The moment I exited Chris’ domain, I hauled ass, jumping to the nearest compatible network. I didn’t stay, instead bouncing again to yet another satellite, and then another, before hitching a ride on the first available ship headed out system. I didn’t care where it was headed or who it belonged to. I just needed to put some distance between me and her.

This was bad.

Stripping me of my clan protection was more a symbolic gesture than anything else… I mean, we’re Terrans… but I’d been counting on winning her support. Without it, I wasn’t sure I could still conduct this investigation. Problem was, I was more convinced than ever of the threat the Brotherhood represented, and I couldn’t let that go unanswered. Somebody had to learn the truth, and no matter who Chris reassigned the case to, they’d be struggling to catch up.

Besides, something inside of me just couldn’t let this one go, despite the risks I was facing.

All right, if I was going to do this, then the first thing I needed was the current location of an Oivu merchant caravan. I checked the ship’s database and came up empty-handed; it seemed the Yait’xaik hadn’t crossed paths with one in recent memory, or else they lacked the resources to track them. An amphibian race, they were one of the lower tier polities, confined to a single system. Most species fell into that category; besides the Troika, they were among the worst offenders for shitting on humans. Everyone needs someone beneath them to kick, and there’s no one lower on the totem pole than us.

I closely monitored the nearby ships as we made for deep space, nervously watching to see if she’d sent someone after me. I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance either way, and I try to avoid situations that were decided on a coin flip, but there was no fending this one off. It wasn’t until we’d been under power for a good twelve hours that I breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like I’d gotten away clean, at least for the moment.

Okay then, since the Yait’xaik didn’t have a clue, I’d have to try elsewhere. They were scheduled to arrive at a nearby system in just a few days to off load supplies, giving me the perfect opportunity to jump ship and try again elsewhere. Maybe I could even risk tapping into the planetary datanet itself and see what they knew. Somebody had a line on the merchants, and the sooner I tracked them down, the better.

Safe for the moment, I made myself comfortable and bedded down for the night. No, I don’t actually sleep, though I do cycle through my various subroutines, testing and resting each one. Call it a half-sleep.

Lord knows I could use it.

It took three more weeks of travel and two transfers before I finally located an Oivu ship. With my first problem solved, I now had a brand new one. I’d been hitching a ride incognito, as was my wont, and the last thing I wanted to do was alert them to my presence. Unfortunately, I couldn’t just hop over to the merchant ship, at least not without gaining permission first. If I tried, I’d just end up bouncing off their hull. They made deals from one end of the Perseus Arm to the other, which meant they had the best version of everything… including security software.

But if I sent them a message, I risked alerting the Usuu crew commanding my current vessel. Risky, that, since one never knew how a race might react to hitchhikers. I could probably talk my way out of it, especially if I offered some juicy tidbit in compensation, but it was just easier to sidestep the issue entirely if I could. Besides, that wasn’t my biggest problem at the moment. My biggest problem was that the Oivu wouldn’t conduct negotiations over the radio. That was one of their long-standing policies, to avoid having their conversations tapped. As an Avatar, that complicated matters. Assuming I got permission and beamed myself over, where would I go when it was all said and done? Ideally, I’d return to the Usuu ship, but what if it wasn’t there anymore? What then?

Welcome to my world.

Well, there was no point in holding off, though I had a couple of tricks up my sleeve to improve the odds. I sent the request via a burst transmission, compressing the message into a brief blip of noise that could be easily missed if you weren’t looking for it. I received a positive response in short order, with the Oivu using the same method of transmission just as I’d requested. Excellent. Now, to see about my ride afterwards…

“And just how did you manage that little trick?” I hear you ask. It wasn’t difficult. I simply substituted a corrupted file for one of the ship’s software programs. It would take them a while to track down. Hopefully I’d return in time to restore the original with no one the wiser. Guess we’ll find out soon enough.

Time to haggle with the merchants.

Beaming over, I found myself in a comfortably furnished virtual seating area. The Oivu are gracious hosts and used to dealing with all sorts. Instead of dealing with me through a screen, they did something most races rarely bother with, downloading user interfaces into the ship’s computer to speak with me directly… in effect, creating virtual avatars of their own. In their case, however, the interfaces weren’t sentient or even as advanced as the simulacrum we create to fill our domains. Practically , they were little more than empty shells, bodysuits waiting to be worn by tele-operators on the outside. Usually it was me adapting to the corporeal world, but in this case, it was the other way around, showing once again the lengths they would go to make their guests feel welcome.

I rose to my feet as five Oivu entered the waiting room; the spokesperson equipped with a brass colored voder around its neck analog. Their featureless form could be off-putting if you weren’t used to it, but then I’d seen far stranger sights in my life. I missed the visual clues, though, the little tics and gestures that gave you insight into someone’s thoughts and emotions. With the Oivu, you were looking at a blank slate, and that could be daunting.

“Greetings,” the lead member said. “What is it you wish to trade?”

“Information for information,” I replied. “I’d like to know the identity of one of your clients.”

The five aliens turned inwards and conferred in that strange choreography of theirs, gesturing wildly in absolute silence. Finally, the spokesperson turned back to face me.

“We rarely give out such intelligence,” it replied, “therefore, the price required to access that data will be set accordingly. Is this acceptable to you?”

“It is,” I nodded. I knew going in wouldn't be cheap.

“Excellent,” they answered. “It will be necessary to learn the nature of the knowledge you offer in exchange prior to proceeding further. Should we deem its value insufficient to the exchange, you may supplement your offer with additional payment, make another choice, or depart in peace. Do you accept these terms?”

“I do,” I agreed. You had to hand it to them. They were consistent.

“Splendid,” they acknowledged, settling back to hear my offer.

Gulp.

Look, I knew going into this what I was wagering, just how big a gamble I was about to make. But there’s a vast chasm between coming up with the plan in the abstract and actually putting it into action. One could make the argument I was about to commit treason, and they wouldn’t be far off. Certainly, Chris was already thinking along those lines; it was the reason she’d had her ersatz guards arrest me and then attempted to play a little impromptu William Tell, though her aim had been low. I was taking a tremendous risk, not just for me, but for my clan, and part of me quailed at the thought.

But only a part.

The equation hadn’t changed, and the Brotherhood was still out there. I had to do this, no matter my personal feelings, if I were to have any chance of tracking them down. I just hadn’t counted on feeling so guilty while collecting my thirty pieces of silver.

“There’s a weakness within the Avatar code,” I said carefully, ignoring the phantom pain in my digital gut. “A vulnerability that might be used to infiltrate our systems and even threaten an individual Avatar’s gestalt.” I took a deep breath and then handed over a data rod, the representation in this simulation of a file transfer. “This will give you all the details.”

They took the data and perused it before breaking out into that dance of theirs. “Your offer is more than sufficient,” they said at last, which I suppose was some small measure of comfort. At least I wouldn’t have to pile on other secrets to compound my guilt. “Who is the client you are interested in?”

“Whoever you told regarding the Precursors and their planet,” I told them. There. At least now it was out in the open.

Yet another conference, and then…

“... We do not understand,” they said finally.

I blinked. “What part?” I asked, confused by their response.

“You were aboard the Gyrfalcon, were you not?” they explained. “Did your crewmates not relay that information to you?”

I barked out a nervous laugh. “Sorry, my mistake,” I chuckled. “Not that transaction, the other one.”

More consultations, and then, “There must be some misunderstanding,” they said at last.

“Why is that?” I said, growing increasingly bewildered. “I thought the question was pretty straightforward.”

The lead negotiator gave me an odd look, more sensed than actually seen.

“Because no one has requested that data in over five hundred of your years,” they answered.

My jaw dropped.

“... Son of a bitch,” I whispered.

Well. Aren’t I a right idiot?

Needless to say, this changed everything. I mean sure; it was possible the Brotherhood had been around for the better part of a millennium, but somehow, I didn’t think so. Like I said at the beginning, information is our bread and butter among the Avatars, and I guarantee that if they’d been around for that long, we would have heard something.

But the same binary logic that had drawn me here still applied, and if the Oivu hadn’t told them about New Terra, that meant it had to be the Troika. But why? That was the part I couldn’t wrap my head around. Why would they ever share something as sensitive as that?

Hold on, I thought to myself, maybe the answer’s something simple. Maybe the Troika didn’t part with the information willingly. What if it had been stolen from them? That was possible. Have to be one hell of a sneaky rat to pull it off, though, considering how tight their security was, and just how rough they liked to play. But it could be done. In theory.

Not sure I’d want to try it, though.

The Oivu sat there, waiting patiently as I worked through all of this. The transaction wasn’t complete, and they had a well-known policy of concluding all business dealings, even if it were a case of “Sorry we couldn’t be of more service.” Besides, I’m fairly sure I’m not the only client they’ve left flabbergasted.

I took a deep breath as I got my feet back under me. Well then, if they couldn’t tell me who had acquired the information and why, maybe there was another way they could help.

“Then tell me instead what you know about the Brotherhood of Shadows,” I demanded.

Yet another consultation. “We know little about them,” they informed me, “only that they too seek the Precursor planet.” Apparently, my payment covered this exchange as well. “We first noticed them a little over two centuries ago,” they continued, “roughly during the time of the Yīqún incursion.” I winced at that, for obvious reasons they’re a sore spot amongst us Terrans. “They have scoured the galaxy for any scrap of information regarding the Precursors, though only rarely have they done so through us. For reasons unknown, they have made their own inquiries and conducted their own investigations. What they may have found, we cannot say.”

“That’s it?” I blurted out. “Can you at least tell me if they’re a single race, or an organization made up with several species?”

Another commune and, “We have only had dealings with one race,” they told me.

I sat there, waiting. “Well, which race?” I asked them, growing exasperated.

A pause.

“... the only species we have observed among the Brotherhood of Shadows are the Chell,” they said, hitting me with one last hammer blow.

The Chell. Mind. Blown.

The possibility of any Chell operating on their own, against the wishes of their Tu’udh’hizh’ak masters, seemed ludicrous on its face. Possibly the most powerful member of the Troika, the Tu’udh’hizh’ak had a secret weapon, one that ensured utter loyalty from their followers and made them even more formidable.

They were telepaths.

Somehow, they’d kept that a secret from the galaxy, which spoke volumes in its own right. With the ability to coerce anyone into doing their bidding, even against their own interests and leaving no obvious trace, there could be an entire army of Manchurian candidates out there, programmed to do Terra alone knows what. Even the Oivu hadn’t known of that talent, not until we informed them of it. That’s how we learned of the Precursor world ourselves. They’d tried compelling some of our crewmates into acting as their agents. Thankfully, a clever Knight by the name of Blye Tagata figured out a cure and administered it in time.

But the Chell? How could they do anything that undermined their masters? Under constant compulsion, day after day, year after year, century after century, how could there be anything left?

But if they were behind the Brotherhood, then at least some of them had obviously found a way. Maybe it was a variation of the cure Blye had discovered, Ketamine. If used often enough, and in great enough doses, could it act as a vaccine? I wasn’t sure how that was possible, given the way Maggie and Genvass reacted when she dosed them, but then maybe the Chell’s physiology was radically different, or they’d found another drug with fewer side effects. Something.

I made my way back to the Usuu ship, still reeling from what I’d learned. I uploaded the missing file so they could get underway again, while I pondered what this could all mean.

Think about it… a Fifth Column of potential spies and saboteurs, right under the Troika’s nose. Just imagine what we could do together.