???, Tseludia Station, Pantheonic Territory, Fifthmonth, 1634 PTS
Rachel watched as Cyrus swam around the room, darting this way and that in a manner that she could not help but compare to interpretive dance. Within the Brink, her true senses inspected his attempt to refine his soul, ensuring he made no life-threatening mistakes. His soul was damaged enough already, and she had honestly considered trying to convince him to not make the attempt altogether.
However, she knew that he had less than two decades of life remaining at the most, and this was the best way to extend that time. She couldn’t help but doubt that two decades would be enough to achieve their goals, and it was hard to say whether a comparable individual would rise within the sect during that time. Moreover, he practiced an unorthodox path. If he made no efforts to refine his soul, the limit on his lifespan would shrink rather than grow.
She sighed, leaning back onto the cool denim of her chair’s surface, splitting her attention to other matters. While it did not appear that Cyrus was having much success on this first attempt, it also did not appear as if his life would be at any risk from the failure. A part of her remained to watch the process- it was actually quite interesting to see his soul synchronize with the ashatic currents, unsuccessful as his method of doing so ultimately was.
Within her simulated room, Rachel was lounging on a bean bag chair, the room a near perfect recreation of her childhood room. She had picked the odd piece of furniture up at a garage sale, its origin entirely a mystery. Moving it across the city had been quite difficult for herself and her father, but in the low gravity of Mars, it was quite achievable. On earth, they would have needed to either rent a moving vehicle or own their own truck. A wistful gaze appeared in her eyes at the thought before she squirmed her body some more, finding a position of total comfort while she inspected hundreds of systems and databases all at once.
She had turned the work of searching for the presumably Celan Shade into a daily ritual. Ever since it had assisted in their escape from the retirement facility, it was as if it had disappeared completely. There were no more traces of system manipulations, anomalous data flows, or any more messages directed to her specifically. If she was foolish, she might have thought that the Shade had left, but that could not be the case.
She had been doing this search for weeks to no avail. She knew that they had to be up to something, but if they were active on the internet, they were pretending to be an incredibly normal user. Just what was the Shade up to, she wondered? She doubted it would have simply dropped its plans, whatever they were. Perhaps what it was currently working on was something it did not wish her to interrupt, so it was going to further effort to hide its tracks from her. The thought unnerved her.
She had considered sending a request back home to see if additional files on the Celan Shades had been added to the collective knowledge repository, but as her packet ship had been destroyed back when she was captured, Rachel knew that was a pointless endeavor. The messages would take years to reach the Pleiades, much less to return all the way back. She might as well wait until her mission had either succeeded or failed before sending a report.
“How can they be hiding completely…” she muttered to herself.
She shifted her focus, giving up on this matter until later. While there were still no signs of the Shade, there was certainly plenty of valuable information that she was collecting. Rachel had watched the inciting event and the development of the riots step by step, keeping a close watch for any hints of purposeful instigation.
It had all started when a martial artist had not been looking where he was going, tripping himself on a Korlove in his path. In his annoyance, he had raised his sword and slew them right on a public street. This alone was an extremely unusual event. The man was a local gang member, from a group who were known to have a great deal of hatred for Celans, but it was rare for them to be this foolish. There was little chance that they had not been pressured by the Hadal Clan on this matter. It was better for the clan if they could hold the initiative, and this current situation would take that from the hands of both sides.
The riots had begun within an hour of the event. The gang in question had been stormed by an army of civilians wielding both firearms and makeshift weapons. This was also strange. She could not find the reason why so many had decided this was the right choice, rather than simply waiting for a Celan gang to handle the matter. She understood their distrust in the authorities- the Justice Office would not care whatsoever about the death of a single alien civilian unless they had a very rich relative. Still, the situation reeked heavily of manipulation. Both sides of the event were suspicious.
She couldn’t help but wonder if the forces within both organizations that wished for war had taken action to create one, or if it was the action of a third party. She frowned as she inspected the videos again. There was information in the metadata that had not been there the last time she had checked. A chill ran down her spine as Rachel inspected it, finding what seemed to be an encrypted link. Moments later the packet deleted itself, having been present for mere milliseconds.
Still, Rachel had already recorded the data. Knowing that this had to be a trace left behind by the Shade on purpose, she still accessed the link, being taken to an obscure file server located in the files of a small company in the seventh district. As if prompted by her attention, a live video file appeared, its location of origin constantly shifting as whoever was sending it spoofed their position.
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“Ah, you’re here. Quicker than I expected, did you happen to be actively searching at the time? I’m sorry for the delay,” said the message the moment she opened it up. “I felt I needed to set the backdrop before we spoke properly.”
This time, the message had video. The simulated figure of a Celan woman was sitting in an office chair looking towards the ‘camera’. She was extremely beautiful, but did not appear to be either Jobu or Merris, the shade of her desaturated brown skin, the overall shape of her body, and the cast of her face decidedly different from that of either race. Her hair was a vibrant pink, falling down to the middle of her back, and her eyes glowed a brilliant white. Just by looking at her, Rachel could immediately discern her nature. This was an exaggerated depiction of the people of Epon Celah, the ancestors of modern Celans. The woman continued speaking, smiling widely in a smug manner.
“I’ll have to apologize for another matter. I know your name, but I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Janottka. I’m one of the last remnants of the Epon Celan Civilization, though I’m sure you knew that. Why don’t you join the call? I believe we have much to discuss.”
Rachel had to consider the offer for a moment. She did wish to learn this Janottka’s plans, but couldn’t help but feel like the offer was a trap. Just what was her endgame? What was the purpose behind all of this?
After accelerating time for a moment to think, Rachel created another simulation, one which appeared to be the interior of a Seiyal sect, much like Redwater. She used the form that was her public image- the sei martial artist, rather than her true human form. Rachel’s expression was blank as she posted her image into the depths of the internet.
“What do you wish to speak about?” she asked.
“So this is the image you choose… interesting. But why don’t you show me your real form?” Janottka asked, her smile showing teeth, making Rachel feel as if she were watching a monster bare fangs. “We know of the Terrans already. Is there a point to your charade?”
Rachel narrowed her eyes, frowning. Suddenly, her body morphed, the colors of her skin, hair, and eyes shifting to match her true self.
“So you know, or at least suspected. Is this better for you?” she asked.
“Much better. You know, I feel a sense of camaraderie with your people. After all, we’re both the descendants of civilizations which were destroyed.”
Rachel sneered.
“Our situations are different. We are that original civilization, and you’re just one of their tools.”
Janottka sniffed. Based on her body language, it was as if she was being mock-hurt. But Rachel knew that her body language would be fake. Entirely a creation of this entity’s mind. Designed and implemented solely to invoke a specific response. It was a capability that Rachel herself had, though she rarely used it. Right now, she was in full careful control of her simulation’s movements and expression. This was a war of information, and she would not be the loser, would not give away even a hint of her true feelings unless they were useful.
Meanwhile, she couldn’t even be certain whether or not her opponent even had feelings in the first place.
“What did you want to discuss?” she asked, her expression still stony.
Janottka smiled again.
“If I was true to my responsibilities for the Epon, I would be trying to kidnap you for experimentation. Sadly, I’m more true to my original functionings. Isn’t it more fun to assist in the story you’re writing?”
Rachel found it difficult to follow what the woman was talking about. This was part of the problem with Shades, she thought. They simply did not think like mortals did- their goals were inherent and strange.
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying,” she said.
“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Janottka. “I’m creating the backdrop to either destroy the two of you or launch you to the stars.”
Rachel’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re trying to assist us?”
Janottka laughed at the question.
“What a foolish question. Of course not. What I’m assisting is your story. It doesn’t matter whether you ultimately succeed or fail.”
“I don’t understand,” said Rachel.
Janottka’s face still held that creepy smile.
“It doesn’t matter whether you do. I’ll see you around, Rachel. Keep things interesting, alright?”
The message cut off, leaving Rachel alone once more. A chill ran down her spine as she sighed again. It was clear that the Shade was trying to manipulate her, but Rachel still could not discern her goal. Was it really just entertainment?
After a few moments of thought, Rachel shut down her side of the call as well, and destroyed all traces. This corner of the internet returned to exactly how it was just half a minute before.
Epon Celans: [An ancient humanoid race which has long been extinct, the Epon Celans are the ancestors of the Korlove, Jobu, Merris, and the fourth daughter race, the Najani, who have since become extinct themselves. Of these races, the Epon Celans were most similar in appearance to the Merris, though they lacked many of the biological enhancements that this race bears. Similarly, they lacked the musculature and ashatic resistance of the Jobu. The origin of the Epon Celans is unclear, though due to the fact that they are a humanoid species, it is widely believed that they did not evolve naturally.]