"One can truly marvel at the speed at which Spectre Branch grew into a global superpower. From a secret team of operatives under Matt Dusek (and by extension the Adminship), they blossomed into a paramilitary organization that numbers, at the last count, over five-thousand. This quite upset the balance of power on Robloxia; for millennia, warlords had held reign over vast tracts of the southern latitude. But Spectre Branch's rise to power forced these warlords into hiding, for no ruler could escape a force such as this."

- Essays on Life by John Shedletsky

Since that day two years ago when the Associates fell, Spectre Branch had expanded into a military and political beast. Jack still felt awestruck as he entered the lobby of the Headquarters, at ground level far below the operating rooms that began on the fifteenth floor. The lobby was a large glass-walled area that looked out over the streets and, far beyond, the skyscrapers and bustle of commerce. It had a streamlined, almost zeerusty design, all chrome and shining blue lights, but interspersed with potted plants and modern computers. The tiles covering the floor were black and white, forming a checkerboard pattern. Jack strode though the door, trying not to gape. Reaching to his left, he caught his long dark red coat by the sleeve and snatched it off the hook, slinging it over his shoulders and removing a pair of slim sunglasses. He slid these onto the bridge of his nose, obscuring his eyes. The glasses displayed a readout in the left lens, and the right lens had crosshairs which focused on certain people and objects.

A short, squat barrel-like object on six pairs of widely set and independent treads rolled past. Jack's sunglasses informed him that this thing was a menial labor Bot (a Bot was an entity that was simply programmed to follow a specified kind of object.) The Bot was performing a surveillance operation currently, as an extra security measure in case of enemy infiltration. It latched onto his path, matching his speed as Jack walked towards the elevator doors. Hastily, Jack diverted somewhat and brushed past an accountant heading for his desk. The Bot turned to follow this new subject, and Jack entered the elevator, a pod made of darkly tinted safety glass. He pressed a large white button affixed to the doorframe, and with a shwiiiiiin the elevator snapped its doors shut and rocketed up the transparent shaft.

Jack was treated to a view of New Robloxia, gem of all civilization, through the glass walls. A great mass of city structures covered the ground like an overblown lawn. Among this confusion arose spires, great skyscrapers, piercing the clouds and going beyond them to where the sun blazed down. And, always, there was the air traffic. War clan troop carriers buzzed past, the ranks arranged on seats on the exterior walls. Cargo ships loomed, full of bricks and weapons and AIs and other goods, engine flares contained in sheathes the size of apartment buildings; the body of each cargo craft was longer than one of the gigantic skyscrapers, and could hold millions of Robloxians in its living quarters alone. Personal hovercars, buoyed in the air by lightbricks affixed to the chassis, sped by in swarms. Jack couldn't help but be amazed by the intense advancement of what the race had created. Ten thousand Robloxitys at least could fit inside this mega-city.

The elevator arrived at Jack's floor, and he disembarked. No sooner had he done so then the elevator sped back down again. He walked slowly into the Agent's Quarters. It was not in the same futuristic style as the lobby, but looked more like a high-class hotel. The floor was carpeted in red, and the walls were of a golden-brown lacquered wood, adorned with luminous bricks which were held in white plastic holders. There was black leather furniture in selected spots of the room, occupied intermittently by Agents in casual and business garb. Jack spotted who he had wanted to meet almost instantly: the figure of Andes254, his chief of security and the current fourth-in-command of Spectre Branch.

"Hey, Andes!" Jack called. Andes turned in his chair and waved to Jack. He was still wearing his favorite hoodie, the one he had two years ago during the assault on the Associates.

"Good news, man," Andes said. "They've booked Ipecac into the Hexagon Maximum-Security Prison."

"Glad to hear Dusek actually sent those choppers," Jack said. "I left 'fore they were supposed to arrive. Ipecac was cuffed though, so escape was out of the question."

"Right. Well, what's good, man?"

Jack sat down in an armchair across from Andes. From his seat, he could see the rugged features underneath the hood, the close-cut hair, the stubble.

"Andes," he began. Something came up in his throat and he forced it down. "Er, Andes," he continued, "do you, by any chance, have any... experience... with...?" He trailed off, but Andes' eyes told him he understood exactly what Jack meant.

"Women?" Andes said softly.

"Babies," Jack replied.

"Damn," said Andes. "That quick?"

"Nonono, no, you see, Angelica and I... when she went to get tested, the result was positive," Jack said. "She's pregnant."

"Why tell me?" asked Andes.

"Well, I could tell someone with less experience," Jack said, "but I'm not sure that'd help. I know you've got a son. Three, four years?"

"Four," said Andes. "Actually, gonna be five one of these days."

"What do you even... do with a baby?" Jack asked. "I mean... I don't know if I'm prepared."

"Just follow your instinct or something," Andes said. "Y'know. Go with the flow."

Jack nodded; he could see how that could work, but there were so many variables involved here that it sickened him to just leave things all to chance. What if the baby was born prematurely, or one of the machines broke, or Angelica (Admin-forbid) died in childbirth? So many variables. In a way, it was almost easier not to think about it, but he couldn't.

"Guess that's good advice," he sighed. "Right, thanks man."

"No problem, anyt-" Andes began.

The lift doors opened suddenly, and Andes cut himself off to look at the new arrival. It was Matt Dusek, head of Spectre Branch. Dusek's robe fluttered about his feet, and the gnarled staff he clutched in one hand glowed with power at the top. Dusek strode in, glanced around, and then brought the end of his staff down on the floor. There was a boom, a sudden flash, and everyone fell silent.

"Jack Steel?" Dusek enquired. He looked around, focused on Jack. "You, come here," he said. "Urgent matter. Needs instant attention."

"Okay," Jack replied, standing up and joining Dusek. He looked back at Andes, shrugged. Andes shrugged back.

"Get in the lift," Dusek said. Jack obeyed, and Dusek pressed the lift button, bringing them down the glass shaft. As they descended, Dusek was staring ahead, but not at the city. He was looking through the clouds into the sky.

They arrived at the lobby. Dusek disembarked first, and Jack followed. He could see dozens of Admin Guards in the lobby, all in formation around Builderman, who was sitting on one side of a small folding table. Jack stopped in front of Builderman, who motioned for him to sit down. Jack did so, and Builderman smiled, steepling his hands in front of himself.

"Alright," said Jack, "what is it?"

"Mr. Steel," said Builderman, "you've proven yourself to be an excellent agent of Spectre Branch. In the last year alone, crime has dropped twenty-five percent. And I see you have been commended on no less than seventeen occasions by wealthy clients who feel you have done 'excellent work.'"

"True," Jack agreed, "true. Your point, M'lord?"

"My point is that I'm hiring you, Steel," Builderman explained. "But I don't just hire any old agent or warrior. Namek, who is Clockwork among us? I could have hired him, but he is too reliant on his quick tongue. Grean Overseer, who I happen to know now resides in an asteroid belt between us and Blockland? No, he's far too unpredictable. I hired you, Jack (can I call you Jack?) because you are a man with the right blend of skill and brains for our enterprises. You have a strong sense, not of what is good or evil, but what is right or wrong. You are the cop's cop. You may not be the leader of Spectre Branch, but you are their flagship, their poster-boy. And you're what we need."

"Fine, fine," said Jack, raising his hands, "I know all that, I know my reputation and my accomplishments and all that... but what's the mission anyways?"

"A mission of great strategic and materialistic importance," Builderman said mysteriously. A smile tugged at the right corner of his mouth, and he drummed his fingers against each other.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "Well," he said, "where do I go? The Desert of the Jihad over in Kanais? The deepest jungles of Korbloxia? JaredValdez's mountain hideout? I'd love to get my hands on that squirrely sunuvabitch."

"Oh no, Jack," Builderman chuckled, "nowhere near those places."

"Then where?"

"To the final frontier, or so it is called. Jack, you are going into space."

Space.

Jack felt a strange sense of awe as Builderman's words echoed. Space. Space. SPACE. Space was that great unknown in most people's lives. Jack himself had never been off world, although he had heard tales. Those tales involved great adventures on unfamiliar worlds in strange star systems, conquests of land and of wealth, women so beautiful they could freeze a man solid, and terror so great that the bravest frigate captain would turn tail and flee. Space. Space was Robloxia's dreams realized in an infinite codescape, black as pitch, studded with diamonds, endless, primal, the greatest mystery. And Jack had been recruited to see space for himself. SPACE.

"You seem stunned, Jack Steel," Builderman said at last. Jack had been sitting silently for a while, hands folded in his lap. He looked at the head Administrator.

"My wife," he muttered. "My wife's pregnant."

"Oh, trust me, you'll be back in time to see your son," Builderman replied. He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, I know it's a boy. Was that supposed to be a surprise? Oh, my bad if it was. Congratulations, by the way."

"When do I leave," Jack said flatly. There was no questioning tone and hook at the end of the sentence, just flat nothingness.

"Tomorrow," Builderman said. He suddenly bent down, straightened up again with a folder in his hand. He thrust it towards Jack, who took it and studied the front. The folder was a very thin block of flexible plastic, with a switchboard on the front allowing different documents within to be read in GUI form. Jack began with the first document.

THE USS GREAT JUSTICE
STATS AND READOUT

THE USS GREAT JUSTICE IS ONE OF THE FOREMOST SHIPS IN THE ROBLOXIAN FLEET. ITS LENGTH IS 4,500 BLOX STANDARD MEASURE, AND ITS CLASS IS "MEGANEURA", MEANING A SHIP DESIGNED FOR INTERSTELLAR BATTLE. ITS ARSENAL WEIGHS OUT AT 210 STANDARD PROJECTILE CANNONS AFFIXED TO CREVICES IN THE HULL, 45 MISSILE LAUNCHERS PLACED AT STRATEGIC LOCATIONS ON THE PROW AND AFT OF THE SHIP, AND SEVERAL DOZEN AI-CONTROLLED HOMING MISSILES DEPLOYED FROM PITS ON THE FRONT. THE SHIPS HULL IS DESIGNED FOR WITHSTANDING EXPLOSIVE ARTILLERY, UP TO A CERTAIN POINT, BUT A SHIELDBLOCK GENERATOR CREATES SHORT-LIVED TRANSPARENT BLOCKS OF ENERGY OVER WEAKER AREAS LIKE THE ENGINE TURBINES. THE SHIP CAN HOLD 5,500 CREWMEN AT A TIME. ITS TOP SPEED IS SOMEWHERE OVER RENDER DISTANCE.

Jack stopped reading and looked back at Builderman. The GUI folded back into the folder.

"So that's a ship," he said.

"That is a very high-class ship," Builderman said. "Indeed, it is one of our best, as indicated in the first docu-"

"Sounds like a glorified sea ship," Jack interrupted. "And it works in space, does it?"

"It works very well in space, oh yes indeed," Builderman confirmed. "We merely use naval terms because we aren't very original as a species."

"Another question," Jack said. "When you go out in space, don't you get all runny and stuff? Like, you explode everywhere? Depressurization or something?"

"Oh, no, no," Builderman laughed. "No, space is actually quite hospitable. No, indeed, it's some of the planets you need to worry about. And the gravity. Space has a very strong downward pull. So far, we have not ascertained why. Many believe that when we were programmed the creators forgot to make everything float like it should. The planets are anchored, though, via a center baseplate."

"Fascinating," Jack said. "Er, who else is coming?"

"About three-thousand or so crewmen," Builderman answered, "five hundred Admin Guards, representatives from all Robloxia's major war clans and businesses, guards for them, and the captain and his assistants. And you. All total, I believe there are almost 5,200."

"Wow, that's a lot," Jack breathed.

"Indubitably." Builderman stood up. "You may keep the file, Jack. I'd hate it if you were left in the dark about anything. Right, well, must dash. I have to arrange flight procedures."

He turned and walked off. A brief hand signal alerted the Admin Guards to follow him. The stream of uniforms exited the front doors, and passed onto the streets. Jack watched them go, then watched an Administrative craft pick them up and fly out of sight. He resumed his study of the folder.

USS GREAT JUSTICE
FLIGHT PLAN AND VOYAGE DESCRIPTION

THE USS GREAT JUSTICE WILL DEPART FROM NEW ROBLOXIA AT 9:00 AM, AND MAKE A PASS THROUGH THE ROBLOXIAN LOW-RES SPACE GATE AT APPROXIMATELY 10:30 AM. WHEN WE HAVE REACHED DEEP SPACE (WHICH IS DEFINED AS ANY SPACE 750,000,000 MILES SOUTH OF ROBLOXIAN TERRITORY) WE WILL STOP FOR SCHEDULED MAINTENANCE, THEN CONTINUE ON TOWARDS THE H'UATAR NEBULA, WHERE OUR FINAL DESTINATION AWAITS. OUR FINAL DESTINATION IS THE PLANET OXIARIS (SEE DOCUMENT 7).

H'Uatar Nebula. Robloxian Territory. Oxiaris. These words were alien to him. So was deep space, and any distance as far as 750,000,000 miles. At least he could know more about Oxiaris, which to him sounded like one of those utopian-type worlds with crystal spires and togas and suchlike. Jack opened the entry.

USS GREAT JUSTICE
DESTINATION REPORT

OXIARIS IS THE FIFTH PLANET IN THE SOLAR SYSTEM KNOWN AS OXIS. IT IS KNOWN TO BE A VERY DANGEROUS PLANET, WHERE THE GROUND IS UNEVEN AND DOTTED WITH LAVA RIVERS AND LAKES. VERY LITTLE IS KNOWN OF NATIVE FAUNA, BUT THE PLANET IS RICH IN TANAN OIL AND IS THEREFORE VITAL TO ROBLOXIAN SOCIETY. OXARIAS' ATMOSPHERE IS TOXIC, SO A BREATHING APPARATUS IS REQUIRED AT ALL TIMES WHEN ON THE SURFACE. ONE OXIARAN DAY IS ONLY 4 HOURS IN LENGTH, BUT THE NIGHTS ARE 35 HOURS, MAKING THIS PLANET ALMOST ALWAYS DARK.

"Sounds like a nice place for a holiday," Jack whispered to himself. He closed the GUI and slung the folder underneath his arm. wandering back into the elevator, he shot back up to the Agent's Quarters and said brief goodbyes to everyone there. He knew most of the old-timers, who'd been there when he was but a new recruit. Block, Hamburg, all those others held a special place for him.

As he exited the lobby, he flagged down a cab and stepped into it. The cabbie turned back to face him.

"Where to, Gov," he asked.

"57th and Inverse," Jack said. He sat back, and the cab shot off into the city.