Chapter 12: Déjà Vu

Razor strolled into the open corridor of the palace. He saw the Quintessons standing over the body of a slain enforcer. Recorders were walking around documenting scratches in the floor and marks left by plasma burns. The Quintessons themselves were looking all around the scene. Each head scowling and staring this way and that. As soon as Razor got into the crowd an enforcer stepped behind him and pinned him to the floor.

"My lords, I—" Razor tried to speak, but the enforcer clamped on his frail neck-joint. The five Quintesson faces all come to the front and glared down at him.

"You... what?" Pride asked, leisurely. The enforcer gave no sign he was thinking of loosening his grip. Razor tried to testify quickly.

"Ugh... I saw a group of rogue protoforms aid Tracer in escaping from the palace."

Pride smiled, knowingly. "And... how did you end up here when you were reassigned in another sector of the city?"

"I was transporting hardware to another facility when I passed by and saw fighting."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. By the time I reached the gate the cowardly protoforms had escaped."

Inquiry took control. "Why did you not pursue the fugitives?"

"The enforcers left to watch the gate were nonfunctional. It was my duty to stand the vacant post until I could report what I had seen and be relieved."

"Did you see what was stolen?"

"No. My lords. I've told you everything I saw."

"It is interesting that all other witnesses only report one protoform escaping the palace."

"I have keener senses then most drones."

"Then if you have nothing else to add, you are released from our custody, and will return to your duties at melting mill omicron. It appears Spander was very... concerned for your safety when you disappeared. He will be thrilled to see your still in one piece."

"If I may make a request, my generous lords..." Razor began, but was cut off by Pride.

"As you can see, we have a situation to deal with. You should speak to Spander—your immediate superior—if you have any further... insignificant queries. Dismissed."

"Why would you dismiss an enforcer when your city is falling into chaos?" The enforcer holding Razor down stuck him, denting his armour.

"Choose your words with a little more care." Malice growled. "Nothing is falling into chaos. You are not an enforcer."

"I stood guard for you when all others had failed. I can not abandon you. I am ready to hunt those who wronged you. I am ready to dispense your justice again."

Faith took control and stared at the helpless drone at their feet. He motioned to the enforcer to release him. "Let us clear up any misconceptions you may have. There is no shortage of enforcers. There is no great threat. This is only one isolated incident that we can manage without employing outside assistance."

Razor couldn't play this game any longer. This was his last chance. "Please reassign me. I am no mere servant. I still have enforcer programming. Please put my skill to better use. I regret that I deceived you. I was wrong, and have learned my lesson now. If you will not have me as an enforcer, I will fight in the Colosseum! Let me punish someone—anyone—in your name."

Faith grimaced, "One such as you should beg for our forgiveness, but a drone has no pride to swallow. A pity... As it happens there are openings for prison guards beneath the Colosseum. We will grant you amnesty for your... vigilance. But let us not forget one last thing..."

The Quintessons swept Razor off the ground and shoved their tentacles into the base of his head. Razor screamed and flinched for a moment before being dropped to the floor. He appeared weakened as he tried to rise again to his feet. His strength slowly returned.

Greed smiled, "We have removed our previous pain simulation from your data tracks. And now we would like to give you your first assignment as a prison guard..." Greed's face slid away as Malice took control.

"Kill Lodex." he said, resisting a smile.

Razor turned to the nearest recorder, and stiffened his posture. "In you name, my lords." but as he stepped closer, it seemed something was keeping him frozen in place. He looked down at his arms, which stayed locked at his sides. "I... I can't. My arms, they... they won't—"

Faith brought their body up behind his. He spoke softly to the living statue. "Think of it as a little insurance. You're loyal, but also volatile. From now on your programming will not allow you to kill. We can't have our tournament suffer because of some minor bickering behind the scenes. We hope you understand, this is in your best interest too. For now, follow us. Our enforcers will surely be locating Tracer any moment. And when they do..."

Malice took control, "We will personally rip out his spark!"

Tracer sprinted through streets and alleys, putting as much distance as possible between him and the Quintessons' palace. He saw enforcers returning from their duties at the Colosseum, which meant the executions for the day have finally ended.

'The problem now is: where can I take this spark? Maybe I can find a recently unsparked protoform… No, the body still needs the core program. A drone's mind may be a blank slate, but that at least leaves room to for it to grow. A spark without a core program might not know how to speak, how to walk or how to tell up from down. I'll just have to go with what I know. I need to start with a drone, and put in the spark… but I know it won't be quite that simple. For the sake of this spark I don't want to botch the procedure with a minor oversight. I'm going to have to find someone who knows exactly how to do this… and the perfect accomplice is the only one who wouldn't even remember helping me. The assembler probably has piles of blank drones waiting to be completed.'

'Though, there remains another question to be answered: energon. If energon is the key to sustaining sparks, I have to find out. The assembler's memory is so short, it'll be easy to have him do all the work and we can be off with no witnesses.'

Tracer arrived at the assemblers shop. A couple robots were waiting for their scheduled tune-ups. There wasn't a line at all when Tracer was here earlier. He saw one robot sitting slouched against the wall right next to the door.

"Hey," Tracer muttered tapping the robot with his foot. "What's going on in there?"

"No clue." Replied the now-obvious protoform. "When I got here he said he's almost done. I asked a few cycles later and he said he's aaalmooost done. Every time I asked he said he's aaaaalmooooost done, though I honestly don't know what in the world he's actually doing. I buzzed him again not long ago and he just never replied."

Tracer stepped to the door.

"I wouldn't do that, if he's got an enforcer in there they don't like to be intruded upon. They kill eavesdroppers and such."

"I'll risk it…"

"HEY! THERE IS A LINE Y'KNOW?" Tracer ignored the protoform and stepped through, locking the door behind him.

The repair bay was ominously silent.

"Assembler…" Tracer listened to his voice echo off. "Assembler?"

There was a faint sound from one of the workbenches. Tracer cautiously approached. He came around a stack of crates to see the assembler himself lying on the workbench. Panels open. Parts littered the table and floor. The sound was coming from some contraption sitting at the assembler's head. The device had an outstretched arm that appeared to be stuck repeating the same motion. As Tracer stepped closer he saw the arm was slowly drifting upward, it was a slight twitch away from reactivating the unconscious drone.

With utmost care, Tracer guided the arm downward to its target. [BEEP-DAPAP-BOOP-DIP] Tracer jumped in surprise when the assembler's arm shot up and flipped a switch on the contraption to shut it off. A moment later the drones eyes opened and he sat up. He appeared to be weary and disoriented. Completely oblivious of Tracer standing well in front of him.

After a moment to compose himself, the assembler looked over his body. He showed no expression as he picked up one of the tools and held it in front of his face.

"I put the… angle-seamer on the bench…" He looked intently at the rather ordinary tool. "I put the angle-seamer on the bench…" His optics widened as he forced a tiny smile. "I put the angle-seamer on the bench. The operation was a success."

Tracer interjected. "Uh, Assembler?"

The drone jumped in surprise. "Who's there?"

"It's just me. What happened?"

The assembler cocked his head to one side. He kept a look of astonishment on his face as soft clicks and whirls hummed from his head. "It would appear I spent all day preparing to upgrade myself. I made all the necessary preparations, but I don't remember any of it. I do remember putting the angle-seamer down and activating this pre-programmed surgical drone before going offline. Now… I can retain memories!"

"Yeah, I heard you…" Tracer worried he wouldn't be able to manipulate this drone as he had hoped. "So you're all better after that surgery. No problems?"

"Everything is working so far." The assembler narrowed his optics at Tracer. "Who are you again?"

"Uh, Tracer" He replied.

The assembler's head hummed and clicked again before his eyes widened. "Oh right… Tracer! This…" he gestured to his workbench and then to himself "is all because of you, did you know that?" His voice grew agitated. "You're the reason I could no longer rely on my journal entries alone. For all I know you're the reason I started keeping a journal in the first place. Yes you were in here this morning claiming I already gave you the upgrades and yet here you stand: four-pin connections and all!"

"Uh, that's right…" Tracer gave a weak attempt at forgetful-remorse. "Well now that I'm here I guess I can take all those upgrades you had ready for me."

"You're too late. All your upgrades are right here." He said pointing to himself. "And I don't have an empty carcass to transfer your spark into either. How unfortunate."

Tracer could hear the scornful satisfaction the assembler implied. 'How could he know about the spark I stole?' "What do you mean?"

"Oh. Did I... forget to mention? The stowing depos had the last grids upgraded today. You're connections are now obsolete; you will be unable to recharge."

Tracer thought for a moment. "Maybe I have an alternative in mind... Do you keep any energon around here? Liquid energon?"

"What?" the assembler scoffs "Goodness no. Do you know what energon does to neural circuitry? I wouldn't just keep it lying around in a volumetric storage prism… [click-fizz-click] On the other hand… I have some right here."

"What was that?"

"What was what?"

"You said you didn't, then you 'clicked' and now suddenly you do."

The assembler paused mid-step as he thought. "I flipped from one memory bank to another—Yes, it would appear I intended to group all my memories in multiple memory cores. Some were just lying around my workshop—I just hope I remembered to purge them of any old data. What you saw was me scanning through every entry in my old journal." He resumed his walk to a shelf and pulled out a container with a sealed lid. "I collected this from a pump I fixed and never got around to disposing of it. This line of work is full of distractions, you see." He set the tub down and gave Tracer a serious stare. "Now… My programming prohibits me from unprecedented experiments without any underlying data to warrant the risks. So I must ask: what exactly do you intend to do with this?"

Tracer knew that asking directly to perform the experiment would end with the drone hitting the nearest alarm. He had to play to the drone's favorite functions: troubleshooting and problem-solving. "Not an experiment, I don't even think you could solve this problem. Hypothetically, energon could be the key to sustaining sparks but… nah, it'll never work. There's no mechanism to saturate the spark."

The assembler smiled as he wandered around the shop. "Simple. You need to construct an instrument to deliver precise doses of energon. The difference between sustaining the spark and overloading it could be as little as three centidrops. Lucky I have a fuel injector from an atmospheric surveyor. Very precise. Where did I leave that angle-seamer again? Oh—ha—that's right. This will only take a few clicks…"

The assembler bent over his bench as his hands whimsically slapped the injector nozzle onto a small fuel canister. Tracer stepped lightly as he crept closer to the focused drone. He recalled one of Spander's mates saying a strong impact had temporarily shut down a robot. Tracer was offline himself for a short time after falling into the pits. He picked up a scrap bar lying on a crate. He stepped closer, winding up for the strike. "There!" said the assembler "It's crude but It'll—" [CRUNCH]

The drone collapsed over the bench. Tracer picked up the new device. "Time to see if I was right…" [Shkezrit] Tracer unfolded his hand with the stolen spark and set the glowing green orb on the bench. He ran back to the energon container. He popped the lid off and dunked the device in to fill it. "I'll test it on myself first." He wasted no time opening his chest plate and dialing the device to five centidrops. He fumbled looking for a port into his spark chamber. Once he felt an opening he triggered the injector. No effect. Tracer dialed it up to ten centidrops. No effect. He dialed it up again to twenty and hit the trigger.

A surge shot through him. At first he believed he had overcharged his spark, his limbs felt lightened but also rigid. His senses felt hyperactive. A memory came back; the memory of lying on the ground looking up at the stars for the first time. He hadn't noticed how weakened he had grown. It wasn't simply like being activated or recharged… the only word that captured the sensation was life. He had renewed his life.

'Longevity…' His inner drone echoed.

Tracer sighed, unable to keep the jubilation from his face. "Thank you, assembler."

The assembler's voice softly came up. "Your gratitude is acknowledged, but not necessary. I'm only following my programming…" Tracer curiously walked over and prodded the motionless assembler. "If you're quite finished poking me, I am in serious need of repairs. [fizz-click] To disarm proximity charge, rotate tertiary drive one-quarter turn to the left and engage impactor."

"Are you alright, assembler?"

"My postcranial circuitry has been disconnected. I cannot self-diagnose until it has been reconnected. Even a protoform like you should be able to do it. Ah— [fizz-click] Patient complains of vision obstructed by ornamental faceplate. Recommend installing auxiliary optics."

"It sounds like your memory banks are… misfiring. Do you know where you are right now?"

"Of course I do. I am— [fizz-click] calibrating the abrasive— [fizz-click] flushing coolant— [fizz-click] I have to finish heat-treating these afterburners."

"Oh is that so? What about your damaged power supply?" Tracer grinned.

The assembler became concerned. "My power supply… what is the extent of the damage? Is the primary intergranular electronfiltration housing ruptured? [fizz-click] Hold still, I haven't even inserted the subdermal periscope yet."

Tracer rolled the drone onto his back and stared at fully intact components. "Uh, yeah… It's damaged. And there's lots of smoke and all the connections look fried."

"Is the patient still active?"

"Oh… yeah, for now. But, that won't last much longer." Tracer scooped up some metal filings and flung them into the drone's gearbox assembly, making it grind and jam repeatedly. "The patient is coming apart at the seams!" He then dumped a container of mech fluid into a puddle on the bench, letting the assembler hear it trickle onto the floor. "This patient is going to need a new power supply right away."

"[Fizz-click] You must be the assistant I requested, that's funny I only filed the request a cycle ago. [fizz-click] I'm going to put the angle-seamer on the bench, let's hit the switch see what happens. [Fizz-click] I keep several power supplies ready to install on the far wall."

Tracer could hardly believe how well his plan was coming along. It won't be as easy as he had hoped, but this could still be workable. "There's been a change of plans… we're supposed to give this patient a spark."

"Really? Very well, I just hope he doesn't have an emotional outburst when he realizes what we— [fizz-click] I call this new armour 'thermokinetic dispersal plating'. No projectile can penetrate it."

"Uh, so I just connect the spark to the patient's power supply?"

"[Fizz-click] Yes, at the main central junction, there is a port that allows for new hardware to be installed. The patient will shut down when you disconnect it. [fizz-click] I've tested every known weapon we have on it. The data is absolute, it will not fail. [fizz-click] You should see the coupling just above the internal mechdraulic drive cylinder."

Internal components were not Tracer's area of expertise. Even for industrial components, he only learned their names and functions after continuous bantering throughout his days as a loader. He looked at the parts and managed to find the connection. "What do I do after that? Assembler…"

"[fizz-click] That's impossible…"

"What?"

"The dispersal plating was destroyed! I don't understand. The hull has been breached! It's as though the new plating wasn't even there! Sectors twelve, thirteen, seventeen and eighteen have depressurized. We can't maintain— [fizz-click] It's nice to see a new face. What seems to be the problem? [Fizz-click] The spark containment chamber only needs a 4-guage cable and one of the new twelve-pin harnesses to integrate with the neural circuitry. They should be in my storage unit by the compactor."

"And that's it?"

"That's it." Tracer ran and grabbed the cable and wire harness. He quickly crimped them onto the spark container, and tried to calm his servos as he swapped the drone's cold power core for the pulsing orb of green light. Once the connections were made, he closed the assembler's chest and reconnected the cables to his head. He then entered the reactivation sequence. [BEEP-DAPAP-BOOP-DIP]

The assembler convulsed and gasped in sheer panic as he tumbled to the floor. Tracer attempted to calm the new protoform. "Hey easy now… eeeeverything's aaaalright."

The assembler looked over his hands and touched his own face. "What… What has—WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

"I gave you a spark. You're one of us now."

"One of you… I am… a protoform?" The assembler placed a hand on his chest, suddenly afraid. He shuttered and shook his head violently. "No, I can't!"

"Easy now… I know it's a lot to take in all at once. Just stay cylinder and trust me…"

"I CAN'T BE LIKE THIS! I'm so behind on my work! I have to replace the calipers on a transport! [fizz-click] No, I need to rewire a patient! [fizz-click] I need to calibrate the cooling on the concentric centripetal contaminant compressor! [fizz-click] Ugh, I'm so far behind! I can't be a protoform. What gives you the right to just go around shoving sparks into any drone you want?"

"Any drone might have worked, but only you knew how to talk me through the installation. Only you could help me test whether energon can keep sparks alive… and it can! You and I are going to find the resistance. I'm sorry I did this without your permission, but as a drone your programming wouldn't allow you to help us. I did it to help the spark you carry, and with it inside you you're a whole new robot. You don't have to be just an assembler. You can pick a new name for yourself. Please understand, you already solved longevity; if you take it to the Quintessons they'll use it to control the protoforms. I know they will. But if you take it to the resistance we can set ourselves free and… live forever, who knows?"

"Ugh, ah— [fizz-click] the kinetic core was fully overloaded. And we don't have the infrastructure to manufacture— [fizz-click] I solved longevity?"

"Um, yeah. It was just a moment ago." Tracer grabbed the injector "You made this to infuse liquid energon into a spark. Take it. Know that thousands of protoforms died needlessly until you invented this. Everything… everything is about to change."

The assembler stared at the contraption. "To the Quintessons, my life has no value with or without this invention. I could only perform my duties all for their glory." The assembler closed his eyes, listening to the sounds of his idle shop: coolants decompressed, fans whirled, lights hummed. His entire world had been everything in this one room. The room shrank as he listened, it's chorus of machines became an intolerable auditory discord. He wanted to leave and never come back to this place. "You're right. I chose the resistance."

There was a scuffle outside the door. "Assembler, are you in there? Open this door!" A very large robot was trying to enter.

"Yes I'm here." The assembler answered.

Tracer whispered. "Make up an excuse."

"You can't come in now, there's a neutrino polarity micrograph that's leaking radiation!"

"That's good." Whispered Tracer.

"In the name of the Quitnessons, open this door!" The robot on the other side wasn't interested in waiting.

The assembler tried again to stall as he and Tracer ran to the far end of the shop. "I just need a minute to [fizz-click] arrange my scalpels in order of ascending resonant frequency."

"We need to get out of here." said Tracer.

"This isn't a seven-eighths, it's a fifteen-sixteenths! It doesn't matter if it's correct; it's not what I asked you for! [fizz-click] I can't leave until I repair these damaged memory drives!"

"We'll fix them later, I promise. Is there another exit?"

"In the ceiling; there's one loose panel we could escape through." He said, pointing to a slight gap into starry sky.

Tracer shoved over a stack of crates and guided the assembler up. The assembler tucked his device into a slot in his plating before Tracer helped boost him up to reach the gap. "You first, I'm right behind—"

"Assembler, this is your last chance to OPEN THIS DOOR!"

The assembler let down his arm for Tracer. "I'll pull you up."

"No, I'll buy you time." He looked into the assembler's optics. "Listen to me… you have to go to stowing sector three, find Taurus Luna. Your only hope is to find Alpha Trion. Remember: stowing sector three; Taurus Luna; Alpha Trion… I wish you the best of luck, now GO!" Tracer's eyes became somber as he turned away and pushed the stack of crates over. Tracer grabbed his makeshift club as the door exploded inward. Through the thick smoke metallic tentacles waved, the dust settled and Tracer stared back at five furious faces.

"Ah, Tracer." Grinned Faith. "We've been looking everywhere for you…"

Faces swapped. The Quintessons glided across the shop floor, shoving crates aside. "You dare to steal from us? Such impudence… have you learned nothing? And all for a single spark, were there no complete protoforms that were willing to assist you? You should have taken such an obvious hint; any action taken against us is suicide. Here you stand, completely alone. Now, where is the spark?"

Tracer held the club in front of him, trying to keep a safe distance… if there was one. "I tried connecting it to the assembler's power supply, but something went wrong and he overloaded."

Inquiry spun around the cranium, stopping to look at one of the benches. "These are the assembler's components here… Ah, you fool. Sparks must be expertly installed. A single lost spark hardly matters to us, however the penalty for trespassing and theft is immediate execution!"

"Let's get on with it then…" Tracer swung the scrap metal bar and awkwardly fended off the incoming tentacles. He dodged and leaped toward the giant form. He struck all over, hitting faces where he could. His strikes, however, left not even a scratch in their armour, and yet he continued. A moment passed and Tracer felt his energy reserves running low. His movements became sluggish and weak. Finally he stopped and looked up at five rather-amused faces.

Pride took the centre slot, leaned back to look down at Tracer and smiled. Tracer found his legs would no longer work. Before he knew what was happening Tracer felt his legs fold up to his sides, his arms tucked in behind his back and his head collapsed into his chest. The rusted bar clattered on the floor, as the Quintessons chuckled.

"That's more like it! After we killed Armaetrus we decided that all protoforms should have a certain fail-safe feature installed. A protoform's memories are a challenge to decode, we were only able to decode one sensation before we killed him. It was the single emotion that dominated his mind when he made his final stand before us. You might call it hope… we call it desperation. Whenever a protoform feels this powerful emotion, it triggers this—hmmm—regression into a helpless storage-mode. We're so pleased to see it actually works."

The Quintessons coiled a tentacle back and punched a hole through Tracer—just shy of the centre of his chest. The tentacle pulled the protoform-crate up to optic-level. Tracer felt more energy and strength drain from him. A feeling of helplessness filled him. 'This is it…' He felt his limbs unfold and dangle limp beneath him.

Fluid dripped down the Quitnessons tentacle. Tracer tried to raise even one closed fist… to no avail. All his strength could barely keep his head upright. He groaned "Finish it…"

Pride glared through narrowed eyes as his hand slowly pulled open Tracer's chest plate. "How unfortunate you come this far only to make the exact same mistake as your predecessor…" Pride looked inside Tracer's open chest and could not bring himself to speak. Light reflected off the metal features of his face; a light that pierced deep into the darkness of his optics. Inquiry abruptly took the centre slot and leaned in close. "Now… this is interesting."

"Hardly." Whispered Greed from the side. "He replaced his dying spark with the one he stole!"

"He couldn't have." Replied Inquiry. "His core programming would be erased with the old spark. The way he stood; the lack of fear he has at our presence… this is undoubtedly the same Tracer. Yet his spark appears to have been… rejuvenated!"

"That's impossible!" hissed Malice.

Faith took control, "The evidence lies before us, fellow judges. Tell us, Tracer… how have you done this?"

"Haha… Oh yesss! The resistance—ugh… never ended! We have known all along the secret to longevity! The protoforms—ah… don't need you anymore! All your attempts to—ah…"

"Ah, impressive bravado… typical of a doomed servant. Forgive us for not trembling in fear, but we do not believe a word you say. The secret of your spark remains a mystery, but the rest of your wretched form remains our technology. We can yet extract the information we seek from your cybernetic mind."

Malice moved into position, "We'll ensure slow death awaits you until you decide to cooperate. You can look forward to being the newest contender… in the Grand Tournament!"

Inquiry slid in next, "After this day, if the name Tracer is even known, it will be known only as the imbecile who doomed all your kind. Now that we know sparks can be rejuvenated, we will experiment on every spark until we have the answer. Make no mistake, we will discover how you rejuvenated your spark one way or another. You might save yourself and every protoform suffering if you tell us how you've done this."

Tracer lifted his head up and smiled with delight. "I-know some-thing you-don't knooow! Haha…"

Pride took control. "You do not know how pointless this is. We are the Quintessons! Worlds tremble at the mention of our name... You cannot comprehend how many species have bowed before us, and how many more we've rendered extinct. Challengers undoubtedly rise, but all have fallen and no god or spirit ever emerged to save them. So many worlds were needlessly cleansed." Faith slid into position. "We have exhausted all possible means to make it absolutely clear: we… are… Invincible!"

Faith gave Malice control, who turned to the familair drone waiting outside. "Razor, have this traitor patched up by our personal maintenance drone and take him to the cells beneath the Colosseum. This one will try to provoke you, he might even beg you to kill him; but we know he's completely safe in your custody."

The thin enforcer carried Tracer through the waiting room, which was now littered with several unsparked protoforms. The Quintessons stepped out into the streets ready to return to their palace when two drones approached: Lodex Gamma and Kaetor the collector.

"Your honours." Addressed Gamma as he bowed.

Inquiry turned to the drones. "Gamma, what is the meaning of this?" Greed forced himself into position and continued to march while the drones followed. "And do not waste our time."

Lodex Gamma stepped in close, and spoke with calm urgency. "Your honours, this drone has discovered an... alien spacecraft."

Greed stopped in his tracks. "This is it: the mysterious Traveler!" The other heads whispered to themselves before Inquiry looked at Kaetor. "Where?"

"In the Northeastern wastes through a pass in the mountains."

Faith looked directly at Gamma. "We must prepare Kaetor to leave immediately."

Kaetor dropped his shoulders. "I must apologize masters. I will need time to recharge. My energy cells are nearly depleted."

Greed replied. "There is no time to recharge your cells, we just will replace them. This is of the highest urgency. You will return to the exact location of the spacecraft. All other functions and protocols fall second to completing this mission."

Faith continued. "We will give you special equipment. Gamma, see that this collector drone is outfitted for remote surveillance and give him our fastest available transport. The mountains to the Northeast are many cycles away. In the meantime we have other matters to see to, we trust both of you to carry out your orders. Gamma, we expect an update on this every cycle."

"As you wish, my lord."

Inquiry rushed in just as the drones were about to depart. "One more thing, Kaetor. I also have a special… item that perhaps you will find… useful on this particular mission."