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The Tale of G.O.D.
80. ~Landfall~

80. ~Landfall~

“I always wanted to say that!”

-A first contact scenario.

***Outer Rim***

***Antioch***

I place the access cover of my throne back where it belongs. Grasping the welding device, I take my time with securing the cover, making sure that the throne's appearance doesn't suffer from its newest addition, a high voltage power line with an access port at the armrest, right where the V.R. connection pads are placed.

It took me a while to make this choice, but after sighting all the options on how to deal with the increased energy demands of my nano-tech, I decided it would be best to give myself easy access to an external power source. It’s not like I plan to go anywhere. As a king, I intend to lead the war efforts from this room.

There would have been options with the technology at my disposal, but I didn't want to replace my heart with a miniature fusion cell. Even if the technology is advertised as reliable, the thought of running around with a highly explosive device in my chest makes me uncomfortable.

Besides, the current power cells can keep me going for a few hours at least, even if I use the full range of my new capabilities. If I shut down the non-essential stuff, the available time can be stretched out for a few days until my body has to shut down essential functions.

I chuckle darkly when I remember my wives introducing me to the modifications they made to the throne. Now it's my time to add a new feature. Pff... a transformable piece of furniture! If that's how my throne goes down in the annals of history, then I'll retreat to some forsaken rock out there in the void and become a hermit!

Finished with my work, I run a finger over the spots where I secured the access cover and deem it as acceptable. A throne shouldn’t look too shabby.

Placing the welding tool on the ground, I giddily skip around the throne and sit down. I can always put my set of tools away later, once I confirmed that everything is in order.

Taking a deep breath, I place my palms on the armrests and close my eyes. Aside from the data connection with the colony's systems, I can also feel the energy pour through my arms and pool in my chest. It's an exhilarating feeling, so I sigh in satisfaction and try to relax my mind.

One of the benefits of my developed path is the ability to multi-task. One might think that this is a natural result of enhanced mental abilities, but that's not the case. According to Jill, most of the people who 'Blue out' never gained that particular ability. But that was exactly what I was after when I tried to enhance myself.

As a king, I needed the ability to lead my people. And what would be better for such a purpose than to make sure that I don't break down under the responsibility? Slowly, I try to occupy myself with more and more tasks, feeling my power cores demand more energy through the power line.

Like with any computer, increasing the load on my mind requires power.

First is a scouting mission at the edge of Cyber occupied space. Using the unique ability of our race's rulers, I tap into the captain's senses, observing her actions from her point of view as if I am actually there on the bridge. The subject of this little test continues her tasks, acting without the knowledge that I am keeping an eye on her.

Amused with this turn of events, I set out to open more connections. In the past, I played with this ability quite a lot, but it seemed useless in the grand scheme of things. What use is there in keeping tabs on someone?

Yes, the ability is quite useful to track a single person or even a small group of people, but even with just a few thousand members, my race already has way too many individuals to make this ability worth my time.

I would always be faced with the choice of either spying on my subjects, since there is no convenient record function, or to actually govern my people. And even if I keep permanent supervision on key-personnel, I still can't be sure that I won't miss something vital when my attention wanders.

So I mostly refrain from over-using this boon, fearing that it would lead down a road of endless suspicions if I have people under that kind of supervision. I can see and hear what they do, but I can’t look into their minds. How am I to know whether a person who speaks ill of me is a simple jester, or if he will actually act on his words?

No. Going down that path would only cause me trouble.

Deeming that it's time to test my limits, I open more connections, of course, just for the sake of scientific research. It’s not like I am some kind of…

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Oh.

Who would’ve thought that I can spy on Lisandra and Fiona… making out. I have never tried that before. Shouldn’t we have the same administration rights and therefore be safe from each other? Doesn’t that mean that they can spy on me too? Is that how they always know where I am?

Never mind… I’ll leave that connection open. They are my wives, so it’s not like I am leeching on the comfort time of some stranger. It’s okay because they are my wives… or is it not?

Better not to become too philosophical. I should just enjoy it!

Right! More connections!

There is a mining operation right next to my colony, and an automated deep-space probe which is checking out systems for future ventures.

Diverting my concentration even further, I spy on the newly appointed ambassador who is in charge of communicating with the G.S. Watching him reminds me of the fact that Ouluk is still alive and kicking, and I quickly wish that I could actually take control of the subject's body to massacre the little gnome.

But I digress. There will be plenty of time to punish him, and I actually have to thank my wives for stopping me back then. No, simply blowing him up would be too quick of an end. When everything is over and done I want him to suffer. Maybe I'll watch him starve, for years, just like he did to me and my brothers.

I’ll even feed him a little, making sure that it lasts as long as possible. When he is allowed to die, it will only be when his body is about to fail anyway.

Going on, I open yet another connection, this one far more interesting than the previous ones. I am suddenly in the body of an individual who is trapped in a confined space.

“I report, asteroid is about to enter atmosphere.” The man operates a communicator in the form of a wristband. His whole body is encased in heavy, protective armour. “Expect communication blackout.”

The smoothly cut stone walls around him start to glow. They look like they were freshly cut with a mining laser, and the temperature readings in his faceplate spike. He slowly turns, opening the valve of a nearby tank, which results in filling the space with the snowflakes of a highly volatile cooling agent. Some sort of goo is released along with the chemical, filling the empty space up and not only adding further protection against the heat but encasing the operative, also giving some additional security and physical force.

Lightly opaque, the material is transparent enough to see the asteroid coming apart around the man, it's fragments streaking away as flaming trails of smoke on slightly different trajectories.

Now encased in an oversized piece of jelly, he starts moving slowly, but deliberately, freeing himself from the protective mass. The material is stringy and sticks tenaciously to the armour, but once broken or ripped, it doesn't glue back together, coming away in large chunks until the operator is mostly free of the stuff.

It takes a special form of insanity to do this while falling freely through a planet's upper layers of the atmosphere. All the while knowing that, even though the fall will take several seemingly endless minutes, the suit's parachute won't deploy correctly if he doesn't manage to free himself in time. An added problem is the fact that he is tumbling freely like a piece of rock, every movement sending him in another direction by altering his aeronautic properties.

Spreading out his hands and legs, he expertly regains his stability, stopping the wild spinning of his body.

At last, he instructs his armour to deploy the first break-chute, turning the fall into a more controlled, but still rapid descent towards the surface.

A rippled landscape of lush valleys and high mountains greets my sight as soon as the operative passes through a layer of clouds, deploying the main-parachute. The many cities beneath him are built into the mountains' steep cliffs. If it weren't for the complete conformity of the scene, one would think that this is a natural sight. But it isn't. This habitat was crafted and shaped by its inhabitants over the course of generations.

The idyllic scene is interrupted by the beeping of alarms all over the helmet's internal hud-display, warning of imminent doom and an expedited death by the way of a ground-to-air missile.

“Oh, shit!”

The operator looks around, spotting the attack just in time. He releases his parachute, returning to free fall in an instant. Picking a few grenades from his belt, he throws them away, at which point they begin to flare brightly. They were purposely designed for missions like this one, and within moments the entire area around the man is filled with additional heat-sources, light, and electromagnetic interferences.

Lastly, the only thing that the man can hope for is that whoever deployed the rocket didn't decide to use a cannon to shoot at a sparrow. The distant thud of an explosion tells that the rocket didn't carry some sort of high yield warhead.

Meanwhile, the operator continues falling uncontrolled, the surface now entirely too close.

At the last second, he releases his reserve parachute. Far too late as it turns out.

The parachute slows his fall, but only marginally before he hits the forest-roof of one of the valleys. Impaired by branches, the parachute closes and the operator falls, crashing through the underbrush and bruising himself in ways not even his suit can protect against. He hits a thigh-thick branch with his chest and I wince involuntarily as the air is pressed out of his lungs.

Clinging to a young tree, the slows his fall until he lands in the mud of a mangrove swamp.

For a moment I think he is dead, unmoving as he is. But then I realize that I would have lost the connection in that case.

Wheezing, the operator raises his arm and touches the communication wristband. “This is Tex... am down… proceeding with the mission.”

I approve. The landing was a little close, but we can call it a success.

Not wanting to watch him wade through the sludge and dirt of a jungle world, I try to open yet another connection and realize that the last one was actually my limit. I am not able to keep track of so many things at once and am only partially aware of what’s going on with the scouting mission. What’s currently happening to my real body is completely out of my grasp.

So I close a few unnecessary connections and return to complete darkness. That’s not how I left my body, so I am stunned for the moment, trying to get a grasp on what’s going on.

“Yes! Oh, yes!”

My face is being pushed into something warm and soft.

“Ungh. So...hard!”

I recognize Silith’s voice.

“Need faster!”

She slams her hips down onto my erection and, still feeling like an outside observer, I feel myself groaning, releasing everything I have.

It takes a while for her to calm down and when she does, she pulls my face away from her chest and kisses me passionately. Moulding her body against mine, she settles down into my lap and whispers into my ear, “I have no idea what you just did, but that was the best boner you ever had.”

Moaning, she settles her chin on my shoulder and grumbles in satisfaction. Meanwhile, I am glad that she isn’t looking into my face because I must be the incarnation of remorse right now.

Better not to tell her that I was a little ramped up because a part of me was spying on Lisandra and Fiona. Something tells me that that would be a very bad idea.