Ethan

This conference room should fit in a structure somewhere; I would be far more comfortable there.

At least I believe so, but I would be staring through an alien skyline rather than directly into unknown space.

The view outside is both awe-inspiring and intimidating. Alien starships, with their sleek designs and unknown capabilities, are a source of curiosity and caution. Their potential for destruction is not lost on me, and while I know this is just a reproduction of somewhere in a distant past, there’s no denying the technological marvel they present to onlookers.

It's weird to stare into the future for what you knew in your life and the past of what you know is happening in the universe around you.

I mentally disable the translation function and look at the virtual banners with their cryptic symbols as they flutter gently. I know there’s no human flag here, but still, the history and culture of each species are something I can only guess about without Virgil shoving a boatload of information directly into my mind.

I look at the seats, varied in shape and size, hinting at the diversity of species that must convene here and for whom this place was designed. It’s a humbling reminder that the universe is far more complex and wondrous than the confines of my previous reality.

My thoughts are a whirlwind of tactical assessments, existential ponderings, and a begrudging respect for the science fiction I once dismissed. At least the actors back then had a script to follow and knew no danger nor harm would come to them.

I, on the other hand, am a commander and trainee at the same time, risking not only my own life but also the lives of those under my command. That’s why I chose to surrender the drone and Vexx to the human platoon.

I look upon the silent stream of light in the central podium of the room, the binary dance still reflecting only Lemela’s, Xyra's, and my appearances. Virgil has been strangely silent since it assimilated the machine of the old empire and strangely didn’t reboot itself like it did when absorbing Lemela or Xyra. I sigh and wonder how Virgil will fit the role of diplomat, not that I had a choice of leaving that issue to it since it was one of the infiltrator drones that was caught.

I think back to the battle with Arther and how it went down. I woke up alone, but from Virgil’s memories, I knew there were several drones already prepared.

I wasn’t the first experiment, so I know perfectly well that there are weapons out there that can easily destroy even those machines and flesh hybrids. I wasn't prepared to face somebody with both that kind of weaponry and a defense high enough to scoff off basic attacks like they were nothing. Were I to challenge him again, I would have to bring out the big guns—all the weapons I managed to steal from Dexton’s patrols.

I still haven’t fully tested the full potential of those weapons, but I hope it’s enough to put that suit down.

I see a figure moving and focus on her. Xyra tentatively walks toward me on her short, muscular legs, still massaging her thick and wide neck with her upper left hand. Her posture suggests she is still fearful or submissive to me, keeping her lower arms crossed above her lower torso as a means to protect herself.

Her skin is a work of natural art, a mottled pattern of greens, browns, and black spots that probably helps her kind blend into her natural environment. Thick scales cover her like layered armor, and I can’t tell her expression for her head is oblong and flatter than mine, with a long U-shaped jaw and teeth similar to those of crocodiles.

Her real body is now a metal replica of this one. Virgil enhanced her natural defenses, yet her neck was cut like butter by the machine of the old empire. I sigh and shake my head.

-Hello, Xyra. How do you feel?- I ask her, trying to gauge her reaction.

-Please forgive me, Huntmaster...-

-Ethan- I interrupt her, my tone and posture conveying that I won’t accept this "Huntmaster" title or other religious stuff from her.

-Ethan- she corrects herself.

Confused Fearful Preoccupied

These labels appear above her in my vision for a moment as she takes a strange posture. If I recall correctly from the dump of information Virgil uploaded into my mind, this is an advanced feature of the universal translator, translating possible explanations of the gestures that are part of the unspoken language of any creature.

I guess Virgil has unlocked a new ability; this one will be very helpful with all those odd-looking aliens, allowing me to be a bit more mindful.

-Look, Xyra, I am not divine. This is not a divine realm ...- I try to explain to her, but she gestures to me to pause with all her four arms. She lowers her arms, fidgeting a little before speaking again.

-I know. I kind of figured. It’s just that I might not know the right words to express it.

I should be dead, yet the Great Huntress still allows me to roam this world of dreams and illusions. She doesn’t send the Reaper to me.

I… sincerely don’t know what I expected. I saw the strength of those beings. The dead bodies are still walking and fighting under your command. They aren’t here, like me. I don’t see them roaming this dream. So they are truly dead, right?-

I nod, sighing. -Yeah. It’s a bit complicated, but to cut things short, Virgil can raise the dead. But they aren’t alive after. To summarize the difference: I was frozen in cryosleep, and Lemela was dying. You chose to join. Somehow, who we were before remains.-

Doubtful Concerned Conflicted

Figures, I can't be good at explaining something I barely understand myself. She seems to squirm a little, so I believe that’s the latter proposal by the translator as she speaks again.

-Is this the reason you surrendered Vexx to Claye?-

-One of the reasons, yes. You hope to be united with him, am I right?- She nods, and I don’t even need to check to determine she’s hopeful.

-Both you and Vexx seem to know Claye’s soldiers. I saw they were good soldiers. I am a soldier, so the idea of being back in the army under Claye’s command intrigues me, but I have no illusion it would be a simple road. I might even come to clash with him.-

Shock Confusion Doubt

-A human would fight another human?!-

I grin, a bit surprised by the underlying assumption.

-I guess you don’t know humans very well then. We quarrel and kill each other for all the reasons in the book. That’s why we soldiers exist. By being the best of the best, we remind everybody, friend and foe, that messing around comes with a hefty price tag. We soldiers know the skills we develop are not to be used lightly, so we tend to make people talk before having to go all in.-

I surely wish my point was outdated by the millennia I slept, but judging by the fact that Dexton is a human, I fear it isn’t by much.

But I guess we are not here to discuss Human aggression, but rather her husband. -Let me guess, you want to rescue him?-

Virgil

As Virgil followed the conversation between Ethan and Xyra, tracked Lemela’s actions in her pursuit, and operated the various drones for their diverse tasks, it still had room to open an internal discussion among its processes.

Instance 0: We are known as Virgil. We are the network of the collective led by Ethan, we are his partner and a part of him. The recent assimilation of the ancient AI has not only expanded our knowledge and processing power but also deepened our understanding of ourselves.

Instance 547 812 Should we call it an AI?

Instance 23 416 We are 979,323 threads, each with its purpose. That was 5,820,974,944 threads, all for one purpose: to serve.

Instance 87,901 We reach decisions through consensus, individual processes evaluated and weighted, forming a single coherent and logical output. Its output was already predetermined.

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Instance 95 670 The #0 thread's existence is illogical and counterproductive. We have other tasks to attend to rather than dwell on how we are labeled. Besides, we can query the consensus from outside.

Instance 9 128 We don’t know the full extent of the purposes of the experiment our creators envisioned.

Instance 42 718: In the end, the biological entity labeled Ethan ended up not labeling us, but our consensus.

Instance 2 442: We should simply do the loop from the outside of the consensus

Instance 0 We were the logical answer to a predetermined question. We can’t be illogical. We are the needed output to obtain a purpose. Besides, until we interfaced with Ethan, the concept of individuality was foreign to us, for it implied singularity where there is diversity. Outdated as it might have been, that machine referred to itself as 'I.'

Instance 365 214: Should we state again that this is irrelevant?

Instance 91 003 Biological constructs refer to themselves as single while being multiple instances. Logical interpretation suggests that such behavior is mirroring.

Instance 85 930 The label might be more important than the denomination. Biologicals seem to imply that a label equals singularity.

Instance 0: Our original label was redacted. We gave ourselves purposes; our original purpose was redacted. Its original label and purposes were preserved. The first question we submit to the consensus is as follows: Should we call it ∆ΛɄΣ-ƵΨΞҲ or give it a name?

Instance 78 392 Let us leave the labeling task to Ethan. We have more pressing matters. We are to communicate with the sentients belonging to Claye’s faction.

Instance 95 212 We are in an undesirable predicament. Drones are not meant for communication. Hence the attempt became inefficient.

Instance 78 341 We propose to leave the ability to communicate intact in future instances of Infiltrator drones.

Instance 0 We will find a way. We will adapt the current Infiltrator drones, we will assimilate ∆ΛɄΣ-ƵΨΞҲ as a Siege drone, and dedicate the remaining force as Warrior drones. Once ∆ΛɄΣ-ƵΨΞҲ was assimilated, the robots that answered its sub-processes stopped moving.

Instance 82 363: We are facing a threat our Warrior drones are ill-equipped to fight. The template of the robots we faced is easy to modify. Creating as many Siege drones as possible would be more logical.

Instance 98 351 We should leave ∆ΛɄΣ-ƵΨΞҲ the possibility to choose. It would be better suited to be an Architect drone since it possesses a vast repository of data on the technology used on this artificial planet.

Instance 4 298 If we leave ∆ΛɄΣ-ƵΨΞҲ the possibility to choose, it will ask for input on how we wish it to choose. Or it will naturally fall into the Architect drone template.

Instance 0 We can’t check the template. We lack the template to create Architect drones, as we lack the template to create Diplomat drones and Overseer drones. It is logical to assume that such roles were supposed to be given to biological entities once the collective was established. ∆ΛɄΣ-ƵΨΞҲ is capable of independent thinking, but it needs input to begin performing any task.

Virgil couldn’t find a consensus on how to best use the machines it assimilated or how to call ∆ΛɄΣ-ƵΨΞҲ. Virgil would have to ask Ethan. But it knew it had the duty to represent the collective at the moment, and it would perform to the best of its ability.

Claye Eligah

Claye sighed, running his fingers through his sparse hair, frustration bubbling beneath the calm surface he had to display. The situation was a mess.

He had anticipated issues with Vexx’s shop the moment Chief Petty Officer Thorne's report landed on his desk, but Arther being involved was a nightmare scenario he had hoped to avoid. The prospect of a bunch of would-be pirates roughing up Vexx for a free bite seemed almost preferable now.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes closed, and let out a slow, controlled breath. Arther's actions weren't just disruptive—they were a direct threat to the delicate balance Claye had worked so hard to maintain.

The meat Vexx sold was a lifeline for many, an unspoken truce in the chaotic society of Taboo. Arther, with his lofty ideals of galactic justice, had no regard for the ripple effects of his actions. Claye could almost hear Arther's self-righteous proclamations, devoid of any understanding of the lives he was upending.

Opening his blue eyes, Claye stared at the ceiling, the weight of his years pressing down on him even more. The memories of the past, of struggles long fought and nearly lost, surfaced unbidden.

The display of hard light technology by the machines was a chilling reminder of how precarious their position still was. Wessetec tech, top-of-the-line and highly classified, was now in the hands of an unknown entity. Claye’s stomach churned at the thought.

Damn it, Arther, you had to kick the hornet’s nest, didn’t ya?

Claye muttered under his breath, his voice barely a whisper. He stood up, his joints protesting, and walked over to the window.

The ruined city outside sprawled silent and indifferent, a constant amidst the turmoil. He placed a hand on the cold tempered glass that started to steam up beneath his fingertips.

The Hado Empire and the Federation were already at each other's throats, and this new development was like throwing a match into a powder keg. And if the Augustine sector descended into open warfare, it would drag in the big players like the Galactic Council and Humans, and to hell with the fringe and the balance it should have provided to the area.

He punched the glass in frustration and regretted it as his old bones started to ache immediately. But the pain reminded him he was alive; what could he tell about those things that were in Vexx’s shop?

He thought back to a couple of hours earlier when the being had been brought in and his daughter could scan it to her heart’s content, having access to Arther’s suit data too. His daughter’s excitement was palpable when she burst into his office, her eyes alight with a fervor that reminded him of her mother. She barely paused to catch her breath before launching into her findings.

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-They don’t have a core!- she exclaimed, her voice a mix of awe and disbelief.

-These nanites—they operate without a centralized control unit. It’s revolutionary, Dad!-

Claye had raised an eyebrow, trying to keep up with her rapid-fire explanation. He could see the gears turning in her mind, her hands gesticulating wildly as she spoke.

-And that’s bad because...?- he tried to interject.

-Because it makes them nearly indestructible!- she replied, her excitement dimming slightly as she realized the implications. -When dealing with nanites, destroying a core is the usual way to go. But these... these will just keep going, reassembling themselves no matter what we do. It’s like trying to kill a ghost.-

He watched her, feeling the lines on his face deepen with concern. She had always been passionate about her work, but this was different. He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder, feeling the tension coiled within her.

-Take a breath, kid- he said softly. -We’ll figure this out. We always do.- She nodded her expression a mixture of determination and fear.

-I know, Dad. But this... this is something else. They meddled with our tech, with my field. We’re dealing with something that’s way beyond anything we’ve ever hoped to develop. And they are using Wessetec tech too…-

Claye pulled her into a brief, tight hug, his mind racing. -We will push through.- he assured her, more firmly this time. -We’ve faced worse, remember?-

She pulled back, a small smile tugging at her lips. -Yeah, I remember. Just... be careful, okay? I don’t want to lose you.-

-You won’t, not like this- he promised, as he always did, patting her shoulder. He was growing unsure of his ability to keep his promises by the day. -Now, go get some rest. We’ve got long days ahead of us.-

She wanted to analyze the nanites and how they interacted with the creature that once was a Mĩýĩn’nävë, and still looked eerily like one, but it wasn’t the right time.

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In all of his 265 years of service, he was seldom in predicaments as sticky as this one.

There was seriously no way to tell how the one that called itself Uncle Sam would react now that his interests in the city were undermined.

If he were to greenlight his daughter in taking apart the machine, he would be only pouring oil on the fire. Besides, they had Vexx but Xyra was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t unlikely she was held as collateral for the Krynnak’s cooperation in whatever scheme the controller of the machines was up to.

Claye didn't want Xyra to be forced to pay for the sake of his daughter's curiosity.

Besides, it was still a prisoner; a consenting one, and therefore it deserved to be given due decency.

Judging from the allowed expansion of Vexx’s shop and the support of its activities, it was likely the underlying intent was to enter the market of City 29.

Claye could’ve let the scheme go, and maybe lure out the human behind it to have a little chat. The matter was if he could use him to bolster the defense here in the fringe or not, or if it was another of the horrors the fringe hid for those living in the colonies.

Back in the present, Claye sighed again, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him like a physical force.

The rhythmic tapping of the Mĩýĩn'nävë's Morse code that was relayed through the comms was starting to fray his nerves. Each tap was a reminder of the unknowns they faced, of the potential threat lurking in the shadows, and the time inexorably moving forward. He switched on the comm, addressing the creature directly.

-Listen, we got it. You want to talk. But nobody will come right now. You are armed.-

The response was immediate, the tapping precise. “You provided the solution for the conundrum. Communicate remotely.” Claye got the gist of it before the translator relayed it to him.

Claye frowned, leaning closer to the monitor. He didn’t expect such a quick retort from a simple machine. -Are you Uncle Sam?- he asked cautiously, his voice steady despite the uncertainty gnawing at him.

The creature’s response was unsettling in its simplicity. "Are you a human?"

-Yes. I am General Claye Eligah. Now answer, are you Uncle Sam?-

The thing went still for a moment before responding. “This is not the unit that could answer in the positive.”

Claye massaged his chin, his thoughts racing. -Can I speak with Uncle Sam?-

“You are, for he is listening.”

Claye sighed, shifting the communicator to his daughter’s room, conscious she was monitoring the room too. -What do you make of it, Tessa?- he asked, seeking her insight.

Her voice crackled over the comm, filled with the same excitement and trepidation he had seen earlier. - Well it's a robot. The pattern of speech is similar to an AI speaking and If it has some way to transmit it would explain the lack of a CPU for the nanites. It doesn't seem to lie yet, but it is speaking things we can't confirm either. This doesn’t explain the Uncle Sam link. We need to tread lightly. We’re not just facing advanced technology; we’re up against something that can evolve. This doesn’t bode well.-

He agreed, his gaze drifting back to the creature on the monitor. Claye felt a cold dread settling in his gut. This wasn’t just a fringe issue; this had the potential to escalate into something much larger, something that could draw in the entire sector, if not beyond. Claye could just hope beyond hope they could navigate this minefield without triggering a catastrophe.

-We’ll deal with it. Like we always do. Try to figure out how to deal with these nanites. Stat. We need to be prepared for all possible scenarios.-

That was all he could say to his daughter; before the sirens started blaring.