I N D I V I S I B L E | Lies of Peace, Truths of Sedition

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

​

L A E K I A
THE OUTER RIM

The boy looked out into space and saw a swarm moving in the darkness.

Worker bees shuttled through veritable clouds of droids that were slowly piecing together a gargantuan husk. It was the frame of one of Corellia Digital's star defenders.

This was, after all, where Corellia Digital's military defense contracting had started. Expanding into orbit of the planet Laekia, it was here that the company assembled its battle droids and other items that it didn't want constructed under the public scrutiny of the Core. Corellia was a great location for business, but it offered very little privacy.

If nothing else, the Corellian Confederacy and CorSec were both keeping tabs on what the company was doing. Which was to be expected. Sor-Jan had dealt with the same when the Galactic Alliance, the Metal Lords, and even the One Sith had laid claim for the Five Brothers.

Turning away from the large viewport, the gangly child made his way over to the table where his breakfast was growing cold. A half eaten poptart and some blue milk rested beside a datapad that held the current newsfeed.

The article on display had been the cause for why the boy had walked away from his meal. The news of what had happened on Mandalore made him lose his appetite.

Sor-Jan knew Mandalore. He knew Mandalore and the people of Mandalore at what had been, perhaps, their darkest hour. And he had worked to try and lift the Mandalorians from the ashes, even as some among them had threatened him for the aid that he had offered. Now, it seemed that the Sith Empire had done to Mandalore what it had to Voss, to Mon Cala, to any number of worlds. Sor-Jan wouldn't claim to know the exact count. The One Sith had been a monster. The Primeval had been a monster. Now, the Sith Empire festered in the wounds left behind by both of those evils.

And the Sith were hardly the only ones carving out their own fiefdom. The Confederacy had laid claim to Omwat, while some kind of political debate over the Confederate claims to Eriadu had popped up in the news feeds regarding a fleet that had amassed in the system there. It seemed as though a voice had expressed dissatisfaction with the government of Geonosis' control. And that voice had been summarily silenced. And whatever had happened on Kabal remained something of a mystery.

An Imperial Remnant had propped itself up in the Core, forcing worlds to bend to its way of life. Only to disappear and leave those same worlds lurching inside a political power vacuum that continued the chaotic cycle of instability that undermined every effort at instilling real change.

The Coalition was continuing the grand tradition of convincing worlds to join out of a strength in numbers argument. Which, on Parmathe appeared to have carried the day.

Which was the problem, not the solution.

Planets were pressured to ally themselves with the geo-political superpowers. The briefly lived Galactic Empires of whatever stripe, name, creed, or branding that they might assign themselves. The end result seemed to be the same. Planets that surrendered the right to govern themselves freely.

Perhaps the exchange was couched in diplomatic niceties. Or perhaps the aggressive negotiations took place at the end of a gun. Was there really a difference? The Silver Jedi had effected a blood-less transfer of political power when they had moved their capital from Voss to Kashyyyk. But what had been the result?

The Voss now served the Sith Emperor and the Wookies of Kashyyyk had their way of life threatened purely by association with an organization whose numbers featured very few Kashyyyk denizens.

Meanwhile, it seemed that the Jedi had involved themselves in the purely internal affairs of Hapes' politics. How convenient, then, that the government supported by the Silver Jedi intervention then became just another notch on the Silver Jedi's belt. And for what? What was any of this if not expansion for expansion's sake.

What do the powerful want? More power.

Sith. Jedi.

They were more alike than they were different. In his youth, the Anzat would have professed to have believed differently. Now, whether age or experience, he found himself jaded to the very ideals he had once pledged himself toward.

The Republic was well and dead. Democracy had died when Palapatine had declared the New Order. The fires of the civil liberties and freedoms that had once existed were now the enemy destroyed by a pervasive colonial mindset that seemed to view the worlds of the galaxy as pawns on some grand chess board.

For more than sixty years, Sor-Jan had been a Jedi Knight. Commander of the Republic Judicial Forces that had responded to the Yinchorri Uprising. General of the Grand Army of the Galactic Republic that had fought their way through the Clone Wars. Master of the Holy Order of Jedi Knights. And right now, he was frustrated by how utterly powerless he had become.

Giant armies swarmed around planets, who were forced to capitulate. Made to believe that they had to surrender their inherent rights to self governance for the collective good... or just because the other guy had a larger gun. And what could he do about it?

Once, Sor-Jan had served as an ambassador for the Alliance. Taken the rote speech and flimsy excuse to Crystan V about why joining the Alliance was better than falling to the advance of the First Order.

Now both the First Order and the Alliance were gone, and what good had any of what Sor-Jan had said been for the people of Crystan V who had always simply been caught in the middle of two warring gods, each convinced of their own righteousness?

It was a cycle of lies in which truth became treason.

He had no idea what he could do about any of it, but he had an idea of someone who might. After all, information was Sor-Jan's business. Such as information about a political dissident group that had been massing in the Outer Rim. A place that the dark net had dubbed Scintillia.

So he'd extended an offer.

The only question was, would she accept the invitation to coffee?

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]​

Leakia. All the way across the other side of the Galaxy, in the Tinagel arm. She hadn't bothered with taking the safe routes and going only through neutral space; in the days it had taken her to get there from the Unknown Regions, Scherezade had openly traveled, her presence un-stealthed. Anyone who was looking would have known she was passing by, but she doubted anyone would actually bother to care. Through the Corellians, through the Silvers, through the Sith, she passed 'em all before arriving at last at the planet whose name sounded like lick-hee-yeah! to her ears.

Contrary to very popular belief, the Blood Hound formerly of the Confederacy and now of the Agents of Chaos did not like coffee. She'd attempted the drink several times, most of them being around her breaking free of the pebble that had held her a prisoner for over seven hundred years, and every single time had ended with her spitting it out. It wasn't overly surprising though; like many undergoing their terrible two's, and she had indeed at this point existed as an adult for nearly two years, her diet was extremely restricted as a result of her not enjoying most kinds of food. Bread was too spongy, sweets were too attention demanding, and various noodles felt like trying to eat worms without the benefit of protein. So she avoided most of them and mostly stuck to meats and dairy, occasionally allowing herself a salty snack or two.

So all food stuff aside, when the invitation from [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] had arrived, she very much accepted it. The two had met each other while both served under the purple banners, and had conspired to commit what would eventually be dubbed as treason later on. She hadn't cared about the precise title for it then, and neither and anybody else. As far as she could tell, other than two or three specific people, no one had even cared that things had become so bad for her that she'd attempted to remove herself from existence.

But eventually, it had been worth it. When she'd returned to existing and had come clean about what she'd done, she'd been placed on probation. Six months, serving at the Ministry of Secrets while still pretending to be a Pathfinder of the Knights Obsidian. She'd been severely busy, but she had done it all, and then some. Her skillset had grown, her body had become more honed, and her battle experienced had increased in more counts than most humans could calculate without a droid to help them. She'd always thought she was the grunt that she'd been treated as. But only after she had met Discordia had she realized, that from being a tool, she had become much more than a weapon. She was dangerous. And now, she had a goal too.

How many planets had she helped the Confederacy get under their belt? It had been so long since she'd lost count at all. Fighting on this planet, celebrating signed documents on that planet, saving people on this planet… Towards the end, she didn't even know what planet she was on half the time. And all that busywork, had kept her away from the larger picture. What had it all been for? What did those above her gain other than the option to sit in comfortable seats while those who were worked themselves to death?

She could never claim there was an ulterior motive to the choices she'd begun making after deciding to join the Agents of Chaos. Breaking large governments down was a comfortable excuse. It was something her sister could claim was the right thing to do. But for the Blood Hound? For the Sithling? She wanted to no longer be contained. She wanted to be free. And she wanted to show all those greedy bastards that the very thing she had worked for them so that they could have, she could just as easily take away. And she would take it away. From all of them. Perhaps, it was a good thing that she had not taken up a key position among the Agents' leadership.

With a small smile, Scherezade looked to the big paper bag resting atop of her kitchen counter. She and Sor-Jan hadn't met each other often, but she remembered the very first tip she'd been given about him before the two met on Dragonflies for the first time. He likes double chocolate chip cookies. The smell on her ship was overpowering, and she could feel it much stronger than she could the blood magic that still decorated her walls, now hidden under soft pink wallpaper.

As the Giggledust began to dock, Scherezade grabbed the bag and glanced at herself one final time in the mirror. While she'd worn her regular armor set, most of the weapons that she was known to constantly carry were not on her. Only two knives, visible, were on her sides, in case she would actually need them. Something inside her gut told her that this would be enough today.

Whatever Sor-Jan Xantha had in store for today, she felt confident, and ready.

And she hoped the time their meeting would take would be sufficient to clear the smell of cookies fro her ship.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Laekia was too remote for any of the major geo-political powers to have held sway here.

Instead, privately owned Firemane star destroyers greeted Scherezade as she entered the star system. The original three Vindicta-class destroyers that the company purchased in response to what had then been increased First Order aggression against the company's freighters bound for the Kathol Republic. Corellia Digital had become the de facto authority in the system, originally for the singular purpose of ensuring the security of its own shipbuilding foundries there.

What had formed was a symbiotic relationship, in which the local authorities operated in the shadow of the company that had grown to become the largest employer of the planet's populace amid the vacuum created by the absence of the Silver Jedi.

For a brief period of time, the Levantine Sanctum had started to reconnect the remote worlds beyond the Tingel Arm with the greater cosmos. Laekia. Midvinter. Kaeshana.

That progress was to have continued when the Silver Jedi assumed responsibilities for the Levantine worlds. Instead, the Silver Jedi had abandoned Laekia the same time that they had abandoned Vaynai, Mon Cala, and a number of other worlds that now suffered the same fate as Voss.

By sheer economic coincidence, Corellia Digital had filled that void for Laekia. During the early days of Sor-Jan's presidency, he had linked the newly formed Corellia Defense subsidiary with the Levantine Astronautical Academy. The school had provided a pool of applicants from among its graduates, and as Corellia Digital had grown it had, in turn, been able to invest more into both the Academy and Laekia in general. Piracy was lower now than it had been during the Levantine era. The Laekia Ports Authority operated using some of the original ships that the company had purchased from Jast and Mon Calamari shipyards while it had been developing its own shipwright industries. The presence of the Firemane star destroyers -- the Excelsior, Equinox, and Excalibur -- merely served as a silent safeguard.

The shipyards created a sprawling presence that spread like a spiderweb of metal in orbit of the planet. Several Corellian ships could be found in various stages of construction; ranging from the company's star defenders to the droid starfighters.

Sor-Jan was waiting at the corporate offices on Oswaft Station. A breakfast buffet had been set up to one side of the conference room. Nothing much, but a variety of different items, coffee, or tea that she could select if she wanted.

He might have started with hello.

Instead, as she stepped inside the room, the boy noted, "You once asked me to hack the Confederacy. Now I have a question for you: How do I fight the Confederacy? Or the notion that all power in the galaxy must rest with its colonial masters?"

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]​

Glowing green eyes did not hide curiously as they stared at her surroundings while she walked down the ramp, her Loth-wolf Baal standing guard at the ship's entrance, his own green eyes matching the curiousity, but adding a healthy dose of suspicion as well. For a heart beat, she considered bringing him along, but as he was now sufficiently taller than her that he imposed a huge threat on smaller people, she'd elected to leave him on the Giggledust, promising him that they would visit a nature world after that so that he could run and stretch his giant legs.

She knew about some of the planet's history. Why Sor-Jan had asked her to come here, was something she thought she understood. After all, it made sense, considering his history there with his company and all of that. Truthfully though, she had not delved overly deep into the background of the place beyond that. Laekia was at present outside of the Sith Empire's rules, and for the moment, while their gaze was cast at former Mandalorian turf, that was enough. Would she answer the call if the planet became the Sith Empire's desire? A big part of her wanted to say yes; she had battled against them before and she would be more than happy to do so again. But would she be able to? On that specific front, some freedom had been lost by her recent choices, and the Blood Hound could not give her word on that.

Following the guide to the station, her eyes continued to take everting in. Take notes. These were construct built by people who had more credits and more experience than her, and even without being granted access to their blueprints, she knew there was much she could learn just by looking, and paying attention. Was she looking for something specific? Not really. But any hint, anything she could adopt to strengthen Eve, to strengthen Scintilla, she would not shy from doing. If Scintilla was to be her new home, from which she would strike at the rest of the Galaxy, it was her duty to do anything within her power to build its defenses and abilities up.

And then there wasn't even a hello.

Scherezade hadn't even had the chance to sit down or take in what was offered in terms of food and beverages before Sor-Jan jumped straight to the matter of heart.

There were places in the galaxy where such a thing would've been considered extremely rude, enough to cut off any potential collaboration and cooperation before it even started. But for her? Scherezade just wanted to give him a great big hug. Jumping over the small talk portion of things was a blessing to her as she was so horrible at it. All she could offer him was a gigantic smile of relief, and then she set the paper bag with the cookies on the table. He was welcome to it whenever he pleased.

Taking a seat, Scherezade fiddled for a few seconds with the device on her wrist before a small part of it sprang, emitting now a giant 3D holomap of the galaxy. A few more swings of her finger, and the holomap zoomed in and focused on the purple cloud. Those had been their colors. Those had been her colors, for her entire existence outside of the pebble, until a few weeks ago.

"When I asked you to slice into the Confederate databases, it was not to move against the Confederacy itself," she said, her eyes focused on the map. Tatooine, Falleen, Zolan, Maramere. "I asked you to do that because I wanted to protect myself and my home." Haseria, Secundus Ando, Naboo. "The information about me had leaked, and I knew they would not help me remove it. They would not help me hide information that was crucial to the protection of my own home planet." Felacat, Rishi, Cularin, Bestine. "Not because it was on the other side of the Galaxy. Not because of whatever resources it did or did not have." Arachae Tutis, Hoylin, Azterri, "But because it did not matter to them. Because I would always be their cheap meat shield, do the work for them, build what they wanted to be theirs and protect it from any threat, real or perceived. Most, for protocol's sake, were merely perceived." Kuat, Eshan, Taanab, Copero, Zonmira. Such a tiny, partial list. Other than the handful of first planets that he Confederacy had added to its lists, she had been there for every single one, in one form or another.

She looked at the map. So many of what was painted purple, she had been there in the flesh to bring it into the fold. To help, as Sor-Jan had said, to colonize. Few planets within the sleeping purple beast had not had her blood soak into their earth. Hundreds of planet, now belonging to the Confederacy, and she had such a large part to play in that.

"But it's not your personal protection you're asking about now," she continued, her holomap becoming a touch little more transparent, her gaze shifting and moving to rest on the boy who was not truly a boy, who looked as human as any human did, but who to her Blood Hounded senses smelled so sharply of a species that was anything but. "But the protection of many. Protection against those who would ensnare them into their territories and behave as though they have ownership claims. Those who would claim to be so against slavery but show no qualms or remorse about behaving as though they own entire planets and their populations."

Turning the holomap off, Scherezade leaned back in her chair, and looked at Sor-Jan again.

"And yet were there for parts of it. You helped the Confederacy gain more and more territory. Now you wish to fight it." Scherezade paused. She hoped that she was not being hard on him. But there was a question, and it was one she had to ask nearly everyone who showed this change of heart. There was little doubt in her mind that at some point, assuming they had not begun already, the Ministry of Secrets would come sniffing around. "Why?"

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

Standing over by the large window that dominated the far wall of the conference room, the boy watched the holographic drama unfold. Listening and lingering on every word, silently mulling them over as Scherezade spoke.

When she'd finished, he remained quiet for a moment more. Brooding as he was want to do.

Then, Sor-Jan stepped over to a side table that contained a pitcher of water, a carafe of coffee, and some chilled juices. "Few people are aware of this, but I was born more than nine hundred years ago," the boy remarked, as he decanted an orange colored juice into a tumbler glass.

"I was once a Jedi Knight of the Old Republic. I grew up in a galaxy united under a single banner. Where the chorus and verse to All Stars Burn As One was sung from Naboo to Bastion, or Lothal to Endor," he stated, turning back to face the woman with glass in hand. Pausing to take a sip of his drink, he crossed back over toward the window. Staring out into the endless night, he explained, "I watched as the walls fell. The galaxy plunged into war. First between the Republic and the Separatists, then between the Empire and everyone living in it. Naturally, my instinct was to try and re-create what I knew. I helped people try to restore the Republic. I aided the Silver Jedi in establishing a truce with an implacable enemy. And I gave support to both the Outer Rim Coalition and the Galactic Alliance."

Pausing there, the boy turned to look back at his guest as he asked, "And you know what I learned? That these efforts do more harm than good."

He took another sip of his juice, "The problem is not government, but those that install themselves as interstellar governments," he remarked, gesturing toward the window behind him with the tumbler in hand. "The Primeval existed for only a short time, and committed itself to the genocide of several worlds under its control. The Sith do it openly. Others, such as the Silver Jedi, do it through action and inaction -- abandoning worlds that they once promised to protect, sparing themselves and leaving those world to their fate."

Vaynai. Mon Cala. Voss. No matter his Jedi training, he could never forgive the Silver Jedi for abandoning Voss without so much as putting up a fight. Just picking up and propping themselves up on Kashyyyk.

And how long would the Wookiees enjoy this presence? Or at what point would the pressure from the Sith war machine prompt yet another exodus? "The Galactic Alliance managed to endure for little more than a decade before its collapse," he mused aloud, continuing, "Imagine the state of the worlds now under the Confederate Vicelord when it, inevitably, fails. Or those of the Sith Empire, thrust into anarchy without the central imperial government to direct the economy."

Another sip. This time the boy tipped his head and the glass back as he finished the juice. As he straightened back up, he swallowed and added, "I dare say we're seeing it now with the Coalition. Rogue Judges openly challenge the notion that the Coalition can maintain rule of law in the Outer Rim."

Planting the glass down on the table top, the boy commented, "Intergalactic governments prop themselves up with temporary platitudes that make for nice sound bites. Trade partnerships. Mutual defense treaties. All of these things sound nice and so the people support them. But the end result is always the same. Resources siphoned away from planets, diverted and directed by people and forces completely divorced of the concerns of the planets they collect and use as stepping stones in their petty ploys for power. And the resulting political vacuum causes more damage than the pointless wars that they wage with the other fiefdoms that have gathered their worlds together."

Planting his heands down on the table top, the boy leaned forward as he looked at Scherezade. "This current cycle has continued since the fall of the Old Republic. You ask why? Because this refrain has gotten old, and I'm tired of hearing it. Something has to change."

[member="Scherezade deWinter"]​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

[member="Sor-Jan Xantha"]​

Nine hundred years ago. Scherezade said nothing, but inside of her was a little ha ha! going on for one moment, when she realized her bet that this wasn't a child was correct, and then curiosity spiked by the dozens. Nine hundred years. That meant that this was one of those rare moments in which she was seated with someone older than her. Would he remember her parents' kingdom? Would he had been aware of her grandparents and godfather all taking terms in being proclaimed as Dark Lord of the Sith? Would any of it even matter?

Remaining quiet, she listened to his tale. Of histories that were so long ago and some of which so briefly. Of things done, of attempts made, of travel and deeds done. She supposed, that had she made the same attempts as he had, her conclusions would have been the same. More harm than good. But, the Sithling could not admit without lying that she cared for such things too deeply. The harm of the small people, the innocents, did not bother her. Hypocrisy, did.

But yes.

Interstellar governments.

But no. Scherezade didn't need to think about what would happen when the Confederate Vicelord failed. She knew what was already happening – or what was already not happening – on some of the Confederate worlds. It was left to reason then that it happened on more than those few, but unless they were run by someone close to the plate, no one would give a damn. Not in any more meaningful way than empty words, anyway.

Quietly she listened, letting the Aznat finish before she opened her mouth for a single word.

"The Confederacy will be hard to topple, because it is already isolated," she said after a long silence. He had told her the why. "It feeds and supplies itself through the planets within its territory. It has no need for additional economic or military treaties save to fulfil a sense of greed. It has more than enough people to grind into dust if it decided the dust market needed a push."

Leaning back in her chair, the Blood Hound smiled. The Confederacy had, for a long time, posed a challenge. She remembered the days in which the Sith had posed her a similar one; studying the maps during her sleepless nights, she had wondered for hour after hour how such places could be brought down, how then those places could defend themselves from people with minds like hers. She'd made many recommendations over the years regarding fortifications of Confederate assets, and surprisingly, some had even been accepted and implemented.

But there were things she had kept quiet about.

"I have come up with two ways to take them down," Scherezade continued, "from within, and from without. From within would take a whole lot more time. The Viceroyalty never realized that what kept the Confederacy going was the people at the bottom, holding the pyramid up. While they relished in their nepotism, held their nose up, and treated many the way they treated me, they never realized that without people like me, they would tumble. Separate the Knights Obsidian from their Commanders, which isn't as hard to do as one might think, and the Confederacy will have a civil war to contend with. Already the shifts in the Knights' leaders have changed, what with the frequent exchange in leaders they have not enjoyed any form of stability in a long time."

And the Mandragora… To them, she had no current plans. They had changed. Spirit markings and relays of information were no longer happening. The change had occurred too close to her departure, so she had not enough information, but… Scherezade grinned to herself. She had enough access to people who would give her the information if she would simply ask. In many ways, the Confederacy ought to consider itself lucky that they were not yet on her radar.

"A second way includes a military design of my creation that I'm at present reluctant to share," she admitted, "It will only be applied once, and it will send distrust among the remaining governments. Once it is employed, there will be no galactic stability to speak of for a very long time. I can't really deny that I long to see all these big governments and organizations come crumbling down, but there'll probably be only a few that will enjoy the chaos that will come to be if it's done the way I tell people to do it. That's why I have people like my sister, like my friends, who… Keep my ideas in check."

Now was the time, then.

"Because I have abdicated my place as a cheap human meat shield in the Confederacy," Scherezade said with an exhale, "And I have taken some people with me, people who wanted to leave too, who saw it for the lie that it is, for the falsities, for the lack of a future they could have there. We are building our future from the Unknown Regions now."

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

A future in the Unknown Regions.

There was a time when the Unknown Regions had actually been unknown. That time seemed past. Particularly with the rise of interplanetary capitals in the Outer Rim, as opposed to coreward. They'd already discussed one, the government of Geonosis, but there was also Bastion, Demonsgate, and the resurgence of a cartel in Hutt space.

"I can certainly see the appeal, though I fear even the Unknown Regions are seeing a rise in these pop-up governments," the young Jedi remarked, listening to the woman with interest. Like himself, she had clearly put a great deal of thought into this. But, unlike him, she had a plan. That was something Sor-Jan couldn't have claimed.

"The Iron Empire. The Jen'ari. The Primeval..." the boy uttered, listing off just a few of the governments that had come and gone in the span of just a few years. But, that was neither here nor there.

Even those with the best of intentions hadn't been sustainable. The Free Worlds Coalition was gone, along with the Metal Lords, New Republic or the Commenor Systems Alliance.

With that much failure, it was bold of anyone to design to build a future anywhere, let alone the Unknown Regions of all places. "So what does this future of yours look like?" the boy asked, curious.

"What do you hope to achieve in the Unknown Regions?"

Scherezade deWinter​

 

[Scherezade deWinter]

Sor-Jan Xantha​

"Not in the Unknown Regions," Scherezade said with a soft smile, "but from the Unknown Regions."

Indeed, if the Agents of Chaos' plans were limited to the Unknown Regions, or their successes were, there would be no point to any of it. The galaxy had shown what happens time and time again, deeds were limited to a small section. They were irrelevant. Did the Hutts lording over Hutt space back in the day have any effect on someone in the galactic west? No. If something of importance happened in the Core, did those closer to galaxy's edge cease to exist until the change reached them? No, no matter how big it was. She was going to teach the galaxy – educate it, step by step, until it was ready to be swooped down upon.

"I see a future with no Confederacy. With no Sith Empire. With no Silver Order. With no Corellian Confederation. With no Coalition," she said after a moment, "A vision in which territory can't be colored on any kind of a map, because no one has more territory than their single planet. A future in which each planet is its own."

Rising from her spot, she walked to the food and took more cheese cubes, hoping to herself that she would remember where Sor-Jan had gotten them from.

"That is what I am building," Scherezade said after swallowing a hand full, "It will be a long journey. For now, we're preaching our own ideology; we're building a space construct which will grow with time and be our base of operations, because we will hold no planets of our own."

Now above the table hovered holo of what the Scintilla would look like in the near future – many gigantic spheres of different sizes, with tunnel connecting them. Some tunnels were in the process of opening, others shutting down, the sphere spinning around itself in a space of pinks and purples.

"My brain is not as dumb as I'd been led to believe," she said quietly, "this was built on blueprints I created nearly two years ago, when I was only learning where left and right were, where up and down was."