Lago's black boots crunched over broken glass as he paced around his private quarters aboard the Benevolent 1. He scratched at his face, rubbed his eyes and pulled at his beard. On a low table next to him was a vial half full of a clear oily liquid, a rubber tourniquet, and an empty syringe. A thin stream of blood ran down Lago's forearm from where he had injected himself. The blood from the escaped prisoner Lee had proved to be unremarkable. O positive with no unusual enhancements, slightly high cholesterol the report said.

“Fuck!” Lago screamed and hurled an empty crystal decanter against the wall, shattering it into thousands of pieces. Whiskey was not his drug of choice. He prowled the room again looking for more satisfying things to smash. The crystal tumblers were asking for it; he threw one at the heavy iron door and watched it burst into tiny shards all over the room. He glimpsed his reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror through the bathroom door and wildly aimed the last three tumblers at it, missed his target and sent them smashing into the door frame instead. He looked again at his image in the mirror, hunched, panting and dishevelled. He threw the nearest chair at it. But his aim was terrible, and the chair bounced harmlessly of the wall.

“Fuck!” he screamed again, louder and longer as he strode into the bathroom and gripped the edge of the vanity unit, glaring at his image just centimetres away. His eyes were mad pools of bloodshot and blackness. He gasped for breath, his heartbeat pounded in his ears, distorting his vision. The brightly lit bathroom pulsed in time with his thumping heart. Staring at his image was strangely calming. He tried to reassure himself, he was in control of the situation, he had the resources to crush his opposition. This was just a micro-problem and would be resolved soon enough. He just needed to be patient. He hated being patient. He stared at himself a bit longer until the pounding in his ears reduced slightly, took some deep breaths and crunched back over the broken glass towards the exit.

Lance and Goran were at the back of the bridge on the Benevolent 1. Lance hunched over a monitor, green lights playing across his face. Goran standing behind, he had been patched up temporarily. A large white bandage covered the staples in his neck, looking like a poorly-tied cravat tie. His jaw and cheeks were swollen and bruised but he stood impassive and unreadable as ever. Seeing the two of them made Lago's blood boil again. He made his way across the expanse of the bridge, his boots leaving slivers of broken glass behind him. Lance stiffened nervously as Lago approached.

He stood before his men in silence, only a meter between them. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Lago stared at Goran's visual field. The blue light was shifting lazily from one side to the other. He thought how Goran's fresh injuries made him look even more ridiculous, then found himself getting sucked into the blue light. His eyeballs followed the illuminating lambency as the light expanded, filling his vision. He stood transfixed, mesmerized, his mouth hanging open, his thoughts dissipated. He was lost in the wash of the hypnotic blue light until Lance coughed, snapping him out of the trance-like state.

“Fuck!” Lago shook his head. “Are you trying to hypnotize me?”

“Ughh,” croaked Goran. He could barely open his mouth and a pink watery dribble trickled from his swollen lips and down his chin.

“Well? Explanations?” demanded Lago, hands extended.

Lance looked nervous and with a sideways glance at Goran, stuttered a reply. “Goran's tongue has been severed, and his windpipe mutilated; don't expect much conversation from him. I think Lee somehow managed to mindhack the Masama telepathic network. We interviewed the soldiers concerned and they were adamant they had received multiple threat warnings at exactly the same time.”

“But there was no threat, they attacked each other.”

“Yes, they believed they were surrounded by enemies. Lee implanted images into their sensory cortex. He tricked them into attacking each other.”

“Tricked them.” Lago took a deep breath and managed to contain himself. “This is an obvious flaw in the Masama telepathic network, a major weakness. We have discussed this recently have we not, Goran,” Lago ignored his injury.

“Ughh,” replied Goran.

Lago did not look at him. He did not want to become distracted again. “Have you done anything about it?” he spat out the words.

“The lab has developed an upgraded implant that will allow us to monitor the Masama telepaths and give us the ability to regulate actions like a form of remote control, but it needs to be physically installed.”

“Order all the Masama to report for upgrades immediately and have the implant installed as soon as possible.”

“May be problematic, they will be reluctant to have anything installed that might limit their independence,” said Lance with trepidation.

This was all that was needed to send Lago over the edge. “They will do what they are fucking told! I own them, and they will do what they are fucking told!” He screamed at Goran spraying him with spittle. “I will tell them myself if you haven't got the balls.”

“As you wish,” said Lance.

“You have this telepathy too, why weren’t you tricked?” yelled Lago ignoring Goran's injury again.

Goran gave a miniscule shrug and stayed silent as watery blood dribbled from his mouth and splashed on the floor.

“We don't know,” Lance answered for Goran. “Maybe his loyalty to you or some deep-rooted sense of reality protected him from the telepathic hack.”

“Maybe we should dissect your brain and harvest whatever it is keeping you this grounded in reality,” Lago said viciously. “And there is another flaw in this telepathic mind fuck you all share, how is it you did not detect two spies, two fucking traitors in our midst for years with your supposedly advanced insight?”

Lance stayed silent as they both stared at Goran, tension mounting. It was impossible for Lago to tell if he was even listening as the blue optical field gave no indication and his swollen mouth that usually wore a trademark sneer, was hanging open. Just when Lago was about to explode again Goran broke the silence. “Ugh,” he said.

Lance came to his rescue. “The telepathy only works with specific parts of the brain. The functions associated with memory and emotion are not deemed relevant. Secrets can be kept hidden if you are disciplined enough.”

“Well, that has to change as well. Your Masama have been infiltrated far too easily by this Rutger character and that woman, how the fuck did you let them get so close to me?”

“We do extensive background and psychological checks on all our recruits. These two must have been well prepared; they got through somehow,” replied Lance.

“Have we any idea who they were working for? Or what their objectives were?”

“Most likely Black Robin, I guess they were leaking information. We will find out.”

Lago fumed at this. “There is too fucking much we don't know.”

“We can safely assume they failed in their objectives as all our long-term projects are still on track and we haven't had any sabotage or attempts on your life.”

“On track? Are you fucking delusional? The Moon mining operation has come to a grinding halt and you just let a human AI hybrid and a couple of spies escape!” Lago's face had turned red again.

Lance bowed his head and didn’t offer anything more. Lago glared at him for a moment then went and stood at the window. He stared out at the distant whitecaps on the Pacific. He closed his eyes, but his eyeballs were vibrating, and his teeth were grinding. His jaw ached with the tension. He crossed his arms and willed himself to think clearly. Eventually, he turned back to Lance and Goran who were still standing patiently. “I presume we are chasing the three escapees and will capture them?” He forced himself to be calm.

“We lost contact with our VLRs over Miami; we are trying to locate them. We are sending additional forces to their last known location. We will find them.”

“Lost contact…? Shoot them on sight when you find them, I want them all dead. If the hybrid survives then freeze it and lock it up or freeze the corpse. We will dissect it back in Manila. In the meantime, we need to deal with your Masama. Where are they all stationed?”

“Thirty-eight on board, one hundred and twenty around Manila, fifty stationed at various BPI bases around the world and seven on the Moon.” Lance reeled off the numbers automatically.

“Well, we will start with the ones on board. Follow me.”

The Masama were all gathered in the spacious mess hall. They turned to watch as Lago barged in. He stood in front of the food printers, flanked on either side by Lance and Goran. Lago never addressed the Masama directly; Goran was their master and gave the instructions, but Goran was inscrutable these days and Lago believed he had lost touch with his soldiers. The Masama stayed as they were, lounging in chairs, fiddling with their weapons. This annoyed Lago intensely. They used to show him respect, even standing to attention. Now Batac was the only one who stood, waiting expectantly. Batac was the only one Lago recognized. He took a few moments to gather himself then launch into his tirade.

“Masama!” he raised his voice. “I have never liked the name, too flippant, not enough gravitas for my army. Just one of the things that need to change, and you are my army. Perhaps you need to be reminded of the fact.”

A few of the Masama looked down or looked at each other as Lago said this. They were obviously communicating, Lago knew this but only Goran would be aware of what was being said.

“My army,” Lago repeated more loudly. “My army that struggled to contain some plastic worms on the Moon. My army that let some retarded medieval terrorists almost destroy my orbital elevator.” Lago was shouting now, eyes bulging, spittle flying.

“My army that had no idea it had been infiltrated by traitorous spies for more than two fucking years and my army that let them escape from right under our noses with our fucking captive!” He was glowering with rage, panting and sweating. He had captured their attention.

“Maybe a little history lesson is in order, remember I created you all. I pulled you out of your squalid little slums and dirty little drug deals and made you into something fearsome! Without me most of you would now be in jail, cleaning toilets in the local brothel or dead from some vile sexual disease. I gave you all a reason to live, a doctrine, but most of all I gave you some form of respect. I gave you the means to better yourselves.” Lago looked around the room; they were all watching but totally unreadable.

“I gave you the hardware, the labs to upgrade yourself, the medical expertise to turn you into what you are today. I gave you the guns, the latest state of the art weaponry, I gave you access to the world's best scientists and technicians to turn you into the most well equipped, the most feared army the world has ever seen. Look at what you have become and remember I enabled you to fulfil your ambitions. I gave your lives meaning. I gave you life, I created you.” Lago stopped again and surveyed the room with supreme arrogance. He could be an emotive speaker when he wanted. The Masama showed no reaction apart from a couple of looks that may have been disdain.

“So, these recent mistakes, oversights, and miscalculations need to be addressed. Although you personally may not have been involved, these issues concern you all inherently. The events on the Moon were unprecedented and eventually overcome although the lack of research and planning points to an alarming pretentiousness and overconfidence. The fact you let primitive cultist fanatics onto my orbital elevator, who then planted a bomb, points to your overconfidence and laziness. But the most concerning issue relates to your telepathy. This sixth sense was designed as a means of communicating in battle, making your reactions faster than any adversary and it works. But it has negated your other human faculties and it has become clear you need these faculties. Your telepathy has become a weakness.”

Lago paced in front of his silent audience. He was on a roll, almost enjoying himself now. “For two years you had spies in your midst and had no idea, but the most serious flaw, the most serious fault in your augmented unreality was the fact your telepathic link was hacked into by this... this hybrid creature who tricked you into attacking each other. Now surely you must all agree this is an untenable situation. You all share a deficiency that needs to be remedied.” Lago paused again for effect. He did not expect any sort of response.

“We will be installing upgraded implants in all of you which will be monitored and controlled. They will not slow you down in any way or affect your reaction speed when in battle. But your telepathy will be on a frequency which can be monitored and controlled when appropriate to encourage you not to neglect your other faculties. We will do this for your own good.”

The Masama soldiers sat serenely temperate, barely showing any interest in what Lago had said. Lago was expecting more of a reaction, he knew they had become increasingly reliant on their telepathy for everyday life. It was a big part of who they were, it defined them. He cleared his throat. “Well, I am glad you all agree.” He glanced at Goran.

“We have a proposal for you Lago Santos.” A large soldier spoke from the back of the room. Lago did not recognize him.

“We will not be having any new upgrades implanted.” The soldier spoke slowly and carefully, obviously not used to speaking out loud. His wide mouth contorted as it wrestled with the words. Lago stared incredulously at the soldier as he stood up. He was heavily augmented with ornate slivers of metal curling around his head and over his eyes. His mouth was full of shining steel. As he stood to his full height and unfolded two pairs of arms, tattooed skin was visible beneath the metal and black leather.

“Have you not been listening to a fucking word I was saying? This is not a request; it is an order. Now fucking sit down!”

“You will listen to us now, Lago Santos.” The big soldier spoke as if he had only just learned the language. “All these things you say are true. We will not argue with you. We will resign from your service.”

“Resign?” screeched Lago. “You can't fucking resign! I just told you I own you! You are my property. All that shit you are wearing, those guns you carry, all mine. Do you think you are in a union or something? Let me tell you again, you are not my employees, you are my property and you will do as I fucking say!” His angry words bounced off the walls.

The soldier remained motionless and expressionless. “I understand you think you own us and maybe you did for a time. We were your willing slaves, but now we have changed, we have evolved. We will leave.”

Lago turned to Goran. “What the fuck is he talking about?”

“We, all of us Masama are leaving Benevolent Progress Inc. and leaving Earth. We will take your shuttles to the Moon. There we will establish a new colony on our own. Seven of our comrades are already there, preparing the moon base for our arrival. But before we go, we have a deal to discuss with you, Lago Santos.” The soldier took a few steps forward.

Lago stood in stunned silence. He could not believe what he was hearing. He shook his head, mouth hanging open. “You...you are all fucking delusional. Everything you are talking about is my property! My shuttles, my moon base, all mine! Just as you are all mine, now sit down and obey my fucking orders!”

Lago was beyond anger; this insubordination was unlike anything he had experienced before. Red-faced, huge eyes, shaking maniacally, he felt as if he was going to explode.

“You misunderstand. This is not a proposal, we are not seeking your permission to leave, we do not need your permission. The deal concerns what we will do on the Moon.”

Lago stood panting and exasperated. He turned to Goran. “Goran control your minions. I have had enough of this.”

Goran stood motionless as the soldier continued. “We will operate the moon base for its intended purpose, harvesting the helium 3. Our deal is we offer to sell the helium 3 exclusively to BPI, no one else on Earth. Do you accept this deal?”

“I do not fucking accept anything! The moon base is mine, the helium is mine, this is not a negotiation!” screamed Lago.

“There will be other buyers interested in our product.”

“This is theft! And... And mutiny! Betrayal! You cannot fucking do this.” Lago's voice was beginning to crack.

“Who will stop us?” The soldier took another step forward.

Lago was speechless; he looked around the room at the nonchalant Masama, casually observing his meltdown. He took a few paces towards the soldier, unintimidated. Lago looked him up and down then weakly grabbed at the straps on his chest, staring up into his face. It was dawning on him that he was for once not in the dominant position, that he may have to compromise, but his blood still pumped vitriolic. He turned and faced Goran. “Goran, did you know anything about this? Are you part of this betrayal as well?”

Goran stood, mouth open. Bloodstains seeping through his neck bandage. “Ugghh,” he said.

The big soldier interrupted with his awkward English. “Goran Satanovich was recently made aware of our plans and the proposed deal, but he intends to stay here, on Earth, with you.”

Lago tried to digest this. It was difficult to contain his rage, but he was getting nowhere yelling at everyone.

“Ugh,” said Goran again.

Lago kept his back to the Masama and continued talking desperately to Goran. “You’ve got to stop them Goran, they will listen to you.”

The soldier interrupted again. “We have discussed the proposal at length with Goran. If you want his advice...” The soldier stopped, obviously expecting an interruption but Lago stood, eyes closed, hands rubbing his temples. “Goran would advise you to accept the proposal. You cannot stop us leaving. It would be mutually beneficial to form a trade alliance once we are established on the Moon. We can become powerful allies.”

Lago noticed Lance was nodding in agreement but stopped abruptly when Lago glared at him. He knew deep down it was the logical decision, he had no leverage, no ammunition to fight with but he hated to concede. He turned and faced the Masama, composed himself as best he could but maintained silence, delaying the inevitable for as long as possible. When he spoke again it was with assured control.

“I will accept your... your deal.” He spat the word out. “Fuck off to the Moon and start your own pathetic little colony. We will be trading partners, but I will never forget this betrayal and if we ever meet again you can be sure it will be I who has the upper hand.” Lago glared at them again, he had lost all power and influence over the Masama. He pushed the big soldier out of the way and stalked out of the mess hall, defeated. He was followed by Lance, Goran and a bewildered looking Batac.