First Contact

The room was entirely painted red. Robotic drones having layered the paint on to exacting specifications. There was crystallized sodium-chloride against the walls and a double line across the single entryway. The room was lit with white LED light, the LEDs inside heavy sodium lights. There was a single holoprojector emitter in the room, with a single computer, both in the middle of the room, both inside their own circles of sodium-chloride.

The lights went from white to UV, flashing three times.

The computer spun up. After a minute the holographic emitter flickered and a hologram appeared.

It was a small park. Beings were running, falling over each other, screaming.

A Terran made of white line-art swept into view. While it kept going, another version of it peeled off from the original and flew straight at the viewer. The Terran grabbed the edge of the hologram and pulled itself free.

The holoemitter cut off and the shade swept through the room, screaming, bouncing off the walls.

There was a clack and the sodium lights cut on.

The shade screeched.

There was a glitter of cold iron dust filling the room.

The shade screamed and began to tatter.

The purple snap of a phasic disruption grenade, the phasic equivelant of a flashbang, going off in the room.

The shade splattered into ectoplasm.

The sodium lights turned off and the UV LED's came back on.

A laser scanned the room.

It was empty.

The lone Lanaktallan observing with his own eyes shook his head, turning away. Two of his eyes were cybernetic, as was his arms on the left side. A Telkan with the streaks of white in his fur that denoted someone that had caught the edge of a phasic shade swipe, adjusted his gunbelt as he followed the Lanaktallan out.

-----

The servants in the house were lavishly paid. Actual employees and not debt-slaves, slaves, or even indentured servants. They were all paid, and paid highly, for their skills, effort, time, and attention to detail.

When the shades had came, they had found that the promise of a disaster shelter had been true. It had not been just a closet or a basement, but a fully stocked shelter that even had room for their families.

Now, they were nervous. The Boss had been weird since the end of the shade attack.

Working long hours in his Code Fortress, which was what the servants called the hardened caged shelter in the basement that had been the secondary wine cellar. He often fell asleep at the keyboard. Meeting with sketchy looking beings to buy molycirc blocks. Pacing back and forth and mumbling to himself, his cybereyes clicking, his cybernetic arms whirring and hissing.

The Boss had been solitary since the funerals of the workers, including a private ceremony that had seen almost a half dozen beings of various species being interred in a mausoleum that had statues and frescos of the five beings in two different appearances. One looked like the bodies that had been interred, the other was completely different and staff rumor said that it had been their GalNet avatar appearances.

Several times servants had had to wake The Boss up and escort him to bed. Twice they had to carry him to bed, exhausting leaving him weak and shaking.

As soon as he got up he would hit the stims and go back to work.

They had never seen The Boss work like this.

One asked his Telkan bodyguard. The bodyguard had replied that in the early days of The Big C3 The Boss often worked to such an extent. After the Terran Xenocide Event The Boss had worked that hard.

But never for so long.

The staff fretted and worried.

The Boss kept working.

-----

The room was unchanged.

The computer came on. The holoemitter flickered to life. The shade came screaming out and was eliminated.

There was a beep as another program loaded. The datacube flickered as it was scanned.

The holoemitter spun up.

The computer began to smoke as the emitter flickered to life. Three shades burst from the computer itself and one from the emitter.

The defenses went off and the shades were destroyed.

The Lanaktallan nodded to himself, his tendrils curled with Frustration.

Without looking he used one cybernetic hand to inject a stim into his elbow.

He turned to the Telkan.

"I will solve this," was all he said.

The Telkan nodded and followed his boss out of the room.

-----

The Boss was circling his galloping yard slowly. It was snowing, the computers that controlled the weather systems slagged, the satellites and the weather control station nothing but orbiting debris. The Boss paid the snow no mind as he slowly moved around the galloping yard, mumbling to himself.

The Telkan bodyguard stood next to the fountain, six other bodyguards watched the perimeter as The Boss trotted slowly in a circle and mumbled to himself.

Equations. Code fragments. Methods of applying datasets and more.

"Shades and Executors take..." The Boss started to swear.

He stopped.

He turned to the Telkan.

"Get Asset Six-Two-Nine-Alpha on the analogue speaking system," The Boss said.

"The phone," the Telkan bodyguard said.

"Yes. The phone," The Boss said.

The Telkan bodyguard could see the eagerness in The Boss's posture, how The Boss's eyes had suddenly cleared of the depression that had filled them since the deaths of his valued employees.

"Will do, Boss," the Telkan said. He looked at the guards. "Keep careful watch."

The other guards watched the perimeter, merely nodding, as the Telkan walked away.

The Boss stared into the thin layer of ice over the water of the fountain.

"It will work, oh yes, it will," the Lanaktallan whispered.

-----

The nightclub was busy. The bar was full, drinks being handed and consumed, money and credsticks and credit wafers being slapped on the surface. The Tri-Vids were dark, the screens damaged but left up. The music was live music, with live instruments, the six man band sweaty as they performed. The dance floor was sweaty bodies slamming against each other to the driving beat of the music. The booths were full, scantily clad females with roughly dressed men who guarded men of wealth and power. There were hoverpods where dancers, often displaying more flesh or fur than socially acceptable in public, gyrated, spun, and danced while covered in glitter that reacted to the flashing lights.

One booth on the upper deck had pair of occupants. A Lanaktallan with cybernetics that he did not try to hide, and a Telkan with cold eyes and a heavy magac pistol that the bouncers had not taken. The privacy screens were up, causing the two beings' appearance to blur and eliminating any conversation that might have been able to be heard over the pounding beat of the music.

A large Lanaktallan shouldered his way through the crowd, making his way to the almost empty booth. He stopped at the privacy screen and signaled for admittance. After a minute, the shield flickered and the Lanaktallan moved into the booth.

The Lanaktallan was a sight to behold. Larger than most. His massive head was scarred here and there, but the scars seemed to enhance his dangerous appearance rather than detract from it. The Lanaktallan wore crossed gunbelts, one with a Terran Armed Services heavy magac pistol, the other with a strange gun, inlaid and decorated, called a 'six shooter'.

"You wished to see me," the Lanaktallan rumbled.

"Please, no names. Merely call me Mister Johnson. I will address you as Mister Fixer," the Lanaktallan with the two cybereyes said.

The larger Lanaktallan, Mister Fixer, noted that the eyes were state of the art. Prohibitively expensive. While the other Lanaktallan, Mister Johnson, could have obviously afforded to have them look just like a flesh and blood eye, Mister Johnson had chosen the robotic cyborg look popular in games and media before The Crash.

"What you desire is highly classified, Mister Johnson," Mister Fixer said. "Not only its existence, but the fact it was in common use."

Mister Johnson waved his hand. "Everyone knew you had it."

Mister Fixer nodded slowly. "Yes. But this would be proof that we possessed it."

"I will be hacking it apart to take what I need, recoding less than optimal sections, and streamlining it until it is unrecognizable," Mister Johnson said. "It will be blended with another code packet."

"From Confederate Intelligence," Mister Fixer said.

Mister Johnson nodded, his eyes clicking. He reached out and picked up his drink, taking a long sip. "I have extensive contacts all over Council and Confederate Space."

Mister Fixer nodded. "Or I would not be speaking to you, despite the request of..."

"No names," Mister Johnson snapped.

Mister Fixer hid his amusement at an amateur so insistent on the protocols of Mister Fixer's profession.

"Madame Asset," Mister Fixer finished.

The other Lanaktallan nodded.

The big Lanaktallan paused a moment, then pulled out two datacubes, one with a strange, gelatinous, almost soft look.

"It's encrypted. The encryption key, a single use, is here," Mister Fixer said, pushing forward the soft looking one. "The other contains the data you want. You can download the data only once, afterwards the data will shred and reform into an episode of Treana'ad in the Big City."

"A good episode?" Mister Johnson asked.

"The one where Fee'bee accidentally enters J'Ee and Cha'Dler into a hoverbike racing competition," Mister Fixer said.

"An amusing one," Mister Johnson smiled. He lifted a credit stick. "Allow me to offer you remuneration for your assistance," he said.

The big Lanaktallan shook his head. "If you are doing as you claim, which I believe you are, then no remuneration is necessary."

"I must insist. It is bad luck to not provide exchange," Mister Johnson said.

"This is my sash ID number," Mister Fixer said. He slid forward a datachip. "A unique sash achievement icon is all that is necessary."

Mister Johnson nodded. "I will design it myself."

"Good outcomes," the big one said, standing up.

"Good hunting," Mister Johnson said.

He watched the big Lanaktallan leave, then reached out and took the three data containers. He looked at the Telkan, who was watching the crowd with narrowed eyes.

"Once I finish my drink, we will leave."

The Telkan said nothing, just nodded.

The Boss knew what he was doing.

-----

The Boss had worked for nearly two weeks straight, often falling asleep at his keyboard or workstation. When, if, he ate, it was with one hand in the holographic keyboard, watching the streams of data go by. Half the time when he slept he would suddenly bolt upright, summon up a holographic keyboard and a datastream, and work for several hours till he went back to sleep. He wrote code, examined code from other sources, read the Gestalt logs carefully, using search systems to find keywords he was looking for.

There was an argument between The Boss and the Head of Security over the stims when they ran out.

The Head of Security lost.

Somehow The Boss had acquired Confederate Armed Services stims designed for Lanaktallan and started using those.

He lost weight. His glossy pelt became dull and disheveled.

Still he worked.

The Telkan jumped, pulling his pistol half out of the holster, when The Boss suddenly leaped to his feet.

"SCIENCE!" he proclaimed, lifting his one arm into the air and pointing at the ceiling.

-----

The computer whirred to life.

The shade leaped out of the holoemitter and was immediately disposed of as the computer shut off and went through a hard power cycle.

It clicked for a moment as it rebooted.

It suddenly began to beep and the holoemitter stayed dark.

"Science," the Lanaktallan whispered, putting his head against the armaglass window and closing his eyes.

-----

Rather than stopping work, The Boss seemed more energized, pushed himself harder.

For three weeks he did nothing but work for days at a time, kept up by a steady diet of stims and NOTAVIRUS.EXE hits.

Finally he got up, closed all his files, shut down the terminal and went outside.

His bodyguards followed him.

He began galloping in a circle around his galloping lawn, going faster and faster, until his tongue hung out and his sides heaved, steaming in the snow.

He stopped in front of the Head of Security, staring at the Telkan.

"You had faith in me, old friend," he said.

The Telkan nodded.

"Your faith shall be rewarded," the Lanaktallan said, his cybereyes clicking. He turned and pointed at the manor. "You shall see."

As the pair moved toward the manor entrance, the Lanaktallan raised one arm up, pointing at the sky with one finger.

"SCIENCE!"

-----

The compute spun up. It beeped several times, then began to chirp and beep.

"Hee-hee," the Lanaktallan chuckled. "It's thinking."

The holoemitter spun up.

The scene of the fleeing beings came up.

Instead of the shades, a round emoji of an angry face chased them.

The Lanaktallan held his breath.

The twenty-two second clip ended after a mob of angry-faces swept by, the shrieking replaced with the sound of a cheap plastic horn honking and a cheap plastic squeaker squeaking.

"SCIENCE!"

-----

The room was different. Full of GalNet repeaters, signal propagation systems, and network backbone architecture equipment.

It was capable of serving an entire hab-block with GalNet access.

The system came online.

Shades exploded from it from every part, screaming.

The power was cut to the hardware and the shades destroyed.

The room was reset.

The GalNet came back online. This time it took a bit longer for the holographic projectors to spin up.

There was silence.

A holographic projector spun up, showing video taken from a retinal link.

Shades exploded from the projector right after they appeared in the hologram.

The power was cut to the equipment.

The shades were destroyed.

The system powered up.

The video appeared. This time with angry-face emojis.

The system shut down.

Software was unloaded.

The system came online.

Shades exploded from the hardware, from the emitters that blinked with "EMERGENCY/GOVERNMENTAL OVERRIDE" labels.

The shades stopped flooding out of the system.

The shades in the holograms flickered and were replaced by angry-face emojis.

The shades in the room were destroyed.

The equipment stayed on.

The Lankallan watching flicked a hardware switch, connecting his keyboard and input devices. A 2.D screen with a disc of microexplosive in each corner flickered to life.

The Lanaktallan quickly went through menus. Played video. Once in a while an angry-face emoji would appear, then vanish.

He shut down the system and stepped back.

"SCIENCE!"

-----

The mansion was deserted except for two beings.

In the depths of the mansion, in the old wine cellar, the Telkan bodyguard, clad in red colored combat armor, tapped the butt of his pistol nervously.

The Boss fired up the system.

It went through the self-tests.

The OS fully came online.

The script ran and the system connected to the ravaged remains of the planetary GalNet.

The Lanaktallan in the room quickly watched videos, booted up forums, cruised the entire thing. The resolution was bad, only 480p, but it was better than nothing.

There was a flicker as the Lanaktallan around in his chair.

The holoemitters had come to life, just as he had ordered.

Standing in the middle of the room was a pretty Terran woman, dressed in a business powersuit of bright pink.

She moved forward, her hips swaying, and stopped in front of the Lanaktallan.

"Did you just clean this section of GalNet, baby?" the Terran asked.

The Lanakalltan nodded.

"How?" she asked.

"SCIENCE!" the Lanaktallan shouted, pointing at the ceiling with one hand.

-----

CYBERNETIC ORGANISM CONSENSUS

If there's a way to clean the pipes, I have no idea.

Just viewing the damn things makes them replicate, and there's too many worlds providing processing power to ensure it happens.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

HAT WEARING AUNTIE

We're already entering a dark age. Thousands of planets are out of contact. We don't know who survived and who didn't.

The Digital Omnimessiah was able to do a lot, but that was to the ones that were outside the system.

We've got to

VIRUS CHECKER ALERT!

HOSTILE FILE INCURSION DETECTED

FILE: DONTDELETEREADFAQ.EXE has been identified as a virus.

Are you going to check that?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CYBERNETIC ORGANISM CONSENSUS

Yeah. Viruses shouldn't be alerting to us.

Let me look at it.

...

Huh, the header is addressed to me.

Let's see. Here's the FAQ. Plaintext. I'll just do a scan without opening it and...

...

...

TELKAN FORGE WORLDS

Are you OK?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

Yeah. Yeah. Sorry.

This is amazing. It's so simple.

I'm scanning the rest of the files.

...

...

TREANA'AD HIVE WORLDS

Well?

Don't keep us in suspense!

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

Yeah, yeah, this'll work. Lemme test it real quick. I'll use a tomb world to try.

...

...

It works!

Daxin's Upraised Middle Finger, IT WORKS!

...

...

DIGITAL ARTIFICIAL SENTIENCE SYSTEMS

What works?

Wait, it's code? Why is it addressed to you and not me?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

...

It's a patch for GalNet and SolNet and ConfedNet. It's an executable, but it's a patch.

HAT WEARING AUNTIE

Nobody's pushed a major patch in hundreds of years.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

...

Well, this guy did.

It uses Confed and Council visual identification software, like facial and body recognition algorithms, top identify a phasic shade. It replaces it in the system with an icon. The icon immediately seems to lose phasic energy. Then the icon is deleted.

It uses an old text based deprecated emoji.

Before you ask: (◣_◢)

Which makes sense. It's a Dokigirlz emoji, and those are backbone.

I'm going to forward it.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

HAT WEARING AUNTIE

Do you think it'll work?

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

CYBERNETIC ORGANSIM CONSENSUS

Yeah, I do.

---NOTHING FOLLOWS---

Pete heard the beeping he had mail from an external source and checked it.

One of the gestalts had sent him a priority message with a bias weight of 0, making it above everything else.

The mail was already locked by the antivirus systems.

There was a note that the attachment was a virus, but to look at it.

Pete took the granola bar out of his mouth and set it down, reaching out and opening the file EGLEET.EXE that had Magician Hat Games ID code on it.

-----

The servants had returned to the mansion with some trepidation. The holoemitters were back on and the computers were on in a lot of places. They were extremely slow, sometimes taking long minutes where it had only taken a fraction of a second.

After it was seen by one of the maids, it went around like wildfire, and more than a few of the servants peeked in to see if it was true.

The Boss was asleep in his sling, breathing slowly and steadily.

The Telkan bodyguard sat in a chair, chin down, breathing slowly, the magac pistol in his hands.

Standing by the sleeping sling was a thing they had not seen since the Shade Night.

A Terran woman in pink.

As one maid watched, the Terran woman reached out and touched The Boss affectionately.

"Good job, Da'amo'o, baby," the Pink Panty Fairy said.