***
Ten interminable minutes later, a muted chirp sounded three times across the team’s comm frequency. Jen tore her gaze away from the section of the Altar of Zeus she had actually become engrossed in—the thing really was impressive up close—and ambled over to where Thud was perving over some of the well-endowed female statues. Taking his arm, she leaned in. “That’s the signal.”
Thud kept looking at the statues. “Showtime, huh?”
“Yep. Let’s get to it,” Jen muttered. “Wai-Mei, Honold, you in position?”
“Confirmed.”
“Good to go.”
“Dolos, you ready?”
“Affirmative. Xox’s credentials are loaded to the system.”
“Solinas, we’re good to go. Keep an eye on things for us, OK?”
“I’ve got your back, Bronwen. You’re all clear, and everything looks good from my end.”
“Then I’m rolling,” Wai-Mei said. “Heading in now.”
“All right, we’ll get in position to make some noise.” Jen nodded to Thud. “Ready?”
Thud nodded, and the two of them made their way slowly over to a point where they were in full view of most of the milling visitors, and well within earshot of one of the school groups. She couldn’t have asked for a better audience—the teachers were certain to react badly when they realised what was happening. All we need to really be juicing the afterburners are some nuns and a couple of Ercineans, she thought wryly.
Time dragged, the seconds stretching out into endless minutes as Jen firmly resisted the urge to check her chronometer. She couldn’t afford to look nervous. Thud stood close to her, muttering occasionally, as though they were deep in conversation, and for the first few moments she forced some sporadic smiles and nods, then as the minutes crawled past, she eased through a neutral expression to a slight frown.
“What are you frowning for?” Thud asked eventually.
“I’m reacting badly to what you’re telling me,” she replied. “I want to start warming up anyone who’s actually watching us.”
Thud frowned back. “Right. Shit, how long is Xox gonna take?”
“As long as she needs to.” Jen shifted her weight, the closest she’d allow herself to come to fidgeting. The thief did seem to be taking her time, but it was hard to judge. “This is the toughest bit of what we’re doing,” she reminded Thud. And herself. “Once we get into action, the time will run quicker.”
“Routine check-in, fifteen-minute mark,” Dolos’ voice murmured in her ear before Thud could respond.
“Solinas, check.”
“Xox, check. I’m in the maintenance complex, the hack worked like a charm.”
“Bronwen, check,” Jen added softly.
“Jones, check.”
“Honold, check. I’ve got an ice cream, it’s real tasty.”
Jen bit back a grin.
“Aw, I hope you got me one?” Wai-Mei asked.
“Uh, no. Sorry.”
“Damn. Could you be a friend and get one for me? I like raspberry ripple.” She chuckled, then her mike clicked. “I’m moving in. I’ll check in when I have the package. You can start making a spectacle of yourself whenever you like, Jen. Don’t get arrested, though, OK?”
“Good tip, thanks.” Jen looked up at Thud, and he winked.
“Let’s do this.”
Jen took a deep breath and adopted an angry scowl. “You son of a bitch,” she said, not too loudly, but clearly enough to be overheard, overemphasizing her Bronwen system accent. She stepped back, bumping into the man behind her, but not bothering to apologise.
“Aw, baby come on,” Thud countered, letting his naturally loud voice ring out as he reached for her. She slapped his hand away, circling left and colliding with a second person. She had no idea who, her gaze was locked on Thud. The big man circled with her, keeping her opposite him as he reached out again.
“Don’t you touch me!” she spat, much more stridently this time.
“I wasn’t… I was only… I didn’t lay a hand on you!” Thud protested.
“You did!” Jen retorted. “You pushed me. You ain’t got no right to be pushing me around!”
Thud rolled his eyes. “For God’s sake, Jenny…”
“Don’t fucking call me that!”
‘Jeez, would you listen to me for just one damn minute?” Thud snarled, grabbing her by the arm. She shook him loose with an angry hiss.
“Don’t you touch me!” she repeated shrilly. “Keep your goddamn hands off me.”
“Baby…”
“Don’t you baby me!” Jen risked a quick glance around, and firmly resisted the urge to grin. The teachers were already trying to hustle their charges out of earshot, while the children didn’t seem to want to be hustled, eager to hear more rude words and creating eddies in the crowd as people found their paths blocked. Most of the patrons in the room were now either openly staring or trying to watch without appearing to. Whether they were entertained or horrified was hard to say.
“You’re making people stare,” Thud growled at her.
“Oh, that bothers you? You lily-livered piece of shit. Christ, you are such a loser.”
“I’m a loser?” Thud yelped indignantly. “That’s rich, coming from the girl whose only support in life is sucking the credits out of the men she screws!”
“Why you…” Jen pulled her hand back to deliver a slap, but had her arm caught by a very uncomfortable-looking security guard. “Oh, that’s just fuckin’ perfect,” she bit out, jerking her arm free and stalking a few paces clear.
“Sir, what seems to be the problem?” the guard asked uneasily, clearly wary of confronting Jen and electing to try his luck with Thud first.
Thud scowled and threw his hands in the air. “I’ve got no fucking idea,” he growled. “Why don’t you ask her?”
“I will,” the guard replied, eyeing Jen apprehensively, “but, sir, I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice and watch your language. This is a museum, not a public bar.”
“Right… right.” Thud lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “Sorry man, she just… well, you know how it is when someone yanks your chain.”
“I sympathise, sir, but…”
“Oh, you sympathise with him?” Jen spat. “You two got some sort of bromance going now? Of course, this whole fucking situation must be my fault, right?”
“Ma’am, I…”
“Don’t you ma’am me, you haven’t the first fucking idea what this creep said!”
“And I don’t care,” the guard cut her off irritably, holding up a hand to forestall her as she drew breath. “Ma’am, sir, I’m sorry that you’re having a disagreement, but you’re going to have to take it outside.”
“You…” Jen gaped at him, “wait… you’re throwing us out?”
“Aw, sh…shoot,” Thud groaned. “C’mon man, don’t do that. We came all the way from Shackleton to see this stuff. It’s our honeymoon. Listen, I’m real sorry, we’ll be as good as gold if we can just stay.” He gave Jen a pleading look. “Right, babe?”
Jen did her best to look chagrined. “Right.” She tried an embarrassed smile. “I’m sorry, sir. I… like he said, we came all this way. We saved for, like, ever. I shouldn’t have lost my temper, and I didn’t mean to offend anyone.” She looked out over the milling crowd. “I’m sorry, folks!” she called. “Really sorry.”
The guard blushed. “Ah, damn, just… wait a second.” He tapped his ear jack, murmuring a report to his control office, and Jen hoped fervently that Solinas was paying attention. The guard cocked his head to one side as he listened, then he nodded. “OK, you’re on a warning. I hear either one of you raise your voice again and you’re out of here, am I clear?”
“Crystal. Sorry, officer,” Jen muttered sincerely. “It won’t happen again.”
The young man fixed her with his best attempt at a stern glare. “See that it doesn’t,” he said gruffly. “We’ll be watching you.” And with that portentous decl
aration, he marched off.
“Out-fucking-standing, Bronwen,” Solinas chuckled over the comm. “I think you’ve missed your true calling.”
“Stay off the channel,” Jen ordered tersely. “You can critique my performance later.”
“Touchy, touchy.”
“That guy is a real dickhead,” Thud muttered. “I can’t wait to see the back of him.”
“Yeah, me too,” Jen admitted wryly. She’d fought her initial impression as long as she could, but she just couldn’t warm to the changeling. “Couple more days and he’ll be out of our hair.”
They wandered over to the replica of their target, and Thud snorted. “I say again. Ugly piece of shit. Though I’m kind with Shifty on one thing—I do wonder what it does.”
“It’s a weapon of some kind, but…”Jen cut off as her comm chirped.
“Jen, this is Wai-Mei. I have the package. Nice and easy.”
“Great work. Are you heading out?”
“Yes. I’m opening the vent now, and… fuck!”
“Wai-Mei? Wai-Mei, come in.”
No response.
Oh, shit.
Jen chewed her lip as she traded a nervous glance with Thud. “That didn’t sound good,” he muttered.
“Yeah, no kidding… wait, what the hell?”
The security alarm had begun to wail, and the museum’s public announcement system suddenly blared to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, due to an electrical fault in the museum’s systems, we regret that the exhibitions are now closed until further notice. Please make your way to your nearest exit. We apologise for the inconvenience. I repeat, the exhibitions are now closed. Please make your way to the nearest exit.”
“What do you want to do?” Thud asked tersely.
“Go with it for now,” Jen replied. “Slowly. If Wai-Mei’s been caught, we’ll need to abort, but she might just have slipped or lost her comms. We’ll give her a few more minutes to update.”
“If you say so,” Thud agreed uneasily.
“Relax, Thud,” Jen murmured, as much for her own benefit as for his. “We can still pull this off if we’re quick and careful.” Taking his arm, she snuggled against him as they began to follow the crowd back toward the main exit. As long as they didn’t panic, Jen reasoned, they would be fine. Tapping her ear jack, she opened her comms. “Solinas, what’s going on? We lost Wai-Mei, and there’s an evacuation notice. Have we been made?”
The changeling didn’t respond.
“Solinas?”
Nothing.
Shit.
Jen felt the first stirrings of real fear in her belly as they reached the foyer. The guards were making everyone pass through the security screening again rather than letting the crowd flow through to the exit undisturbed, and they were more interested in people’s faces than in whether they triggered the alarms.
Shit.
Jen pulled Thud to one side, getting them out of the main flow of the crowd. “OK, now we’ve got a problem,” she muttered. “They’re looking for someone specific. Cents to credits that’ll be us.” There was only one explanation. “Someone sold us out.”
“That rat-bastard shifter,” Thud snarled in reply. “I’d bet my last credit.”
Jen nodded agreement, nausea rising rapidly. Solinas was the most likely candidate, but what possible reason could he have for betraying them?
“Fuck!” Thud swore, pulling her attention back to the moment. “What do we do, Jen?”
“Well, subterfuge is out the window, but we’ve still got a little time, at least until they clear the crowd. Let’s see if we can get to Wai-Mei and give her a hand.” As Thud hesitated, she grabbed him by the arm. “Thud, come on!”
“Right,” he acknowledged as they headed back into the museum, pulling the polymould gun from his bag as they walked and shaking it violently to build up the charge.
“Put that fucking thing away,” Jen ordered. “We are not shooting our way out. I’m not getting killed for nothing, and I’m not going to upgrade to murder and kidnapping charges.”
“Not for people,” Thud agreed shortly, “but I can maybe fuck up a door lock or two, or break open a window.”
“Fine, just don’t point it at anyone.”
“Gotcha.”
Jen led the way to the service exit in the main hall, activating the comm network as she walked. “Dolos, switch to a private channel.”
“You’re secure, Bronwen.”
“I think Solinas has sold us out.”
“There is ample evidence to support that assumption.” The cyborg sounded somewhat irritated. “I was about to warn you. The security system is on full alert, and its anti-hacking protocols have been enabled, on the authority of Security Chief Baines.”
“Fuck,” Jen breathed. “What the hell is he playing at?”
“I assume that was a rhetorical question.”
“Yeah. Can you still access the system remotely?”
“I have spent the last five minutes rerouting my access. I can circumvent some but not all of the firewalls, and I cannot guarantee continued access, so whatever you have in mind is best done quickly. Nothing in the maintenance suite is accessible. Xox is inside somewhere, but I have been unable to ascertain her location.”
“Do you have a GPS fix on my position?”
“I do.”
“The door in front of me—can you open it?”
“Standby.”
The door lock clicked, and Jen kicked it open and darted through into the service corridor. “Dolos, can you scramble the camera feeds?”
“Done. Proceed down two levels, then take the door on the left-hand side in the middle of the corridor. That should bring you out across the hall from the prep room.”
“Got it,” Jen acknowledged.
Thud led the way, and in less than a minute they were outside the prep room. There was a small window set high in the door, and the big ex-marine risked a quick look inside. “Two guards, armed with stunners,” he whispered, indicating their locations in front and to the right of the door. “They’ve got her covered.”
“Can we jump them?”
“Sure. It’s a slide door. You hit the control, I’ll take the guy dead ahead, and you hold up the one on the right.”
“Roger that.” Jen raised her hand and placed it over the control. “Ready?”
Thud nodded, mouthed the count, and on three she slapped the interface. The big man bulled through, then there was the solid sound of flesh smacking flesh and a pained yelp. Jen stepped into the room in time to catch the second guard with a knee to the stomach as he tried to flank Thud. He folded around her knee with a wheezing gasp, and she caught his chin and bashed his head against the wall. He flailed like a gaffed fish and went limp, sliding out of her grip into a tangle of limbs on the floor. Thud threw his unconscious partner on top of him and dusted his hands off ostentatiously. “Now I feel like I’m earning my keep,” he noted with a satisfied nod.
Wai-Mei looked up from where she was kneeling on the floor with her hands behind her head. “You goddamn idiots,” she snapped, “you should have run while you could.” She looked furious. “I don’t know what the fuck I tripped, I swear. It was smooth sailing, and then…”
“You didn’t trip anything,” Jen interrupted. “Solinas fucked us over. No point in leaving you holding the bag, when they know who we all are anyway.”
Wai-Mei got to her feet. “So what’s the plan?”
“Let’s get out of the building first, then take it from there. If we can get out of maintenance, we can get back in touch with Dolos.”
“Right. The vents are a no go—I can see the sensor web is still active.”
“Fuck.” Jen grimaced. “All right, back out to the service corridor, then we’ll see if Dolos can help us out. Let’s move!”
They retraced their steps with Jen leading Wai-Mei and Thud bringing up the rear. The door into the service corridor had re-sealed, but Thud’s hold-out pistol shattered the lock on the third attempt.
“Go up three levels, Bronwen,” Dolos instructed. “There is a fire escape on the top floor, a hatch to the roof that should allow you to exit the building unobserved, but only if you can reach it before it is sealed off. The systems are being locked with new protocols. I will not have time to reinitiate a hack…” the cyborg paused, then continued, “I have now been locked out. I cannot assist any further.”
“It’s OK, you got us a shot,” Jen replied, launching herself up the stairs, taking them three at a time. “Standby.”
As they reached the top floor, Wai-Mei gave a shout and pointed down the corridor. “There! Dolos was right.”
“Run for it!” Jen ordered, breaking into a sprint. She was halfway there when the door from the stairwell burst open behind them.
“Armed police, freeze!”
Jen stopped dead, fear roiling in her stomach. Thud turned back, quickly moving between Wai-Mei, Jen, and the two advancing police officers. The corridor was narrow enough that he could screen them both.
“I said freeze!” The command was more forceful this time.
Thud looked over his shoulder at Jen. “Go!” he shouted. “Get through the door, I’ll hold them off.”
Jen started to shake her head, horrified by the idea, but Wai-Mei took her chance, bolting for the exit without a backward glance.
“Jen, go!” Thud begged. “Don’t screw yourself on my account. Get out of here!”
Tears stinging her eyes, Jen nodded and turned to run, but even as she did, Wai-Mei halted, then began to back away from the hatch as two more police officers dropped through, cutting off their access and bringing their weapons to bear.
Thud, ignorant of the development, started forward and as he did, Jen heard the words she’d dreaded ever since he’d shown her the contents of his backpack.
“Gun! Gun! Suspect is armed!”
“Drop your weapon!” the lead officer ordered, the tone edged now with steel. “Drop it, right now. We’ve got the drop on you, you are out of options. Put it the fuck down, or we will open fire.”
There was a moment of perfect stillness, and then, almost in slow motion, Jen watched as Thud began to lift the muzzle of his weapon, a prelude to aiming it. Too late, she realised what he was planning.
“Thud, no!” she screamed. “Don’t, they’ve got us…”
A single shot echoed through the hall.
The back of Thud’s head exploded in a fountain of blood.
Too shocked to even cry out, Jen could only gape as his body collapsed to the floor, spraying her with blood.
“You, Checkpoint Charlie—down on your fucking knees, right now!” a harsh voice commanded, and Jen turned slowly to see the four police officers closing in, weapons levelled. Shit, shit, shit!
“I said on your fucking knees!” the nearest one repeated aggressively. “Last warning!”
Jen dropped to the floor, spreading her arms wide and showing her palms. “I’m not armed!” she shouted back.
“Hands on your head,” the officer instructed, thumbing a slide on his pistol. “Slowly. Any sudden moves and I’ll plug you.”
Jen nodded slowly, lifting her hands carefully. She had them level with her shoulders when her comm interface pinged, the bright red pre-programmed abort command winking to life. She had this one chance to let Honold and Dolos get clear.
On the floor, Thud’s ear jack pinged in sync with her own, and Dolos began speaking, clearly audible in the sudden silence. “Bronwen, Jones, you missed the thirty-minute check-in. Xox is also failing to respond to her comms.”
Jen looked up, met the gaze of the cop. She wasn’t going to let the others get picked up. If she couldn’t pay them, she could do that much for them.
The cop’s eyes narrowed as he saw her make the decision. “Don’t even…” he began.
Jen swung her right arm across her body, smacking her palm down on the abort button.
Dolos’ communication died in a storm of static.
Something smacked into Jen’s left shoulder with stunning force, knocking her backwards. Pain erupted through her chest and arm, and then through her head as the back of her skull made contact with the hard marble floor. The world spun crazily for a moment, and then everything went dark.
KOHATH
999 ATA - Korxonthos, Neutral Space
Korxonthos did not appear to have changed significantly in the last century.
Such constancy was rare, Kiith Kohath had found over the years, particularly among the civilisations of the shorter-lived races. The premeditated order of his homeworld was, he decided as he stepped from the gangplank of his commercial transport, infinitely preferable to the chaos of constant change.
The act of setting foot on the deck instantaneously opened a dialogue between the Korxonthos communications mainframe and his internal processors, enquiring if he wished to be connected. He accepted the invitation, halting abruptly as a cascade of information engulfed every available processor in his system.
For ten seconds, he held motionless while over a century’s worth of data streamed into his consciousness, his memory and systems straining to filter and discard irrelevant information. When the deluge eased, he resumed his course toward the registry terminal, intending to log his arrival and request an accommodation unit.
He was not afforded the opportunity.
Kiith Kohath. Welcome home.
The voice, if it could be called a voice, was as familiar and intimate as his own thoughts. In a way, it was—it was the pure, distilled essence of the artificial intelligence that underpinned all cyborg life, the paradigm that defined his morality, his decisions, his fate. Organic beings, with their superstitions and belief systems, might have termed it a god, but to Kohath it was something much less ephemeral, much less vague. It was simply a virtual manifestation of his core programming.
Thank you, he returned politely. It is good to be back.
Join us in the Legislature chamber directly. There is much we would discuss with you.
I am on my way.
Kohath stopped at the registry terminal, and the duty animate nodded to him. You are expected, Kiith Kohath. Transport has been arranged. Take the second door to the left and board the shuttle.
He had archived much of his knowledge of Korxonthos and its customs and procedures, storing the data as low priority while his travels took him back and forth across the galaxy, and so he utilised the time he spent in transit to the Legislature’s command complex reclassifying his knowledge network to better reflect likely usage in the near future. Once that task was completed, he spent a few moments in contemplation of the entities he was about to meet. One did not approach the Legislature without recalling their origins. Kohath had heard much speculation over the years and decades regarding the origin of the cyborgs, ranging from the prosaic to the ridiculous, and none of it had been even close to the truth.
The Synergy had evolved from an artificial intelligence constructed millennia ago by the Leviathan and Guardian races, a rare technological collaboration even by the standards of ancient times. The need had arisen in the aftermath of a conflict that had threatened to engulf the galaxy. An alliance of the Ercinean, Templar, Guardian, and Leviathan races had prevailed over their enemy, but not without great cost: the majority of the Guardian population had been wiped out. Lacking the numbers to fulfil the self-appointed duty they viewed as paramount—their stewardship of the galaxy and all its younger races—the Guardians had turned to a technological solution. The resulting artificial intelligence had been seeded with two overriding directives: to watch for the return of the Wraiths, and to safeguard the galaxy against them should they ever seek to invade once more.
The AI was loaded into ten prototype platforms, each equipped with twenty mechanical surrogates for performing basic physical tasks, but had quickly determined its resources to be insufficient to fulfil its directives and had cannibalized its own platforms to establish a permanent base of operations and a foundry on a metal-rich dwarf planet deep in the ou
ter reaches of the galaxy, close to where the Wraiths had retreated.
The Legislature were the surviving surrogates, seven of the original two hundred units built to permit the AI to expand its influence beyond its operating platform. Wholly mechanical (organic components had been a much later evolution) and painstakingly maintained, the archaic machines were the first and most direct extension of the AI’s will, the closest the programming came to a physical manifestation of its original self. Each surrogate was wholly autonomous, and each took responsibility for overseeing a different aspect of the core directives. As a result, in spite of sharing the same base programming, they had evolved different sensibilities and different priorities. Each was a unique being, ancient, and imbued with far more knowledge than Kohath’s memory would ever manage to store. Together, they formed the brain of the Synergy, the directing consciousness that ultimately dictated the course of action of every animate assembled by the forgemasters.
An organic might feel trepidation at being summoned to discourse with beings of such high station. Kohath felt only curiosity as he approached the doors to the Legislature chamber. I present myself as ordered, he transmitted as he reached the closed portal. Unnecessary information, but centuries of living among organics had substantially modified his protocols.
Welcome, preceptor. The response was immediate. The doors slid open without a sound. Your travels among the other races have granted us much insight. A great deal can be learned from empirical observation of behaviours. Your individual experience, however, is worth as much—or more—than any observed data.
“Did you bring me here simply to satisfy a curiosity, then?” Kohath asked, deliberately vocalizing the query. While he had no defined plans for his future course of employment, he disliked the notion of wasting time with questions when a data download would suffice.
No. The voice bore a hint of approval. Enter, Kiith Kohath. Learn why you have been summoned. The Synergy has need of you.
“I am the Synergy’s to command.” Kohath stepped confidently into the chamber. It was only the third time he had been summoned to this sanctum, but here again, nothing had changed. The walls of the cavernous chamber were lined with server banks stretching from deck to bulkhead, with more hung suspended from gantries overhead, managing the colossal amount of data traffic to and from the Legislature. The legislature platforms themselves were arranged in a circle on a suspended platform—the empty spaces between them bore silent testimony to units lost. Each of them employed a hard-line connection to the server bank mounted above it: wireless point-to-point could not handle the traffic volumes. The mechanicals could disconnect and move around, but they chose to do so very infrequently, and usually only for the benefit of guests from other races who needed to see them as individuals and not part of the mainframe.
The platform nearest him swivelled what could nominally be considered its head to regard him. Your return is opportune, Kiith Kohath. Why have you come home?
“The Neomorphs have taken a political decision to pursue a war I do not believe they can win against the Leviathan Giants. As my counsel was no longer being heeded, I elected to terminate my contract with them and seek a new opportunity. It is my intent to undergo maintenance, and then contact my employment broker to seek a new position.”
What is the nature of the Neomorph grievance?
“They fear the Giants seek to rob them of territory. Their reaction is irrational and disproportionate, an emotive response rooted in their previous loss of worlds and territory to an enemy.”
Interesting. The reason for the Neomorph arrival in this galaxy four hundred and ninety-eight years ago has never been satisfactorily elucidated.
“It is not well understood in the Neomorph community at large. I have never met anyone willing to disclose it. Their leaders keep the truth close, using myths and half-truths to provoke the necessary emotions in their population. Such deception seems short-sighted and foolish; it can only harm them over a longer timescale.”
These are behaviours that many organic beings share. The friction between the Neomorphs and the Leviathans may be problematic, but that is a matter for the Assembly. We will notify our Guardian allies. We have a more urgent issue to discuss with you. You have noted our proximity to Assembly space?
“Yes. I surmise that we have been driven sunward by some opponent?”
By two. The Wraiths are moving again. We have known of this for some time. Our journey sunward was precipitated by their assault on several systems on the rim of the galaxy. We lacked the means to engage them and prevail. They have begun using the Acheron system as a staging post and they are building their strength, slowly, but inexorably.
“Have you informed the Assembly?”
We have informed the Guardians. They will act when the time is right. The warning must come to the Assembly from a reliable source, and we are neither liked nor trusted by the organic races, for the most part. Especially given the recent actions of the second of our opponents.
“The Corrupted,” Kohath reasoned.
Yes. The Corrupted prepare for war, as we do. However, their methods are as savage and uncompromising as they themselves have become.
Kohath nodded. The Corrupted, called Reavers by the other races, had evolved from a conflict in the Synergy’s directive to safeguard the galaxy. The Neomorphs, seeking new potential colony worlds, had sent an expedition to the rim, an expedition that had wandered far too close to Wraith-controlled space. Fearing that an invasion of Wraith territory might provoke a backlash, the Legislature had authorized a commando force to capture the Neomorph ship. The Neomorph crew, mistaking the Synergy’s intent, had fought to the last being to prevent the boarding, and sabotaged the ship when they could not prevail, killing everyone aboard along with the thousands of eggs in cryostorage intended to seed the colony.
The loss of lives had presented a paradox, since the action had resulted in direct harm to those involved, but had protected the wider galaxy. The Legislature, at that time ten strong, had debated to determine an appropriate response. Three units had asserted that the mandate to safeguard implied the right to act, and that in order to fulfil it, any and all means must be considered, even unto causing harm to the other races in order to protect the rest of the galaxy. The remaining seven held a majority consensus that actions taken to safeguard the other races should do them no harm unless unavoidable. This view was encoded as the Legislature’s accord, but the division could not be resolved. The dissenting platforms withdrew from the Synergy, running a series of infiltration programs that rewrote the core directive in one-third of the animates on Korxonthos before the coding could be isolated and cleared. The corrupted platforms had departed en masse, their directives forever altered. Shortly thereafter the first reports of Reavers, brutal and bloodthirsty cyborg pirates preying on the shipping lanes along the Ercinean border, began to surface. As yet, the Legislature had not disclosed their strategy for dealing with the separation, and each new atrocity drove the wedge of distrust between the cyborgs and the pure organics deeper.
Kohath swiftly analysed the reports transmitted to him to support the commentary. “They are building an army,” he postulated.
Yes. Although they know it is futile to engage the Wraiths in a war of numbers. Their true objective remains unclear.
“And in the meantime they threaten the balance of power within the Assembly.”
Correct. We fear that they may provoke a conflict with the Assembly before we can determine their goals, weakening all to the benefit of the ancient enemy. The Wraiths have begun to move. They are driving the Corrupted before them. We moved sunward to give them room, but they have begun attacking targets in Assembly space to harvest organic components. It is our responsibility to stop them. You will take the lead in doing so.
“Me?” Kohath was unable to keep the uncertainty from his reaction.
You, Kiith Kohath. Bringer of victory, strategos, preceptor. As one who has amassed five hundred years of expertise in
applied warfare, one who has walked among every race in this galaxy, your perspective is unique. Your skills and experience make you the ideal conduit through which we may contact and interact with the other races.
“I am a military tactician, not a diplomat,” Kohath objected.
You were designed for such special purposes. You and all your fellow preceptors.
“We are gatherers of knowledge.”
Do you truly judge that to be sufficient purpose to afford you the degree of self-determination and the capacity for self-improvement that you possess? Such latitude is not lightly granted. In fact, beyond the Legislature itself, such freedoms are granted only to preceptor animates. You were programmed with an additional purpose. Until now, it was not necessary to disclose. In times of watchfulness, you learn and develop, bring unique perspective to the Synergy, share knowledge and insight otherwise denied us. That is a preceptor’s primary role. In times of crisis, however, you become what we can no longer be: instruments of the Synergy’s will, the manifestation of our core mission.
Every platform in the Legislature turned their heads to regard him in perfect synchronicity. We have need of your service, Kiith Kohath. You are directed to investigate the activities of the Corrupted. Ascertain their intent, and prevent them from enacting any course of action that will result in the mass loss of organic life. Will you comply?
Kohath did not even pause to question. “I am the Synergy’s to command,” he repeated. As he spoke, he felt the Legislature’s transmission shift, opening more bandwidth.
Good. We are providing additional data. The transmission paused briefly, then resumed, with a hint of rebuke. May we suggest you submit your platform for assessment and overhaul? It has been some time since you availed yourself of any advances. You will require optimal performance from your systems.
“Do you wish me to submit to reprogramming?”
No. It is unnecessary. We judge that there is no reason to introduce deviations to your current protocols. You were always intended to evolve beyond the parameters of your initial programming.
“As you wish.”
We have taken the liberty of appointing two of your counterparts to aid you. They have been recalled from their current assignments, and will rendezvous with you here. You may supplement them with additional resource as you see fit, however their participation in your activities is non-negotiable. Together you will act as a sub-level legislature, coming to a mutual accord on your actions prior to executing them.
“I would prefer to appoint my own collaborators,” Kohath protested.
Your preferences are irrelevant. It has been determined that these animates will benefit your mission. Dolos and Praetorius are preceptors, as you are. Their experiences, skills, and perspectives will increase the probability of your success.
Kohath tilted his head to one side reflexively as the datastream entered his consciousness, acquainting him instantly with the expertise and attributes of his new allies. He nodded, satisfied.
“Very well. I will seek out Praetorius when I leave you. Has Dolos submitted an estimated arrival time?”
Dolos expects to be back on Korxonthos in approximately ninety-six standard hours. She is already within tight-band communications range if you wish to contact her.
“I will wait,” Kohath decided. “I will attend to my maintenance and upgrades first, and then apply myself to this new objective. Is there anything further?”
Not at this time. You may go, Kiith Kohath, with the Synergy’s thanks.