"Honestly, Grace, I'm fine." Governor Prescott swatted lightly at his chief aide's hand as she adjusted his blankets. "These two very professional-looking individuals in the white coats have assured me that I'm going to make a full recovery as long as I'm not exposed to elevated levels of fussing and nitpicking." Grace shot him a familiar annoyed look. "What? You can't argue with that, it's just science."
Three minutes later, he had successfully shooed Grace and his doctors out of the private recovery room, leaving him alone with the Deva. Administrator Jayanti closed the door and then walked over to call up a holovid of some very familiar events. The governor's grin drained away as he watched. "You can see here where the alien ran into Pietr Vlaasnic." The thin figure in the vid held up a briefcase to protect himself against a rain of blows from the enormous creature's axe, flares of energy erupting with each blow. The governor clenched his jaw as he watched the hulking figure drop the small man to the ground and stalk away.
"Pietr's okay, though?"
"He...", she paused, searching for sufficiently placating words, "...will be okay." Prescott shook his head and looked out the window at the Auxilia pacing about the manicured garden of the hospital courtyard. The holovid cut to a second camera that showed Prescott himself, surrounded by a heavy security team, walking under a catwalk and being charged by the same huge figure as it emerged around the other side of a support column. "You were undeniably the target, of course. The alien initially attempted to eliminate your security cordon, but once the Swiss Guard revealed themselves, you can see it here,"-- she rewound the playback slightly --"changing its mind and diving for you with that knife."
Prescott touched the bandages on his chest and winced as the dull ache flared up to something sharper. "Fortunately, the clumsy monkey wasn't much of an assassin." He gestured at the vid to rewind it to the start and watch the attack again. As the melee erupted again, he shook his head and turned it off. "Well, I guess if nothing else, we can conclude that you've been pretty goddamn wrong about them not caring about our 'political structures and leaders'." He shot her a look, and was as usual annoyed when her calm expression didn't ruffle.
She sighed patiently. "Aleph is not wrong. The Evolved Intelligence does not care about human civilian institutions and sees no value in destabilizing them. I do not know what the alien's motivation was for attacking you, but I am confident that some clues can be determined by examining its cube."
The governor pulled out one of the cigars that Grace had smuggled in for him, chomped on it, and raised an eyebrow at the Deva. Jayanti rolled her eyes and sighed again, but reached out and produced an electrical arc between her thumb and forefinger that she used to light it. "Thanks, darling." He puffed a few times before continuing. "Don't you folks trouble yourselves about the body. I've got my intel folks working on it personally. When we find something, you'll be the first to know."
The Deva crossed her arms. "The Hexaedron confirms that it has not received access to the body either."
Prescott smiled. "Never said it was the bloody Hexas. I've got my own personnel for this type of thing. Don't you worry, the matter's in good hands."
Jayanti's expression remained impassive, but the governor was clearly pleased that he'd won. "I will pursue this further at a later date, governor. For now, you need your rest." She left him to his cigar and strode out of the room past his security team, taking particular note of the enormous armored Swiss Guard standing in a shallow alcove where the general hospital populace would not accidentally run into his invisible frame. "Good work today, Colonel," she said, giving the surprised figure a brief nod that was quickly met with a curt salute.
As Jayanti left the jamming perimeter of the hospital, she rejoined with Aleph and sent her report.
Something is definitely wrong with the governor, she transmitted.
We know, came the response.
The very idea of being expected made Keeskreet's skin crawl. One cannot be expected without being predicted, and prediction is the essential precondition of a trap. For the third time in ten minutes, Keeskreet nervously activated his thermoptic cloak and ducked behind an enormous metal shipping container. His eyes shut lightly, and his ceaselessly panicking mind found a moment of respite, unwinding in the tranquility of sweet, sheltering obscurity.
Keeskreet tensed and spun as the airlock whirred behind him. The clunk of heavy bolts and the hissing of air gave way to a soft gliding sound as the interior doors parted. Keeskreet's eyes flicked left and right to search for the telltale distortion and ever-so-slight bluish limlight he knew would be moving from that direction, but his eyes, better-suited to scanning in darkness than in the pink glare of this cavernous chamber, found nothing, even as the doors softly thumped shut a few seconds later.
"My agents are in place?", breathed the eerily soft voice to his right, a resonating undertone behind the words taking a second longer to fade out after the end of the question. Keeskreet's hearts lurched as a towering black figure shimmered into being just to his right. He spun toward it, then remembered himself and disengaged his own cloak, hoping that the implied insult would not be noticed.
"Y-yes, great one!", he quickly stammered. "Most of our nurseries have gone undetected, and are now bursting with young. Also," and he paused here to stop himself from beginning the next sentence with a crudely spat insult, "...heavy forces have been moved into place through the human waste ducts. Jamming and swift strikes have kept both forces intact and unhindered, er, excellency."
Even after twelve years, Keeskreet never knew how to address a construct. He knew it was pointless to appeal to its ego with elegant titles, but to use any lower designation seemed impertinent. The hulking bundle of polymer muscles and shimmering silicon fiber armor he addressed had a mind, but no voice; when it spoke, it was the words of the Unfolding Intellect that issued. It seemed appropriate to speak reverentially toward a god, but to his knowledge the great machine had no ego to speak of; it simply knew that all were beneath it, objectively and evidentially. Whether one subject or another acknowledged this inarguable fact did not seem to trouble the Intellect, but at the same time... what if it did care?
In Keeskreet's mental files, this philosophical debate was kept in an overstuffed and all-encompassing bin labeled "Best Not To Risk It", packed in with innumerable other dangerous musings, the avoidance of which he credited with his continued survival.
Node 385/Blue/Tangible's dozen eyes bored into Keeskreet as its puppeteer's beautiful and resonant voice rose again. Keeskreet wondered, not for the first time, whether the Intellect had built that attribute of harmonious, sonorous beauty into its avatars intentionally, and if so... why? "Good. The order to strike will be given in 0.000163 local orbits. Signal both teams to prepare for full assault on the human command node. After the signal they will have 0.0000723 local orbits to expunge all human occupants and disable the orbital defense grid." As the construct spoke, its hand gestured toward glowing objectives on a holographic map of the target facility emitted from somewhere on its shell. "Once the way is cleared, ground teams will have 0.0000261 local orbits to withdraw to a safe distance before the orbital bombardment commences. Estimate 0.000710 local orbits to incinerate the human dwelling cluster to the required depth."
The construct paused to let the light show play out before finishing. "This task is of paramount importance. Do not fail."
Keeskreet stared at the holographic map for a few moments, mild shock robbing him of the capacity for language. When it returned to him, the question he managed lacked something of the prudent reverence he customarily maintained before agents of the machine. "So," he blinked a few times as he grasped for words, "the invasion has truly begun." Icy-cold horror raced over Keeskreet's skin, causing it to change hue slightly to blend with the pink of his surroundings. His mind raced with images of war-- not sneaking and subterfuge and espionage and everything else that had characterized his role here in the human star cluster, but war. He could not think of anything less safe. A sickening image of seed soldiers withering in open combat gripped his mind and would not shake loose. Today they razed a human city; tomorrow his people ceased their proliferation to be marched off to obliv--.
"No."
The word rang through the cargo bay for four excruciatingly long seconds, shaking Keeskreet from his waking nightmare, before 385/Blue/Tangible continued. "The humans are not yet ready for transcendance. In fact, your task serves largely as a reminder to them of this fact." The hulking construct turned and strode across the cavernous storage chamber, its long legs carrying it so quickly through the aisles that Keeskreet, unbidden but knowing regardless that he was expected to follow, had to run to keep up.
Keeskreet's eyes scanned the endless stacks of hexagonally-tesselated containers as they travelled. All soldiers of the Combined Army knew these containers well, as they were the primary delivery vector for food and equipment delivered to operatives in the field. Keeskreet watched robotic drones glide among the stacks, attaching themselves to one high-up crate or other before gracefully drawing it backward to be carried elsewhere within the facility. It appalled the diminutive spy to think of storing such vast quantities of essential resources in one place where a single catastrophe could wipe out the lot. His people were far more prudent, preferring to bury caches of supplies-- protected from tampering by explosives, of course-- wherever they spread, securing their resources from all but the most persistent of searches. The insects' insistence on centralization was an invitation for disaster, but he understood that they would likely not understand this until doom stared them in the face.
The Anathematic pivoted gracefully on its hoof as it turned sharply into an aisle. Keeskreet followed, and saw at last their destination-- a group of insects clustered around a small pyramid composed of dozens of strangely rectangular boxes. As the spy approached, he watched them wave and click instructions to a cargo drone which was trying, with limited success, to insert the long, dirty crate into a hexagonal storage bay that was clearly a handbreadth too small. 385/Blue/Tangible strode purposefully up to the group; the insects took notice, ceasing in their task to prostrate themselves before the construct.
One of them crawled a step forward before rising partially to raise its upper limbs toward the towering black shell. "Penitent redress for compunctious derelictions, oh sublime countenance of the indomitable Ur!", it ticked rapidly, an oily, ingratiating voice emitting from its translation implant for the benefit of those, like Keeskreet, who could not speak in clicks and hisses. "This one is mortified to have missed your ingress, oh resplendant hand of the Apical Machine! This one meant no discourtesy, and begs to be spared reprisal upon the Commissariat, however just and earned, for its unforgiveable breach of custom!"
Keeskreet shook his head and scowled. The insufferable bugs and their long-winded gibbering were hard enough to tolerate when they spoke to ostensible equals in the Combined Army's power structure, but here in the presence of the Unfolding Intellect itself, their facade of courtesy became, to Keeskreet at least, utterly transparent in its emptiness. A Shasvastii knows the blessing of true fear. Fear sustains. It wipes from the mind all esoteric concerns, focusing it only on this moment, so that the mind will be optimally receptive when the path toward survival presents itself. Fear would be the correct response from these creatures right now, which made it all the more galling that they instead continued their pathetic show of pleasantry. There had been a time when Keeskreet, like so many of the subjects of the Intellect, had fallen for their deceptions, but that had ended when they showed their true face. On that day, the Exrah demonstrated the complete disconnect between their deferential words and their calculating, self-serving actions. The Exrah choose their words with great care; they say precisely what they believe will best serve them, which is in no way assured of being even tangentially connected to the truth. The Exrah are the face of madness: a people without enough sense to understand that there are things that cannot be gotten away with. A race so utterly reckless that it would risk utter annihilation for something as trivial as wealth is one that cannot be reasoned with or trusted.
Keeskreet wandered back from his own musings only to notice that the insect was somehow still talking. "...and this one will personally ensure that standard practices for reception of honoured delegates of the unparalleled Ur will undergo exhaustive and unyielding audit, that such a lapse of civility shall never again befall the distinguished and righteous proxies of the munificent Intelligence!" The hunchbacked figure performed a curling bow to punctuate its speech, withdrawing its small orange hat to keep it from falling off due to the angle of incline.
385/Blue/Tangible stared silently at the merchant for some time, then simply said, "Open the container." Keeskreet hid his amusement at the momentary shocked pause that followed before the assembled Exrah got to their feet and set about removing the lid from a large metal box. Keeskreet stepped forward as they worked and ran his hand along the dented and scraped metal exterior, trying to wordlessly reproduce sounds ill-suited to a three-jawed mouth. "Excellency, I recognize the runes on this container. It is of human manufacture. What interest have you in human cargo?"
The black-armored figure strode forward as an Exrah with a plasma torch finished cutting through a crude metal lock and pried the lid open. The construct reached a clawed hand inside the box, threw out a sheet of some sort of grey foam, and withdrew a long black mechanism that it placed in Keeskreet's disbelieving hands. The assembled Exrah looked at each other with what Keeskreet hazarded might be nervousness, each taking a step or two backward and avoiding the gaze of the towering machine. Their rapid clicking was, the spy noted, not translated for his benefit.
"The Exrah Concordat was punished by summary extinguishment for surpassing the terms of their mandate," came the pleasing harmonies from the construct. "Supplies and weaponry entrusted to them for the continuance of Combined Army operations on this world were diverted before delivery into private stocks with an intent to resell them at a profit." The assembled Exrah were silent by this point. They clearly preferred this particular history lesson to go unspoken. "The Concordat and all of its personnel were wiped out by Morat and Umbra forces before those supplies could be moved off of this world. The Commissariat proved their usefulness by offering to decode the Concordat's internal inventories to locate and return all misappropriated materials; their effectiveness in this task is a primary reason for which I have spared their race as a whole, barring further breaches."
The one in the orange hat bowed low again, rapidly clicking out, "An act of unfathomable mercy for which all throughout the Exrah Combinacy shall eternally owe gramercy and submi--"
"Silence," purred the construct. The Exrah, mercifully, stopped talking. "I am satisfied with the Commissariat's assessment that the irregularities were detected before any materials could be relocated offworld. However, some materials remain unaccounted for." Realization dawned on Keeskreet as he suddenly knew where this story was going. "The materials arrived on this world. They were not removed. There was no gain to the Concordat in destroying them. Therefore, they are still here."
Keeskreet's gaze wandered down to the plasma rifle cradled gingerly in his hands, then back up to the red and white metal box. His mouth opened a few too many seconds before he managed to fill it with sound. "....the... humans?" he asked, feeling immediately stupid for stating something so obvious.
The puppet nodded. "Not directly, but yes. This node's investigations on the human world have revealed six human commercial and political organizations which received shipments of my technology. Most of these feared reprisal from their fellow humans if discovered, and as such, have kept their gifts contained within discrete facilities that this node has traced. Two of these breaches have been contained. Three have been tracked and will be excised within 0.000461 local orbits. This leaves one."
"The human commercial groupings were discreet and thus easy to track and expunge. However, one human political hierarchy was also involved, and it has practiced much weaker discipline in containing what it received." The construct extended a hand and again the map of the human city came to life in beams of light in the air. It gestured toward multiple highlighted structures spread around the map.
"A Treitak agent has succeeded in enlightening a high-ranking figure within this political hierarchy. Through him we have learned that the acquired materials have been haphazardly spread across this city, and some are being prepared for imminent removal to another human world where they will become impossible to definitively track."
The construct lowered its hand and the map disappeared. It reclaimed the plasma rifle from Keeskreet and replaced it within the metal box, before turning lithely and stalking back the way they had come. The ranking Exrah raised a hand as if preparing to speak, but one look from Keeskreet seemed to be enough to convince it that this was not the time. As the spy caught up with his master between the honeycombed racks of cargo, the construct's ariose voice drifted upward again. "The human artificial intelligence has likely begun to suspect my aim, so we must act in concert to rein in the remaining breaches before it can implement further defensive measures. This node will be tasked to one breach site as soon as this ship orbits into position, and the Morat Ambassador has found one on his own-- I expect that it will be contained before my return."
The hulking machine reached the airlock, which parted to let it pass. Before entering, it turned to finish addressing Keeskreet. "Your group has the more complex task, Agent Keeskreet. Orbital bombardment of the human city will fail to contain the breach if human defensive systems are online; our assault will be slowed, granting them time to evacuate and spread the breach further. Your infiltration teams must capture and disable the primary defensive coordination facility to allow a sufficiently expedient purgation."
The Anathematic stepped backward into the airlock, and the doors began to glide shut.
"This task is of critical importance."
"Do not fail."
A well-built man covered in a nightmarish web of scars and protruding implants pressed the green button and leaned back in his chair.
"Dear filthy monkey," he spoke. "Great job today. Now I've got another one for you."