Frane Talliss exited the elevator onto the fifty-third floor of the Ranser building, closely followed by the Agricultural Drone that had accompanied him for the entire two day journey from Amber. The doors opened revealing a short corridor with polished black alabaster flooring leading into an open plan seating area. Frane and the drone proceeded into the reception area that was filled with cappuccino leather sofas arranged so that the main focus was on the far wall which was entirely glass, opening the space out onto the night cityscape of Fulcrum.

On the adjacent wall was a slim glass desk, behind which sat a young blond woman dressed in a distinctively retro white blouse. The garment was unbuttoned exposing the soft skin of her chest that began to furrow as it disappeared under the light cotton. As he approached the desk, Frane’s eyes were drawn to the sight of the patterned bra that cradled her breasts beneath the mildly transparent cloth. By modern standards the outfit was modest however something about the suggestiveness of the ensemble was more arousing than many of the minimal coverings commonly worn by women.
The receptionist looked up and smiled welcomingly.

“Mr. Talliss, welcome. I trust you had a pleasant trip?” she asked, standing up to reveal a charcoal skirt that was similarly modest but cut high enough to flatter the woman’s long smooth legs.

“Yes, it was fine. Thank you.” He responded simply, still examining the woman. Frane was intrigued that anyone would be employed to do such a seemingly obsolete task, not to mention dressing in what appeared to be a period costume, which was he concluded, the embodiment of an archaic sexist fantasy.

“Mr. Ranser is expecting you but not for another few minutes. Please, take a seat,” she said gesturing toward the nearest cappuccino sofa. “May I get you a beverage while you are waiting?” she offered subserviently.

“Just some water, would be great,” Frane responded fixed to the spot with astonishment at the surreal nature of the situation. Such services were almost exclusively performed by machines. Whoever Ranser was, he certainly had interesting taste when it came to tailoring his working environment. Perhaps this was the beginning of some cultural revolution he had missed by being out of the system for so long, getting high in the middle of a giant plantation. Whatever the reason, he certainly liked the man’s style.

The receptionist had tapped a command into a panel behind the desk, opening a small hatch containing a silver tray underneath a short glass of water. She walked around the end of the desk and offered out the tray, from which Frane took the glass.
The woman smiled as if vicariously experiencing the pleasure Frane felt at being waited on. He felt a wave of warm pressure spread from his chest, up through his neck and into his head charging him with some sort of impulsive passion. He smiled back at the receptionist taking a step toward her filled with the same confidence he had felt in the buried ship beneath Amber’s surface.

The woman remained still, not retreating but looking expectantly into his eyes. Frane took his free hand and extended his index finger to pull forward the woman’s blouse and look down at her pert breasts. Instead of experiencing the gratification of his spontaneous advance his excitement turned to annoyance as his finger passed through the fabric leaving it unmoved.

“You’re a hologram,” he said with disdain.

“Yes Mr. Talliss. The physical interactive features are not available on this unit. Should you wish to experience the romantic or erotic features provided by J-some entertainment please visit our offices in the Columba Plaza.”
Frane drank the entire glass of water in just a few seconds, not bothering to answer the hologram.

“I am however capable of showing you my breasts if you would like,” she added compliantly, yet lacking any sense of eroticism.

“Forget it,” sighed Frane, swiping his hand up to knock the solid tray off the hologram’s hand. The tray flipped over once, quickly righting itself and floating back to rest upon the woman’s upturned palm, once again forming the illusion she was indeed supporting it.

“Oooopsie!” exclaimed the woman lightly, almost as if it was her mistake. Frane placed the glass back on the righted tray.
The door at the edge of the room centred on the wall opposite the large window slid open with a sound that was probably generated more as a signal than a side effect of its mechanics. A man stepped into the doorway and leaned against the threshold, seemingly regarding the two of them with an expression of amusement.

“Ahh Frane, you’re right on time,” he began “what else could I have expected?” he added with satisfaction. The comment puzzled Frane in several ways all at once.

“Mr. Ranser,” the receptionist began with a convincing tone of respect, turning to face him as if about to curtsy. She remained upright but clearly receptive to the new focus of importance within the room. The man nodded as if to relieve her and she returned to her desk depositing the tray and empty glass back from which it had appeared.

“Please, come in.” Ranser said stepping out of the entrance and gesturing Frane past him into the adjacent room, which in fact seemed to be a wide corridor full of more doorways. Ranser gestured forward to the door at the far end of the passageway and guided Frane gently with a hand on his back as if they were old friends. The drone followed silently, maintaining a constant distance from the men.

Frane had no real idea of who Mr. Ranser was, aside from the being the CEO of the company that owned the plantation Frane had worked on for the past few years. Unsure of the appropriate tone of any conversation he remained silent waiting for a further cue from his superior. The thought of a hierarchy had never really occurred to him all the time he had spent alone with the drones on the plantation. The rapid transition from virtual solitude to being seconded to the corporate headquarters was unsettling enough, even excluding the profound experience within the buried ship on Amber.
Ranser didn’t seem to object to Frane’s silence and continued as if to put him at ease.

“I trust your journey was sufficiently comfortable?” he asked politely as they approached the terminus of the corridor. The door opened automatically, Ranser guiding Frane into the small space beyond containing nothing much other than yet another door. With the two of them and the drone there was a brief sense that the chamber wasn’t designed with this particular number of occupants in mind.

“Yes, it was fine.” Frane responded looking around the unusually small space much like a ship airlock. The door closed behind them and after a short pause the one in front opened into a large hall. Again Ranser guided Frane forward and the door promptly closed behind the pursuing drone.

The room was filled with an odd mix of electronic equipment and pedestals supporting a range of stone sculptures, some old and worn others in better condition and encrusted with precious stones. Frane and Ranser headed toward a central seating area.

“Frane, you and I have a few things in common. For a start we both enjoy our privacy. Unfortunately my work requires me to spend much of my time in an environment that doesn’t allow me as much as I would like. We’re by no means unique in the desire to have some sort of retreat from prying eyes, which is why there are still a number of locations shielded from the outside world and the all seeing Structured Intelligences. Yes, they are discreet and unobtrusive, yet the knowledge of being constantly survailed can be a little irksome to some. Happily places such as this are deemed acceptable both by the Administration and the SI community, which is by definition impossible to offend.

Despite this apparent indifference to such pockets of solitude, those whose role it is to prevent the improper or immoral, tend to focus on these places as likely locations of prohibited activities. Using the same reasoning the owners and frequenters of such hidey holes are often scrutinised, however discreetly by these same authorities.
Some time ago the Ranser Corporation became the subject of a covert investigation. The Administration suspected that within this room and others like it, activities were being performed that went against the modern philosophy of caring and sharing.” A theatrical look of weariness accompanied the end of his sentence.

“As it turned out, the Agent tasked to confirm the integrity of the Corporation found certain things that the Administration would have been very unhappy about. There was enough of a collection of prohibited material here to form quite a significant threat to the Administration and its finely balanced climate of peace and prosperity. Despite this there didn’t seem to be a coherent strategy for the use of these items, ultimately resulting in a lack of potential. Ranser was an amateur, on the right path but ultimately not someone destined to change the status quo.

The Agent had a distinguished career seeking out and neutralising such threats and had become somewhat disillusioned with the whole Nazar-Administration philosophy. He saw an opportunity in the Ranser Corporation and took it. He killed Mr Ranser and assumed his identity, using the very skills the Administration had given him to do their bidding.

As far as the Administration was - and is - concerned Mr Ranser proved to be nothing more than a rich eccentric who simply wanted his privacy and had the financial resource to maintain it.

“So you are not Mr Ranser?” Frane concluded. The man smiled widely.

“No,” he began, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees. “And you are not Frane Talliss.”

*

Yglara Haren looked out of the window of the Palindrome at the super-slow scene of catastrophe that was unfolding in space. The detached drive component crept further away from the main engine towards the mass of departing ships, which seemed stationary to her within this artificially slowed mind-state.

“They’re going to move out of the way. Frey, tell me they’re moving clear!” she pleaded.

“The SI controlled ships are responding immediately to avoid the traction drive; however there are a number of human controlled craft that will simply be unaware of the collision until it has already happened.” Frey responded regretfully.
Yglara watched the drive component rotate and spin about every axis, winding unevenly and unpredictably toward the helpless ships. The inflection field around the component scrambled and flickered, at odds with the palindrome’s own systems.

“What about the inflection fields?” she asked.

“The drive components own system should have shifted it out of normal space immediately after detachment. It is exhibiting an intelligent avoidance of the Palindrome’s attempts to override it and force the part out of normal space.”
Yglara placed her hands on the windows surface and leaned in as if to look more closely.

“Intelligent? You mean something is doing this?!” she gasped.

“Currently, that is the only plausible explanation other than an implausible string of malfunctions. The systems are designed so that this would simply be impossible without some kind of choreography.”

“So this is an attack?” she concluded.

“Yes.” Frey responded, unable to reach any other conclusion. “In the past few moments the ship has managed to inflection shift several drones through the interference field into the service cavities of the drive, all of which have become immediately unresponsive.”

“Frey what are the practical capabilities of this suit? How much more advanced is it than those drones?”

“Yglara, the suit is protecting your body; separating from you now would leave you exposed to any destruction caused by the engine part. It could come this way.”

“So don’t separate us. Instruct the Palindrome to inflection shift us onto that drive module. Get us on there now. We could be the only thing capable of stopping all of this.”

Running at this speed Frey’s hesitations were genuine. Yglara’s mind was running as quickly as the technology allowed, effectively her decision making was as swift as that of the SIs. She wondered what decision they would have made were she not involved; what solution would be devised in less than a blink of an eye. She continued to make her case as Frey communicated silently with the other SIs.

“That thing could go anywhere, you can’t inflection shift a whole planet and if it veers that way, hundreds of thousands could be killed.” Before she had finished the sentence the decision had been made and Frey responded immediately.

“Ok, but be prepared for some discomfort if we survive this. The physical variables are as much as this suit can handle; it’s designed for covert operations not faster than light pinball!”

“I’m ready, go for it.”

The scene of the Hangar suite was replaced by the dimly lit confined space of the traction drive’s service cavity, as the Palindrome inserted her and Frey through the interference. Yglara remained quickened in the suit’s substrate along with Frey’s matrix. Her real brain would be unaware of the incident in its entirety, as only milliseconds had passed since the disaster began to unfold.

Yglara could see the drones that had preceded them, frozen during whatever actions they had attempted to perform. The focus of the attention was a single maintenance drone, attached by silvery tendrils to a data port on the wall of the space.

“It is attempting to breach the matrix of the suit, but is failing.” Frey informed her. “As far as I can tell the unit is identical to the other maintenance drones in structure, right down to the smallest component. It is my estimation that the foreign object here is the data port junction box. It must have taken over the drone whilst it was performing checks. It’s using the matrix of the drone to run some sort of programme.”

“Can you not override the programme Frey?”
The maintenance drone began to fire out another metallic tendril towards Yglara, perhaps in an attempt to physically disable the suit or even her. Frey responded with a dark tendril from the Lantris suit, designed to prevent a fall or support a falling object that threatened the wearer’s safety. It was quite capable of defending her from the drone’s attack, but they both knew this was an aside from the wider problem.

“The cognitive configuration is unusual and not easily decipherable; hence its success at neutralising attempts thus far to interfere.”

The two tendrils converged in the space between Yglara and the maintenance drone at what must be supersonic speeds that appeared lethargic with her perception quickened to this extreme.

“I believe we have been presented with an opportunity here,” Frey began “the drone is clearly unaware of the specifications of this suit. I believe I can separate it from the port.”

The contrasting protrusions met, twisting around each other like climbing weeds. Even as the silvery tendril continued to wrestle with the black strand from the Lantris, the dark vine detached from the body of the suit. For a moment Yglara was reminded of a practical joke she had seen involving a handshake with a prosthetic hand.

The end of the Lantris tendril that had detached from the suit began to expand like an opening flower producing a widening black funnel. The tornado shaped structure - still tangled with the drone’s protrusion - began to shorten, folding back on itself and then the drone. Soon the drone was being covered by the inverting funnel, swallowed whole as if prey to an exotic reptile. When Yglara could no longer see the drone’s own surface the black layer that had formed from the Lantris tendril seemed to ignite like the stream engine itself.

The drone’s solid link with the data port and the unit cracked and shattered, suddenly exposed to an immense torsional force. Immediately the entire chassis of the drone moved away from them toward the rear hull of the compartment. With no view of space there was no visible indication within the room that the entire assembly was spinning at a supersonic speed. The stream flux that surrounded and penetrated the craft was now acting upon the encased drone.

The system would ordinarily be used to protect the wearer of the Lantris suit from a fall or sudden change in velocity; now it was serving as a convenient mode of transport to separate the drone from its solid link to the drive’s systems. Whereas the erratic firing of the traction drive caused an uneven trajectory, the drone began a direct journey within the stream current causing two very different trajectories. The drone impacted on the floor of the compartment at a sharp angle tearing through the deck plating into the inner hull. As the assembly continued to spin the drone appeared to follow an arc that ripped through the underbelly of the compartment, smearing the crushed machine along the inside of the tough outer hull.

The Lantris tendril was now inactive either deactivated by Frey or itself damaged by the violent encounter with the layers of the traction drive. The drone was now out of view, probably wedged at the narrow end of the structure. Yglara had remained silent throughout, mesmerised by the sheer destructiveness of the scene. Her thoughts returned to the movement of the drive itself and the endangered ships in its path.

“Are we back in control?” she asked keenly.

“Indeed we are,” Frey began “The entire assembly has been inflection shifted to a hangar within the Palindrome. None of the other vessels have been damaged. In fact, less than a second has elapsed since the engine component detached from the assembly. Had the drive struck one of the human piloted vessels they would not have had time to contemplate their destruction.

“So what now?” Yglara queried, still reeling from the narrowly averted disaster that was both created and diffused in the blink of an eye.

“Now we get back to our meeting before anyone notices that Select Administrator Haren is also some kind of super hero. I’m not sure fame would assist us on our mission at this point,” replied Frey quiet sensibly but with a definite tone of jest. “Although you will have vanished for a split second, fortunately everyone in the room looked toward the flash and will not be able to perceive your absence.”

“How convenient, I will attempt to look as mystified as everyone else!”

*

“Jonas Ware, may I introduce Miss Sirafin Calvoran,” announced Heiron in a suitably formal tone. I stood glancing from head to toe and back in the time it took her to reach the seating area. I reached out to take her hand, which she gave freely.

“It is an honour to meet you Miss Calvoran.” I said as Heiron completed the introductions.

“Sirafin Calvoran, this is Jonas Ware. I believe your preferences are Fin and Jonas, rather than anything more formal. Am I correct?”

“That sounds just perfect,” Fin began “Considering the cosy surroundings and the cooperative nature of our business, a little informality should get us off to a good start. Don’t you agree Jonas?” she smiled disarmingly.

“Unreservedly,” I said, only now thinking to let go her hand. “Please, sit.” Fin sat down in one of the decadently comfortable armchairs that formed three points around a low circular glowing table.
Fin looked up at Heiron, who floated above the third chair, now at head height to us both.

“And you old friend, how is the world of espionage treating you?” she said to the drone, quite to my surprise. Heiron had mentioned nothing of a relationship with the Nazar Agent. I hadn’t even thought to ask, assuming it a cutting edge model and barely out of the box.

“Suddenly quite well, given this opportunity for such a welcome reunion.” Heiron responded, eliciting what I could almost imagine was a coy blush from Fin.

“Fin and I have known each other since before the Nazar exodus to their new home planet. We worked together quite extensively.”

“I see,” I responded suddenly full of questions that weren’t even relevant to the matter we were there to discuss. They had known each other since before I was even born, though these days it wasn’t uncommon to have three generations in the same room all looking in their mid-thirties.

“With your permission,” began Heiron, addressing both of us “I shall help to put this meeting into context.” The pair responded silently, each with a polite nod.

“Several hundred years ago the Nazar developed ties with a number of significant people within the global community, who were concerned about the increasing inequalities within human society. At this time – well before the time of the Administration and interstellar space travel – the Nazar were all but unknown as a community.
The Nazar worked secretly to aid the efforts of individuals who held positions of influence in politics, religion and commerce. These people had a common motive, which was to bring equality to society and curb the wasteful and destructive traits of humanity.

At this time Nazar philosophy and its kind were viewed somewhat sceptically by mainstream anthropologists and so the relationships were kept secret in order to avoid those involved becoming discredited.
It was only in the closing years of the Nazar’s time on earth that in the improved social climate, their involvement in the development of society and the Global Administration became widely accepted.

Although much of the advice given by the Nazar led to productive legislation and development many protocols were put in place because they were seen to work, rather than the Administration fully understanding their mechanics. To this day the approach is predominantly focussed on resolving concrete issues, rather than related abstract symptoms that are seen as consequences, by-products or even coincidental occurrences.

Since the departure of the Nazar from Earth, the efforts of both the Administration and the Nazar have been complimentary, even though they have functioned entirely independently. Each party has worked with the aspects of sociological development that they specialise in.

This meeting has been predetermined for some time, although the timing and those present have only recently been selected. We are here now because information gathered by all involved suggests a significant increase in both the concrete and abstract signs of a galaxy-wide decline.

The Crownstar harvesting array is one of many stations that monitor solar activity throughout the galaxy. Although their function as energy producers is genuine, such installations provide an important source of the more abstract data studied by the Nazar. The increased frequency and ferocity of stellar eruptions, such as those that have made the Crownstar array unusable are unmistakable signs of galactic irregularity.”

“You study solar flares?” I asked Fin, to interject with some polite conversation. Fin smiled, amused by my bland deduction of her function.

“No, I’m not a scientist. Most of what I do simply involves identifying localised causes of what you might call ‘evil’ and neutralising them.”

“I see, and what might something ‘evil’ look like?” I asked sceptically but politely.

“Therein lies the complexity of my job. Sometimes an object left over from the conflicts of the shattered era can affect a group of people in a relatively minor way. Once the object is identified and removed, balance is often restored. In more serious cases whole communities can be affected by individuals who themselves have a negative alignment. Some of these people will be on both of our lists as their resulting behaviour often attracts the attention of the SI network.”
I looked at Heiron.

“So does the Administration subscribe fully to the Nazar philosophy, or are we still just selecting the aspects that yield results?”
Fin looked to the drone, also curious to see how it would respond to the question.

“The Administration is an assembly of people and Structured intelligences whose members change over time. To answer your question in a single sentence would require excessive generalisation by all our standards,” with this the drone rotated in a smooth sweeping motion as if to physically demonstrate us both in its inclusive statement.

“I think what Heiron is saying Jonas, is that they probably haven’t made up their minds on that one just yet.” Fin remarked looking back into my eyes. I found myself smiling back at her, allied with a woman I had first met only a few minutes ago. This must be why they had selected us both to form a partnership of such unique purpose.

“That is a rudimentary assessment but undeniably accurate,” agreed the drone with a tone of reluctance. “Whatever the interaction between Nazar ideology and Administration policy, the pair of you are requested to be the singular avenue of interaction between the two parties during this crucial time. The return to a more prominent relationship is not considered appropriate at this stage.

“Exactly who is considering the relationship between the Nazar and the Administration right now?!” I asked pointedly.

“Good one,” Fin congratulated returning her gaze to the drone.

In the space between me and Fin appeared a large collection of coloured dots with interlinking lines pulsing at various rates and directions. The points were separated into two groups one several times larger than the other. The arrangement was annotated and had the heading Administration – Nazar interaction with a date that changed along with the progression of the three dimensional representation. The presentation began at the beginning of the Nazar involvement in the birth of the Administration and moved through the years showing people and connections. There was a stage that quite clearly signified the Nazar exodus one hundred years ago at which point the colour coding of the interactions moved to a pale green which showed personal friendships and apolitical communication. There was a complete lack of official consultation between the two parties. Within the administration the simulation continued to change and evolve until the movement came to rest with a single strand of closely linked lines which grew to fill the display. The names and designations of people and drones present at this meeting became legible and additional data appeared in the newly available space detailing vessels and locations.

“This should provide you with as much detail as I possess on the matter. Feel free to take as much time as you like to peruse the model until you are satisfied you have the answer to your question.”

“Touché!” fin exclaimed “You never get far backing a drone into a corner, but it’s always fun to try,” she grinned.
I examined the current display in front of me using a standard control disk to spool back the time at the current zoom level. Fin looked on, perhaps surprised I was indulging what the drone may have thought a smart answer to my question.

“There doesn’t seem to be any contact arranging this meeting. How exactly did we all know when where and how this was going to happen?” I asked rechecking the timeline in different display settings.
Instead of answering the question the drone rotated toward Fin seemingly understanding that she would want to answer my question.

“May I?” she asked gesturing to the controls on her side of the simulation.

“Certainly,” I responded withdrawing my hands from the disks and sliders. Fin toggled the display to reflect a more geographical aspect of our encounter and reached into display to reposition the focus on the star at the centre of the Crownstar system. She used a dial to enlarge the fiery sphere and another to spool back to the point in time the energy harvesting array had been constructed, which was shortly before the Nazar exodus.

“The Crownstar project provided a substantial source of energy and useful particles for interstellar development, however - as I touched upon earlier - this was merely a side effect of its true design. This array and others like it around the galaxy monitor particular aspects of stellar activity associated with changes in the physical properties of the universe.” Fin looked at me across the diagram which was casting a flattering warm glow upon her face. A whiter flare in the simulation caused a shimmer across her emerald green eyes. At this point I had no intention of interrupting her even if she did lose me with the technicality of her explanation.

“Now this is the point when I’m going to lose you with the technicality of my explanation,” she said further solidifying the almost exponential rapport that was developing between us. I considered for a second that Heiron was somehow connecting our subconscious thoughts within the simulation, exaggerating the unusually instantaneous familiarity between us. After all, Heiron was the only SI who had the key to decrypt my real thoughts. Fin was not structured and was therefore comparatively transparent to the machine. Having questioned Heiron since, it assures me there was no such enhancement of our interaction, albeit with a tone of satisfaction that leads me to believe we were indeed psychologically matched in advance. Even with no prior arrangement Fin was old enough to be an original part of the contingency plan. Perhaps I was selected based on her personality.

“It has been long understood that physical laws within our universe once considered constants, in fact change over time. Although we have developed a greater understanding of how this happens, the why is still something of a mystery, at least to some. The Nazar are more open minded when it comes to the interaction between spirituality, social sciences and physics allowing them to have a different spin on things if you will.

This is something the Administration became more open to, during the period of collaboration that Heiron so succinctly depicted at the beginning of this simulation.” There was an element of wryness in her voice letting Heiron know she was aware of his smug manoeuvre to avoid directly answering my question.

“I’m not much of a scientist or teacher so I’ll cut to the chase. There is an ideological battle that has been raging for millennia, call it good and evil if you like it’s not really important. The fact is we have been enjoying one of the few eras dominated by good, but signs manifesting in the physical sciences point to a growing activity of evil within the galaxy.
There was a predetermined point at which intervention would begin in these hazy matters of politics and spirituality. The overloading of the Crownstar array is one of the signs that the time is upon us. That is why we are both here.”

“So this meeting was triggered by an event in the Crownstar sun, and that was caused by,” I paused deliberately inviting the completion of my sentence.

“Most likely a collection of actions none of us would be happy about.” Fin began without hesitation. “For them to go unnoticed on a practical level yet still trigger the Crownstar event, suggests a form of organisation and secrecy. That is something to be concerned about.”

If working independently the Administration and Nazar Agents have failed to curb this trend then we must work together again and hope that we can track this to its source.”

It seemed ironic that it had taken the development of a situation of such negativity to initiate a partnership that I was looking forward to with such relish. Fin leaned forward, an earnest expression appearing on her face.

“Whatever this is Jonas it won’t stop. It will grow and spread like a disease until all we have worked so hard for is twisted and destroyed. It may hide in the shadows for now, but when the darkness is unleashed it will be all encompassing and inescapable.” There was a genuine look of fear in her beautiful green eyes and although I didn’t know exactly what she meant I knew she spoke the truth.

To be continued.