Mr. Grey walked through the corridor, attempting to contain the steadily building fury inside him.
The Contact had not communicated with him since the disastrous ambush of their assets, but he was sure that this time they would not be quite so forgiving. He had hoped to finally purge the heretics of their beloved captain, while still weakening their fleet for the eventual final blow. Instead, several escorts had been destroyed, several more rigs had been crippled or killed, and the cursed Captain Miller had once again avoided destruction.
He was growing increasingly worried that the Device had somehow adapted. How else could it have anticipated the ambush and avoided the artificial lures set in place for it? The Contact had been deploying more and more Sirens to sing the song of madness to the Device, and yet it continued to function. Worse, Mr. Grey was not even confident that he could sense its interference now. It was as if the entire thing had simply shut down its connection to subspace!
Still, it did not matter. So long as he was able to continue his work aboard the heretic fleet, there was still hope for the Cause to continue moving forward. Though Admiral Delacourt had blunted the effectiveness of his Resources with her trick of blinding the civilian ships, he had managed to spread his influence still further. He was in the process of slowly infiltrating several of the military craft now, to prevent such blindness in the future. The next time an opportunity presented itself, he would be ready.
Mr. Grey was still partway down the hallway when agony filled his head in a sharp, undulating wave. He nearly fell, but managed to steady himself against a wall.
AGENT GREY. REPORT ON INFILTRATION PROGRESS AND PRIMARY TARGET ACQUISITION.
The voice left him shaking, but Mr. Grey shoved aside his pain and tried to focus.
Multiple Resources are acquired Minimal time Required for Preparation.
He had suspected that the Contact would not be pleased with him. The force with which it responded proved him correct.
MAJOR ASSET CASUALTIES SUSTAINED DURING THE LAST ENGAGEMENT. THE CAUSE IS NOW ENDANGERED. AGENT PERFORMANCE HAS NOT BEEN EFFECTIVE.
Mr. Grey nearly responded with a caustic comment on the effectiveness of the Contact’s own performance. Only his instincts for self-preservation kept it from his thoughts—along with the appropriate reverence for the Contact, of course.
Theoretical DEVICE improvements have Been Detected base Changes in DEVICE patterns are logged possible interaction with ARCHIVE may augment threat to assets and Resources.
The response appeared to quiet the Contact’s anger. Mr. Grey continued to lean against the wall, even as his vision started to clear. He knew he could complete the mission he had been given. More than that, he knew he was destined for such victories. It was his fate to rise above the challenges that faced him, one way or another. Surely the Contact would not deny him the future he so richly deserved. Not now…
POSSIBILITY ACKNOWLEDGED. UPGRADED THREAT PROFILE ENGAGED. CONTINUE INFILTRATION OPERATIONS AND ACHIEVE PRIMARY TARGET ACQUISITION. DESTRUCTION OF SECONDARY OBJECTIVE IS NOW DOWNGRADED. SECURE THE ARCHIVE AT ALL COSTS.
He felt the Contact recede, almost as if it was retreating back into the ether. Its final command still echoed in his mind, rebounding from his very thoughts. Still, as he felt the agony ebb, he felt a glimmer of triumph. It was a clear sign of his ascendance that the Contact had accepted his explanation and preserved his utility. A lesser tool would have been eliminated far sooner, even if it forced the Contact to rely on more expendable pawns.
Mr. Grey waited until his hand had stopped trembling. He looked around carefully, making sure that the episode had not drawn any particular attention. Though the heretics were generally friendly enough, there had been more than one instance where one of them had witnessed a burst of weakness and tried to force him to see a doctor. Medical attention was the last thing Mr. Grey needed, and any of those heretics that had been too pushy had quickly joined the ranks of his Resources aboard the Bountiful Heart.
Luckily enough, no one appeared to have noticed the problem. He allowed himself a small smile before he continued on his way. There was a group of Resources that had managed to gather the materials he had needed for the next phase of his operations, and were awaiting his instructions in one of the onboard warehouses. The modifications that he would add to some of them would be key to his plan to take the Archive and cripple the Device before the Contact’s next strike.
His good mood only lasted until he reached one of the ship’s main thoroughfares, however.
He came to a stop at the entrance to the larger corridor, his eyes fixed on the viewscreen that the heretics used for shipwide announcements. It normally held very few matters of interest—mostly encouragement from their collection of so-called leaders, announcements from their Admiral, or idle gossip about various celebrities—but this time was different. This time, Mr. Grey found himself staring at a fairly accurate rendition of his own face, plastered across the device. Text beneath it identified him as a Wild Colony infiltrator, and asked for anyone who saw him to turn him in.
Eyes wide, Mr. Grey stepped back into the relative safety of the side corridor. No one had turned in his direction yet, but he could already see groups of heretics gathering beneath the viewscreen. He saw at least one of them start to speak animatedly with another, and realized with a flash of horror that he recognized them. The heretic had seen him walking with some of his Resources the day before; he had even considered modification for the fool, but he hadn’t had the time to spare from his other work. If the heretic could manage to remember him—or even just the designations of the Resources he had been with…
Clearly, the timescale would need to be adjusted. The Cause could not be allowed to fail.
Mr. Grey stepped further back into the side corridor, his mind racing. As he turned and retreated down the corridor, he sent the needed signals to the Resources he had available. Some of them would need to be sacrificed in order to draw attention away from one of the shuttles, but the unfortunate timing required such things. Better to lose a Resource than to lose his opportunity at greatness.
Even as he mapped out the journey, he would need to follow to leave the Bountiful Joy, Mr. Grey felt a growing rage build inside him. How was the Device doing this? He had planned everything out so meticulously. The Device’s mind had to be distracted and fractured by now; the number of Sirens he had distributed throughout the fleet was enough to muddle even a mind as powerful as the Contact. There were enough beacons and other devices scattered about that the Device should never have been able to trace his activity at all, let alone mapping out his location. How had he been found?
Even as he walked, he forced himself to put those questions aside and focus on his current choices. Escaping the Bountiful Joy would provide him some distance from those who would capture him, but it was not a final solution. Even that small amount of time he gained for himself might not be enough to guarantee a victory. His only chance was to gather the Resources available and launch his operation now, when the enemy was still not anticipating him. They might be taken off guard if he reached out for the victory while they were still scrabbling to find him and his Resources.
A grim determination filled Mr. Grey, and he nodded to himself as he walked. The Contact would need to cover his escape, true, but if he acted quickly enough, he might be able to make for open space before the heretics figured out what he had done. It would be a risk, but it was better to risk everything than to gain nothing.
After all, if things failed, he could still attempt to fade back into the background. His destiny was too important to be denied. In the end, the heretics would fall, and the Cause would be complete. Once the Contact had seen his success, he would be granted all the power and authority that his work deserved. Then, and only then, with his feet firmly on the path to ascension, would he allow himself time to relax.
It would all be worth it in the end. All he had to do was force the universe to acknowledge the inevitable.
Chuckling to himself, Mr. Grey continued on towards the shuttle—and his destiny.
Gabe watched as the technicians worked on Eagro’s rig.
They were being careful. He knew they were because of how long they were taking. It was excruciating to watch them go over their instruments repeatedly, to see them double checking every connection and monitor. A part of him just wished he could barge over and yell at them until they got the job done, but he knew it wouldn’t accomplish anything if he did. His father had raised him to be better than that, especially as a leader among the other Wayfarers. Those habits were too ingrained to be abandoned now.
So he waited, putting on an act of patience that was barely skin deep, while the most important repair work he’d ever known went forward. The urge to check the time was overwhelming.
“Is everything all right, Captain Miller?”
He looked up to see Susan approaching. It was rare to see her in the rig bay lately; part of him wondered if she resented the CTR he piloted for carrying him into danger so often. Gabe noticed that a few of the technicians and pilots were glancing in their direction and speaking among each other. It took him a heartbeat to once again fight the urge to lecture them on paying attention to the task at hand. “Yes, Admiral. I’m just…waiting for the work here to be finished.”
“I see.” Susan took up position next to him and folded her arms behind her back. He glanced at her again and then turned his attention back to the damaged rig. There was a pause, long enough to make him wonder if he should say something.
When Susan finally spoke, she sounded curiously careful. “How are the repairs going?”
Gabe shrugged. “They’re still working as hard as they can to recharge Eagro’s rig, but they are insisting on being careful. Nobody wants to harm him in an accident.”
“Understandable.” She smiled slightly. “The secondary power source remains active, correct?”
He nodded. “We think it is keeping Eagro alive—if he is in there.” Then he looked over at her. “Any news from the alerts we sent out?”
“Not yet.” She seemed grim. There hadn’t been any reports of sabotage or anything since the information had gone out, but that didn’t mean that the infiltrator wasn’t up to something. It was possible that the spy had been scared into hiding, but for some reason, Gabe did not think the Lord would make things that easy for them.
Susan seemed to be thinking similar thoughts—at the very least, her properly professional expression had a grim cast to it—but then she glanced at him again and her face softened slightly. When she turned her eyes back to Eagro’s rig, she seemed almost…uncertain somehow. “And how is your rig doing? I understand you took considerable damage in the last battle.”
Gabe blinked. He looked over to where his own rig was propped against the supporting mounts. The arm was still missing, and there were still a few pretty bad gaps in the armor, but the techs that would normally have worked on it had been called away to work on the stranger’s rig. “It could definitely use some work, but once we have Eagro all fixed up, it shouldn’t take them long to get me back into space.”
“Oh. Excellent.” There was a distinct lack of enthusiasm in those words, and when Gabe looked back at Susan, she was glaring at the stranger’s rig. He frowned a little. That response didn’t make sense. It wasn’t like it was the stranger that had damaged the CTR. In fact, if Eagro hadn’t been there, he would have…
Something clicked, and Gabe suddenly understood. He looked around for a moment, trying to gather the words he needed. “You know, if we get this connection with Eagro to work, we may not have to do quite as many patrols.”
The statement hung in the air. Then Susan turned slightly to stare at him. Her expression gave nothing away at all, now. “Is that so?”
“Yeah.” He shifted slightly. “In fact, if we establish communications with the strangers, I wouldn’t have to go looking for them as much, either. Maybe the repairs to my rig can wait a while longer.”
There was another pause, this one seeming to last a lot longer. Then her professional mask broke, and Susan chuckled. She shook her head. “As if you’d be able to contain the urge to throw yourself into danger. No, Captain Miller, we’ll have your rig repaired as soon as we can. That way, I can at least be sure you will be endangering yourself with the best possible equipment.”
Gabe cracked a smile, still not quite certain he could trust Susan’s mood. “You’re sure, Admiral?”
“I am.” Susan reached over and grabbed his hand, a rare display of affection in public. “You wouldn’t be the man I care for if you let others rush in to danger without you, and I would be foolish to deny the fleet our best pilot.” Then she shook her head. “I do, however, reserve the right to resent the universe for making things quite so risky for you. Do you mind?”
He smiled. “No.” Then he stretched and put an arm around her shoulders. “To be honest, that last one was a little closer than I liked, anyway. I wouldn’t be sad if things slowed down a little while.”
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“We should be so fortunate.” Susan looked up at him with a smile of her own. Then her comm link chirped at her. She grimaced and checked it. “It seems the Keeper has some news for me. I need to go.”
“I’ll be here when you’re done.” Gabe squeezed her shoulder gently. Then he stepped back and braced to attention. “When something changes, I’ll let you know, Admiral.”
“Good.” She nodded calmly. “Carry on, Captain Miller.”
He watched her go, walking across the rig bay with the same determined stride as always. Then he glanced back at Eagro’s rig, hoping to see that progress was being made.
Instead, he caught nearly half the technicians looking over at him with scandalized expressions. He glared at them and made a shooing motion with his hand. It was enough to convince them to dive back into their work, but not quite enough to keep him from blushing a bit.
Still, it was hard to regret that moment. Such things were hard to come by, and they’d only get more difficult if things didn’t start going well soon.
Susan approached the OMNI chamber for the first time in a long while.
At least it seemed like it had been quite some time, though she knew it had been only a matter of days since she had deactivated the system. So much had happened, and so much had been learned, that she wondered if she had gotten accustomed to ignoring the thing. She certainly did not regret taking the step to shut down Arland’s pet project. The last thing that would have helped would have been a brain-addled zombie infesting the fleet.
It was clear the ship’s technicians had been hard at work in the area. Panels had been removed, and the wiring beneath exposed. She winced as she passed one area that looked like it had been electronically disemboweled. While the Keeper had been careful not to make many promises, she had always nurtured the hope that the OMNI would still be functional once the intelligence at its core was removed. Her hopes were looking less and less likely with every step she took.
Eventually, she turned a corner and the Keeper came into view, along with Chief Kowalski and several others. They had been in deep discussion over something, but they paused and looked up as she approached. The Wayfarer technicians braced to attention, to their credit. Hartwinn Schreiber, on the other hand, merely gave her a polite nod; military decorum had never been his concern. She returned that nod, and motioned for the technicians to stand easy. “Keeper Schreiber, I understand that you have something to tell me?”
“Yes, Admiral. Do you have a moment?” The Keeper led her away from the others. Even after they had walked some distance, Hartwinn looked back at the others for a moment before he continued. His voice was curiously rough. “We have located the area where Arland’s personality core has been stored. Several of your best technicians are in the process of removing it now. They have not been told what it actually is, but I instructed them on the need to care for it as they extricate it from the OMNI system.”
She nodded slowly. “Do you believe it can be salvaged unharmed?”
“I believe so, yes.” The Keeper looked away for a moment, his face troubled. “Arland’s core will remain unchanged—that was the nature of its design, after all—but I am concerned about his stability, regardless. It is possible that he did not put as much of himself into the core as the others had. If a portion of him was stored on the computer networks of the Concord itself…”
Susan watched as he shivered slightly and tried to repress a similar reaction in herself. When Gabriel had told her about the experiments that must have created OMNI and the Compass, she had felt nearly as much revulsion as he had. It would be a relief to see it purged from her flagship, but she could not help but feel a moment of pity for the personality construct. To exist as a partial being for the rest of existence seemed to be the kind of punishment that even the worst of people should not be condemned to endure.
Still, she had more than just the remnants of one man to worry about. “I am glad to hear that your mission to recover Arland Schreiber may be successful, but I was more concerned with the OMNI system itself, Keeper.”
The Keeper blinked and then nodded. “Ah, yes. Of course.” He looked back at the technicians again. His caution seemed appropriate, given the subject, but as always, he lacked a subtlety that would have been useful. If he continued looking so furtive, the technicians might begin to speculate on their own. “The system is incredibly complex, but I believe it may still be usable once the fragment of Arland is removed.”
“Can you repair it, then?”
“Partially, yes, of course.” Hartwinn straightened slightly, his blunt features settling into an expression of obstinate pride. “Much of the system appears to have been derived from the Compass’ technology, and I have more than enough experience with that. It’s the other parts which concern me.”
Susan arched an eyebrow at the Keeper. “Please, continue.”
Hartwinn nodded again, his voice picking up slightly as he settled into his explanation. “It appears that in addition to working with the technology left by the Keepers, Arland had begun to delve into other, more risky applications of ancient knowledge. Namely, he began to tamper with the designs that had been meant to use subspatial transmissions.”
She thought back to Arland’s warnings. “Yes, he mentioned that technology. Is it not something that you have access to on the Compass?”
“There are records of it, but most commonly it has been locked away from me.” Hartwinn scowled. “Many of the Ancestors had extreme misgivings about the use of subspace. They often believe that it is a threat to any intelligence that remains exposed to it for too long. There are records that say any artificial intelligence that utilized such technology often grew corrupted and had to be purged on a regular schedule."
Susan frowned. “Then why would he use it in the OMNI system? It seems like that would be something he should have avoided.”
“Subspace transmissions offer the OMNI system part of its ability to contact and interface with distant computer systems. It’s part of the function you need it for now.” The Keeper hesitated. “He had a secondary objective. The most dedicated users of subspace technology are the Wild Colonies. Their highest level of communications utilizes devices that access subspace, and as I understand it, he wanted to monitor or neutralize that capability by using the system.”
It was a logical enough explanation, though she still felt as if pieces of it were missing. “If that is so, why include himself as part of the system? Surely it could have been managed without having his avatar included.”
“Unfortunately, it was a necessity.” Hartwinn shook his head, his expression chagrined. “He believed that the Directorate had been infiltrated, so he needed something to guarantee that the OMNI system would only be used by individuals he approved of. What better gatekeeper than he himself?”
Susan grunted. “True, I suppose.”
“In addition to that desire, the system is abnormally complex. It would demand far too much from a simple intelligence to work, and an artificial intelligence was obviously not an option.” The Keeper looked away for a moment. “As such, his only real choice was to use himself to manage the data flow. Without him, the system is effectively crippled, and will be vulnerable to the same subspace disruptions that you said nearly destabilized him.”
“So the system is useless, then.” She felt a lead weight settle in her stomach, but she tried to ignore it. The OMNI had been an incredible advantage, but she had survived without it before. The Wayfarers would count on her to do it again.
“Not entirely.” She blinked, and Hartwinn gave her a grin. “It still requires a monitoring personality, but that doesn’t necessarily mean we need Arland’s personality core in place. Any intelligence would be effective.”
Susan couldn’t help but smile a little. “Keeper, while I appreciate your candor, I do not exactly have a tame artificial intelligence tucked away in my back pocket. Do you?”
The Keeper gave her a level look. “If I did, I would not joke about such things. It would not be…appropriate.” Before she could follow up on the comment, he continued. “We could possibly transfer another of the Ancestor personality cores from the Compass to the Concord, though I question whether or not they would be willing to serve in such a role. In addition to risking their physical degradation, I’m not sure how much more resistant to subspace disruption they would be.”
She thought over the problem. “Would multiple cores work better?”
“Would…” Hartwinn frowned. He suddenly seemed to be a little distant, as if his thoughts were abruptly very far away. “Perhaps. Perhaps it would work if they were functioning in parallel. The devices would need to be adjusted, but if we could account for the normalization conflicts…” Then he blinked, and seemed to come back to himself. “I would need time to adjust things, but it would be possible, Admiral. We would also need to test it, and to convince at least two or more of the Ancestors to take part in the experiment.”
Susan looked at him in surprise. “Convince them? I thought…”
She trailed off as Hartwinn laughed, a deep, booming sound. “That I would just command them? Or that I could demand they comply? No, Admiral.” He waved at the Concord with one hand. “You may have plenty of authority on this vessel, but even on my own craft, I am not entirely in charge. If the Ancestors refuse to participate, we may need to rely on other options. I will try my best, however.”
“That is all I can ask, Keeper.” Susan nodded and watched as he went back to where the technicians were gathered. Something about what he had said had not made sense to her, but she could not quite pinpoint what bothered her about it. She almost called him back, but instead she turned to go back along the corridor. There were other problems to attend to, and she could not afford to get bogged down in every detail.
She only hoped that she could figure out the big picture before it was too late.
Mr. Grey looked around the shuttle bay.
It was not an abandoned compartment, though he would have preferred that it was. The heretics had a tremendous amount of communication between their vessels, transhipping large amounts of materials and goods. The ships of their refugee fleet had an economy all their own, with workshops and gardens included on many of the civilian vessels. They shared consumer goods, spare parts, and food among each other with an efficiency and enthusiasm that he might have found impressive under different circumstances. Unfortunately, it meant that the shuttle bays of the Bountiful Joy were normally quite busy indeed, with ships arriving and leaving at a constant rate.
Usually that beehive of activity was useful, allowing him to disguise the movements of his Resources and their equipment. This time, however, there were security teams nearly everywhere he looked. Each of them had a copy of that accursed sketch of his face, along with a text that detailed his status as a dangerous ‘person of interest’, wanted for sabotage and murder. He could see at least a dozen security personnel from his position at the entrance for a utility corridor, and every single one of them was looking around the bay with a fairly threatening level of scrutiny. Mr. Grey had much preferred their uninterested loafing attitude, but the news of an internal threat had apparently reinvigorated the heretic fools.
One of them glanced in his direction, and Mr. Grey fought the instinct to withdraw deeper into the shadows. The motion would have caught more attention than simply staying still would have, and he was far too important and skilled to make such a casual mistake. Fortunately, the low lighting nearby served its purpose; the heretic guard saw nothing of concern. Doubtless, his lack of attention was due to the fact that he knew the utility corridor had been secured by one of their fellow guards. Of course, the heretic was unaware that his supposed companion was actually now one of Mr. Grey’s Resources. If all went well, no one would suspect that fact until long after he had left.
He pulled back slowly and smoothly, making sure that he made no sudden movements. Then he turned to the small huddle of Resources that were standing nearby, their expressions blank and their eyes glassy.
Mr. Grey did not bother with actual words to instruct such tools; he had no need to. The modifications he had made to them were far simpler than the ones his higher-level Resources enjoyed. They certainly paled in comparison to the technology that he had added to himself, but one of the first implants for each of them had been a receiver for subspace transmissions. It was needed for any Resource or Agent in order to be able to hear the orders of a Contact; in his own case, it also made him capable of speaking directly to their inferior minds.
He took a moment to frame his inner voice in the appropriate fashion. Though he was not a Contact, he always strove to make a similar impression on his underlings.
ACHIEVE OBJECTIVE exfiltration BEGIN OPERATIONAL PHASE alpha DO NOT FAIL once successful REINTEGRATE and AWAIT further commands.
The Resources flinched and shuddered. He smiled to see that response; his own frailty under the assault of the Contact’s voice made him feel weak at times. To see others cringing from a far lesser voice made him aware of just how much further he had risen. Even just the ability to transmit, to speak through the same medium as the greater agents of the Cause, was a privilege that had been long overdue.
As the Resources recovered from that brief, mesmerizing touch on their minds, their responses began to filter back to him, carried by the same sublime carrier impulses.
acknowledged of course we will don’t hurt obedience subservience pity anger resentment it will be done
Mr. Grey frowned. In the midst of the appropriate deference had been a flash of something more. Something out of place to someone appropriately inducted into the Cause. He searched the blank faces in front of him, looking for any telltale signs of corruption or defiance. At first, he began to wonder if he had been mistaken.
Then he caught it. There was a flicker of emotion on one of the Resources before him. Mr. Grey stared at the adolescent, his mind going back over the past few weeks. It was one of the Verde units, one that he had believed was properly maintained. Yet here the fool was, somehow still unbroken.
At another juncture, he would have invested time into rehabilitating the Resource. There was a significant investment in each one, after all, and it hurt the Cause to discard such tools prematurely. Yet at the moment, Mr. Grey could not afford the distraction. The simple need for a clean modification space was already prohibitive. Better to move forward with reliable Resources rather than depending on a tool he couldn’t use.
He mentally rebuked himself. Perhaps had he not been so preoccupied he would have adjusted the Resource’s modifications personally; after all, he had no idea what other Agent had actually worked on the Verdes before his arrival. Clearly, whoever had done the work had permitted an imperfection to fester. It could not be helped, however.
Mr. Grey sent a single burst signal through his network of Resources. All four Verde units instantly found themselves no longer in control of themselves. Each of them immediately ceased whatever activity had occupied them in order to seek out an isolated area. Once there, a secondary command would activate, terminating them. The one in front of him dropped like a marionette with its strings cut; there had been no need to delay that particular resolution.
The other Resources in the corridor flinched again; none of them moved to catch the body or touch it. He looked over them again, watching for other signs of impurity or deviance, but found nothing but the appropriate deference to a higher authority. For that, he smiled, an expression that none of the Resources shared. Such things were denied them, of course, unless they were maintaining their usual cover.
He turned back to the task at hand. In only a few moments, the shuttle that had one of his Resources as a copilot would land. They would guarantee that he would reach the appropriate area without problem; the main issue would be getting onboard in the first place.
It was hard to repress a sigh, but he did so. There was no other way to accomplish the mission now; the guards would be looking for him, and trying to cross the deck by himself would be a bold and fatal mistake. Instead, he stepped over to the large shipping crate that had been left open nearby and tucked himself inside.
The crate had been modified almost as extensively as he had, of course. It would shield him from detection in multiple ways; any signals not from subspace would be extensively blocked, and any penetration scans would only find a jumble of nonsense. He himself would be placed in suspension, to be awakened when he had reached the target area. A part of him winced as he felt the anesthetic needles pierce his flesh, but he remained still and calm as the Resources closed the crate over him. They would not know that he was unconscious, and if any of them tried to betray him, they would die just as quickly as the Verdes had.
He felt the crate tilt as the Resources levered a dolly beneath it. It swayed slightly as they began the journey across the bay. A slightly fuzzy feeling swept over him as the machinery inside the crate began to work, filling him with the necessary suppressive chemicals.
All he had left was to signal to the Contact, and make them aware of his intentions. It would be a brief message, but one that would carry the most important information of his life. When he had ascended appropriately, he might even be able to look back on this moment, in a tilting, unstable cargo crate, as the beginning of his final rise to power.
He focused, once again attempting to simulate the proud bearing of an Agent of the Cause.
OPERATION begins now PRIMARY TARGET is in reach WILL BE UNABLE to communicate ESTIMATE two ROTATION PERIODS before successful RESULT.
There was only a brief burst of agonizing information in reply; he could barely feel the burning words in his mind through the rapidly forming clouds in his consciousness.
CONFIRMED. FAIL NOT. THE CAUSE WILL PROVIDE.