If there was one thing that Sobon was absolutely not expecting, it was to be placed in a body that was human, in safe circumstances, and which already had a level of qi. The moment of replacement was violent; the mental and physical screams of its previous occupant lasted only a moment before quieting, and Sobon had to spend an uncomfortable moment watching the person's mind get wrapped up in aetheric chains and dragged out of position before some mechanism in the bubble placed him in full charge of the body. That process itself was unpleasant, and although Sobon couldn't put a finger on exactly why, he felt that the sensation was uncomfortably like pole vaulting.

Odd.

Aside from the moral implications of replacing a living person, Sobon also found himself quickly uncomfortable with the details of his new body. It was female, past the age of menopause, and the muscles were atrophied by disuse, the aether cold and stale. Although she had qi, it was only enough to be... was it iron stars they called it? Past the copper colored level, but only that, and only two of those iron stars. Her left hip had a significant injury that had healed wrong and never been taken care of; her heartbeat was uneven as it beat hard in Sobon's chest, and her breath came out ragged. When Sobon grasped hard at the arms of the wheelchair she was sitting in, her hand muscles ached, and he felt something in her wrist very nearly slip loose--a sign of aging tendons, he suspected, if the sensation were anything like his damaged cyborg prosthetics.

*Great,* Sobon groused. Whatever these *Ri'lef resurrection protocols* were, he was beginning to doubt that it was a coincidence that he was replacing invalids instead of healthy members of society. *I'm stuck in another disgusting meat puppet.*

[ What? ] Sobon ignored, for now, the mental voice of the woman he'd replaced and, with a refreshing lack of difficulty, spun up two relatively thick dynamos of right-hand aether. Although they would provide no real healing ability, he felt the need for fresh aether accutely. So he sat there and tried to calm his breathing--*her* breathing, he mentally corrected. At least, as a cyborg and former rodent, he wasn't going to have any real conniptions over the idea that the space between his legs now contained a crevasse instead of a promontory. He... *she* allowed a smirk to come over her face. Even if he'd been placed in a young and nubile body, he had no interests in sex, especially under the circumstances. Those organs were nothing more than topology to him.

The mental presence beside him stiffened with alarm and indignation, but Sobon ignored her.

It was only a few moments into the effort that Sobon heard someone shuffling, and a knock at a door. "Grandma Alassi? You okay in there?"

Sobon started to move her hands to the wheels of the chair, but the movement was too sudden, and her joints felt too weak. She frowned, replaced her hands, and mentally concealed the dynamos, although she kept them spinning. A moment later, the door opened and a freckled young woman popped open the door to look at her. "Grandma?"

Sobon wanted to offer the child a smile, but the smile he started to make felt foreign on the woman's face. In contrast, the frown that came immediately in its wake was smoothly practiced, and Sobon got the impression the muscles pulling down her lips into an ugly look were in the best shape of any muscle he'd tried to use yet. So he--*she* just coughed into her hand, both trying to actually clear her vocal chords, and also, giving an excuse as to why her voice would probably sound a little off.

"I'm fine, child," Sobon said. "Just had... an episode." He suddenly regretted not trying to ask the presence for any convenient lies, though he doubted she would have given them willingly. Instead, he--*she* frowned at the child for a moment. "What time is it?"

The child frowned, her eyes flicking to the window that Sobon had been facing. Sobon didn't quite kick... herself, as the question could still have meant a number of things.

Finally, the child replied, "Dinner will still be a while, grandma, if that's what you're asking."

Sobon nodded, trying to keep the deep frown off her face. "That is enough, child, thank you. Off with you, now."

The girl started to close the door, but stopped and looked at her for a good long minute, instead. Sobon stared back, half curious what the girl was thinking, and half curious just what she saw in front of her.

"...Can I ask a question, grandma?"

Sobon raised her nose at the girl, a little, but said, "Yes."

"Papa said you changed after... after you were wounded in the war. Are you... did you...?"

Finally, Sobon shifted mentally a little, looking to the woman bound up inside for any kind of answer that would calm the child. The presence sat there angrily and grouchily for a long moment, before offering up a plausible answer.

"I remembered a bit of what it was like, yes," Sobon said. "Of having that nasty... of having a Starbeast tear into my body. Old memory that stirred something up. Nothing more than that." She turned away from the child. "Let me alone for a while, Lui."

"Yes, Grandma."

When she was alone, Sobon took her freshly generated aether threads and used them to flush out the old aether within her body. The aether-qi that he sensed leaving was a heavy, sodden mess, and Sobon sensed that the fresh infusion alone was leaving her body in better shape than it had been for years. Although it couldn't fix her nearly useless hip, and although it would take proper diet and exercise to really get better, her muscles and tendons almost immediately felt much less fragile, her bones less porous.

Instead of dwelling on that, or even diving into this woman's life to find out where she belonged, Sobon began to mentally sort through the database of aether routines and algorithms. To her delight, there *were* basic healing glyphs, though they would take no less than Outer aether to activate, and would prefer Onward or Reverse aether, depending on whether the wound was new enough that the body could recall its original form, or whether new flesh would need to be grafted on to it.

She also found all the basics needed for remote communications, as promised, and a number of fundamentals that would be useful when she needed to fabricate his own weapons, or other abilities. After a moment, she pieced together several of them into a basic telekinesis pattern, and locked the door to the room, then pushed her wheelchair closer to the window that she'd been staring at when Sobon had arrived, eyeing the surroundings.

It was remote, but not small. If Sobon were to guess from the appearance, she was in some kind of large inn on a mountainside; there were a number of hitching posts before a drinking trough, some with riding beasts tied to them, and a road that stretched a little ways down the hill before branching in two directions. Somewhere down the road, and coming in this direction, was some kind of heavy wagon or carriage, though Sobon didn't take the time to pry into it. Beyond it all, though, was almost all trees, with perhaps three or four total other signs of civilized life in the distance. *Not promising for being able to help, but at least there won't be any problem with getting found out. I can most likely just walk away from this place ...once I can walk.*

Instead of dwelling on it, once Sobon felt he had flushed all the old aether out of her body, she pieced together a simple aether communicator and fed it the link code the Ri'lef ship's AI had left him. The AI on the other side took perhaps two or three total data packets to confirm his identity, then sent him a terse [ Please wait ] as it attempted to find a crewmember to speak to him. *Her.*

It was perhaps a few minutes before a strange face appeared in a glowing window in front of him. Strange, of course, was relative; Sobon's own face would have been very strange to himself, but it was doubtless just as strange to this creature, for several reasons. Now that he saw it, though, he thought he could pin the species name *Ri'lef*; they were Founders' children, an uplifted aquatic species with some kind of strong natural aether ability. And they looked it; the person in the communications window had skin that had once been smooth like a dolphin's, and facial features that had originally been streamlined, before tens or hundreds of thousands of years of selective breeding had produced a more humanoid version of the same. When the alien opened its mouth, the teeth were uniformly sharp and pointed, but small, used to eating meat but not practical for a predator.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

"Who are you?" The voice that came through was filtered, and Sobon suspected that the AI was translating the words to the language of the Crestan empire, or else the language of the locals, on his behalf. He chose not to spend the mental cycles figuring out which. "How--*why* are you contacting me?"

Sobon straightened up in her chair, and found her voice was already a bit smoother, her vocal chords not so frail from disuse, after his aether purge. "I am Sobon of the Crestan Mixed Marines. Your AI suggested that apparently I was dragged into this mess somehow through your Resurrection Protocols. I'd like some information."

"Resurrection--no, of course." The alien straightened. "I am Executive Officer D'sur of the Ri'lef Cruiser *Tidal Corona*. I'm sorry; those... immediately under my supervision were not responsible for your being brought here, but I suspect I know what happened. Unfortunately, we have a situation, and we will need to ask for your help." It frowned at him. "You... *are* military, correct?"

Sobon chafed inwardly at needing to clarify, but then, he wasn't sure that the Crestan Empire shared any borders with the Ri'lef. If not, they probably knew as little about him as he knew about them. It was also possible that the phrase *Crestan Mixed Marine* didn't translate directly though whatever the AI was doing to link them. "The Mixed Marines are aether- and aether-tech specialist infantry, usually attached to our Space Forces. There are elite Special Forces among us, but I wasn't one of them. I was a class IX cyborg, Aether-tech specialist, when my ship was destroyed, and I ended up here."

"Aether-tech specialist infantry... that would help." The creature's eyes flicked up and down at Sobon's projection. "Once we can find you a proper shell, that is, but the Resurrection protocols try to find bodies incapable of resisting the replacement. Now that we know--"

"Forget about that for now," Sobon interrupted. "Tell me about the situation. The AI could only give me a basic overview."

"Yes, it's classified. Founder restrictions." The alien's facial muscles showed signs of increasing strain, Sobon noted, though he couldn't read their posture directly. "Suffice it to say... this planet was not supposed to have this much aether on it. An action by the locals damaged Founder technology and redirected unsafe levels of aether to the planet. There is a local variant of the stuff you may encounter--"

"I've already seen it."

"--which is a combination of their mutating social mythos with some engineering efforts we put in place on the Founders behalf to try to salvage the situation. Unfortunately, certain people on this planet crippled our ship and are trying to tear apart the safeguards and controls in order to gain even more access to aether. If they succeed, they'll exceed the *Mengraw* limit in no time."

Sobon frowned. "That term didn't translate."

The alien nodded, as though expecting it. "It's the level at which you see uncontrolled mutations with high certainty. You'd need to ask a doctor for the specifics. The point is that once you cross the Mengraw limit, biology as we understand it will never work--ours, yours, or the locals."

Sobon nodded. "When I last died... from the Beyond, I thought that the energy levels around your crashed ship were approaching that level. Cell-toxic, at least."

"Yes. We can no longer approach the ship. It's lucky we crashed in an ocean." D'sur offered a more relaxed facial expression that showed a lot of teeth, although Sobon suspected it was still meant to be friendly. "I'll be honest, Marine Sobon. We are not military people, and I fear this situation may require a military solution. At the very least, we are going to need you to find and disable some structure or pattern that has been stopping our communications with the Founders. I doubt your people have many *direct* dealings with them, but I expect you understand that on an individual basis, Founders are more powerful than anyone you have likely ever met, and more powerful than anyone on this planet by far. If called, they would most likely bring an entire warship to deal with this situation."

Sobon smirked in return. "That sounds like the military to me."

"Exactly. I could give you a basic overview of planetary politics, but... I believe that our ultimate target would likely be within the *Djang* empire. They occupy a very large chunk of the largest continent, largely northwest of the crashed remains of the *Corona*."

"Pardon, but I'd like to know more about this Resurrection Protocol, or at least its limits. I've had two lives so far, one in some shithole filled with the... Bilg?" Sobon frowned, but thought he had the pronounciation right. "The other was in a chain of islands somewhere near your ship."

"Three deaths... if they were close together, by which I mean back to back deaths, you could be stretching your luck if you tried to switch bodies again now. Resurrection protocols are extensive, but they take time to repair and recharge. What were the circumstances of your deaths?"

"My cyborg body was crushed in an asteroid belt. The Bilgish boy was killed by a powerful user when I showed too much potential. I don't know how much force he used to kill me, but it knocked the ...*me* straight into orbit." Sobon found her voice was getting extremely tired, and flushed her neck muscles with more aether to compensate. She cleared her throat. "My next body was an animal, and it... died trying to advance. I felt like it was trying to evolve its body, but instead it exploded."

The Ri'lef officer said nothing for a long minute.

"Yes... under those circumstances, it may not be practical for you to switch again. I've already authorized the *Corona* to assist anyone who may be able to improve the situation. Contact her and she should be able to offer some resources and more knowledge. Unfortunately, some things are locked down on Founders' Orders. I'm sorry."

Sobon just nodded. The founders, although physically small and unintimidating, were raised from birth with a higher level of aether than was safe for most races--all of them, without exception, at least as far as he knew. Mature adults had the kind of precision and power throughput that even many technologies lacked, and their empire had *dozens of billions* of people in it. No space-faring empire that offended them survived, and no ship's officer with even a smidgeon of discipline would jeapordize their entire species' future for a small tactical advantage.

Sobon knew this was his cold, calulating cyborg mind speaking, but if he had to choose between destroying this planet, even with himself on it, and getting the Founders mad at Crest, he would sacrifice everyone and everything here in an instant. Military briefings on the power of the Founders were *terrifying*. In at least two known conflicts (fortunately, neither against the Empire of Crest) individual Founders without any known outside power source had taken on midsize warships and won. Given the scale of Aether weapons, those warships could have committed casual genocide against any undefended planet. *No one* entered the Crestan military without being firmly told to *never* offend the Founders.

"Other than that, I'm not sure what else to say. I don't know where you are. I don't have a lot of information on the planetary demographics or politics. Your current body is not Djang, and it is not from the island peoples we see here by the ship, but there are other phenotypes nearby, and if I'm honest, most of the locals look alike to me. The *Corona* might be able to give you a ranging estimate, but that's out of my hands."

Sobon considered. "Your AI gave a very low estimate on worst-case *Time to Sunset*." He paused only a moment. "That's Crestan military slang, meaning time it would take for a worst-case scenario to become occur."

"Whatever number she gave you, I won't quibble. I can't get into the specifics as a Founder restriction, but suffice it to say... the locals potentially have physical access to the Founders' tech that's protecting the planet, though I don't think they understand that yet. If the strongest of the locals decided to attack it, or modified its function in any one of a hundred ways, there's no question in my mind that the planet would be uninhabitable within a day. Less."

Sobon found her face slipping into the deep frown that the woman had already been comfortable with. That thought upset him, but he put it out of mind. "What about this communications disruption?"

"It... the effect is likely caused somewhere physically close to the Founders' technology itself. Which, I trust you understand, you *will not* tamper with. It likely is mean to preven the technology itself from reporting back. That is why we were called in." The Ri'lef put on a face that Sobon was sure was meant to be strict, militant. She respected the intent, even if it didn't get conveyed by facial muscles alone. "That specific technology... if you have a military solution, contact us again for coordinates. It was last known to be within the Empire of Djang."

*Last known means its mobile. Probably a separated space. That would make sense for Founder tech.* Sobon let the thought roll off him. "You said the local *qi* was engineered. Can you give me any information?"

Instead of answering, D'sur looked away. "Ask the *Corona* to connect you to the team working on that. I'd ask you not insist on any specific timing for when they contact you. They are trying to adapt the existing efforts to deal with the planet's higher aether. If they fail to adapt it in time, heads will probably start exploding around the planet, potentially including yours, and even mine. If they don't have a moment to talk, then they don't have that moment to talk. Understand?"

Sobon did, of course, and she nodded, adding a verbal confirmation a moment later. There was a brief pause, and Sobon was just about to speak up and say that she had no further questions, when D'sur broke contact. She frowned, again, but let any semblance of insult roll off her. Under these circumstances, the chances that D'sur was extremely busy were high. It was also likely that he had acted according to Ri'lef military protocols that Sobon just didn't know and didn't have the time to learn.

Instead, she let her eyes look out over the isolated, mountainous forest that this old woman had called home. Almost unbidden, the woman's spirit spun out thoughts. [ I am... *was* Alassi. My son in law is Tuli. My granddaughter is Lui. My husband and daughter are dead. This is my son in law's inn. He... is an idiot. ]

Sobon chuckled lightly, but settled back into the wheelchair, allowing her body to recover and her spirit to fill her in on what she needed to know.