As soon as we reach the gates at Outpost Theta we move quickly to secure it while the commanders and commandos least expect us. The prematurely old kids at the gate barely see us a threat before a throat is crushed a head cracked open and bullet meets a skull, its all over quickly. We march in through the gates to a gawking scramblimging population of distrustful opportunists. Most people here are outcasts and weak, mulnourished, some maimed unarmed and minimally equiped by mordern standards they pose no immediate threat and thus as we charge into the place disregarding most of the population as no threats. We fan out between boxy buildings taking out any armed assailants that challenges us with severely applied violence leaving broken people behind in the the dust as they come in ones and twos to no gain.

Shots are fired, Ramie goes ahead running though the main market drawing attention taking a couple of bullets before scrambling into the chaos of falling tents and people running for cover. The defenders are slightly better nourished ruffians with minimal training outside personal experience growing hard in slums and tiny apartment boxes. Armed with batons, clubs and armoured suites they charge at a gang of sandman with rightous fury and contempt for the sand rats that dare to challenege their betters swinging and unleashing weapons without remorse.

One outpost defender falls screeching not slowing the sand scum.

''We are Zon Defenders!''

Another commando comdrade slips and falls knee to face to the dark-eyed sand-rat moving through the market like a mirage.

''Kill the sand scum!''

A outpost guard swings and misses, a gun is fired, a head rolls through the air arcing a spray of blood that stills hearts and clecnhes sphinters but no one is sure who that is, it must be a sand scum finally dying.

Surely.

''We feast on their bounty tonight boys!''

The outpost defenders psyche each other as they eagerly throw themselves into the fight swing clubs and machetes as the few guns run their course. A defender goes down seemingly too easily to the strange movements of the sandrats, 'surely we can't loose to sandrats' they say as they throw themselves at the strange sandmen they've dominated for generations.

The outpost defenders don't learn, they don't change strategy and come at each of us in their staggered formation as we make our way around the command building straight to the 'mayor' 'mansion' and there we are stoppped for the first time by sustained fire and have to take cover. I duck and punch dropping my opponent, stepping back then lunging forward to stomp at a knee bring my opponet down with a scream thats cut off as my knee meets his face.

I punch hard with the knuckle centred forward with all the impulse sharped into a point and feel bone crack as i connect at the perfect time for maximal force transferance. i shift my weight using my opponent as leverage to twist and break his arm at the elbow leaving him moaning with dilated pupils.

I can't beleive how easy it is. I can't believe how easy it is to do violence and how fun it feels to let loose this primal instinct even as horrifying as it is. Trapped in Mind Meld I surrender my body to the collective even as i feel and experience everything more viscerally now than i have ever experienced any other day in my life. I am Lorsa, I am am fighting and running with everything I am yet I am taking direcion from a Mind Meld I've so deeply thrown myself into I don't know who's driving my body.

It is terryfyingly easy to see through the telegraphed moves and counter them as directed for maximal damage or best positioning for better future violence with the next move. A roadmap of my best next moves even as i make them appears before my minds-eye for me to follow for the most visceral and effecient violence. I follow the map of violence painting a tapestry of running, dodging, punches, knees, pulls and twists that paint a picture of violence.

We move through the outpost's defenders like they are children with the few times one of us gets shot not enough to cause lethal injury until all 10 of us are at the manor gates taking cover waiting for the autotorents to mulfunction. The most reliable thing about any tools with more than one part this deep into the desert is that it will mulfution and need repair after continious use.

Lisin surprisingly struggles most, Doxy flows through the violence like Lorsa, Metro and Ramie as they immerse fully in Mind Meld. Tore, Nitro, Rifti, Enala and Tetra immersed but not fully with all 10 of us storming the 'castle' with the last shots of our confiscated firearms opening a path through sharpshooters posted high and low in towers and barricaded posts finally taing us seriously.

it's surprisingly easy to aim and shoot but the firearms break down in our arms mid use. It's easy to hide and duck but progress stalls when under cover from high calibre torrents even with an extra mind thinking through solutions. The defenses are impressive with a 3rd generation shielded auto torrent spewing bullets like rain indiscriminately to keep us from taking the manor building.

"We can't take that without getting shot so let's barricade them in there," Nitro advices and within an hour there is no structure standing close to the mayor's Manor that isn't a barricade helping isolate the manor from the rest of the now subdued community.

"Guess who I found," Rifti swaggers into the barricade staging area dragging an overweight soft skinned nervous wreck of a man nervously sweating and rambling about authority.

"Oh..? Who is that? I've never seen a fat man before," Doxy is amazed the desert has such people.

"This the mayor, he was in some womans bed hiding." Rif says proud looking.

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"Oh? Think they'll surrender the manor now that we have a hostage?"

''Idiot, we don't need the manor anymore now we have him.''

''I thought its the guns and the diamond exchange we wanted, not some fat mayor.''

''And Rifti gets all the points on that one. What we want to control are those diamond printers they use to print their artificial-"

Moxy interrupts, "What we need to know is exactly why they have us haul sand from the worlds arsehole and why they value it enough to dedicate a fraction of their resources as mearger as they are to maintaining these ouposts and towns just for this sand. We need to know why this is worth it to them and when we finally understand its value we'll be better able to leverage ourselves out of this fucking slavery.''

"You vile marauders, we'll give you nothing I tell you, nothing!" The fat man bravely defies even as he flinches away from us.

He is ignored, used as a hostage shield and in a matter of minutes the manor gates are opened and the whole outpost town comes under our control in a single day.

A day of violence and blood with other people's ideas in my mind and we've overcome the greatest treat to nomads outside the desert in a few short hours... Lisin and Doxy look at each other as they relieve and replace the previous security team using the gate torrent guns.

'Do we really control our own town without losing any one of us?' The others ask each other disbelievingly even as the evidence is plain.

'Can surgical violence really achieve all this?'

'What now...?'

Almost in a daze of activity the people come out of their hidey wholes and start the cleanup under new management. For the first time since the colonisation of the harsh desert subcontinent of Namib a new designation is entered into the system computer's before its taken off the imperial mainframe.

'Outpost Thetha of the Namid Colony of the Zon Empire population of 3000 residents now under new management. '

*

I've integrated into a human society in my own unique way in this world.

Inherited a body, I have an existence with other humans being amongst them in a intimate connection to the extent that we cultivate a conscious mind together. I am inside their minds and allow them to see flashes within mine whilst building the bridges and connections as semi permanent within ourselves. It's an entertaining learning experience if nothing else to be within other people's minds experiencing life vicariously through them. A shared consciousness even now easily accessible both consciously and subciously when I allow.

I've realised I didn't know what it meant to be human when I first got here and saw their contradictory ways as a form of madness they've all contracted, which may still be true. But now I see there is a dance within human to human interaction that isn't directly what is obvious to the primary senses they rely on for communication.

I've experienced Sisi saying 'no' with her mouth, eyes, demeaner and mind yet her heart is full on 'yes' in her chest. Is it emotion or logic that is most valuable in decision making?

There are 5 of us remaining in the deep desert focused on cultivating energy within, through sandbreathing whilst the rest are scattered on other missions. 10 out with the sandminers collecting and joining convoys towards the western city whilst the first 10 take control of the western outposts in preparation to start receiving stockpiles of sand.

My mind focuses on those furthest away having taken the Theta Outpost away from its current owners by force of violence they now pish to take the rest one at a time. Is the ability to do violence all it takes for your ideals and agenda to be respected and followed by the other humans? Or is the biggest stick leading the race?

*

The 2nd outpost falls almost of easily as the first the very next night. Invaded by phantoms in the night that led to a surrender with very little life lost, the radio airwaves become abuzz with talk of rebellion against the corporations and especially against the empire. A passion ignited under the ass of the destitute Namid oppressed.

At the 3rd Outpost a reluctant meeting commences before the violence starts as a form of negotiation to determine who retains control and who fights and dies. From hundreds of kilometres away I learn vicariously through my connected ones as we all experience through each other’s mindsets.

Lorsa's back is drenched in sweat from nervousness as she stands across a table from killers and thugs that have kill without remorse, negotiating our entry and stay in Outpost Fox after having taking over the previous outposts from its commander. The taunts and threats spit at Lorsa don't faze her but public speaking of such importance is new and dreadful to her though our Mind has chosen her for a reason.

''You barbarians think you have acheived something by rousing the rable against us? You have acheived nothing!''

''Reincorcements from corporate are already on the way so you can forget about making a deal with us.''

''Might as well start grovelling now, maybe the security team will let one of you live!''

They spit vitrial and threats though their outpost has been overan by the Sandbreathers we had unexpected support from the disatisfied population opening the gates for us. A defiant fever having infected the civilians who today defy yesterday's tormentors.

Lorsa's nerves disappear as she sees through the bluster, 'these people have no real power to negotiate,' it dawns on her. She gestures for the guards to leave the room before taking a sit herself and looking down her nose as the 6 men bruised and battered who used tpcontrol the greatest influence in the outposts closest to the deep desert.

These men that have lauded over these outpost settlements like their personal fiefs suddenly are seen as the insignificant incapable lower management grunts they are. All and one sent to the Namid exile posting as punishments by their cruel superiors.

"None of you are worth a damn even if we killed you, you're pawns not even worth negotiating over aren't you?" Lorsa realises as she sees their worth in their own eyes.

"Kill them all," the previously sweet, mostly innocent Lorsa commands casually as she walks out the room drowning in a cacophony pf screams and protests.

The transition of Lorsa's emotional and mental state cycles through emotions of doubt and grief accelerated by our mind before a fundamental quiet settles over her.

There are moments in the human experience filled with such depth I fall into them. Getting lost in something greater than even myself yet I know myself to be more than what they are. How can that be? How can a mere human moment of laughter or exciment or anoyance skew me from a dilludge of intened action/thought/existence/cultivation. Amika with a giggle in playfuness causes Azi to flush admiring her, causing Amika to flush feeling Azi blush at admiring her creating a cascade of positive feelings that feed off each other until I find a hours have passed and all 've been contemplating whilst cultivating is love and infatuations driven by the couple's body's new health and virility.

Everyday I cultivate, but I let myself fall into my/our emotions exploring life. I do not plan for them or tell them what to do with what we're building but let them learn from their/our experiences. Occasionally I seep deeply into one particularly consciousness or another living in their skin in an intimacy that can only be shared by a pair.

Mostly I sit and breathe accumulating energy cultivating my new body filling it with power so I can condense it into an energy core. I'm finally starting to feel... competent. Strong enough to eventually show myself without fear for my survival... maybe...