Dyson’s Game

Book 1: Salvage Claim

Chapter 9

Doarme

I lean softly against the grass, surveying the work with a glimmer in my eyes. Data oases shine in the virtual light, lines of code tossing, shifting, and turning as the various AI that we had hired sorted through the torturous muck in exchange for some additional server space. All of it framed a vast desert of seemingly random letters, ever-shifting through unseen winds, yet it all fell away compared to the splendor of the sky itself.

Oh, the sky. Double-stranded wisps of clouds, idly floating by the landscape in set, connected letters bound together by the whims of chemistry. Twisting, wrapping, and layering themselves in a complex pattern that boggled the mind, yet all seemed so... simple, for a Kal’Dari equipped with an MMI.

Still, all wasn’t so well in this virtual space. Ugly voids broke through the pleasing patterns of the clouds above, ugly welts of chaos that spread throughout the clouds like boils. There were... I remember that there was a lot fewer of those a few minutes ago. I was sure about that.

“Potle.” I call out, eyes narrowing at the virtual sky. “The discrepancies are ramping up. Can you take note of–”

Beep.

All of it happened in what felt like an instant. The boils in the sky pulsed, as if activated by some unknown trigger, before tendrils shot out from them towards the neighboring clouds, corrupting them beyond all repair and sending the entire sky crashing down onto that desert of chaos–

–Then I blink, and the simulation disappears, and I am greeted to the sight of off-white walls and the soft green light of my lab. Despite the pleasant look of my immediate surroundings, and the soothing lights of the server racks around me, a scowl still goes over my face.

With a yank, I remove the MMI visualizer off the top of my head and glare at my co-worker. “Potle.” I snap, “You were supposed to be keeping track of the modal appearance rate of the tri-strands, not...“

My brows furrow, unstrapping myself from the seat as I floated my way over towards my lackey. Even an idiot like Potle should’ve been booted out of the sims as soon as it shut down, but...

I stop, carefully engaging my maglocks as my feet touch the floor with a soft thump. With careful steps, I slowly remove the MMI visualizer off my assistant’s head... and immediately freeze up.

Within seconds, I put through a high-priority channel towards security. “Ma’am?”

“My assistant died.” I whisper, a snarl on my lips as I contemptuously flick away the droplets of blood floating through the air, only for it to splay upon my scales. “My assistant died on their very first simulation. What kind of MMI did this idiot have on them?!”

“Ma’am...” The line trails off, the voice sounding confused. “Do you... do you want us to dispose of the body?”

“Of course not.” I reply sweetly, “Potle here could just stay strapped to this seat, slowly rotting away and stinking up the place, while my work on unraveling this piece of genetic mess is stalled because– OF COURSE I WANT THIS CORPSE OUT OF HERE!”

Some hushed whispers on the other side of the line. No doubt the idiot was already being scolded for their idiocy. Still, it left me standing there for a few moments while I waited for the telling off to be over. Oh what I could’ve given to overhear what the idiot’s boss was saying...

“... Sorry about that. I’m a new hire here.” You don’t say... “A security team should be there in about... five minutes. Is there anything else you need, ma’am?”

“Yes.” Like being off this damned voidcraft for one, but I couldn’t just say that out loud. “I will also need a cleaning team to scoop up the blood off the upholstery. And I will need another assistant to help me with my work. And I will need a server rack along with a team of technicians to install it upon my work area. My other assistants deserve to be compensated for their work. Not unlike Potle. Damn useless, I tell you!”

“Cleaning, personnel, server rack...” The voice on the other line lists off, before they pause for a few seconds. “Ma’am, wait a second. You need a server rack?”

“I have made a deal with the AI that has assisted me with my work.” I sniff. “They ask for some server space in return.”

“Ma’am server space doesn’t grow on trees.” Much like your intelligence, hm? “And, I’m sorry, did you just say that you collaborated with some AI?”

“Yes.” I roll my eyes, “I needed the extra processing power, and they provided it. In fact, they were of more help than this idiot Potle, who did nothing but sit around and look like an idiot before dying of neural overdose, which is frankly quite a stupid way to die if you ask me. Who the hell overloads the safety lockdowns on their MMI, for goodness’s sake–?”

“MA’AM!” The voice on the line hissed, and I rear back from the sound, only to realize a second later that I was using my MMI to make the call. A quick filch around my robes and a flick of a thought later, and I was now having the call on my pad. A pad that I could quickly lower the volume down on if these idiots in security were screaming at me again. “WE DON’T HAVE ANY AI ON THIS SHIP!”

“Well that’s a huge oversight, isn’t it?” I grumble, “Chalk it up to the folks who decided that not having any AI on this ship was a good idea. I for one, side-stepped that issue entirely–”

“Ma’am, the Llowa is a black-ops research ship. You’re NOT supposed to distribute your research to third parties!” The voice on the other end of the comm all but screeched, and I quickly turn down the volume of the pad to a more manageable level.

“My superiors understand that time is of the essence in unfucking what Rios’shanna and her ilk did.” I sniff. “I could not afford to spend the next few weeks simply poring over the changes that I did to the simulation algorithm. There’s already a 32% increase in gene-pair matches that I was able to find, and that was before I recruited these AI into helping me run the test simulations–”

“Just, just stop. The technicians and cleaners would be coming there in a few short moments.” I huff in relief. “Fucking pad-tappers...”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” They answer a bit too quickly, but I let them off for the moment. I have more important things to do than to snap at some lowborn working in security. “Well, if that’s all, ma’am...?”

“Yes, you may do whatever it is you do .” I cut the call before they can respond, rolling my eyes just as a chime comes in through the door. “Well, at least someone’s punctual.”

With a waive of my arm, the door unlocks and slides open, allowing five Kal’Dari to enter the room. They were stone-faced, with one of them carrying a collapsible stretcher, three in the process of balancing a server rack in between them, and two more carrying spools of fiber-optic wire and were laying it out in loose loops behind them.

Quick, and efficient. Finally, some good help–

Ring.

“I want this to be done when I’m done taking this call.” I snap, walking past the five and closing the door behind me. I could hear a few of them squawk, but I was too busy redirecting the call from the pad towards my MMI... only to freeze as to who exactly the caller was.

With a thought, I let the call through, and the heavily-synthesized voice of my superiors echo through my ears.

“Doktorr.” I open my mouth to tell that I am not a practicing medical tech, but my superiors saw it fit to continue on speaking. “There is a problem with your work.”

My eyes glance back towards the room that I just left, a look of suspicion on my face. It had only been a few minutes since the simulation ended – how the hell did my superiors know what happened in that short amount of time? “Excuse me?”

“We do not question your brilliance. Your induction into this project has drastically sped up timetables for the future operations of our Clan.” I roll my eyes, waiting for them to get to the point. “We have used the genetic template that you have constructed so far in order to implement a testbed of new technologies. You are to receive them now.”

I blink. “Wait a second. Did you make a goddamn fer’shai based on my research without my permission–?!”

> Incoming file. Receive? Y / N

... They did. The bastards really did. With a huff, I bring up the file on my MMI, watching as part of my vision morphs into the helmet feed of a Kal’Dari busy clawing their way through a ship with nothing more than their bare hands. By all intents and purposes, this is a fer’shai in action. My fer’shai in action.

Still incomplete, and yet... “So beautiful...”

“We share the same feeling, Doktorr. Despite the fact that you told us that this genome is still incomplete, it is still a far cry from what your predecessors were able to produce.” I preen at the praise, even as my good mood was quickly soured by the memory of the idiots who came before me. “... However, there are unforeseen consequences. This ship that you see in the file is called the EDS Kolkotta, crewed by independent scum that sought to steal our stocks of spatium from one of our clan’s farms–”

“Just call them space cows. Everyone else does.” I sigh, and my superiors pause for another moment before my voice takes a more sheepish tone. “Please continue...”

“They were very expensive commodities, and so the elder's council was death. The fer’shai that we decanted for such a task was their executioner, before they were meant to plunge the ship into the primary.” Another pause. I was starting to think that they liked the drama more than anything else. “... They were unable to fulfill their last task. I’m sure you could tell us why.”

“Genetic triggers have been tripped, triNA formation spiked, and they subsequently keel over and died, yes.” I recalled, tilting my head to the side, “Rios’shanna’s work to fuck up the initial fer'shai genome, yes. I learned this even before I started studying for my doctorate.”

“... And yet, that peculiar fer’shai still lives.” What? “Our eyes and ears have spotted its bio-signature while poring through the satellite feeds on Bries. It seems that the EDS Kolkotta was captured by Bries and crashed onto its surface, but the fer’shai expired not too long after the crash.”

“Hold on, give me a second to... To think this through.” I took a sharp breath, quickly calculated the odds with some numbers in my head, and eventually decided that the Broodmother must exist in some capacity to grant me this opportunity. “You’re saying that the fer’shai was still able to survive past the initial spike of triNA formation.”

“Correct.” I began to slowly let out a breath, just so I wouldn’t scream in joy. “This presents an unforeseen opportunity–”

“–If I figure out what caused the fer’shai to mutate and replicate it, I could cut down on the simulation time in between genetic tweaks and be able to reverse Rios’shanna’s sabotage in a much quicker time.” I babble, “Of course, I would need some specialists to retrieve the fer’shai’s body for further perusal and testing, but time is of the essence in order to–”

“You will be going to Bries, Doktorr.”

I blink. “Pardon?”

“You are the closest related expert to the crash site. We would need your expertise for preliminary tests and inform us of further developments. A shuttle is being prepared for you, and a security team from the Llowa would be assigned for your security detail.”

“Wait a second.” I cut in, “I still have work to do here. Simulations to work out, base pairs to match, and–”

“You can do so in your off-time. The technicians onboard should be able to get you the necessary communications suites installed on the shuttle within a few shipboard rotations.” I open my mouth to object, but my superiors kept on talking, “The shuttle is bound for Prospecting Base Hokutt. It is the closest surface mining base to where we last found the fer’shai, and is one under our bankroll. You should be able to insert yourself into their workings without much issue.”

“I–”

“The clan appreciates your contribution, Doktorr.” My lips click shut, and I glare at the flooring under my feet. “May Clan Okmoshi live in the annals of history.”

“May Clan Okmoshi live in the annals of history.” I bitterly reply back, hearing the line cut a second later. A second passes before I let out a scream, slamming my hand against the wall in rage, only for me to yelp a second later and bring my arm back.

Alright. Perhaps slamming my hand against ship alloy wasn’t the best of ideas. I’ll get it treated later, but in the meantime...

The door to my lab opens with an imperious whiff of air, and I find that the technicians were just about done installing the server rack among its brethren. The sole medtech was just about done covering up Potle with a sheet, but their work stopped to turn towards my entrance. As it should.

“All done?” I snap, and the maintenance team nods in response to my question. “Good. Medtech, get me some painkillers. The rest of you?”

My eyes narrowed into slits. “Get the hell out of my lab.”