Still concealed within the isolated chamber of the Ranser building Frane listened to the explanation given by Mr. Ranser, or at least the Administration spy who had control of his life. Frane went to speak but decided to insert a small operational question up front.

“What exactly should I call you?” he asked, not sure if the name Ranser was still appropriate. Technically this man wasn’t his boss anymore but seeing as he was obviously in charge of whatever the situation was, it didn’t seem necessary to start questioning his authority now.

“You can call me George. It’s bland enough to be easily transferrable between identities.”

“So George, you want me to help you fight the Administration?” asked Frane in an attempt to clarify what the man was asking of him.

“That would be an aspect of what we would do yes,” George confirmed.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll get caught?”

“Ha! That’s great; no objection to the principal just a concern about being punished.” George sniggered a little before continuing. “Frane we are already prisoners, all of us. We live in a society in which we are duped into being both the captors and the jail keepers. Our cells are carefully constructed so we can’t even see them anymore; the walls made of a social self-consciousness and fear of being judged by our peers. There is freedom as prescribed by a very specific set of parameters, but they have been laid out using an ideology that is not our own. The Nazar have skilfully brainwashed us into swallowing their socialist bullshit hook, line and sinker. We need to start thinking for ourselves. There is no worse punishment than staying locked up in this monstrosity we call a society. They can tell us we are wrong all they like, but if the world we seek is truly not meant to be, surely it is something we will fail to achieve. I’m not going to sit around anymore ordering of a pathetically inadequate menu; it’s time for a change.”

“Hmm,” Frane sounded, engaged by the concepts Ranser had laid out and strangely excited by being in the presence of the kind of rebellion whose consequences had so far terrified him. He knew he wouldn’t have come up with such a bold approach by himself, but George’s words had the same resonance he had felt in the buried vessel on Amber. There was a kind of vibrant clarity about what he was hearing, something inherently captivating about the spirit of Ranser’s argument.

“I’ll do it,” he replied, “Where do we start?”

*

Yglara Haren and Lukia Reene strolled casually along one of the Palindrome’s ventral corridors. This particular stretch was mostly transparent and raised above the surrounding compartments so that from the centre it appeared as if the corridor floated alone in space. Standing at the edge of the upper platform it was possible to overlook the surrounding hull which was set aside for detachable modules that for whatever reason could not be inflection shifted into the central docking space in the centre of the gargantuan ship.

Lukia had invited Yglara to enjoy a small surprise that she had had time to organise despite the short notice of the Auditor’s arrival. Keen to behave as naturally as possible, Yglara had happily agreed, pleased that she found Lukia’s company pleasant enough that she was diverted from the pressure of her duties.

“At first I felt the bustle a little overwhelming but after a while things seem a lot more ordered. You get used to the pattern of activity, the different phases of the journey and what each brings to the ship’s atmosphere. I have developed a keen ear for the different accents I hear along the route. It’s always possible to tell the frequent traveller from say the Delta local.”

“Well it’s certainly a good location for a culture minister,” noted Yglara. “What better way to take in the diversity of society than gliding back and forth along the backbone of its transit system? You must have a very current sense of the galactic mood,”

“Experienced first-hand, through its people,” she added, reinforcing Yglara’s observation.

“I don’t have to rely on being able to ask the right questions to a terminal to get a rounded sense of the social climate. I get to see people’s faces, hear the tone of their voices and see their interaction. I also get to know where to go for a whole variety of resources. I have become quite the fixer! I’m almost thinking about term in the Trade ministry,” she laughed.

“I take it you’ve employed that particular skill when organising this little surprise? After all we are on the module deck; it doesn’t get much more commercial than this.”

“True. It’s this keen sense of observation that will make you a perfect Auditor of the Administration. You’re always one step ahead Yglara.” She looked into Yglara’s eyes as if to harvest the reaction to her compliment.

“It’s funny; I always have the sense of playing catch-up.” She responded. Lukia smiled, accepting Yglara’s modesty.

“Perhaps I can temporarily alleviate that sensation by offering you a short period of isolation from the day-to-day hubbub.” Lukia guided Yglara to the edge of the walkway gesturing beyond the curved transparent hull to the module that occupied the area below that section of the walkway. The outside surface glistened with the unmistakable iridescence of Mirillan Ghual stem, the plant that was the source of all Mirillan trade.

“An oil house?!” Yglara asked looking at Lukia in amazement “How did you manage that with such short-” Yglara broke off not really expecting an answer to the question but showing she understood what a feat of organisation Lukia had executed.

“One of the benefits of my position,” Lukia smiled, “It’s nice to have the opportunity to pull strings and achieve such a delightful result.” Lukia’s face returned to a smile as she continued to react to Yglara’s astonishment. She looked back out onto the glistening module, Yglara’s gaze followed.

“I’ll race you,” came Lukia’s voice from behind, audibly beginning to move away. Yglara tuned to see Lukia rushing off in the direction of the nearby staircase that led down to the lower platform and the entrance to the module.

“That’s cheating!” she laughed pulling up her dress before giving an order to Frey to alter her garment so that she could give chase more easily.

“Frey, shorter. Quickly, shorter! The two shrieked with laughter as they each rounded the corner half-way down, swinging around on the handrail to continue the descent. Yglara jumped the last few steps, gaining on Lukia as she checked over her shoulder to gauge the position of her competitor.

“Aaah!” she squealed seeing the rapidly gaining Yglara. She looked ahead, suddenly aware that she had no time to check her position if she wanted to move fast enough toward the hatch, without falling. Overcome with giggles and still metres away from the hatch she slowed with exaggerated lethargy.

“No I should let you win, you’re the guest” Lukia swung her arm gesturing Yglara past. Yglara caught up the last few paces and scooped Lukia up in her arms. Her eyes widened in surprise and she let out a small twitter of laughter as Yglara steadied herself and carried Lukia to the hatch.

“No. I insist. You first!” Yglara said with a tone of mock strain at lifting Lukia. She gently manoeuvred her passenger’s toes so they touched the door, so claiming victory.

“Drat! Forced victory. Even more humiliating than defeat.” Yglara gently released Lukia who fell gracefully to the ground. She pressed the door control, opening the hatch to reveal a small antechamber. She trotted in swiping her fingers down her collar to manually release the garment.

“You stay out here Nareem, you’ll only get bored in there with no network. Besides this is ladies’ business.” She said to her SI companion. Yglara entered the room closing the door behind them. A red light above the next door turned green and a polite chime sounded, signalling it was safe to open.

Mirillan oils had a wide variety of uses. On the whole the basic properties such as the ability to insulate against heat and UV were robust, and didn’t require special consideration off the Mirrillan world. Some of the rarer qualities of Mirillan oils, especially the medicinal ones were fragile and easily damaged by technological processes like inflection shifting. For this reason Mirillan oil houses could not be shifted into the main vessel and had to be attached as modules to the outside. This of course meant a better view into space, perfect for the large viewing window built into the room. The entire module was composed of native Mirillan substances that preserved the chemicals and there unusual properties.

“Nareem is far too proud to confess to boredom, but I know it would rather use the time constructively than listen to our chatter.” Lukia added. Yglara directed the Lantris suit to open and the seemingly delicate garment Folded away from her torso.

<How do you want to play this Yglara> asked Frey silently from the implant inside her mind.

{Let’s split the difference. Leave a copy of yourself in the suit out here, and come inside the implant to keep an eye on things} thought Yglara in response.

<very well. I’ll make sure the Lantris is ready should we need to diffuse another situation.>

*

“Sorry to wake you at such a late hour,” Sara Jay apologised as I walked slightly bleary-eyed into an observation lounge on the cruiser Siberian Night.

“It’s no problem, what is it you need Minister?” I asked.

“There’s something I need to show you,” she said, beckoning me over to the window. We appeared stationary, at least sub-light; it was hard to tell with only distant stars as a reference. As I drew closer to the window the blue-white glow of a small wormhole was visible a few hundred kilometres off the bow. As I moved within reach she placed her hand on my shoulder.

“Before I go on, I should clarify that our conversation here is secure. My mental functions are being hosted by my Erep substrate, slightly enhanced of course. When I wake up in the morning I will retain no memory of this meeting. Your mind is safe from outside interference so there is no need for you to forget.” I looked into the minister’s eyes, interested to see if there was some kind of clue she was somehow not quite at home.

“Understood,” I confirmed. The Minister continued, gesturing out of the window to the space beyond.

“We’re parked by the Mann Wormhole, a few hours out from the main stream flux. It’s late so I won’t test your memory.” She said patting her hand on my shoulder. “The Mann Wormhole is non-traversable to ordinary matter which has on the whole made its presence here in this busy region something of a nuisance. It is stable in the sense that it is self sustaining however it fluctuates rather inconveniently around the spatial inflection making it almost useless for data transmission as well. The major shipping lanes circumvent the area due to the disruption makes to smooth stream transit.”

“Yes I’ve come across it literature though I can’t say I’ve ever taken the time to stop by,” I commented scanning the visible space for other ships or structures. “It’s surprisingly quiet for such a central location,” I added.

“Indeed it is Jonas, and it’s in our interests to keep it that way. The literature probably told you as much as I’ve said so far. What it wouldn’t have included is the fact that the Mann Wormhole is an important tool in the fight against the malevolent element of our society. Despite what is generally known, the location of the wormhole’s other end is not unknown. Ordinarily matter or energy can be moved through a wormhole to discover what’s on the other side. Best case; a ship or probe is sent through. Otherwise a specifically modified signal can be transmitted and detected across space. In the case of this wormhole the high level inflection scrambling precludes either leaving the other end of this short corridor a mystery. Not far from this spot is a small research station that has been studying the wormhole for several years. Not long ago the scientists on board discovered a method of transmitting a signal that could sufficiently resist the distortion.
Until the technology is advanced the applications for data transmission are limited. For now the most useful opportunity is the use of the wormhole as an intelligence safeguard.”

“What will it safeguard?” I questioned.

“You.”

*

The chamber contained a bewildering mixture of items both archaeological and technological, all of which would be considered ancient in their respective fields of science. Ranser directed Frane towards a small reclining chair, too high to be for casual usage yet padded enough that it was designed to provide some comfort.

 “I understand that one of your main worries thus far has been the threat to your consciousness by the meddling SI network. This concern is wholly justified as they would quickly decide your mind didn’t conform to acceptable norms. Before you even had time to soil your underwear they would have edited your personality such that most of it would end up on the cutting room floor, leaving you with the sole desire of composing symphonies by blowing on a blade of grass.” Yes it was an exaggeration but Frane got the general idea.

“This is a piece of equipment from an early back-up suite,” Ranser stated, leaning on the soft surface of the chair with both hands. “Modern equivalents are broadly similar but have superior read/write speeds as well as the ability to function on a moving subject. This model has a small disk centred just beneath the skull that suppresses motor neuron function to keep the patient still during the procedure. It’s quite safe just not as convenient as newer versions.” He patted the surface of the chair. “If you’d like to hop up we can get started.”

Frane looked at him for a moment, before deciding that complying was only a sensible progression of the actions that had brought him this far. Frane sat back in the chair and placed his arms on the supports.

“We have been able to smuggle you from Amber due to the SI network blackout caused by Dawn’s exposure to agricultural drone 655. Shavran physics sends SI’s into something of a daze, which is why they have developed an intricate system of fail-safes to prevent corruption. Upon detection of corrupted code the network initiates system-wide isolation protocols. They do of coursed keep all this to themselves so specific knowledge is required to take advantage of the process. Fortunately that is an ability I can bring to the table.

The procedure we are going to undergo will make you as disruptive to the SI network as 655 if not more so. After all the drone didn’t even enter the vessel on Amber and was still able to induced the isolation protocol.

More than this we are going to enhance the physical capabilities you may have already started to experience. This will take some time and will require a little more than the mental back-up process, but we’ll get to that in a moment.

The memories we are going to implant are from a variety of sources but you will find them easy to manage and categorise. You will retain your own personality but be able to draw on the knowledge and instinct of the composite. It will result in increased confidence and self-esteem as any natural progression of your knowledge would.

One of the main consciousnesses we will draw upon is that of a man who lived on what we now know as triple-seven. Before it was bought up by the gaming conglomerates it was a harsh but habitable environment. The man landed his shuttle and spent thirty years living off his own skills. He developed a deep understanding of the Shavran arts and hunted using the powers he developed. When he clashed with the developers he was rehabilitated as the Administration likes to call it. The inclusion of his knowledge will be of great use to you.

“Why don’t you implant these memories too; surely the more power you have the better?
I would love to get my hands dirty with some Shavran black magic but my mental structuring makes me resistant to the alignment necessary to achieve the physical changes. Fortunately it has allowed me to avoid detection by the Administration’s investigators long enough to make detailed preparations for the time ahead. Once we start the ball rolling we will no longer have the element of surprise on our side. The Administration will quickly become cautious, ultimately committing huge resource to finding us. By then it will be too late.

One day when we no longer have any use for my mental structuring, I will relish the opportunity to wield the kind of power you are about to possess. Until then there are still a few things I can do, given the right artefacts and actions. I can still manipulate Shavran physics, just not on the intuitive biological scale you will. Let me show you.”

George opened the hinged lid of a small wooden box on a cabinet next to the chair. He removed a small stone bowl and an old dagger, placing one on the floor beneath his feet and the other carefully on the surface of the cabinet. On the wall was a black opaque panel that rose from floor level up to about shoulder height. George operated a small panel to the side causing the panel to turn transparent. On the other side was a small goat suddenly startled by the sight of the man. It bleated, jerking back away from the opening resuming a struggle that it must have given up before. Ranser grabbed a leather strap that had been secured around the animal’s neck and lowered the barrier into the room. He pulled the animal forcefully toward the side of the chair back to where the stone bowl sat on the floor.

George took the dagger from the top of the cabinet and held it aloft. He began to speak in what Frane imagined was a foreign language although it wasn’t anything he recognised. After just a few lines, seemingly directed at the dagger itself George lowered it and proceeded to plunge it into the struggling goat’s neck. The animal cried out redoubling its efforts to break free of the man’s grip, but the struggle proved futile. Less than a minute went by before the strap that had restrained the goat was the only thing preventing it from falling to the ground in the bloody pool that had spilled from its neck. Frane looked on with some astonishment, how exactly did slaughtering a goat fit into George’s plan? There was a certain sense of ceremony about the action so he thought it best not to interrupt with more questions.

George let the dead goat fall to the floor causing the puddle of blood to spatter further across the floor and over the surrounding furniture. George again held the dagger up in the air continuing the bizarre chant. Without warning Frane’s body suddenly became limp, he assumed as a result of the chair’s activation. He looked up as George rotated the dagger so that its point faced downward. Small droplets of blood fell off its tip reuniting themselves with the rest of the animal, lifeless and soaking at George’s feet. He’s going to need some fresh shoes and trousers before going outside he thought.

Frane’s pondering was cut short as George thrust the bloody dagger into the back of his hand, pushing it through until it was well embedded in the foam armrest beneath. He cried out in agony stretching words around the outburst.

“Whaaatttthefuuuuckareyoudoing?!”

“I thought it best not to concern you about that part. The pain will pass. It’s an important part of the procedure, you’ll see.” George said, perhaps trying to reassure him.

“How the fuck can stabbing me in the hand be useful?!” the feelings of support and respect for George subsiding rapidly. George didn’t answer; instead he seemed to be beginning to configure the machine that would implant memories in Frane’s mind.

“Holy shit I’m stuck in a sealed room with somebody crazier than I am. And I’m fucking paralysed,” he  said shakily to himself before directing his words to George. “Can’t you at least turn the pain off!?”
“I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that. The system only inhibits certain motor neurons; things like pain and the ability not to piss and shit yourself are retained. I’ll start the implantation process, you will be unconscious for a while which will be a rest from the pain.” George informed him.

“Well start it up for God’s sake, quickly!” George apparently complied as seconds later Frane was out.

*

The Mirillan bath house was lined entirely with Ghual stem which gave the room a soft iridescent finish and dampened the noise within the room such that there were absolutely no echoes. The floor curved gently into wall which in turn sloped gradually to become the ceiling. Horizontally, the room arced gently away from the hatch toward a large window which had the appearance of stained glass with a traditional Mirillan design. In front of that was a circular bath full with the viscous oil which had the appearance of being a suspension of fine metallic particles that shimmered in the starlight. The surface appeared almost entirely reflective once they were in the seated position mirroring the view out the great window adjacent to the bath. The women sat facing one another leaning back onto the cushioned sides of the spa pool and resting their outstretched arms on the sides.

“What an amazing view,” Yglara commented; the acoustics of the room noticeably flatter than in the hallways of the ship.

“Fabulous isn’t it? I knew this would be the perfect stop at which to schedule our treat.” The Palindrome had made the short journey overnight to the next stop along the upstream voyage.
Crandorm was for a long time the outer edge of the inhabited galaxy, before the stream technology that made the Palindrome’s mighty engines possible had been developed. Without the reverse stream drive, the journey back to Earth would have involved several months of tacking and slingshot manoeuvres. Now the return journey was little longer than the outward trip in a standard craft. The Palindrome made excellent time on the outward leg of its galactic journey, only limited by the structural tolerances of the vessel. Engaging all of its drives whilst travelling in the direction of the stream flow would result in the ship arriving in several pieces at a number of destinations.

“Now I think you’ll agree I have done my homework on all of this. I wanted to make sure everything went perfectly.”

“I’m sure I will be very impressed.” Responded Yglara intently, breaking into a smile.
Lukia waved her hand past a decorative rack containing a collection of ornate oil bottles. “We have a selection of the finest Mirillan oils, perfectly stored to preserve their effectiveness. Let’s see if you can identify each one.” Lukia tilted her head down to give a mischievous expression.

“Ha!” Yglara laughed “I’ll do my best.”
Lukia reached for the closest vile. She flipped back the stopper which gave a quiet popping sound as the pressure equalised. Tipping the bottle gently she poured the contents into the base oil in front of her. Before it had hit the surface Yglara detected the sweet fragrance; this was one of her favourite scents.

“My you have done well, it’s not often you find preserved Keiren this far from Mirilla,” congratulated Yglara.  Almost as soon as the first drop of oil had touched the surface could its effects be felt. The base oil was blended to diffuse and transmit the active oils evenly throughout the pool, something it did astoundingly well.

“I came across an article about the solar radiation levels emitted from Mirilla’s binary stars. It was discussing how the levels had been rising sharply when the planet was discovered over a century ago. It was feared that much of the Ghual would become endangered or extinct if the flares had continued to increase in severity and regularity. I found this intriguing as it’s not something I had been aware of until I had reason to do some research.”

Yglara was a little taken aback by the extent to which Lukia had researched the subject. Mirillan ecological history was not the lightest of subjects to digest. Much of the science was highly technical and within fields of research that were often more recent than the discovery of the planet itself.

“Yes, it became evident in the initial expeditions to Mirilla that the conditions were undergoing a period of change. Most of these changes were attributed to solar eruptions. Stellar engineering was still in its infancy yet measures that were taken continue to be effective today.”

“How fascinating! It’s funny how there can be such a wealth of in depth information available on some topics, yet others seem to be overlooked entirely. I suppose we have got used to having all knowledge at our fingertips, we become impatient very quickly when we have to wait for an answer.”

“Very true; there is still so much that remains a mystery, even with the methodical SI network taking huge chunks out of the unknown every day.”

“Hmm,” Lukia sounded, a pensive expression on her face. “I discovered that the scientists studying Mirilla turned to the Nazar for assistance.” Yglara resisted the urge for her eyes to widen, where would Lukia have learned about the Nazar’s involvement in matters? Frey would no doubt be wondering the same thing; Yglara gave the SI a mental nudge.

<I’ll get on that as soon as we’re out of here and I can access the network> it responded.

There was nothing to hide but Lukia’s level of knowledge was quite surprising. As far as she knew the Nazar scientific involvement was not well documented. It certainly wouldn’t present itself to the casual researcher; you would have to ask a series of very specific questions even to touch on it.

“Yes that’s right. It was well known that the Nazar had great expertise in a number of areas, stellar mechanics being one of those. Our own knowledge didn’t seem to be quite sufficient to address the problems.” While Yglara was replying Lukia reached for the next vile of active oil. She brought it over the pool holding it as if on display, inviting Yglara to begin wondering what was inside. She smiled again, briefly distracting Yglara away from Mirillan history as she prepared to continue the little game. Instead of offering some sort of playful commentary Lukia continued her questions about Mirillan history whilst reaching to remove the stopper from the bottle.

“The Mirrillan business owners but feel like they owe a lot to the Nazar,” she stated, again edging around the border of casual chit-chat and probing conversation. Yglara again gave her the benefit of the doubt putting Lukia’s directness down to the rapport they had developed so quickly.
Of course it was true, yet those Mirrillan business owners who had worked with the Nazar had never felt that their help was offered with strings attached. The Nazar were as far from malevolent as it was possible to be and though they were highly intelligent and tactical, it simply wasn’t in their nature to be manipulative in such a divisive way.  

“I suppose so,” she answered simply.
Lukia flipped the stopper and began to pour the liquid into the pool. This time Yglara detected no scent. By the time she had scrutinised the tint and viscosity of the oil it was already permeating the pool. It was too late to stop her.

“Enough that they would commit treason on their behalf?” she said, stepping firmly over the line into what was suddenly an interrogation. She poured the last drop into the bath and flicked her wrist, throwing the vile onto the edge. Yglara’s eyes widened as she contemplated the depths of the deception. She did not move or speak, scrambling in her mind to grasp what ever shreds of intelligence on her predicament as she could before attempting to engage the situation.

{Frey? Analysis} she ordered as her mind became quickened to accommodate the timeout conversation she needed with the SI.

<Yes this was always a possibility> Frey responded rather unhelpfully.

{Oh it was! Did you not think it would be prudent to warn me?}

<After the incident with the detached drive component, the likely dangers became so numerous and varied that briefing you would only have left you cowering in a storage locker on the Discrepancy.>

{Frey, this is no time for humour. Lukia Reene has just added a neuroinhibitor to the pool designed to paralyse on contact.}

<That woman is not Lukia Reene although that has only been evident for a second or so. Whoever that is has the capability to utterly deceive even Structured Intelligences. This is not a basic deception; it is a well planned and meticulously executed operation. Perhaps paralysis would be a good opportunity to find out what we’re dealing with.>

{I’m not sure my options are as close to infinite as the danger} she thought as sardonically as she could. {We need an exit plan and fast}

<I’m on it>

Yglara returned to the moment, scrutinising Lukia’s face in an attempt to see who looked through it and what their intentions were.

“Ok no more questions. Let’s cut the crap and find out what you really want out of this.” She said resolutely.

“Oh dear Yglara. I go to all this trouble and you want to spoil my fun by skipping to the conclusion. I could have blown us to smithereens without warning, surely you can repay my courtesy with a little repartee?” Lukia responded, pouting childishly.

“So you’re going to kill us both?” Yglara asked, mildly surprised at the concept of a murder suicide.

“Yes I’m afraid so. You see your interference at this point would be something of an inconvenience, although I’m betting the Nazar knew that when they sent you. Lukia held her hand in front of her face and wiggled her index finger. She dipped it in and out of the pool; it came out relaxed and motionless. “Effective stuff.”

“You know you’re just delaying my arrival on Earth, or do you plan to assassinate me on every journey.”

“Wouldn’t that be fun? 101 ways to die by Yglara Haren. But no, by the time you try again you won’t pose a problem.” Lukia assured her.

“It’s flattering you see me as a threat on this occasion considering how well organised to seem to be.”

“Well you can never be too careful right? What am I saying, your stark naked in a pool of paralysing fluid two days after an act of terrorism that might have killed tens of thousands,” she gibed “Come to think of it you’re remarkably complacent under the circumstances,” she added.

“While we’re on that subject; why didn’t you make contact before trying to tear the ship to pieces? What’s so special about the second time that you need to talk about it?” Yglara asked, wondering if this whole construction served to achieve more than just kill her.

“Oh I was fairly sure that situation would be diffused. And if not it would have just put me ahead of schedule. There’s plenty of time for senseless carnage later on.” Lukia reached for the next vile in the rack. Above the surface of the oil muscles were unaffected by the neuroinhibitor and below it only conscious actions were impossible. Automatic functions such as breathing and the sensory nervous system remained unaffected.

Lukia flipped the stopper of the third bottle and waved it left and right as if trying to aid the scent toward Yglara. “This one is particularly potent,” she said proudly. The scent arrived beneath Yglara’s nostrils, sending warning signals surging through her body. It was a high explosive, produced in small amounts by a few species of Ghual stem to spread genetic material. In nature it would be released suddenly in miniscule amounts to create not much more than a pop, spreading seeds into neighbouring pools. In the concentration within the bottle it would destroy the module, leaving nothing of the women to retrieve.

“Why kill yourself as well?” she asked.

“If there remains the possibility this was an accident it will, shift the suspicion away from Miss. Reene enough to disrupt the investigation. I have no doubt that the truth will be discovered eventually, but the longer that takes the better.”

{Ok Frey I think that’s enough. Can we leave before she turns us into fondue?}

<I have a small confession to make.> Frey responded

{Oh Frey no.}

<No, I can get you out. I wanted to confess that I have been spying on you both through the window through one of the Discrepancy’s drones. I’m terribly sorry to intrude.>

{You mean we can communicate with the Lantris?}

<Yes, but if Miss. Reene suspects I think she might expedite the serving of this particular dose.>

{True but I’m guessing you have planned for that given your attention to so many possible eventualities.}

<Oh Yglara, you’re learning. Can I be a smart ass now without being told off?!>

{Go right ahead.}

<Although there is no two way communication available with the version of me outside. I am watching your eyes very carefully. With every passing moment the location of your gaze can be plotted to correspond with a particular signal. Effectively you can sign to me on the outside with your eyes and I can bring the Lantris suit to the rescue.>

{You really do have an unimaginable amount of spare time on your hands don’t you?}

<Yes, more than you know. So, I will project a series of dots onto Miss Reene’s face. All you have to do is look at each dot in sequence and the message will go through loud and clear. I imagine we only have a few seconds before that oil goes in.>

{Ok I’m ready.}

Yglara’s perception once again fell back into normal time. The dots began to appear clearly on Lukia’s face projected there by the same device that gave her information and personal details in normal conversation. She began to follow the marks as they moved around.

“This is all very well planned, but I think you overlooked one little detail,” Yglara delivered the line with as much relish as she could muster, attempting to make the comment enticing enough to buy them a few more seconds. Frey uttered a confirmation in her mind, that the suit had been alerted.

“Oh?” Reene said incredulously. With that, Yglara vaulted out of the pool in one swift movement, not stopping to respond as she ran for the door. The fact that she could move was answer enough; she would have liked to see the look on the woman’s face but thought preserving her own life a higher priority. Reene undoubtedly poured the explosive as quickly as possible to prevent Yglaras escape.

She would never have made the door in time anyway. A bright flash illuminated the wall ahead, her body casting a dark shadow. Time seemed to slow, although she wasn’t sure if it was Frey using her implant ort the adrenalin that coursed through her blood. The Lantris suit pierced through the door in front of her in the form of a sharp spike. As pieces of Ghual stem shattered into the room the suit fired itself trough the fragments, blooming like a huge grey flower. In a moment it was all she could see, wrapping around her to shield her from the flames and shrapnel. Light turned to darkness, deafening noise to a residual ringing in her ears.

Yglara floated in space among the wreckage and flaming globules of oil from the obliterated module.

<I’ll get the Palindrome to inflection shift us back to the Discrepancy.>

{Frey, make it a strong storage locker. Let me know when we get to Earth.}

*

“On the other side of that wormhole is a recently constructed facility. Before we leave we will transmit your current mind-state and DNA sequence across and an emergency back-up will be created, separate from the standard back-ups here. The location of the facility is known to only a few Sis. It is information that isn’t shared on the network, so it’s about as secret as anything can be.”

“What exactly are we expecting to happen that would require such a dramatic contingency plan?”

“Those who lived in the times preceding the recent peace learned the hard way that you can never be too careful. It would be a mistake to let our guard down even if things do appear to be going well. There is always something waiting for that to happen, always.”