Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The Department of Societal Modeling, Projection, and Eschatology is one of the most secretive of Governance's nominally public operations, which to many makes it one of the most interesting. Besides relatively staid projections of public opinion, mores, and social media trends, the department is also Governance's specialist in far more radical speculation, reaching both far forward in time and far distant in space, drawing on Governance resources and a Governance‐wide pool of researchers, technical experts, and AI simulationists to engage in speculation about alien civilizations, potential human colonies, and deep time.

That alone makes the Department's reports and proceedings fascinating reading, and despite the department's own unwillingness to advertise results and the famously reclusive nature of its Representative, its public output is consumed by a diligent subculture of internet readers and sci‐fi adherents. Moreover, there is considerable speculation and conspiracizing about the supposed existence of non‐public outputs and a classified counterpart to the public department. After all, the topic is of obvious importance, with numerous potentially controversial and sensitive topics.

Unfortunately, when it comes to the Cephalopods, the Department's output has been less than illuminating, with the range of potential societies ranging from the commonly accepted scenario of essentially an extended version of what is encountered on the battlefield, to far more esoteric suggestions involving consciousness uploading, slave species, rogue AI, Incubator meddling, and enough other possibilities to gladden a sci‐fi director's heart. Certainly, it has not been very useful for the war effort, but the department itself insists that this is due to the Cephalopod's secrecy to the point of paranoia, which itself proves how valuable their approach must be.

While this ongoing lack of success has damaged their reputation in the eyes of many, Governance itself has been more understanding, being more attuned to the successes that it has had. In particular, the Department's prewritten plans for the maintenance of public morale and social cohesion across human space during a protracted war have delivered results above expectations. While the general populace has taken unity, mass cooperation, and species‐wide patriotism as almost a given, the truth is these public goods are hard‐won, and have taken considerable effort by Governance to maintain across the scattered Human diaspora.¹

Thus, while the Department's speculative arm has been the one to capture the most public interest and excitement, its outwardly humdrum societal modeling and projections have been the true core of its operations.

¹ Another recent success, the incredibly smooth integration of non‐standard humans into mainstream society, is tainted by the degree to which magical girls embedded in the Department wrote the plans for that themselves.

— Excerpt, A Surface Understanding of Governance

"Physics teaches us that space and time are not really fundamental, that they are only effective descriptions of a deeper reality. But not being fundamental is not the same as not being important, and they are certainly very important to particles, much less sapients."

"One wonders what the Soul thinks of space and time. Perhaps, those few unfortunate enough to be confined into gems are the only ones who must care. Or perhaps that confinement, too, is not really fundamental."

— Joanne Valentin, lecture notes found in personal files

…·We are all in agreement that|…+·all other variables held equal, the preferences of one sapient are objectively no more or less valuable than those of any other|…+·for any sapient, or group of sapients, to subjectively value their interests over those of others is inevitable, even necessary|…+·to value one's interests infinitely over another's is abhorrent, ruinous to any group|…+·to value others' interests infinitely over one's own is abhorrent, ruinous to any person|…∑·Conflict ought not be forbidden, yet ought not be totalizing, whether it be against individual, Tentacle, or alien

— BPtocRC⊃Valued‐Thought, of /Eukleia‐chasing, excerpts of Martial Debate against /Thinker‐preserving

"While each Tentacle is its own independent body with its own values and priorities, and no set of Tentacles forms a fully coherent ideological grouping, for specific topics it is possible to discern dichotomies in Consensus, though more commonly one would find an entire gradient of opinions along an ideological axis. If one imagines projecting the pref‐spec spectrums of the Tentacles of Consensus into an N‐dimensional space, it is even possible to discern some clusters of like‐minded Tentacles. It is along these abstract axes that the politics of Consensus thrums, an idea that is even reified in the physical meeting place of Consensus on Great Sea, where the physical offices of the Tentacles are organized within an undersea sphere according to a three‐dimensional subspace projection, and the virtual offices are organized within an airborne hypersphere according to—"

Okay, okay, stop, Ryouko thought, holding up a hand. That's way too abstract. You're making it sound like math.

It is math, Clarisse thought. But look, I'm preparing this report in various layers and details for different audiences. It's vitally important I get the details down somewhere, and this is as near as I can put it in Standard.

Look, the important thing is that Tentacles can come in groups, especially if you focus on one specific topic, and conducting influence campaigns in Consensus can be done by convincing individual Tentacles in various clusters. Nearby Tentacles need not be contacted, as they will readily use the already convinced Tentacle as a reliable proxy opinion.

That doesn't really sound any simpler than what I said, Clarisse pointed out.

Yeah, if you can naturally visualize N‐dimensional spaces, Ryouko thought, sighing.

Regardless, Governance AIs and Representatives will understand it no matter what, since I don't have to communicate with them in Standard, Clarisse thought. Human language is trickier.

What was important at the moment was that Ryouko understood the reasoning, which had been beamed into her head fully formed by /Ahimsa‐extending. They had left /Somatic‐Diversity via Lush‐Botanist and were bound for /Eukleia‐chasing, another ally of /Thinker‐preserving, and a Tentacle which Ryouko found difficult to understand on more than an intellectual level, especially as the usually adept Thinker telepathy organ had failed to convey exact meanings.

By drawing on historical analogy, Clarisse had helped her to work out much of it. This Tentacle was organized around emphasizing a particular form of ideal Thinker, a personal goal that its members generally agreed to aspire to, and which reflected qualities that were expected to provide value to greater Thinker society, both Tentacle and Consensus. Such a Thinker had many virtues that humans would recognize: trustworthiness, courage, determination in the face of adversity, ability to work with and sacrifice for the group, appreciation of intellectual pursuits, and martial prowess.

Many historical Human cultures had similar ideas, of course, but few took it as far as these Thinkers, for whom it formed the backbone of their society, accounted for in nearly every aspect of governance and daily life. Social prestige, political authority, and material wealth beyond basic comfort were all derived from recorded virtuous accomplishments. The children wrote about it in school, and social gatherings centered on competitions of virtue, another opportunity to demonstrate prowess.

So important was the notion of virtue that it was used to allocate the ultimate status symbol: multiple bodies, a notion that was truly alien to Ryouko's understanding. With the benefit of regular backups and synchronization, it was possible for one Thinker individual to fork over multiple organic forms, live individual lives, and maintain combined continuity. Ryouko couldn't contemplate ever indulging in the practice, but it was considered a privilege: multiple bodies consumed multiple Thinkers' worth of resources, and it took quite a bit of accomplishment to even be given a second. But after that, the higher you got in the upper echelons, the more you had. The idea was that you had proven that you were worth having more of.

The philosophical implications were troubling, and the lack of Thinker concern alien, except that the documentation clearly explained that Thinker science was dead certain about the unified nature of these consciousnesses. This even came with lengthy technical attachments about the nature of telepathy and its connection to sentience and certain design patterns, attachments that Clarisse saved to high‐priority triplicated archive as fast as they arrived. The Thinkers had learned something important about the nature of sentience—as opposed to sapience—an insight that the Incubators likely shared, and it was a little uncomfortable that they had concluded that many animals, including Companion‐Penguins, qualified for the purposes of telepathy and otherwise.

In a word, were they talking about souls?

Fascinating. Disturbing. And yet, Ryouko had to shake all that aside for now.

None of it was the reason Ryouko was here. Instead, that required an explanation of /Eukleia‐chasing's notion of martial prowess. The members of this Tentacle appreciated martial prowess both for its potential value to society—in case of the previously extremely hypothetical situation in which war might be necessary—and as proxy for the other virtues. As such, their society engaged in a significant amount of recreational training and combat, both in VR and in staged events.

Nor was combat wholly confined to modern, or even industrial scenarios. Historical combat was esteemed for its own unique qualities, though it was understood that it would be less applicable in a practical emergency.

Thus, it was not true, to Ryouko's surprise, that warfare was completely irrelevant within Consensus. Serious, existential warfare was preference‐banned, but limited, prearranged warfare, fought within agreed rules to settle a specific dispute, was allowed, though it required an application to Consensus and the consent of both sides. For Tentacles who enjoyed a bit of warfare, remembering always the lack of true death, it was a reasonably common occurrence.

Beyond that, there were even ceremonial wars, wars conducted purely for demonstration or prestige, held within /Eukleia‐chasing or even against Tentacles with similar taste. These were public spectacles for both sides, often conducted with the benefit of memory modification for maximum realism, and performance carried with it immense prestige within /Eukleia‐chasing.

But what part of that made them valuable candidates for Ryouko to visit?

As Survival‐Optimizer had explained it, in some aspects they were very close to /Thinker‐Preserving, particularly when it came to valuing common defense and interest in modern combat, coupled with a persistent concern about extra‐civilizational threats.

But in other aspects they were very different: In terms of treasuring diversity of experience, they were much more like /Somatic‐Diversity and /Ahimsa‐Extending, and their internal philosophy had plenty of room for friendly relations with sapient aliens and a long tradition of detailed thought about the notion of just and unjust war.

That gave plenty of latitude to peel /Eukleia‐chasing and all similar Tentacles away from /Thinker‐Preserving, if only they could be convinced that /Thinker‐preserving was lying and engaged in genocidal war. More than merely peeled away—they would likely be a determined ally. Given recent events, it was also useful that they had more experience with security than /Somatic‐Diversity, and a surprising affinity for military espionage.

It all made sense on paper. The hard part was managing the persuasion.

Ryouko sighed again, leaning back against one of the nearby tentacle poles. Lush‐Botanist had received another upgrade, this time a selection of /Ahimsa‐extending's best shipboard armaments, some of whose designs had been freshly purchased from allied tentacles. Also brought aboard were a few potted plants that Lush‐Botanist had picked up from /Somatic‐diversity's bioengineers, placed onto rolling drones that wandered aimlessly around the small ship.

Ryouko had scanned them for any traces of foreign magic, of course, especially the yellow bamboo‐like one that she had thought might actually be following her around.

In terms of more intelligent companions, /Eukleia‐chasing had asked that the original Thinkers who had captured Ryouko attend, which meant that Peace‐cultivating was back too, this time as only a passenger. Survival‐Optimizer had noted that it was good for the same Thinkers to attend Ryouko, claiming that her pref‐spec desired familiarity. For this reason, there had been one interesting addition to her party as well: Perspective‐pursuer.

The young Thinker had been one of the unfortunate "dead" in the avalanche, one of those Ryouko had failed to rescue. Ryouko had been nervous about meeting her again, but Perspective‐pursuer had waved off any attempt at apology—her bodily death had meant she had gotten the improved humanizing adjustments to her body she wanted, and which Ryouko had permitted, ahead of schedule.

Besides, Perspective‐pursuer was fascinated with Ryouko's heroics, all the more so for the fact that from her point of view they had been foolishly needless.

She had explained it as thus:

μ∈·A few treatise from the early days of Consensus, before backups, extol the sacrifice of self for others|μ∈·There are many Tentacles which encourage self‐sacrificial behavior in theory—/Eukleia‐chasing is one of them|ν⌄·Your own pref‐spec clearly shows that you value the preservation of your life, and Ryouko‐supporting's life, and your mission here, above preventing mere body‐death for Thinkers you scarcely know|ν⌃·Your own pref‐spec clearly shows that you value being emotionally‐driven to the point that you act, as you did, without any rational consideration of your own preferences|ξ?·How does one reconcile fast‐shifting, proximity‐sensitive, self‐contradicting preferences without crippling cognitive whiplash or long‐term insanity|ξ+·A topic of philosophical musing

Not something Ryouko had entirely known how to respond to.

There was another tag‐along that was much easier for her to handle, she thought, casting a glance at Feathered‐Defender. The bird was currently leaning over to squint suspiciously at one of Lush‐Botanist's potted plants. This one had whip‐like thorny leaves that lashed out at those who touched it, and even came with telepathic warnings. Feathered‐Defender was intelligent enough to stay away, but clearly had no understanding why anyone would deliberately bring one with them, let alone let it roll around the ship freely.

Peace‐cultivating had openly considered leaving Feathered‐Defender behind for the trip, out of a concern for his safety, but in the end they—both Peace‐cultivating and Feathered‐Defender—had decided he would go anyway. He had explained the risks to the Feathered‐Defender, that Ryouko and Clarisse might be attacked and that the attacker might kill him in the process, yet the bird still wanted to stick around. It was tough—even the Thinkers couldn't say for sure if he really understood, but in the end /Ahimsa‐extending preferred honoring their companions' wishes. Plus, the penguin had a backup.

Ryouko learned all of this only afterward, and felt guilty that she was happy he had chosen to stay. There were few things for Ryouko to get attached to here, and the companion‐penguin was one of the only creatures that shared her "linear" thinking.

Even Clarisse's newly‐defined pref‐spec agreed on this point, something which seemed to bring her TacComp embarrassment. Ryouko's relationship with Clarisse had always been one‐sided—Clarisse could directly read her mind, while Ryouko couldn't really return the favor. It was uncomfortable to realize that she could get useful information out of Clarisse's pref‐spec, and out of a sense of privacy she had tried to avoid reading it at any length, no matter how much it said about how much she cared for Ryouko, her opinions about Asami, or about Machina…

Not that Clarisse quite agreed. She had read Ryouko's pref‐spec as soon as she had gained her own empathy‐organ, if only to doublecheck what exactly the Thinkers had been getting from her. There was a bit of awkwardness there, in Ryouko's lack of reciprocation.

She felt the slight tug on her soul gem as they exited the last of their wormhole traversal, and let out a small breath.

To say things had gotten more complicated recently was an understatement, yet one that still failed to properly emphasize how complicated things had been already.

After the attack on /Somatic‐Diversity's facility, she and Clarisse had been obliged to divulge yet more information to their hosts née kidnappers. She still couldn't talk about the Incubators, of course, but for security reasons she had to explain the matter of the TCF conspiracy, their repeated assassination attempts against her back home, and their cooperation with /Thinker‐preserving. Now that one or both were using magic to attack her and her allies in Andromeda, the Thinkers needed to know the nature of the threat.

This invited a host of questions she didn't know the answer to, such as how much these enemy humans were working with /Thinker‐preserving and how closely they were aligned… but the real trouble was that the information proved that Humanity didn't control reality‐warping to the degree that Consensus would have liked. On that point, /Thinker‐preserving was right. The only saving grace was that /Thinker‐preserving would be forced to lie about their cooperation with reality‐warpers to Consensus, which paradoxically prevented them from arguing the true depth of the threat to Consensus.

Still, /Thinker‐preserving would likely be informed about Homura's conspiracy by the TCF conspiracy, and would likely bring it up given its role in getting Ryouko to /Ahimsa‐extending in the first place. So, Ryouko had to explain that too, to the extent that she could. Peace‐cultivating had asked several follow‐up questions about "Akemi‐Homura⊃Divine‐seeking", which had the awkward effect of revealing that Ryouko and Clarisse were not on particularly good terms with her.

Then there was the matter of the Thinkers affected by a demon spawn that Yuma and Kyouko had seen on a supply cruiser. Ryouko avoided discussing the demons directly, as they were core to the secrets of reality‐warping "technology", but did explain that humans suspected that some members of /Thinker‐preserving had emotions due to their reaction to a certain form of reality‐distortion. It was conceivable that /Thinker‐preserving had even been experimenting with reality‐warping itself—enough to create, for instance, a bomb.

Imprecations on the most indirect of evidence, Survival‐Optimizer pointed out, and she had to agree, especially as she admitted she was still reserving secrets about magic.

That might have been her right, but Peace‐cultivating had pressed her on the point, noting that any information she could share about human interactions with reality‐warping would be useful, both in clarifying how they handled its downsides and in dispelling any sense that Ryouko was hiding information in bad faith.

In particular, he was deeply curious about the part of Ryouko and Clarisse's preferences that indicated a confusing religion‐of‐reality‐distortion, one presumably shared by Divine‐seeking.

Perspective‐pursuer had even chimed in to ask about that as well.

Ryouko and Clarisse had managed to avoid opening that can of worms, at least for the moment. There wasn't an immediate security angle, so the excuse was that they needed more time to consider what they could share.

All of it made for an enormous mess that Ryouko had trouble keeping track of herself—and now she had to explain it to someone else.

Their rendezvous with /Eukleia‐chasing would be at their local wormhole transit station, Honored Exchange, also apparently the site of many war negotiations. There, they would be welcomed by GhLg2XT⊃Sharp‐Resonance, one of /Eukleia‐chasing's five rotating Consuls—a term Clarisse had chosen by analogy—and a top performer in five of the last eight ceremonial wars. Her thought‐composition‐gesture‐poems were also highly‐regarded in the Tentacles that cared about that sort of thing, and she had the maximum allocation of twelve bodies.

In all her preparatory study, Ryouko had somehow neglected to review aesthetics, so she found herself briefly taken aback when they exited the airlock into an atrium she could have mistaken for a Thinker museum. Gently undulating travertine columns alternated with larger‐than‐life granite carvings of tentacled aliens in various lifelike or stylized poses, some of it familiar—it was hard to misunderstand the purpose of an armored warrior thrusting a long spear, however the warrior was shaped—and some quite exotic, such as the diamond‐shaped silhouette that seemed more optical illusion than object.

The ground and ceiling were traced with glimmers of light that resolved into mosaics of Thinker life, and telepathic whispers seemed almost too keen to inform Ryouko of the provenance of every carved wall and decoration, each of which seemed to be the work of individual Thinker artisans. This was a profusion of art that Ryouko would not have credited to an unemotional species.

It was also a profusion of security. Ryouko could see quite a few of the compact‐fluctuation‐sensors that the Thinkers used to detect reality‐warping distributed throughout the area, and sensed a fusillade of active sensors roaming over her skin too. Protection from her, or for her? It could easily be both.

At the end of the hallway, Sharp‐Resonance stood waiting, tentacle‐arms extended and draped with gold‐trimmed cloth. Criss‐crossing bands of color marked out her achievements and social status, some unfurling themselves as her eyes traced them. Just as she had read, and this Thinker's incredibly exalted status meant that her garments were ornate indeed.

Only one of her bodies was present, surprisingly, but on reflection it did seem like having more than one of her here would be a bit redundant.

Sharp‐Resonance began addressing Ryouko even as she and Survival‐Optimizer trod their way past stone and light to the appointed position.

ৡ※·Welcome, honored guests|ν∀·We have long anticipated a meeting with one of your species, though we admit we expected it be after your defeat under the arms of /Thinker‐Preserving|ν+·That they have failed to do so is no doubt a testament to the valor of your species, and of you yourself|μ+?·You are a warrior yourself, are you not|μ∀·We have much we want to learn about you

Ryouko had anticipated this, having familiarized herself with /Eukleia‐chasing's introduction practices, which involved a rehearsed description of one's most choice accomplishments and deeds. This was despite everyone involved being perfectly capable of referencing the Thinker equivalent of a nomenclator.

Though Ryouko supposed she herself was a special case, since no Thinker nomenclator could yet know all her secrets.

So, Ryouko spent a few minutes listing out all that she had done that she had already admitted to /Ahimsa‐extending—which included her involvement in the destruction of the pulsar mines, her contributions to wormhole research, and her participation in Battle of Orpheus, including sending /Thinker‐preserving's fleet home, though she was careful to emphasize that this was not in her usual range of powers. She also recounted saving the life of one of her mentors on X‐25, and the adoption into her family of another reality‐warper she had saved there, though not the nature of the experiments she had put to an end.

Technically, her accomplishments also included being the first Human to venture beyond the Milky Way, though that was rather less than her own doing.

One novel aspect to the introduction was that she was also obligated to report her social standing in her home community. This unfortunately obliged her to disclose her status as the Hero of Orpheus, the following popularity of the movie Orpheus, and also her role as something of a religious figure among a subset of magical girls, even if it was one she rejected. It also had her list any notable mentors or students, or lack thereof, as well as, bizarrely, the count of mutually‐affirmed friendships she had.

In general, /Eukleia‐chasing's strong preference for honesty made trouble for her. She had to append several caveats about having left out certain sensitive parts of her life story, and several more about how she didn't know how she was viewed now back home, and that there was some mistrust about her rapid rise in power and influence, her unusual genetic engineering, and her connections to magical girl religion, especially thanks to the TCF conspiracy.

She also listened to Sharp‐Resonance list her own accomplishments, and Ryouko was surprised to hear the alien also list some of the accomplishments of her children. On reflection this made sense; /Eukleia‐chasing cared rather more about genetic progeny than either of the previous Tentacles she had visited. Checking Clarisse's research quickly, she learned that not only were parents here more heavily involved in tracking and raising their offspring, they were also prone to claiming reflected credit for their children's achievements. Notably, bragging about one's ancestors was not done, unless you had actually been involved in their achievements.

Then, in turn, Clarisse was asked to list her accomplishments, even if much of it was through Ryouko, as a companion and advisor.

μ∪·That is not something to be held in low account, given your unfortunate circumstances|ν·The need for a technologically and materially weaker species to resort to unethical or unsafe measures out of perceived self‐defense requirement is something we have sought to avoid in our war simulations, and why we have repeatedly advised for a quick end to the conflict|ν+·We have feared for a while now that, given their unlimited view of war aims, /Thinker‐preserving was not the right Tentacle to prosecute this intervention, even apart from Humanity‐preserving's allegations|μ∪಄?·Is the sculptor not superior to the sculpture

As always, the Thinkers communicated circuitously, but she was more ready for this now. In this case, Sharp‐Resonance was displaying a casual dismissal of Humanity's abilities that might have been galling—suggesting that a different Tentacle might have been able to end the war quickly, presumably with a quick and gruesome defeat for Governance. But the attitude was everywhere amongst the Thinkers, and it really wasn't her diplomatic place at the moment to call it out.

More interesting than that was the clear note of discord with /Thinker‐preserving.

Clarisse then explained her social standing—famous through Orpheus and a certain religious authority, suspect due to her unusual origins and influence, not unlike Ryouko—though Ryouko was surprised to hear Clarisse had only five friends. Didn't she talk to other AIs? Ryouko had always been under the impression Clarisse was more social than she was.

She really ought to look at her pref‐spec…

After a moment, the alien signaled, and a number of security guards appeared from around the corner, conspicuously armed. Again, Ryouko had been warned in advance, but it was still a bit unnerving.

Sharp‐Resonance got down to business:

μ·Humanity‐preserving, your history marks you as one to be feared and respected ≈ Besmircher's‐Bane, provided what you say is truthful|ν·There is no need to prevaricate on the central dispute|ν⌃·You are lying|ν⌄·/Thinker‐preserving is lying|ν∪·A Tentacle lying to that extent violates Consensus bounds and should be impossible|ν∪·The principles of least‐surprise and shortest‐computing‐algorithm suggest you should be lying

||ν·Yet Tentacles we respect suggest otherwise, which we are not so foolish as to ignore||ξ·You must understand, an alien engaging in dishonesty and perfidy for the sake of a war is not to be disrespected, and we would still honor your achievements, even if posthumously|ξ·You must understand, a Tentacle that has breached Consensus containment will be either forced‐pref‐spec‐altered or eliminated—this is no small sin, and has not been witnessed since Consensus's first millenium

So far, so expected, and indeed they wouldn't have even agreed for Ryouko to come if this general opinion hadn't been telegraphed in advance. The real question was what to do about it.

Survival‐Optimizer stayed silent, remaining a few steps behind Ryouko. In this Tentacle Ryouko was expected to speak and represent herself, as much as possible.

μ·I am glad I have made a positive impression on you||||νξ·Your position is understood, and understandable|ν?·What could be done to meaningfully sway your, and your Tentacle's, evaluation of the situation

μ·A clever restatement||ν·You are a being of many secrets ≈ an ocean trench, that much is quite clear from what has been shared with us||ν·Secrets in war are necessary, but that does not change the fact that they are an impediment to peace|ν∵·Your species has more than enough technology to store and transmit your life's journey, filtered as it must be through your species' conventions and your unique neurology

Here the alien did not ask, only imply, a behavior Survival‐Optimizer had once described as leaving a problem for the listener to work through on their own to illustrate a point, and it even came with its own telepathic marker. This behavior varied heavily among tentacles, but /Eukleia‐chasing was fond of it, often using it to politely to test their listeners on their comprehension. Here Ryouko suspected it was more a test of her broader contextual awareness, as well as of her reaction.

|||||ν∴·You expect that examining my memories would increase your trust in me Ryouko replied, already trying to think through the implications and what she could, and couldn't share. Was it possible to avoid sharing details and thoughts about Incubators? About demons, or about wishes? Or even just what she preferred to keep private?

||ν·More than that, we would like to hear you relate your exploits in a narrated‐fully‐contextual‐memory‐replay (Kathan)—it is our tradition to have distinguished persons relay and explain their memories, so that all may understand and appreciate|ν·The many constraints of physical reality and logical connectivity make memory sequences very difficult to convincingly fabricate—a meaningful lie must metastatize or be discovered, yet at length its growth also becomes fatal to the deceit|ν+·Such a gesture would enlighten us to your perspective and sincerity, and also allow us to conduct a form of authentication|ν+·If it were possible to falsify a Kathan, then nothing at all could be trusted, a form of nihilism we strive to preclude

Ryouko was encouraged on a separate channel to review the technical details more formally. It turned out a Kathan—actually a term Clarisse had coined on the spot—encompassed all the senses, contained some measure of the narrator's thoughts, and even included a real‐time pref‐spec readout, all for the benefit of the listeners. Ryouko would have the opportunity to censor what she wanted, but such a thing would be noted on the record.

At first, Ryouko was confused why the Thinkers would trust such a thing, but on reflection, it made more sense. Without magic, false memories really did tend to be weak—the clones on X‐25 exemplified that. The key, though, was the Thinker empathy‐organ—specifically, its audit trail of preference calculations and its pref‐spec changelog—which couldn't be falsified at all without magic. In order to relate a series of false memories of any import, you would have to construct an alternate, precise explanation for your own preferences at all times.

But it wasn't as perfect a proof as she would have liked: Ryouko's empathy‐organ had been incomplete until her capture, with no audit trail or changelog from before then. Moreover, she did have magic, and they had no way of knowing she couldn't fake her own memories.

So in a way, /Eukleia‐chasing was asking for a lot of information from her, when it wouldn't even go that far to prove her case. Yet if she refused, it would still look quite suspicious.

Sharp‐Resonance mentioned none of that, instead watching her intently. She was meant to draw her own conclusions.

It was maddening, but by now she had plenty of experience with constrained situations. There was always room to maneuver.

μ·Anything I could do to be more convincing is worthwhile||ν·Then I would welcome the opportunity|ν·I ask that my Kathan be monitored by compact‐fluctuation‐sensors to prove I am not using reality‐distortion to mislead|ν?·I am not familiar with the process, or what I can do to prepare, or if my neurology is compatible—how can I learn|ν·I ask that my Kathan be attended by delegations from other Tentacles, so that your ritual may convince them as well

μ●· ≈ the wisdom of the eel, appropriate||ν·It is agreed|ν·Accepted, though we would have insisted ourselves|ν·We have already asked /Somatic‐Diversity to work through the remaining technical constraints—much of the work is already handled by your empathy‐organ, and I will help guide you through preparation, as I would do for any Thinker preparing for their first time|ν∀·Allow us to briefly consider your request

It was… an interesting affair she was throwing herself into. She would normally have hesitated to distribute any sample of her memories within even a group of human strangers, much less here. But the circumstances and incentives were different, and she at least had the chance to censor.

Sharp‐Resonance thought:

|ξ+·I have some gifts for you|||μ·There is no need to extend this topic further for now, I will meet with you again|ν∀·Accepted, I will arrange the particulars with Survival‐Optimizer

The gift‐giving, at least, Ryouko had been told to expect, and she waited in place politely—did the Thinkers care about such things? Well, she felt more comfortable this way—as one of their guards stepped forward with an object wrapped in green cloth that, when unwrapped, proved to be a small scabbard, smooth and white, made with what looked like mother‐of‐pearl.

Sharp‐Resonance then unsheathed the dagger itself, a seemingly simple steel affair, sharp and straight, of the type that Thinkers had once targeted each other's ganglia with. It was, in fact, anything but: while the scabbard was labeled with the name of an artisan, like the statues, the dagger itself was a pure piece of technology, shimmering with the same atomically precise spectral glow as the narration orb she had seen in /Somatic‐diversity's lab. This time, it wasn't meant for her to read: it was the answer to an encryption riddle, one that gave her diplomatic privileges.

After holding it to the light for Ryouko, the Thinker sheathed the dagger, handing the scabbard to her with two tentacles. Ryouko accepted, attaching it to a loop she had tied to her waist just for this.

But Sharp‐Resonance had said more than one gift, and now came something else, something that had not been prearranged.

This was no marvel of technology, but intricate nonetheless—a silken cloth of interlaced gold, lilac, and green, the last in a way that shimmered a color reminiscent of her soul gem—or of Thinker ichor, she supposed. Made for her arrival, apparently, and meant to be worn over the shoulders, like a capelet.

The crafting notes explained that the design was an ornamental version of a weather cape popular on many /Eukleia‐chasing worlds, and marked the wearer out as a combat veteran, worthy of instructing others. The interlaced pattern was an innovation; normally one color denoted prestige, and the other identity, but in this case two identity colors were needed. The choice of lilac for Clarisse had come, of course, from her pref‐spec.

Survival‐Optimizer commented privately:

∪·A warning: that gift is an honor‐responsibility—those with lower combat merits will likely ask for instruction and sparring, and it would reflect poorly to refuse|∪·This is also a test

Technically, Ryouko had that information on hand in her files, but neither she nor Clarisse had grasped the key point quite so quickly.

Sharp‐Resonance raised one arm tentacle, pointing broadly upward. Clarisse translated the gesture as "Now you understand".

ৡ…·Many will be eager to see how you both perform in a spar, but we have made clear to aspirants that|…+·it is not just overambitious but forbidden to request you be allowed to reality‐warp in a fight|…+·your resources and willingness to fight are limited|…+·despite your dual nature, only one combatant may challenge you at a time|…+·no fights to the death are permitted, as you both lack backups

Ryouko considered the notion for a moment. It was an interesting, strangely‐textured idea for Clarisse to be challenged to a duel, but not entirely inadmissible. But how would that even work? Have Clarisse use her body? Only fighting together really made sense, she thought. What did Clarisse think about fighting, anyway?

I don't relish combat for its own sake, Clarisse thought, drolly. But I do have plenty of algorithms for it.

|·Unfortunately, any degree of combat performance on my part requires some amount of reality‐warping, as my body operates that way naturally||·We've fought more than one Thinker at once before, we think two would be fair|

Though, she thought to herself, there was the phenomenon of her teleportation being weaker of late. Perhaps she shouldn't be so confident.

Sharp‐responance replied simply:

|·We are aware of this, and will tolerate it—simply refrain from summoning weapons or wormholes||·We will ponder other, better arrangements for combat, but no solution is fully adequate|·For now, we must arrange for you to attend diplomatic preliminaries shortly

There was a moment of silence, the quartet of sapients regarding each other, Ryouko casting her eye back and forth between the two principal Thinkers. She suspected they were communicating privately about protocol.

At length, Sharp‐Resonance gestured, pointing Ryouko and Clarisse to their quarters on the station, in a diplomatic sector isolated from civilians. She would be expected to meet the /Eukleia‐chasing public at some point. Just not yet—there remained security arrangements to be negotiated.

In light of recent events, Asami had expected it to be difficult to convince the Task Force to let her go much of anywhere at all. She had prepared her counterpoints: that even Adept Blue hadn't been safe and needed to make repairs before she could work there, that the TCF conspiracy would expect them to hide her away, and so on.

She had grown convinced she was going to spend the next few months as human backup analyst, gaining new perspective on Ryouko's wanderlust, right up until she opened her next set of orders and discovered Kyouko was sending her out deep into the colonies: a mission to Zhou Meiqing's family compound, of all places.

There, the surviving branches of the Zhou Matriarchy had insisted on maintaining their own local copies of the family records, independent of the main MSY archives, which had already been searched backwards and forwards.

Of course, everything that might have been pertinent to the topic of interest, Zhou Zhi Yi's faction, should have been seized and transcribed centuries ago in the afterglow of the Unification Wars, supplemented since with regular uploads back to Earth. However, with the recent revelation of the TCF breach, secure and regular uploads could no longer be considered quite so secure.

What could possibly be of relevance in such records? It was hard to say, but everything needed to be checked. Detailed audits of all datasets downstream of TCF AIs were still underway, and the Zhou family records had been moved way up in priority.

But there was real concern that a remote audit wasn't secure enough, not if there were, for instance, malevolent magical actors in the immediate vicinity.

So a physical audit team had been assembled to ensure security on‐site. With the participation of Zhou Meiqing, herself a Task Force member, it could even be plausibly disguised as a family visit, as long as she only brought friends.

What else can you tell me? Simona asked.

The designation of "friend" could, of course, be quite flexible.

Auntie Shu is most particular about her hospitality, particularly when younger relatives are involved, Zhou Meiqing said, clasping her hands. She won't like showing it, but it will really bother her if you don't eat a lot, so make sure to give things a good working over. She got really into cooking during her youth.

Useful information, Simona commented vaguely. But I've been meaning to ask: 'Auntie'?

The word had been transferred in audible Standard, rather than any of the other modalities telepathy was capable of.

That's what she prefers in Standard, Meiqing thought. And most of you aren't really Mandarin speakers so…

The only other Mandarin speaker was Li Pan, one of Meiqing's distant cousins who was also a Task Force barrier generator—not to mention, over a hundred years older than the rest of them, which created a bit of social distance between them. She was also much meeker than Asami expected of someone her age.

They had all been briefed on the basics before they had even landed on‐planet. Shortly after the completion of Project Janus, more than half of the Zhou Matriarchy had left Earth, emigrating away from post‐war suspicion and hostility by volunteering for the more difficult parts of the First Colonization Wave.

It had been a hard time, with the matriarchy itself on the verge of dissolving, its founding matriarch and distinguished name disgraced. The migration had emerged from bitter internal disputes over how to restore the family's honor, or if the attempt should be made at all. Eventually a branch family seized control of the Zhou family seal and, propagating the notion that they had been the real Matriarchy all along, made for the stars.

The gamble worked: in space they prospered, especially with the onset of the Second Colonization Wave, and those members of the family who still wished to be associated with the name eventually agreed to site a central compound on the planet Sarnath. By then, most of the Earth‐bound Zhou had renounced their name.

Of course, most members of the family still resided elsewhere, wherever they had worked so hard to settle. On Sarnath, most opted for maintaining vacation homes for family events and casual trips. Only a few stayed full‐time, and those had rotated in and out over the years. Among those was Zhou Shu, "Auntie Shu", an elder who had been a teenager during the pivotal Fifth World War period of the Unification Wars.

Sarnath was not a bad place for a vacation compound. Its main landmass was a supercontinent, with a central desert whose size greatly dwarfed anything found on Earth. Its endless yellow dunes, tinged with a hint of copper‐green, drew trekkers from across human space, inspired to embark on the kind of epic desert journey that was only casually possible with modern implants, a planetary internet, and the emergency supply caches maintained by the Zhou.

And if that wasn't your speed, the environment near the coast was quite hospitable, and there was plantation tourism to be had in the booming tropical and desert agricultural sector, powered by cheap solar energy and a freshly‐completed planetary water management system.

The Zhou family compound, however, was firmly on the "desert" side of the ecosystem.

The dunes spun into the distance endlessly as their vehicle pressed forward, and a glance backward made quite clear that they had been driving on a single narrow ribbon of road for far longer than really seemed reasonable, unappreciative of the subtle high technology it took to maintain a clear, straight, and paved roadway in an environment like this.

Frankly, Asami felt a little dizzy just looking at it, but at least Simona and the others were enjoying themselves. It was Simona who had insisted on going by land, to see the desert, and who had insisted on making the drive herself. She and Azrael had maintained a surprising degree of conversation, the upshot of which was that Azrael was impressed enough to consider flying some extended routes around the desert.

Now they were starting to climb, the roadway making its way up one of the bigger topological features they had encountered, a rocky ridge that seemed to jut straight out of the sand. Simona frowned over the wheel as the road started to twist this way and that, and Asami wondered if they really should have let her drive.

But she stopped worrying about that when they finally mounted the ridge, and the Zhou family compound appeared below them.

It appeared as a mirage in the sand, a square‐walled complex a dozen buildings wide, firmly rooted in the desert behind high sandstone walls whose very presence seemed to hold the desert back. Within, tropical green gardens and clear‐blue water heightened the oasis effect, ruined only slightly by the motley assortment of buildings, which couldn't make up their mind between desert‐sandstone, Chinese oriental, or Governance modern.

They tilted slightly downward, aiming towards the now visible gate at the kind of speed only a magical girl was really comfortable with. Asami's mental overlay made clear that at the moment almost no one was home: only Auntie Shu herself, and Zhou Yanlou, who was visiting with his four kids while his wife was away. Notably, none of the guests were magical girls, and were in fact currently out on a days‐long safari in the desert. They had the place to themselves.

Just as Asami started to feel a tinge of concern, Simona slowed down, and by the time they approached the large metal gate they were at a crawl. From here, the once‐tiny gate looked large and imposing, almost foreboding. At this range, it was possible to tell that it was scan‐shielded, and made of some ridiculously strong composite that would have been more appropriate in a starship hull.

It creaked open as they approached, a blend of high‐tech implant‐based identity verification and the low‐tech‐seeming metal actuators that operated the mechanism.

Now they drove straight to Auntie Shu's central residence, past the tall alien succulents and lush greenery they had seen from above. They pulled to a stop next to a koi pond, the Earth fish swimming languidly to the surface to solicit food as they stepped out, and there they saw Auntie Shu.

Being in Auntie Shu's presence was a strange experience. She affected a physical appearance of around thirty, but like all her age she felt older. It came as no surprise, then, that when she walked down towards them, they all gave way, the generation gap visible in their spacing.

Then she wrapped Meiqing and Pan up in warm hugs that belied their relative ages, and the spell broke for a while.

It was difficult to believe that according to the files, she had served her own recent stints in combat, and even had a few Governance decorations to her name, including the coveted Samantha Ashmore Memorial Award for Exceptional Count in Kills, or SAMAECK for short. The Zhou were important enough players in the local interstellar single‐currency zone that she was given occasional leave to manage affairs, but it seemed she had refused anything more permanent.

Shu's residence looked from the outside like a sunny modern bungalow that wouldn't have looked out of place on most colony worlds, or indeed in many rural parts of Earth, and it seemed well‐suited for her individualistic, combat‐rotation lifestyle. Though as they all well knew, as the primary caretaker of the whole compound, her residence was situated right on top of the area's main servers and archival storage.

The interior reflected its owner, oriental mirrors hanging in the atrium leading into a living area filled with colonial knick‐knacks on dark local‐wood furniture. Beyond that, they were led into a small dining area, where a selection of military memorabilia held pride of place: flat holograms of combat teams and squadmates, mundane and otherwise, as well as a discreet case of decorations off to the side.

That gave them something to look at as they took their seats around a small sitting table, drones whisking in cups of warm tea and an assortment of snacks derived from a local beetle. None of them turned up their noses—they had eaten plenty worse in combat training, and the insect snacks turned out to have a nutty, crispy flavor.

At length, they got to business.

"No one ever looks at the old records," Shu said, cradling her cup of tea in both hands. "It's all a nasty business. I was only a teenager myself, when we heard that they had broken into Zhi Yi's mountain stronghold. You can't imagine what it was like. Still, it's all been in the main records on Earth, and has been for centuries. Not sure what value there could possibly be in meddling with them."

The Earth records in question—which they had already looked through, sealed and unsealed—made clear that Shu's loyalties had been under serious question at the time, and not without good reason. But with the passage of time and a clear shift in behavior, it had seemed picayune for the MSY to keep holding it against her.

"It's just a bit of due diligence, Auntie," Meiqing said. "We'll run the TCF audit, then we'll be out of your hair. And, really, it's the new records that are more likely to be altered."

Shu's eyes flashed something unreadable, but her response was neutral:

"If there's anything in there, be sure to let me know. Not sure there's anything but a few family tidbits. No one's shown much interest in us in centuries."

Asami glanced at Azrael, who sipped at her tea carefully, looking impassive. She was their group telepath, and supposed to monitor for signs of deception or anything else unusual.

But if something was up, she certainly wasn't telling anyone.

"Great snacks, reminds me of chitters back home," Azrael said, picking up a cracker that practically exploded when she bit into it. "Of course, that makes sense if you think about it."

To Asami's surprise, Shu seemed to perk up a little.

"How was that? I apologize if it brings back bad memories, but—"

"No, it's alright. I'm happy to talk about my home planet."

Meiqing excused the rest of them, and Shu waved them on, adding by telepathy that she would come help them if there was any trouble. Asami had expected her to help them with the records or hover over them while they were reading, but instead Shu seemed more interested in learning about Terra Roja.

Despite her history, it seemed faintly ridiculous to suspect Meiqing's "Auntie Shu", decorated war veteran, of anything untoward, especially for the scantest of reasons, but the spate of recent attacks had shown that they had to be wary of almost anything. One team had discovered that their grief cube shipment had already been used, spawning a horde of demons once delivered. Another at the front lines had had a local drone complement turned against them. An assassination attempt by cloaked explosive had even been made against Clarisse van Rossum, though she had detected and disarmed the bomb by herself.

There hadn't been another attack by magical drones with soul gems, though. It seemed the TCF conspiracy wasn't willing to risk their operatives again so soon.

Asami and the others moved to the kitchen area, near the entrance to the subterranean servers. Here, when they needed, they could access the authoritative version of the Zhou family archives, kept on a set of data crystals housed in cold storage.

But first, they would check the data on the local server, accessible by a standard thought terminal from anywhere in the house, including right where they were standing.

Much of this process would be thoughtless and automatic, at least for them, a distant Governance AI—"Validatorix" as he liked to call himself—handling the grunt work of inspecting the local codebase and records at length.

Asami spent a few seconds peering at the simple kitchen and low‐grade synthesizer, thinking about how much it reminded her of her time with Ryouko on Eurydome—though urban Eurydome had much better access to synthesizer feedstock.

To her surprise, she barely had time to finish that thought before their AI started reporting anomalies. There were discrepancies between the local and remote event logs, though even automated analysis quickly indicated that the actual anomalies were… at best eclectic, but generally of little interest. Local events and birthdays, incidents with wildlife—but why had all of this been altered in the uploads to Earth? Why would their TCF conspiracy enemies bother?

And it probably was them. Some software checks attested as much—though technically anyone with magic might have caused these anomalies. It was at the very least deliberate.

If I were trying to hide a key data manipulation, something incriminating, and I knew for sure someone would eventually spot it, one thing I might try is burying it under a mountain of unrelated noise, Simona mused. Somewhere in here might be something important—a circumstantial clue, or a suspicious incident.

Validatorix continued his work, even as he requisitioned additional AI support to study the anomalous findings. Their job would be tough: there was no guarantee a compromised AI hadn't been used to generate the noise in the first place, in which case it might be impossible to crack without magic.

While they waited, they relayed their findings to Azrael. Asami let Simona bite the bullet and ask what they were all wondering.

So do you think Shu has anything to do with this?

No, I don't, Azrael thought. I've had plenty of time to probe her mind, and she hasn't even resisted me, though I'm sure she knows I'm there. I haven't found anything.

Should we ask her about it, then? Pan thought, hesitantly.

Risky, obviously, Simona thought. But it may provoke a response. And there's plenty of us and only one of her.

I would hesitate to be that confident about our ability to defeat her, Azrael thought. But I think you're right on the whole. Let's bring it up to her. First, let's regroup.

As the most experienced and highest‐ranking operative of the group, they deferred to her, even as Meiqing made an unhappy noise, fiddling with her disguised combat equipment. It was presumably not pleasant to ponder the possibility of a treasured family member going rogue. Or worse, having always been rogue.

They made their way back to the sitting area, where Shu was visibly perturbed by what they told her, smiling thinly and shaking her head.

"I can't imagine how such a thing could be possible. Or rather, I don't know who would bother, other than to piss me off. Those are precious family memories! But nothing scandalous or of political import. I've read the things. I might be the only one who has. You are sure, right?"

They all glanced at Meiqing, who looked as uncomfortable as she'd ever seen her.

"I mean, it's automatic, AI verified. We haven't checked cold storage yet, though."

"Maybe we should," Azrael said, tilting her head. "But for now, would you like to take a look yourself? Maybe you'll remember something that could help us."

"I'll be glad to reminisce a bit. And let's just start heading for cold storage."

They followed Shu back towards the kitchen, Meiqing and Pan looking visibly relieved that Azrael had taken the lead on talking.

There was no need to actually walk to the kitchen, of course, other than to possibly access cold storage, and they weren't even there before Shu reacted to some of the downloaded files.

No, absolutely not! she thought. Many of these events are pure fabrications. And some of these dates are wrong, or rearranged, if I compare them to my own NeverForget memories. And I'm pretty sure I haven't been tampered with myself… right?

Not that I can tell, Azrael said, plainly, before the others had even digested the statement.

Shu looked rather relieved.

This probably isn't the most diplomatic thing to be saying in your presence, but I've never been fond of that aspect of telepathy magic. It's just—

They all sensed the incoming threat before they saw it, but Shu reacted faster than any of them, lunging downward to grab the incoming object even as it shimmered into existence, a grapefruit‐sized silver orb out of place among the dark wooden floorboards.

They were supposed to be ready for ambushes, but this was so sudden that there seemed little for the others to do but to dive for cover. That was what Asami did, anyway, projecting a wall of gravity in front of her even as she began her transformation. The others had similar ideas, but then Shu reached into the orb, picking out a piece with one hand and hurling it into the ceiling, where it seemed to vanish.

Only then did Asami's tactical modules catch up, and she remembered that Shu's magic involved intangibility—according to the delayed combat log, Shu had thrust her hand into the device, interrupting its detonation long enough for her to find the explosive charge and extract it—avoiding the pitfalls of needing to identify the trigger mechanism. It was a trick that had served her well on a few occasions, though they were lucky the bomb's detonation method was wholly conventional—it was possible to sense traces of magic in its composition, purpose unclear. Perhaps a stealth mechanism for Governance scanners?

There was little time to reflect on the matter, as the shudder of a nearby explosion shook the ground. The white walls of the kitchen cracked but did not crumple, reinforced by Pan's waving‐curtain barrier just in time. Still, it helped that Shu's residence was far more heavily reinforced than most dwellings.

Which didn't mean it was reinforced enough to survive an anti‐personnel explosive deposited directly into the room they had been sitting in, ten meters and one wall away.

"My house!" Shu screamed, golden costume seeming to tremble with rage. She took one step forward, glanced backward, then darted forward, straight through barrier, wall, and the still‐ongoing collapse of part of the roof.

The electronic explanation for her actions arrived at the same time: She was going to use her stealth to scout ahead and hopefully discover an avenue of counterattack.

By now it was clear that someone was teleporting explosives to their location. Pan's curtains could counteract that, and could even redirect teleports, but Shu was right: staying still was a losing play. Especially as they didn't know the nature of the other magical powers arrayed against them.

They could all feel the multiple sources of magic outside, though.

The group quickly reached a consensus that they were likely dealing with drones similar to those that had ambushed Simona on Persepolis, verified by direct observation from Shu only moments later. Azrael's TacComp had forwarded Shu an explanation of the magic‐drone threat only seconds earlier, as part of a general, contingency update—Shu was only now need‐to‐know on Task Force Monteagle intel.

There were about ten drones whose powers they had yet to verify, though it was safe to assume a teleporter and some kind of electronics specialist. Their magic felt weaker than fully‐embodied magical girls, which Simona noted was consistent with her experience last time.

Shu then elaborated in combat protocol: There's jamming over the whole area—even the underground land lines are out, which has got to be magic. It's not like help could reach us here anyway, they must not want information about them getting out. If we flee, we might force them out of their prepared positions and into pursuit.

Keep scouting them for now while heading outward, Azrael thought, delivering the instructions with combat telepathy. Without a teleporter we're not as mobile as they are; we can assume this is a hunter‐killer squad, like Simona faced before, well‐suited to pursuit. You'll have to tell us what powers we're dealing with, and then we'll counterattack.

Shu was technically higher‐ranked, but accepted the countermand without fuss. Azrael's years of experience with rogue colonies meant that she was the expert in mage‐against‐mage combat.

The ensuing commands were nonverbal: Pan and Asami would go one way, and Azrael would go with Meiqing another, approaching the drones from opposite directions, preventing them from being targeted by a single explosive or attack. Both pairs included a barrier generator sufficient to provide a modicum of defense. Simona would stay behind and out of sight, covering them from range, after having given everyone a temporary burst of power enhancement.

The hardest part would be simply crossing the half a kilometer or so to the enemy drones, particularly when the drones might simply retreat and maintain their distance.

This was the first time Asami had entered real combat since the pulsar jumpstrike. Strangely, she wasn't nearly as scared this time, despite the combat algorithms informing her that she was in comparable danger: caught in an ambush, outnumbered nearly two‐to‐one by enemy magical girls, no electronics specialist like Patricia to block drone‐to‐drone communications.

Perhaps she was just sure she would see Ryouko again, though the Goddess had promised no such thing.

Pan raised her hand, red and golden curtains spiraling into something resembling a drill, and then they drove forward, breaking out of the walls around them into the light of the desert sun, surrounded by the collapsed ruins of Shu's home.

Instantly Pan's curtains billowed out to hold against a heavy barrage of attacks—light beams, magic axes, even conventional machine gun fire—while Asami did what she could to reinforce them with some gravity repulsion.

Meiqing and Azrael were able to use an entirely different strategy, tunneling underground at impossible speed in a way only Meiqing could do.

They were now split four ways—a dangerous tactic against a numerically superior opponent—but Shu's intangibility and Simona's anti‐magic made them tough targets. And with Simona staying back, if the drones retreated too far, she and the compound would fall outside their jamming range.

Asami strained her senses as they ran, peering at the drones in the distance—each about one meter wide—and using her magic sense to mark positions on their internal maps. This was by telepathy—still the least detectable transmission mechanism even with magical adversaries around—but that meant it lacked the usual precision and update rate.

One thing was quickly apparent: the enemies had their own barrier generator, one that haloed the enemy drones with a pale blue light, making it unlikely that any long‐range attack would get through. It wasn't apparent at a glance whether Shu could phase past it as she had Pan's thinner curtains.

It didn't take long for the fusillade of attacks on Asami and Pan to slacken, the enemy perhaps judging it a waste of effort, or worrying about Meiqing and Azrael, who were getting rather close. It was difficult to achieve real surprise in a magic fight, where everyone had an innate magic sense and lit up like a supernova with every action. When your enemy could feel the direction and relative strength of your every attack, you could only overpower, outspeed, or outthink. You couldn't merely obfuscate.

The exception was if your magic innately helped you hide, especially if there were plenty of distractions.

Got you! Shu thought, her magic lighting up for just a moment as one of her spears struck home, dropping one of the drones from the sky. Asami was in no position to see it directly, but could easily imagine what it might look like: a spear appearing out of nowhere just before impact, so suddenly that even a magical girl couldn't react.

That drew a storm of counterattacks, even as Shu faded out of sight. They could only trust she was fine and knew what she was doing—she couldn't safely send them any telemetry, even with telepathy, not when her stealth was her key asset.

It wasn't clear just who she had taken out, but it was an opening they could use.

A wave of magic snapped at the group of drones, Azrael lashing out telepathically, not aiming to achieve mind‐control—difficult against any kind of magical girl—but simply for a stun. Asami made her own move too, her best trick at this range: sudden spasms of heavy gravity above the target, randomly placed, though against already‐flying drones this tactic was less effective.

The combination of her and Azrael's efforts seemed potent, however, and the magic beams attacking their positions spun briefly far off‐axis. Moreover, the pale blue barrier faded for a moment.

A moment was all magical girls really needed, and another of their opponents crashed out of the sky, unable to simultaneously dodge spear, sniper beam, and even the mundane materiel from Azrael's SW‒155 pistol.

But the others recovered quickly, regrouping into a tighter formation that allowed for better mutual coverage. Sensible, but not without its downsides—and just the kind of action Meiqing and Azrael had been waiting for.

To keep the drones from scattering again, Asami and Pan lunged across the last hundred meters of distance, staying tight inside her barrier, moving erratically to make teleportation attacks difficult. Simona continued to lay down fire, even managing to cancel some magical beams mid‐arc.

Perhaps the enemy drones were expecting Meiqing to emerge with some kind of planted explosive, or a fist of iron mined from the earth.

Her tactic was not quite so direct: when Azrael and Meiqing finally rocketed out of the ground, mounds of soil flying into the air, they steered well clear of the hardened enemy barriers, which presented a huge risk.

Instead, the circle of EMP devices they had laid out underneath activated, blasting the area around the drones with a constant storm of radiation. Perhaps the barriers would protect the drones; perhaps not. But if the drones truly lacked telepathy—at least as long as they didn't have telecluster powers—then they would be forced to stay in a nice, constrained ball. Just as importantly, in that instant whatever communications interference the drones were using on the compound broke, letting Simona reconnect to Governance networks.

And then Pan dove in, and where the enemies might perhaps have expected her to try drilling through their barrier aura, she instead spread her curtains outward, around the balled enemy formation, to both contest the barrier and trap them in place.

Too late, the enemy barrier generator tried to push outward, sending blue and gold sparks of enemy magic flying off the undulating, spinning ball.

Pan's maneuver would have normally been a bold move, to say the least, an open bet on the strength of your magic versus theirs. But with only one enemy barrier generator, and a weaker drone‐based one at that, and Simona's earlier powerboost, the enemy's numbers could be held back for a moment.

Their combat gestalt determined that if Simona struck now with a large anti‐magic blast like she had used on Persepolis, they could likely kill most of the enemy in one fell swoop.

But that would probably come at the cost of Asami and Pan's lives. They were too close, and would be disabled too.

Simona took her shot in that moment, warning them to only expect a small, precise burst of anti‐magic.

I'm going to capture one, Azrael thought, in the moment before the shot pierced Pan's curtains. Whichever's hit. Cover me.

She had barely finished that last thought when the crucial moment came. Both friendly and enemy barriers dissolved in a kaleidoscope of light and energy. Shu appeared out of nowhere, phasing through one of the drones, driving her spear through another, ignoring the half‐dozen summoned axes that tore through her flesh. A huge ball of earth passed in front of Asami, suddenly cut in two by an unseen attack. Dodging midair, Asami tracked the greasy sensation of Simona's anti‐magic, again using gravity to drag everything in the area up.

Azrael, soaring overhead, dove down, enveloping an unlucky disabled drone in her purple‐black. The enemy's barrier didn't come back up.

That was apparently all their enemies were willing to endure, and with an audible snap their remaining attackers vanished in puffs of smoke, teleporting away.

Keep your guard up, Azrael thought, echoing her more terse combat‐net command. They shouldn't leave a captured comrade behind so easily. I expect they might be back; they should know we won't have any reinforcements coming soon.

They watched their environment warily, even as a few of them converged on Shu's body, which had fallen, broken, to the ground.

Asami wanted to say something to Simona about the shot she had taken, and her choice not to burst the whole group, but wasn't sure what to say. If Ryouko were here, Asami could say something stupid only to her, and she would understand.

Well, at least Clarisse would.

Another failed surprise attack, Simona thought, as the seconds dragged on. I think I performed better this time. Laplace's Demon won't be happy with their performance, anyway.

They'd better worry about us first, Meiqing thought, even as the ground rumbled open for her to cradle her aunt's broken body. Shu had made sure her soul gem stayed intact, and Meiqing began providing field care—they wouldn't be able to resuscitate Shu here, but preserving her remains as much as possible now would aid reconstruction later.

Asami moved to help her, more for emotional support than anything else, even as Azrael ripped the soul gem off her captured drone.

There was still no sign of their attackers returning. Perhaps they really weren't going to return.

I can't believe there'd be anyone willing to shove themselves into a drone like that, Asami thought, looking up at Azrael. How does Augustina convince them?

Willing doesn't mean non‐coerced, Azrael thought, holding the soul gem in one hand, glowing with the color of her magic. Unless I miss my guess there's been quite a bit of memory manipulation here. Something deeper, stranger, too—I'm not sure we were right about this being done through Augustina's drone‐based magic.

There was a second of silence, and then Azrael frowned sharply, her TacComp abruptly relaying new orders: Pan to put up a barrier around them, Simona to her side to aid with her power‐enhancement, and Asami and Meiqing to crush the drone body and fling it as far away as possible.

She's trying to detonate her gem! Azrael thought, as they jerked back into action. She's still conscious somehow! I don't have control!

The drone crunched into a small ball, then flew into the distance on a gravity‐assisted ball of dirt, but it seemed to provide little help to Azrael, whose wide eyes focused intensely on the gem in her hand, which had started burning with the intensity of a small sun—and burning was indeed the best description, yellow‐red with a color that was distinctly not Azrael's magic.

Then it flared white, three more colors of magic interacting across the spectrum, almost blotting out the shell of dark black grief cubes hovering around Azrael's hands, draining corruption out at an alarming rate. The colors were Simona, Azrael, the magical girl herself—and who?

Then it was over, the light imploding before it vanished, leaving the faintest afterimage of a void.

Azrael's TacComp filled Asami in after the fact. The soul gem was of someone who had been Reformatted. Azrael had been probing that when something interfered—the girl shouldn't have even been conscious, yet was, and an unknown distant party had been trying to force the girl to detonate her soul, then forced the girl to burn through the rest of her magic before Azrael could extract any more information. In the end, it simply hadn't been possible to prevent the gem from vanishing into the Law of Cycles.

But how was that possible? Nothing should have been able to overpower a mage who had the soul gem in hand, especially not someone who wasn't even there. The fourth mage didn't even match any of magic signatures of the drones they had faced, and the hue of their magic certainly didn't match that of Augustina's either.

Simona fell backward onto the ground, clutching at her head. For a moment, Asami was concerned, but then realized it was simple dismay.

In the end, all Azrael had been able to extract was the name: Hirasawa Saya.

"I don't know if I want to be here," Gracia Perez said.

Clarisse looked over at the other girl, who was blowing softly into her gloves. Hard to imagine someone like her as part of a crack MagOps team, but that's what she was. Telepaths were often the most unassuming girls—an effect of knowing what it was like to be other people, she felt.

"Of course you want to be here," Clarisse said, leaning back on the bench. "You want to see Misa again. That's really all that needs to be true."

"Yes, but what do I say? That I'm mad at her for just staying disappeared and pretending she's dead? That she just left Nadya dangling like that, and now she's dead for real? None of that is really fair to put on her, but it feels awful to sit here just waiting."

It wasn't like Clarisse didn't bear those same feelings. Just who did Misa think she was, treating an old friend like that? Not even sending a message? Except, of course, they all knew there were good reasons, and could even guess some of the reasons.

She just had lifetimes of practice learning to process those kinds of feelings. It helped.

Gracia wouldn't have been part of their original plan here. This whole scheme was intended to hook Akemi Homura. But that was before a magical salamander formed from Homura's magic had appeared in Kyouko's room and asked for a meeting on Yenisei to discuss matters.

No Homura, but a representative they would know very well and was supposed to be dead, but they suspected was alive. On Yenisei. They could all read between the lines and infer Misa Virani.

That was part of why Clarisse was here too. There was more than the everyday historical significance to it, but she was really here to pay her respects to Nadya, same as Gracia.

In a certain sense, she and Gracia were as culpable for the whole chain of unfortunate events as anyone. They were both at Orpheus; if they had performed better, Misa might not have had to sacrifice her body to destroy the last stabilizer core. Nadya might not then have gotten dragged into the search for Misa, and never fallen into the TCF conspiracy's trap.

She frowned at the thought for a moment, then shook her head at herself, leaning forward to wave at Kyouko, who was now making her way towards them, kicking aside decayed fungal stalks as she went.

They were seated on a bench next to Yenisei's war memorial for Nadya Antipova, the closest thing she had to a home at time of death. Her many children and grandchildren were scattered across human space, but here she had visited most frequently. It would have to do.

Clarisse had taken charge of getting the memorial erected, working with Nadya's daughter to build a small park where her family could have a little privacy if they wanted, but the public could still see and interact with the memorial the rest of the time. That way, Nadya would never be forgotten.

That, and the fact that Clarisse was going to be personally writing Nadya into the history books.

It was local winter, which meant that the local fungi had mostly retreated underground, leaving blackened husks aboveground. It was certainly not the planet at its prettiest, and it was almost intolerably cold even for an augmented human.

"Never thought I'd see you in a heavy outfit," Clarisse said, as Kyouko got close. "Have to say, you don't look half‐bad."

Kyouko snorted.

"I'm not crazy, and like you said, I look fine in a fur coat. Nice change of pace. Hot chocolate?"

"If you're offering."

Kyouko pulled out a small sheet of those ubiquitous origami cups and tore off two pieces, which politely unfolded into two wafer‐thin cups, safe for even the hottest liquids. That was future‐tech, of the kind the younger generations would never really appreciate, and quite ironically paired with the thermos Kyouko pulled out seconds later, a design which hadn't changed in centuries, even if the materials had changed.

They murmured appreciation as Kyouko poured out the delicious‐smelling liquid.

I'm surprised you're not more unhappy about having to be here, Clarisse thought, sipping carefully.

No you're not, Kyouko thought snappily. You know I've been waiting for the chance to talk to Homura for decades. Even if I don't think this is a good idea.

You were pretty vocal in council about this being a mistake, Clarisse commented.

Council was the place to argue, Kyouko thought. The decision has been made. There are times and places to go rogue, and this isn't one of them. What's the point in being petty about it?

Clarisse suppressed a smile. She was one of the few who remembered a time when Kyouko absolutely would have been very vocal, making sure everyone heard about it, whether they were involved or not.

But indeed, they both knew that.

I thought the salamander made it pretty obvious Homura wasn't going to be here, Clarisse thought.

Well, this is as close as I'm going to get, isn't it? It's a part of the process.

I suppose. Speaking of the process, find anything unusual in your perimeter scans?

If I had I would have told you, dummy, Kyouko thought. And nothing from you either?

Same logic.

The three of them may have had the appearance of casual magical girls out for a visit, but they were leaving nothing to chance when it came to surveillance. Besides the multiple satellites pointed at the site and various circling drones, Clarisse had been constantly on alert for any sign of magic, Gracia was listening for anything unusual in the telepathic background, and Kyouko had several clones surreptitiously lurking the area, each one with a fur coat stuffed to the gills with military‐grade scanners.

Clarisse sipped at her cup of chocolate, savoring the complex flavorants. Kyouko sure knew her synthesizer settings.

"Work not keeping you away from Kishida too much, is it?" she asked, persisting in the probably pointless exercise of pretending everything was normal. "You've been off‐world quite often lately."

"She's got her own life. We don't have to be glued to each other—I think it's better this way."

Clarisse nodded. She didn't really expect Kyouko to be looking for relationship advice right now.

Gracia perked up slightly, even as both Ancients managed to suppress any hint of reaction. Someone was walking directly towards them.

It wasn't Misa strolling right up to them, of course. Instead, it appeared to be a visiting civilian, Paul David, a botanist on sabbatical from a university on Nova Terra to conduct some private field studies on local fungal species. According to local records, he traveled alone into the wilderness for months at a time gathering samples.

And he just got back and decided to head straight here, huh, Gracia said, with a trace of sourness in her voice.

Doesn't mean it's not her, Clarisse rebuked. A story like that would be the perfect cover for a deep cover agent, and there's all kinds of hologram tricks you can do. For example, it'd explain how Misa turned up on this planet before.

Cover that can pass all the scanners like that? You know Kyouko is scanning him up and down, right?

If they didn't have some sort of trick, they wouldn't be able to hide among us so effectively, Clarisse thought.

Not that she had any real ideas herself—except for one.

She pinged Kyouko to look over their newcomer for soul gems. Really closely.

She got a negative a bit later.

Ain't really my specialty, Kyouko thought. I'd have to get a lot closer. Maybe if I jump over them, they won't see me. Well, if they don't see me, they're not going to be a magical girl. You really think she'd be in a mundane guy's body?

It's just a thought, Clarisse replied.

By now the man in question had reached the edge of the monument site, looking up at the twice‐life‐size statue. Then he turned his head and looked directly at them. Not with curiosity or surprise, but clear meaning.

"Maybe more than just a thought," Clarisse mumbled at the Kyouko standing with the thermos, as she moved to stand.

"Are you who I think you are?" she asked, directing the question at the apparent mundane in front of her.

"I am," the man said. "Misa Virani, at your service. Though I won't have an easy time proving that."

"I will," Clarisse said, whipping a leather‐bound book out of her coat with a flourish of purple magic, "if you'll hold still for me. Misa registered the narrative of her life with me, just before the mission at Orpheus. That should suffice."

She opened the book, strode over to the man claiming he was Misa, and put her hand to his chest. A glow of purple shined from the man's eyes.

Then Clarisse nodded, snapping the book shut.

"Alright, fine," the man said, sounding almost disappointed. "I can't believe I let Juliet convince me to do that."

Before anyone else could react, Gracia lunged forward, grabbing the man by the shoulders.

"You've been here the whole time? Pretending to be this biologist?" she demanded. "This was why you've been gone this whole time, hiding in the wilderness? Do you know how much we worried?"

She stepped back, perhaps shocked by her own reaction.

"She's been in plenty of places other than this planet," Clarisse commented, watching Gracia out of the corner of her eye. "She can't have only been here."

"Mr. David is still out there collecting samples," the man said, closing his eyes. "And he has no idea we've been doing this, so don't give him a hard time."

"Well that's nice to know," Clarisse said, just a touch sardonic. "Whether you've been here the whole time or not, I share much of Gracia's sentiment. Your reasons better be good."

He put a hand to his head.

"I'm sorry about Nadya. I didn't know she would die out there, none of us did, or I would have at least let her know something. And no, I haven't only been here."

"That doesn't—" Gracia began, before apparently thinking better of it, shaking her head.

Misa squeezed her eyes shut, unhappy about something, then continued in a different channel:

"If I'm saying this, it's going on the record with the MSY, but I'll let you decide how much Governance needs to know any of this. It's useful for Kyouko to be here. You know how you have those clones?"

Now the voice even sounded like Misa, despite it coming from this man's head. It was rather disorienting.

But it wasn't telepathy, which was the obvious choice for secure communication. Instead, it was a standard person‐to‐person military transmission, the kind of thing Mr. David shouldn't have even had access to. Was this version of Misa incapable of telepathy?

As magical girls, they could scrub the records from Governance records. Was Misa also relying on that?

Kyouko gave Misa a strange look.

"Sure, I've got a couple of clones around the perimeter right now; I bet you already know that."

"It'd be strange if you didn't. Do they all have their own soul gem?"

"Kind of? But my real soul is only ever in one of them at a time, controlling the rest. It switches."

"Right, and that's why you have a limited range, though it's still a lot longer than the default one hundred meters or so. It turns out, that's a hint."

"I wasn't going to go into that kind of detail, and it's kind of automatic anyway. Where are you going with this? I thought you were going to explain what you've been up to?"

"Yeah, so, that's the thing. According to Homura and her special friend in the Ribbon, souls don't really have a place or a time, except when they're in a body or, especially, a gem. The MSY even has some old research that suggests as much, someone named Akiyama? Anyway."

She—and Clarisse supposed it really was she—paused, checking if the rest of them were going to respond. They didn't, although Clarisse was left to wonder which Akiyama, if it was the one she was thinking of, or if Misa even knew the potential significance.

"I've understood as much too," Kyouko thought, and Clarisse nodded along. "But we're stuck in our gems nonetheless, at least until the Goddess saves us."

Misa tilted her head, a strange‐looking gesture on Paul David, and continued:

"Well, someone very clever realized that, if the soul is outside space‐time, then it can be both stuck and not‐stuck. At the same time. In different places. It's quite a feat to perform, though unfortunately we didn't come up with the method. Homura stole it from our mutual enemies, and figured out how to swap out the evil parts."

She stopped, letting them stand there blinking at "Paul David", who by all outward appearances was now carefully inspecting Nadya's statue. Clarisse found herself struggling to take it in, an experience she hadn't had in a long, long time.

"Using someone else's body I've seen, though it's not something anyone has done successfully long‐term, but this…"

She let her thought trail off, averse to saying the rest. The truth was, the MSY, with her consent, had allowed exploration of this kind of topic to stay safely untouched, because the likelihood of "evil ideas" arising was far too high. That was reasoning Homura had agreed with, once.

"So how exactly do you get your soul in multiple places?" she asked. "Without that detail, this is like describing the physics of a nuclear weapon without building it."

"That might be better as a show rather than a tell."

Misa reached into the front of her jacket, withdrawing a palm‐shaped slab of metal that it took them a moment to recognize as a hand‐held data crystal reader, the kind which came with a data cable you could plug into your wrist for better, more secure throughput. The kind of thing you would only encounter if you wandered far off high‐quality Governance networks—and even then, only if you needed to store something that didn't fit on your internal storage, or needed to pass files around faster than wireless could handle.

"You'll forgive me if I don't want to beam my memories wirelessly, and I'm not a telepath or want Gracia poking in my head, no offense. I can't stop you from sharing it with whoever you want, but I'd ask that you try to keep it away from Governance for now."

That depends on what's in it, Clarisse thought but did not say. She wanted to, was even prepared to trust Misa, but in a situation like this, you had to keep your options open. These weren't ordinary circumstances, where keeping your word and maintaining bonds of friendship could be sacrosanct.

Kyouko accepted the reader, staring at it, and at the data crystal already inserted.

"Well, you're the magic‐detection expert," Kyouko thought to Clarisse.

She wasn't, but she could pass as one. She made no bones about taking it and holding it up to her eye, fuzzing it with a bit of her own magic. Misa would know better than to be offended. After all, they couldn't know for sure if she could still use magic, and she could certainly still carry magic objects.

"Nothing I can find," Clarisse thought, handing it back. They had agreed Kyouko could take the lead.

She watched as Kyouko touched the cable to her wrist.