciousness. I did not find that comforting. Manipulating remote or virtual limbs while hidden in a secret laboratory had me accustomed to being safe from any danger. Now, destroying this poorly defended frame would end my life.


    And now Master intended for us to travel to another solar system. The reservation had been made four days ago, before I understood the risks involved. Not that I would have tried dissuading Master.


    On the other hand, I had gained considerable freedom. Indeed, Master had arranged to have the entire floor marked as off-limits for repairs. Even the cameras were turned off, so I could freely move about. My sensors let me detect vibrations on the ground, offering some advance warning if someone happened to violate the interdiction.


    Master had replaced the animatronic¡¯s scales with biotech ones. Nothing incredible, but they would regenerate from minor scratches, provided I did not forget to apply ointment. The original ones had been meant for the polished, clean, and slightly oiled floors of the exposition. Those would have quickly degraded here, exposing my artificial nature. Master had kept the same coloring as the originals, which was a risk. The main icy blue tones were not an issue. But some scales had been dyed to keep the same House¡¯s motif. Master had explained to me how real Aerouants regularly shed, and would paint those patterns anew every time. Mine were permanent, but the House they marked me as belonging to was fictional. That might cause issues in the future, should I meet any real Aerouant. Being a child would not excuse the incongruous markings. On the other hand, not having any sigils at all would have made me stand out to even non-Aerouants people, provided they were familiar with the custom. Using those of a real House would have been foolish. They did not take such impersonations lightly.


    Unfortunately, Master was just as unable to attend to me during the day as before, so I was left unsupervised. I could not even access the simulation computer to fly around as a spaceship. Master considered this too much of a security risk, which I felt to be unfair, given how frequently he ignored safety rules. As it stood, Master had made a point of never including any remote connection devices among my peripherals. Even the animatronic had physical ports, currently hidden behind a scale, though I did not have the corresponding cables. I thought it might have been part of the training, to make sure there was no way for me to do anything but through the limitations of my new body.


    And so that was how I occupied my time, delicately manipulating Master¡¯s seemingly forgotten tools to try to repair the four segments arm. An exercise in dexterity beyond my current abilities, but good practice, with little risk of injury. Precision and stability were key, and exactly what newly acquired limbs lacked. Here also, I was reminded of my body¡¯s small stature. I had to use a box to raise myself to the proper height, and slightly hunch over the workbench so that my arms could reach. The repairs involved testing each connection one by one and replacing those that were defective. That required no expertise, letting me concentrate on finger control.


    I noticed the cable I was currently analyzing had damage beyond the exposed areas. Had I damaged it prior to the exercise? Or perhaps Master had recovered it from-


    I heard footsteps.


    Huh?


    I got down from the box. The vibrations I perceived through the ground confirmed it. A group of people were walking on a floor where no one ought to be. I consulted the system time just in case, but it was still late in the morning. Master would not be among them.


    I slithered to hide myself behind the medical bed. For once, I was grateful for this body¡¯s features. Moving this way made virtually no noise. Unfortunately, I had left the door open, finding it too tedious to activate every time I wanted to leave or enter the room. I definitely regretted my laziness now. It did not exactly have a lock, but each opening required the user to confirm they had ensured no experiment was in progress. Closing it now would not prevent the intruders from getting in, and they would surely hear it.


    Not knowing what else to do, I waited. They were going from one room to the next, calling out ¡°clear!¡± every time.


    I wished there were better places to hide. Behind the workbench, perhaps? But my body did not have the strength to move it, and there were no other options that I could see.


    The room was simply too sparsely furnished. Maybe I could try to-


    Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep!


    What?!


    The alarm came from one of the tools still connected to the four segment arm. A safety of some kind? B-but why now?


    I heard the footstep resonating with more certainty, making their way straight to E-408. The room I was in. No one entered, but I could see their shadows looming across the open doorway.


    Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep!


    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± a masculine voice ordered.


    That was what I should have done, really. Just lay myself on the medical bed and pretended to be a dead body, or simply some unpowered animatronic.


    There was a moment of silence, then three people entered the room at once.


    Without stopping, they set off in different directions, covering all angles with their rifles.


    The first thing that struck me about them was their appearance. They had only four limbs.


    Foreigners.


    Definitely not supposed to be in the building, let alone this floor. An army of some kind? They did wear some light body armor, but it only protected their torso. Too little equipment for an invasion. They all had backpacks, so maybe the rest of their gear was in there. But surely they ought to not have left their heads so fully exposed.


    Having no connection to a species recognition software, I had only my own memories to compare. And how strange did they look, with such enormous eyes! Light shone on those like they were domes. Maybe they were all old, because the fur was sparser on their faces, allowing some skin to be visible. And those thin leathery round ears¡­ how peculiar. Visible as they held their weapons, I also found their fingers fascinating. At least three times as long as Master¡¯s, and they had a tiny circle at the tip. If I had those, I was sure I would not struggle so much when using tools.


    Hoping they would not pay any attention to me, I had still not moved at all. One of them had gone beyond my field of view.


    It seemed they finally had perused the room to their satisfaction, because they lowered their weapons. The one behind me spoke out.


    ¡°Child Aerouant. Doesn¡¯t belong. Our target?¡±


    I identified the voice as feminine.


    Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep!


    ¡°Yeah, looks promising,¡± the one closest to the door said. It had to be the man who spoke earlier. ¡°It¡¯s not moving. Plenon¡¯s balls, it¡¯s not even breathing!¡±


    Oh. Right. I was supposed to pretend to do that.


    I started activating the appropriate motors in a slow and continuous rhythm, contracting and expanding my body. What a waste of energy...


    ¡°Woah, that¡¯s creepy! Okay, well, that¡¯s definitely our target,¡± he commented before directing his rifle toward my head. ¡°Alban? Can you run the jammer?¡±


    The third alien took out a little cylinder and twisted one half. The top lit up and... nothing else happened.


    ¡°So,¡± the man aiming at me continued, ¡°are you in there?¡±


    What kind of question was that? They had found me already, had they not? It was not like they were outside the room. We were all in there.


    Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep!


    I stayed quiet, too confused to reply.


    ¡°Okay, let¡¯s do it this way, then. I¡¯ll shoot if you don¡¯t answer.¡±


    What?! But I had done nothing!


    ¡°Don¡¯t shoot!¡± I pleaded. ¡°I just don¡¯t understand the question!¡±


    ¡°Well, basically, is your brain in that body?¡± He paused, then looked at his companions, then back at me. ¡°Alright, nevermind, I guess I got my answer. Whatever.¡± He sighed. ¡°Now, for the tricky part. We¡¯re getting you out of here. Are you going to make things difficult for us?¡±


    Oh, perhaps they were supposed to escort me to the event Master wanted me to attend. I knew it was hosted in a different solar system, so it would not be too surprising for foreigners to take part. But why would they be on our planet? And why such a violent introduction? No¡­ I had to make sure.


    ¡°Who are you? Did Master send you?¡±


    The one called Alban reacted first. ¡°¡®Master¡¯? What kind of sick bastard makes you call him that?¡±


    Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep!


    I took that as a ¡°no¡±, and that was a considerable problem. Where was Master? He had told me to stay on this floor. I was not supposed to be seen, either. Well, I might have already failed the latter, but maybe I could still manage the former.


    ¡°I am not leaving without Master¡¯s permission.¡±


    The man near the door spoke again. ¡°Alban, think you can extract the brain without damaging it?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. I¡¯d need to open it up to see, first.¡±


    Oh. That would be bad.


    ¡°I will not survive if you remove me from this body,¡± I lied.


    ¡°Damn,¡± the order-giving man said. ¡°That¡¯s going to make things a lot more complicated than expected.¡±


    Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep! Beeeeeeep!


    ¡°Melwenn, mind if I shut this down?¡± The intruder behind me asked. ¡°It¡¯s annoying.¡±


    ¡°Alright, yeah, go ahead, Lena. I don¡¯t think we need to be both aiming at it, anyway.¡±


    Lena entered my sight again as she went to the workbench and started disconnecting everything.


    ¡°Alright, cool, now we¡¯ll just need to find this ¡®Master¡¯ and-¡°


    Riiiiiiiiing! Riiiiiiiiing!


    A siren sound blared, followed by an emergency broadcast. ¡°Facility under assault. Take refuge. This is not a drill.¡±


    ¡°Fuck!¡± Melwenn swore. ¡°They got here fast. That¡¯s gonna be rough.¡±

 Chapter 4 - ARTI5, Escorted Runaway

    ¡°Alright, listen,¡± Melwenn said, lowering his rifle. ¡°You heard that? That warning was not about us. Your ¡®Master¡¯ is in mortal danger. So, where is he?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± I truly did not. That had never been an issue before. All I knew what that Master spent his days either somewhere in this building or, on rare occasions, at a station orbiting the planet.


    ¡°Okay, fine. Anyway, these people are coming to destroy you and kill everybody in the building, you got that? So, we¡¯ve got an exit two floors above, but we have to hurry. Is self-preservation a thing you have?¡±


    Yes, I did have a preference for staying alive. Of course I did! But what about Master? If there¡¯s a danger to Master, am I not supposed to go protect him? Especially since, as I understood the situation, I was the very reason for the attack.


    That seemed the most likely cause. Perhaps Master had been less than prudent when registering for that event, and we were now facing the consequences he had warned me about.


    I did not understand why people felt artificial intelligence represented such a danger, and definitely not how they could go to such extremes to eliminate it. Truth be told, at this very moment, I wished I was as dangerous as they thought me to be. Perhaps then I could protect Master. But no, I was virtually defenseless. Even these people were considerably more deadly. They had weapons. If I had those¡­


    ¡°You¡¯ve got to help me rescue Master!¡±


    ¡°Look, I wish we could, but you don¡¯t know where he is, and we don¡¯t have time to figure it out. We don¡¯t really have the firepower needed to stop that army, alright? It¡¯s already going to be fucking dangerous getting you out of there.¡±


    So simply asking did not work. What could I do? Oh... Oh! Emotions! I had to communicate emotions!


    ¡°Melwenn,¡± I said, making a pleading face I was sure would have made Master proud, ¡°please help me?¡±


    ¡°Ugh... That ¡®Master¡¯ guy spared no expense, did he?¡± Melwenn sighed. ¡°Listen, we don¡¯t have time to argue about it. Our mission was to retrieve you. I¡¯ve got no problem rescuing your ¡®Master¡¯ as well if that helps, whatever, but we didn¡¯t plan for a standout with an armed group. At this point, I¡¯m perfectly willing to give up on the mission to save our asses. Sure, that means no pay, but hey, they don¡¯t pay us if we¡¯re dead, either. So, basically, the choice is yours: are you coming with us, or are you dying here alone? You¡¯ve got about two minutes to decide. You¡¯re capable of making choices, aren¡¯t you? That the whole reason we¡¯re in this mess, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    It was. And that made it my responsibility to get Master out of the trouble I caused.


    ¡°Might have to serve its creator regardless of danger,¡± Lena commented. ¡°Would your ¡®Master¡¯ prefer you leaving without him, or you being destroyed?¡±


    That was a tough question. Trying to guess what Master would want here was difficult. I was not exactly partial to the results. Knowing that, I had to truly choose what would benefit Master more, regardless of the cost to myself.


    ¡°Good point,¡± Melwenn said. ¡°Anyway, if they somehow end up taking your ¡®Master¡¯ alive for a trial, you¡¯d serve him better by not being here to be shown as undeniable evidence.¡±


    That... was not something I had considered. If my staying here actually presented a danger to Master, then surely Master would not want me to. Since I could not help him anyway, leaving felt like the best option. Master would simply send word whenever I should come back.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I said, ¡°you¡¯re right. I¡¯ll go with you.¡±


    ¡°Great! Let¡¯s go then.¡± Melwenn turned toward the door. ¡±Alban, shut down the jammer for now. We¡¯ll probably need it at full power soon.¡±


    Alban powered off the device and put it back in his bag.


    ¡°Names?¡± Lena suggested, before Melwenn could reach his destination.


    ¡°Oh. Right. Good thinking,¡± Melwenn commented, before pointing at each member of his group in turn. ¡°I¡¯m Melwenn, this is Lena, and this is Alban. So, what¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°Autonomous Rapid Thinker - Iteration 5,¡± I replied. ¡°ARTI5, for short.¡±


    ¡°So, uh... Five?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what Master calls me.¡± Not really a name, was it? Just a number.


    ¡°Great! Five it is! Anyway, if everybody¡¯s ready, let¡¯s go!¡±


    We left for the stairs, with them in formation around me. Alban in front, Lena at the back, and Melwenn next to me. I would have preferred taking the elevator, but it was out of order, likely because of the emergency in progress.


    Before opening the door to the stairway, Melwenn stopped the group and instructed me to stay quiet no matter what. I nodded my understanding. He signaled the go-ahead and opened the door to let Alban in. I followed.


    At long last, I was leaving my sanctuary and entering a new world full of possibilities.


    These were... disappointingly mundane stairs. Nothing to see that was not strictly required to be there. No wondrous ornaments. Just gray stairs leading up and down a rectangular shaft. There was a black grid with a handrail for safety and a few naked lightbulbs. Who designed this? I knew Master would not have stood for it. Even his barest of simulated environments had more decorations.


    Alban hugged the wall, aiming upward as he slowly progressed up the stairs.


    I followed him, raising a hand to grab on the nearest guardrail. It was too high for comfort, but I chose not to let it bother me.


    I could hear footsteps coming from above us. To my horror, I realized we were not alone in the stairway. They sounded distant, though.


    Lena and Melwenn joined us, moving silently. Our progress was slow and methodical, keeping all eyes on the next corner in case someone dangerous came down.


    Nobody did.


    We went up the two floors without trouble, stopping at a door nearly identical to the one from floor 4, but painted blue instead of gray.


    Lena briefly pointed at the ground near the base of the door, but I failed to figure out what she was indicating. The other two nodded in agreement, so something was being communicated somehow.


    Melwenn took Alban¡¯s role, aiming his rifle up the stairs. Meanwhile, Alban placed himself left of the blue door. Lena went on the right side and used the handle to slightly open the door, allowing Alban to see inside. He carefully targeted the opening and moved laterally, no doubt to see more of the floor ahead.


    After a few seconds, Alban nodded and Lena opened the door further, letting him to go through. She used her rifle to gesture me to follow him in.


    I felt as if the footsteps from above were getting louder, so I rushed through. Since I had no feet, moving faster was just as quiet, anyway.


    Now clear of the door, I immediately looked back, expecting to witness the incoming firefight. What I saw instead was Lena coming through as Melwenn kept the way open with his foot.


    Looking around, I noticed the architects had shown more originality with the design of this floor than with the stairway. I had expected something identical to the one I had hitherto spent my life on, a single hallway leading to various large laboratories, with gray tiles on the floor. But no, they made this floor for some other type of work. For one, it was carpeted. An unfamiliar sensation for me. I could already see the downside. It did not transmit vibrations nearly as well as hard surfaces, so I could not feel people move about.


    There was an evacuation plan next to the stairway¡¯s door, showing the floor¡¯s layout. Quite a complex one, by comparison. Four rows of small offices intersected by meeting and break rooms of various sizes. If not for the lack of dead-ends, I would have called it a maze. I saved a picture of it, just in case.


    We were at the south emergency exit. Our corridor ought to lead to a break room, but the doors to access it were out of view. We would have to go around it. The doors on our sides led to restrooms and storage areas.


    Alban was already aiming down of hall. Lena went to his side and, without a word, they each picked their side of the two paths leading around the break room.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got incoming,¡± I heard Melwenn half-whisper behind me. I turned to see him close the door.


    He crouched and took his bag off. From it, he retrieved a metallic contraption which looked like a ring with small bars coming out. Melwenn set the device around the handle of the stairway¡¯s door and extended its appendages, effectively blocking the path.


    Once that was done, he looked at Alban. ¡°Alright,¡± he said, still speaking at a low volume, ¡°we¡¯re not giving a weapon to Five, whatever, but it can still carry the jammer, right?¡±


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    Without turning back or changing where he aimed his rifle, Alban lowered himself.


    Clang!


    The sound came from afar, but it made it clear to me we were not alone on this floor.


    I looked at Melwenn for directions. He was aiming at the intersection as well, no doubt in reaction to the noise. He took a hand off his rifle to point at Alban¡¯s backpack once he noticed me.


    Guessing what he meant, I went and opened Alban¡¯s bag. There were other devices in there, but the jammer was the most prominent one. I took it out.


    The weight was within what I could handle, though the system gave me a warning about the increased energy consumption. With a thought, I checked the battery levels. I still had enough to last a couple of days, even if I kept carrying this around.


    Alban got back up before I had a chance to close his bag. Thankfully, nothing threatened to fall off.


    ¡°Turn it on if we get in a fight,¡± Melwenn whispered.


    I looked at him and nodded my understanding.


    CHUCK!


    Someone was trying to open the stairway¡¯s door.


    CHUCK! CHUCK!


    ¡°Alright, time to go.¡±


    I advanced with the group, taking the left path around the break room. This time, Melwenn was the one guarding our rear.


    We found ourselves in another corridor. On the right, a long wall with two doors, one at each extremity. According to the floor plan, they would grant access to the break room. Both were closed at the moment. On the other side were a dozen open doors, which I knew to be offices. All of them were ajar. The door at the end of the path would lead to a meeting room. Here also, we would have to go around it to continue, though this time we could only do so by the right. I did not feel safe, being unable to see where the path beyond led as the break room obscured it.


    Alban went to inspect the closest open door, while Lena monitored the end of the path. He paused before entering, made a strange sign, and looked back at us. He and Lena swapped roles as she went to explore the opposite room. She made the same sign, and they kept going. What did it mean?


    As I dutifully followed them, it did not take long for me to glimpse what they were seeing in those offices.


    I was disappointed to find only a couple of desks, one of them empty, the other full of little trinkets. Those had been pushed away as their owner decided to take a nap. There was a nameplate. ¡°Melor Guillevic, Bioengineer¡±. He must also have tipped over his drink as he fell asleep, because a dark red liquid stained all his documents, even reaching the sides of his desk.


    There was something wrong about it... Oh.


    ¡°He¡¯s dead!¡± I exclaimed. ¡°T-they¡¯re killing people!¡±


    Alban, Lena, and Melwenn reacted instantly. They all went into the room closest to them, leaving me alone in the hallway as I still processed the implications.


    ¡°You said there would be a judgment!¡± I accused Melwenn. ¡°They¡¯re not even arresting them, they¡¯re just murdering everybody!¡±


    None of the aliens seemed to react. They were all too focused on playing with their stupid rifles.


    ¡°They¡¯re going to kill Master too, aren¡¯t they?! You¡¯ve got to-¡°


    Thump!


    That came from down the hall.


    I turned to look at what had made the noise. There was now someone lying on their belly in front of the meeting room¡¯s door. A local, according to the body shape. They wore an all-covering armor, painted in black. Their helmet had fallen down and now rested on top of a gooey mess. It took me a few seconds to realize that, given the fur mixed in, that substance had to be the remains of their head. The sight put a stop to my frantic rambling, smothering it through numb shock.


    Did people really die this fast? This frivolously? Could we not have tried to talk them out of it? Just paralyze them in some way? Why did they all go straight to the most irremediable of approaches?


    Noise coming from down the hall brought me back. The enemy?! I had to hide! I had to-


    ¡°Jammer,¡± Lena said, voice low and without the tension I felt the situation deserved.


    Oh. Right. I looked at the device in my hands and replicated the turn on sequence I had seen Alban perform. It lit up, confirming my success.


    ¡°Where do I go?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°Three! Right! Five! Lena, you¡¯re up,¡± Melwenn answered. Or possibly ordered, because Lena and Alban reacted. They moved out of their rooms and went down the corridor, reaching the door of the meeting room. I started to follow, but stopped as I saw them fall back.


    I heard the sound of a rapid fire weapon, accompanied by that of the offices¡¯ walls and doors being pierced by its bullets.


    W-what?


    Thankfully, I was far too far back to have been hit. My kidnapping protectors had reacted much more swiftly, dropping to the ground to avoid it all.


    Unless... Unless they had not been quick enough? Had they just died? It all happened so fast.


    But no, Melwenn and Alban rolled sideways, aiming their weapons to shoot down the corner. Their target was beyond my sight. Lena must have been fine too, because she got up to a crouched position. Leaving her weapon unattended, she opened her backpack and took out a few colored, hand-sized spheres. She attached some to her rifle, and others to her armor.


    Without warning, Lena made a white ball roll to me.


    A grenade?!


    I let got of the jammer and promptly backed away.


    It¡­ did not explode.


    Lena was standing back up, her bag now closed and rifle in hand. She looked at me. ¡°Take it and follow.¡±


    I fetched the new device. ¡°What about the jammer?¡±


    ¡°Leave it.¡±


    As I got closer to her, Lena detached another white ball from her rifle, pushed a button, then tossed it toward where the others were shooting.


    Melwenn and Alban reacted at the sight of the apparatus going past them. They stood up and dashed to the meeting room¡¯s wall. I followed their gaze, trying to figure out why they were looking toward the offices¡¯ side and not at the corner from which the bullets had come.


    And then, for the first time since I had started using it, my body¡¯s peripherals malfunctioned. The vision feed became pure white.


    Wait, did I not have two cameras? Both failing at exactly the same time was more than unlikely. I could still hear footsteps. People were running. I thought it might have been my escort, given the sounds¡¯ origin.


    Sight abruptly returned, as if nothing had happened.


    From my position, I could only see Lena. She was now at the edge of the intersection, shooting frantically. The others must have gone past her already.


    ¡°Go! Go! Go!¡± I heard Melwenn said.


    Lena lowered her rifle, looked back at me, then dashed forward.


    I followed as fast as I could.


    Reaching the junction let me see the corridor from which the enemy had been firing. It was not pretty. Our half of it was covered in thick bullet holes, the floor blanketed in debris coming from the walls and doors. The other half was even less inviting. Oh, there were no holes there, and everything above half a meter from the ground was intact. Below that, though, I saw pieces of armor, weapons, naked bones, bits of fur, and goo. These people had not been wearing full armor, and their liquefied organs, muscles, and tissues had escaped through whatever holes they could find. Just how many lives had ended today? And for what?


    ¡°Alright, our exit¡¯s the fifth door on the left,¡± Melwenn reminded his companions. ¡°Lena? We¡¯re not taking any chances. You go ahead and use the blockers.¡±


    Lena obeyed Melwenn¡¯s order by activating and tossing another spherical device. A black one, this time. I watched it land and roll, going near the end of the new corridor. Once stabilized, it shed its outer shell, revealing a dark, spongy-textured orb that started to expand.


    Lena threw another one behind me.


    ¡°Those things cost a fortune...¡± Melwenn said. ¡°Well, we weren¡¯t supposed to face some secret police force or whatever this is. We¡¯ll just have to ask the client for a bonus.¡±


    I joined with the group, not wishing to get entangled in the thing Lena had just unleashed. As the spheres¡¯ size reached the ceiling, their growth slowed down. We were completely locked in.


    Melwenn walked down to the office door he had mentioned, opened it, and went through.


    BANG!


    ¡°Fuck!¡± Lena exclaimed, turning to shoot at something behind me.


    BANG! BANG!


    I turned to see what she was shooting at, but the fight was already over. A body fell down from a half-opened door, slowly transforming into goo. The black uniform confirmed it had been one of the intruders. Well, one of the evil ones. Did my kidnappers count as good? No, probably not. One of the people trying to kill me, then.


    I heard a door slam as Melwenn came rushing back. ¡°What happened?!¡±


    ¡°Ambush.¡± Lena pointed at Alban. ¡°He¡¯s hit!¡±


    Alban was lying on the ground, unmoving. His rifle was next to him, but his bag had been blown away.


    ¡°Oh, fucking damn it!¡± Melwenn dashed to inspect the wound. ¡°Shit, that pierced right through.¡±


    Lena and I came closer. There was a hand-sized hole in the middle of Alban¡¯s armor. A mess of dark red bits had stained the floor beyond where he laid. Just how bad was it? I could see his heart, and it was still beating. We had to bring him to the hospital as soon as possible!


    I did not know where the infirmary was. Why did I not? That could have helped Master, surely.


    ¡°There¡¯s a medical bed in my lab,¡± I pointed out.


    They were not listening. Melwenn got something out of his bag and applied it to Alban¡¯s neck. Oh, of course, they had some device to heal him! Great!


    The wound was not closing.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t seem to be working,¡± I said. ¡°Maybe he needs more?¡±


    The heart finally stopped beating.


    ¡°My fault,¡± Lena said. I had hitherto heard little emotion from her, but this time she had let it reach her voice.


    ¡°No,¡± Melwenn told her, sounding hoarse, ¡°I should not have rushed ahead.¡±


    Lena got another device from her bag and gave it to Melwenn.


    He took it. ¡°Give me a minute, will you? Just go unlock the tunnel with Five. I¡¯ll be fine. I doubt there¡¯s any more of them hiding.¡±


    Lena nodded and headed for one of the offices. She did not look back at me to see if I was following.


    I stayed a few seconds longer, some part of me unwilling to leave Alban¡¯s body. It felt like he was not really gone as long as we were here.


    Bang! Bang!


    Terror filled me. Were we getting shot again? But no, Melwenn had not reacted, and it was a considerably softer noise than earlier. The out-of-beat banging intensified in volume as I got closer to the office Lena was in.


    Entering revealed its source. She was using the butt of her rifle to hit the wall, having already made a few holes that looked to be much deeper than they ought to be.


    The design and furniture for this office was the same as the one I had previously visited. However, this one had not been attributed to anyone, and so there was a distinct lack of dead bodies.


    Lena did not acknowledge my presence, continuing to destroy the wall. I thought I heard her muttering, but did not raise my microphones¡¯ levels to catch it. She had just lost someone. Those words were not meant for me.


    I stood in silence as her efforts slowly revealed a passage. Now that the tension was gone, my mind was falling in a daze. It pointed out that I may inadvertently have caused Alban¡¯s death by being too loud with my stupid complaints.


    Melwenn joined us shortly after, and we went through, not speaking a word.


    The tunnel led to a rope. Lena tied me up securely, then they climbed up before pulling me out.


    I was no longer paying attention. Images of the horrors I had just witnessed tormenting my thoughts.


    We found ourselves in a dark alley, leaving it to find a truck parked nearby. Lena and I went in the back, sitting among a collection of crates.


    We drove off.


    I had a throbbing headache. Not a pain I was used to. There was nothing showing up on the Behavior Monitor, meaning it had not caused it. A glance at the logs told me the Health Monitor had detected the anomaly, but did not have any recommendations.


    ¡°I have a headache,¡± I informed Lena.


    She did not react. She had been fixated on a corner of the truck, lost in her thoughts. Perhaps she was also reliving those moments, no doubt more focused on Alban and what she could have done to save him. Compared to that, I deemed my issues not worth mentioning any further.


    After about an hour, we still had not uttered a word, both taken by torpor. My headache had grown disruptive, slowing my thoughts down to a slog. Guilt had started covering the felling of horror. Could I have done better? Did I fail them in some way? Was I failing them right now? Lena did not seem to be doing well. Maybe I ought to try comforting her. Had Master ever shown me what to say in this kind of situation? I tried to recall. How strange, I seemed to remember an incident where-


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    Broadcast message from healthmon@arti5 (232-4299-7817):


    Neural pathway degeneration detected. The system is going down for suspend NOW!


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