Val wasn't quite sure he'd heard right. He almost expected to suddenly wake up in his bed, as the ridiculousness of the situation was starting to surpass that of even his dreams.

But instead, the synthoid continued to hold him by his collar, staring at him expectantly as it awaited his answer. Ten and Pragley watched the scene unfolding before them with expressions mixed somewhere between stricken concern and utter bewilderment.

"I was just wondering the same thing," he told it with a wavering voice, his attempt at humor falling flat. Surprisingly, its hold on him softened ever so slightly.

"You—you don't—?"

Its voice had quieted considerably, and sounded far less forceful—it almost sounded as confused as he felt. After a moment, it fixed him with an intense stare as if daring him to repeat himself.

"'We are each and all reflections of the gods that made us.'"

It recited the phrase as though it had practiced it a thousand times, enunciating each word clearly and finishing with a triumphant smugness in its tone. But, as he continued to appear lost and fearful, it seemed to realize he wasn't simply feigning his ignorance.

"So ... you really don't ... ?"

It released him suddenly, and took an unsteady step backwards. The moment he was free, he mirrored the action and put a few feet of distance between the two of them in case it suddenly had the desire to grab him again.

"Know who you are? No, I'm fairly certain you would have made an impression."

It groaned in frustration. "This doesn't make any sense—it's you, you're supposed to know who I am!"

His eyes widened. "Hang on—me? You know me?"

A detail that had escaped him before suddenly made itself apparent. He happened to glance into the optics that glared back at him, and took note of their color—a bright, glowing pink.

Memories he'd tried to bury, nightmares of being trapped on the Cell ship came rushing back to him, and at the forefront of them all was the recollection of the matrix and its similarly colored web of light that helped him to escape.

"It's you," he breathed.

The synthoid's gaze snapped towards him in an instant, his recognition igniting hope within it once more. "You do know who I—?"

"No," he quickly corrected, "Not exactly, anyway—but you were there with me on the ship, weren't you? The Cell ship?"

Understanding dawned on it, and it slowly nodded. He felt excitement beginning to build up inside him; if this being knew who he was, then maybe this was the chance he'd been looking for to learn more about his past—

"Uh, sorry. I don't mean to interrupt, but what the hell is goin' on here?"

Val looked at Pragley who had risen to his feet and watched the exchange silently in complete bemusement. Ten was in a similar position, though she seemed far more concerned about his safety than his conversation with the newcomer.

Both he and the synthoid glanced back at one another again, staring apprehensively as each waited for the other to break the silence that had settled in around them.

Val coughed awkwardly, and gestured to the farmhouse behind him. "Would you care to, uh, discuss this inside? Seems we have a lot to talk about."

It nodded in agreement. "You have no idea."

"So let me get this straight—you two know each other?"

"In a manner of speaking," Val confirmed, shrugging at Pragley as the latter closed the fridge door and passed him two glasses of juice. Giving one to Ten, he looked back at where the synthoid, who had revealed her name as 'Note', sat.

"One hell of a reunion," Ten muttered, absentmindedly rubbing her shoulder.

"Sorry about that," Note said apologetically, eyeing the irva's movement with chagrin. "But it's been ... how long's it been now? Two years?"

"Somewhere around there," Val agreed.

Note shook her head ever so slightly, the machinery that composed her body whirring as she did so. "I think I got a little impatient for answers after all this time."

"Your voice still sounds the same as the day I woke up," Val remarked. "I didn't notice it before. You're the one who gave me the matrix and helped me escape."

"Not me," she admitted. "Not entirely, I mean. If I'm being honest, I didn't really know that I was helping you at the time."

He furrowed his brow. "The voice that spoke to me from the pod, that wasn't you?"

She shook her head. "It's hard to explain. I woke up that day, same as you—no idea what I was or why I was there. Whoever spoke to you was what remained of who I may have been, but it wasn't ... well, me." She tilted her head. "Does that make sense?"

He swallowed hard. "More than you know."

"I'm still a bit at a loss here," Pragley said with a gruff sigh. "You mean to tell me that you're the thing we found him with? That broken chip?"

"What do you mean, broken?"

"Never mind that," Val quickly muttered, steering away from the subject. "I have a question of my own. Last time I saw you, you merged with the ship's controls, and the next thing I know, I'm waking up here on the couch." He leaned forward. "So what happened to you? Where've you been all this time?"

Note's optics narrowed at the memory. "That matrix was housing my mind and consciousness. While you were holding it up to doors and whatnot, I was interfacing with them and controlling them for you, albeit unknowingly. The world of a digital network is ... well, a confusing place."

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. "When I integrated with the main systems, I accidentally activated just about every system the ship had, including two big ones; the null-drive and the communications array. What happened next was pretty much the equivalent of me getting sucked down a whirlpool, I was beamed out into space until the largest available communications array was able to snag me from the void—"

"The Mercantile," Pragley murmured, watching the pieces fall into place.

She nodded. "Exactly. I was stuck in its network until I figured out how to get myself into a body of my own. So I spent most of my time taking control of maintenance drones, scavenging parts for construction, and learning what I could about myself in the meantime."

"You built that body yourself?"

"Had to. Gotta admit, my first venture out into public caused something of a stir—a shambling, skeletal frame didn't exactly invite hospitality. Thankfully, I've added some aesthetic flair over the last few months to fix that."

She gestured to her form, one that was anatomically similar to his own, but distinctly feminine in its shape and appearance. Her limbs and torso were covered in metal plating, most of it a dark grey with white and crimson accents in the casing near her neck, elbows, knees and thighs.

On the end of its legs were 'feet'; two small metal pieces, one acting as the ball and the other as the heel. At the tips of each were two white claw-like toes that protruded from the sides and angled inward for balance in the place of tendons and a foot arch.

Her head was rounded and smooth. Her 'face' was outlined by black panelling that curved to each side and tapered to points like the wings of a bird. Her eyes were visible against that panelling, luminescent optics with shutters that allowed her to narrow and widen their glow expressively. There was no mouth, but he found that her eyes glowed a bit more brightly when she spoke.

"Trying to make sense of those early days, the chaos of it all ... it's difficult. Everything was a new sensation to me, I had no idea what to do or where to go. All I knew was that I was alive."

He felt his chest tighten considerably. "You don't remember anything that came before?"

She shook her head disappointedly. "No, and from what you've told me, neither do you."

With a sigh, she held her forehead in her hand. "I spent all this time imagining myself finding you, finally getting the answers I needed—and it turns out that you were looking for them just like I was."

"Why'd you think I would know anything? How did you even know I existed?"

"'We are each and all reflections of the gods that made us'."

He furrowed his brow. "Yeah, you said that before. What does that even mean?"

"Hell if I know," she muttered with disdain. "That's all I had when I woke up, that damn sentence bouncing around in my head. I assumed that I needed to find 'the gods', the ones who made me in their image, and I thought that would be you, given that we ... well, look alike." She glanced up at him sadly. "Seems like I was wrong."

"Didn't you make yourself look like that?"

"This is just a body, a vessel—as an artificial mind, I guess I don't really have a 'true' form." She moved one hand forward, staring at it as she rotated it about. "But ... this was what felt right, the way I see myself. Someone had to make me feel that way, right? To make me see myself as ... this?"

He pondered that logic for a moment. "I guess. I mean, it's got to be a bit more than coincidence that you'd end up looking like I do."

"Exactly!" she agreed, pointing a finger at him enthusiastically. "Whoever we are, we have to come from the same place—wherever that might be."

"You didn't answer my other question—how'd you find me?"

She set both of her hands on top of one another on the table. "Well, it wasn't easy. I had to find one of the Sentinels on the Mercantile and get it to follow me. Once it did, I accessed its communications network—"

The sudden sound of glass breaking caused both Val and Note to turn and look at the nonplussed faces of Pragley and Ten, the latter of which had dropped her cup out of sheer shock.

"You—you did what?"

"Accessed its communications network," she repeated, her tone becoming slightly confused at their reaction. "All the Sentinels seem to work off of a single network, sharing information with each other constantly—"

"The Nexus," Pragley said hoarsely. "You're talking about the Nexus. You—you hacked the Nexus?"

"If that's what their network is called, then yes," she agreed with a shrug. "Though I wouldn't really say 'hacked'—'brute forced my way in' is closer to the truth. Long story short, it told me that what I sought was on Jantii. Once I knew where you were, it was just a matter of waiting until the Mercantile was close by and finding a way to get to you."

Val thought back to the sleek craft she'd arrived in. "I'm going to guess you didn't just borrow that ship outside."

"Like I said, I needed a way to get here."

"And the Nox coat?" Ten asked, pointing at Note's attire. "You 'borrow' that too?"

Note glanced down at it. "I'm sure its owner won't miss it, he seemed like the kinda guy who could afford a new one. Maybe it's a little big, but I happen to think it looks good on me."

"Can we get back to the important part?" Pragley growled, placing his hand on the table. "You got into the Nexus? How did you even do that?"

Note tilted her head. "I mean, it wasn't that hard. Staying in it was the hard part, that and—" She cut herself off, giving a slight shiver as she did so. "Well, I'm not going to get into that. To be frank, I really don't see what the big deal is."

"The big deal," Ten explained quietly, "is that no one's ever done it before. Not for lack of trying, obviously—people have tried to learn about the Sentinels and where they come from for thousands of years, but no one's ever gotten close to an answer. The Nexus is a total mystery to us, its complexity is beyond comprehension—and you seem to have had no trouble at all in bypassing that."

Note was stunned, taking a few seconds to reply. "Well ... like I said, it wasn't that hard."

"If that's the case, then that's even more concerning," Pragley said gravely. "The Sentinels are potentially the most powerful entities in the galaxy—and you hijacked one as easily as you did that ship out there. Can you imagine what would happen if someone else could access the Nexus like you did, maybe even take control of the Sentinels?"

The room became silent as its occupants began to imagine such a scenario—the might of the Sentinels wielded by the wrong hands. Val remembered Pragley's tales of the Cell, how they had harvested the Nox to near-extinction just by themselves, and shuddered at the thought.

Meekly, Note stared at the irva. "Well, when you put it that way ..."

"There is no other way," he stated firmly. "If someone were to have that kind of power ... well, I don't think I need to spell it out."

"They'd be unstoppable," Val breathed.

"Thank you, kid, for spellin' that out."

Note crossed her arms reproachfully. "Then it's a good thing I don't have any plans of galactic domination. Just saying."

"That's not the point." With a groan, the irva walked away from the table and leaned against the wall tiredly. "It doesn't matter what you do or don't have plans for, the fact that you exist presents a danger to the rest of Spectra. I've spent the last two years just tryin' to hide him, but if anyone were to get their hands on you—"

"What?"

Val stared at Pragley, the latter suddenly realizing what he'd just said. Slowly, he returned Val's gaze. "Now, hang on—"

Even Ten looked surprised, turning around to stare at her uncle. "What do you mean?"

"I didn't mean anything, just forget it—"

"You've been hiding me?" Val interrupted, his heart pounding. "Hiding me from what?"

The older irva sighed in resignation. "Does it matter? The Cell, the Empire, the Hegemony, take your pick. Keeping you here is the safest option for all involved, especially you."

"And who are you to make that call? You never thought I should have a say?" Slowly, Val felt his shock at the revelation being replaced with indignation. "Is that why you took me in? Just to keep me here? Do you think I'm some kind of danger to everyone—?"

"No!" Stepping away from the wall, Pragley pointed one of his lower hands at him. "I took you in to protect you. I hid you from the rest of the galaxy because I believe there's a reason the Cell wanted you, a reason why the Sentinels burned that mark," he said, pointing at Val's wrist, "into your skin—a dangerous reason."

"So I am dangerous."

"Not in the way you're thinking'."

Val narrowed his eyes. "Do you know something that I don't? Because if there's something you're not telling me—"

The irva bared his teeth. "You'll do what, exactly? Leave and set off on your own? I'm sure the Cell would love a chance to catch you out in the open."

"And why might they love that, Prag? Or is that best kept secret from me too?"

Pragley glowered at Val, and Val glared right back at him. The two of them stood there in a tense silence, each unwilling to back down.

"Val," Ten said gently from behind him, moving to stand next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I need to talk with Prag. Can you give us a few minutes?"

He didn't say anything in response, but recognized that nothing would come out of him scowling at Prag. Wordlessly, he broke eye contact and stormed off towards the staircase that led up to the second floor and his room. From behind him, he heard the sound of chair legs scraping the floor as Note left her seat to follow him.

Regardless of Pragley's reasons, he couldn't help how he felt—that he'd been lied to. Pragley hadn't trusted him enough to tell him the truth. Why? Was he actually a danger to others? Did his friend really care about him, or was it all a facade to make sure he never left, to make sure he never hurt anyone?

He didn't know whether the irva had been right or wrong to deceive him, to hide him from the rest of Spectra—and truthfully, he didn't care. All he knew as he ascended those steps was that he felt more alone now than when he'd first awakened in that pod.