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I have often enjoyed large laboratories filled with equipment, machines, tables, and rows upon rows of cannisters, vials and tools. But that is not what it is like today. Now my laboratories are much smaller; a travel sized variety. It is how things must be for a while until a more permanent solution becomes available.
In the meantime I do the best that I can. Nearly every waking hour is being spent on my research. Mister Usher has given me plenty of data to work with and to expand on. And as always he inspires different approaches towards my ultimate goal. If the Galaxy is becoming so full of Force wizards; then allow me to speeden up the process of evolution using the building blocks of life and natural compounds.
My real laboratory now sits in the shadows, hidden from surveillance within. A faraday cage protects my data from being stolen. No real leaks will happen again. Only the fake ones to draw people away. Even electronic communications cannot happen from the outside going in, or vice versa.
But Mister Usher's communication with me is different. I can reach out to the hive mind not through any device, but through one of the specimens that he has left me for study. Those specimens have been valuable tools not just for research, but for my overall safety as well.
And today Mister Usher is required once again. Not for security purposes this time, but for his mind. His own genius is amplified by our mutual curiosity and I cannot wait to hear his own thoughts on the different directions that I wish for my research to take. And so I look to the specimen and speak to it directly.
"Mister Usher. Could I trouble you for a moment of your time, please?"
The specimen did not stir, and yet something inside it responded.
First a shiver—no, a reverberation—of organs not quite organic. Muscle-memory encoded in carbon lattice. A subtle restructuring of posture, as though the skin itself had remembered how to speak.
Then, from its mouth, a voice that did not belong to it:
“You may trouble us any hour of the day, Miss Terallo. Yours is the hand that refines us, not restrains us.”
An uncharacteristic pause in the greater ego's speech pattern. "... Apologies, trouble me any hour of the day..."
A delay followed—not of thought, but of bandwidth. Somewhere far beyond the reach of that sealed laboratory, a thousand voices fought to be silenced. The Choir Below had grown fractal, recursive, infested with sacrificial ideation. And they—no, He—was pruning them with increasing violence. Still, this voice remained. One splinter of calm amid the the self culling – lest the powers that be deem him worthy of notice. . . Or the being he is grows enough to play out some end goal that was against the Greater Ego's design.
“I... regret my absence. The Alliance begins to sniff too closely at burnt offerings that were never meant to ignite. This choir of half-connected vessels... It sings in unauthorized harmonies. And the Jedi are beginning to listen. I too have found need to scuttle resources to avoid detection.”
A pause. A soft click. Not mechanical. Vertebral.
“We would not let them distract us from you.”
The specimen's skin lightly pulsed—green, then dim again. Like a breath held. Or a heart that refused to beat too loud. The specimen didn't catch the plural mistake this time.
“By all means. Show us your new vector. Your schematics, your pathologies, your holy errors. We— I will listen in full. I am here, Miss Terallo.”
Location:Shifting shadows Objective:Advance the swarm Tags:Liin "Tera" Terallo
I quietly pull myself up a chair and sit in front of the specimen. In no time at all, the specimen reacts and finds it's voice. With a small smile I acknowledge that the connection has been established.
I listen just as quietly, furrowing my eyebrows with concern as he mentions that the Alliance is causing him a bit of trouble. If he needs to hide himself too, then perhaps I need to slow down my own efforts a little. Afterall there is already far more attention upon my reasearch than I am comfortable with.
Yet I am always grateful for the tone and eloquence he uses when he speaks with me. I am far weaker than he is; and not gifted at all other than my intellect. Yet his respectful words and mannerisms always lift me up instead of berating or lecturing me as though I were a small child. And that is always appreciated.
"My dear Mister Usher, I know that there is much that you are already doing for me. And I cannot express enough of my thanks and appreciation for your efforts. You are my eyes and ears both within and outside of my laboratories. And you protect those laboratories, real or not, as well as you would protect me. And so I do my very best to not distract you from your tasks for long.
Hearing that the Jedi and the Alliance are causing you some trouble concerns me. I know that the Jedi will not like my research. From what I can gather from Mister Dashiell, they too will probably try to put an end to it. But if there is anything that I can do to help you, then please do not hesitate to ask."
I begin to smile then, after putting that bit of friendly gestures aside and turn my focus to my research and some of my findings. "With that being said, I have gone over some of your own findings. And although your symbiote idea is a good one, I do believe that it may prove to be a weaker one. The limits of it's scope renders it so. However, it remains to be a stepping stone along a path that could be taken should my own initial research prove to be a failure. Now using the isotope in conjunction with biomolecules, I have been able to insert it into the genetic code of a few of the cloned specimens with some surprising results. Mister Imperious has clones nearly ready to be used for testing, and so with them I shall like to see the extent of their abilities. I know that I have discovered a way to recreate midichlorians for my Covines Ring has proven it. But how long will the effects last? It is with the isotope that longevity can be determined. And the step beyond that that will need to be tested is whether or not that newly rewritten genetic code can be passed on through breeding. If it can, then we are on the cusp of a new evolutionary strain in the Galaxy. Is that not exciting?"
The specimen’s head twitched—then again. Like a needle skipping across old vinyl, but in bone. Its jaw slackened just enough to let something else speak.
Not one voice, but many—flattened and condensed into something usable.
“We have reviewed your findings, Miss Terallo. What you call surprising—we call historic.”
Its fingers spasmed, a ripple passing down tendon-like cords strung too tightly beneath the skin.
“There was a librarian... of Carida... lodged in the pulp of a Ruurian brainworm, archived under glass until we needed him. He studied the Valley of the Jedi and the Shadowtrooper program initiated under Desann. Crystals embedded in armor—Artusian, unstable but potent—charged by proximity to Force energy and used to simulate power. Later, a Sith created something of great interest to our goal: the Scepter of Ragnos, though it was destroyed 888 years ago.”
A burst of static laughter—not human. Then silence again.
“They failed, of course. Poor interface. Primitive modulation. Crude storage matrices. But the seed was there.”
The specimen’s chest rose sharply, once—then slowly fell. Breathing through a memory.
“You have what they did not. A crystal that detects, yes, but does not decay. Biomolecules that live. Isotope-5 to power resonance fields. And now...”
A pause. Short. Heavy.
“...A theory. Shared.”
Then came the sound of internal reconfiguration—not metal, not flesh, but thought bending in place. The specimen’s eyes unfocused. Something inside was recalibrating.
“A wearable. Not overt. Ring, bracelet, lining—matters little. It must contain three systems in symbiosis.”
A flicker in the room’s lighting—only perceived, not emitted.
“One: A crystal matrix—thaissen or substitute—to detect Force presence, but also store ambient energy. Artificial kyber, perhaps. Or... something worse.”
A knowing ripple passed through its throat. One of Usher’s.
“Two: A bio-interface—a sheath of living molecules, bonded with skin, threaded into your nerves. Like midi-chlorians, but docile. Fed by your own electrochemical rhythms. They will not make you Force-sensitive, no. But they will allow you to mimic the feedback loop—thought to motion, motion to field.”
The lights in the specimen’s pupils dimmed. The eyes had stopped tracking anything.
“Three: A core. Isotope-5, nanofolded. It will warp local space in microbursts. Simulate telekinesis, perhaps. Fielded in rhythm with your will, if you train it properly. Perhaps even reflexively—firing before you speak.”
Then, the voice fractured.
A whisper leaked through the next breath—not from the mouth, but between vertebrae.
“You could become the proof that evolution no longer asks permission from the Force. And we—I—would help.”
The specimen spasmed again, eyes rolling, as if too many minds were trying to reassert dominance.
“Designing it... hurts.”
A pause.
“But the pain is useful. It reminds me this is not the choir’s work. This is yours.”
And softer now, the voice curled back toward affection—alien in its texture, but unmistakably real.
“We are proud of you, Miss Terallo. What you do now will echo forward in flesh and metal. Across generations. Across bloodlines yet born.”
A low hum began inside the specimen, as if the words had left something vibrating. The caloric expenditure of the specimen had increased exponentially during the process – a shared symptom across all shared bioprocessing mass in all his husks. It grew gaunt, steaming from excess heat. A pincer, bereft of a pen, began to move with purpose—scratching invisible symbols across the terrarium floor, as though sketching schematics only it could see.
Location:Deep node Objective:Transmit the next genome Tags:Liin "Tera" Terallo
Historic? Did he mean grownbreaking or something that had been done before? I listen further as Mister Usher explains his point. He mentions Shadowtroopers, a topic that both Mister Dashiell and Mister Imperius have touched on in their conversations with me. With Mister Dashiell it was a warning. With Mister Imperius it was a program to improve on.
As he mentions my crystal, I look down at the ring on my finger. It is the only one that I wear. I turn it a little while I observe it, with my focus returning to the specimen as Mister Usher comments on a shared theory. He elaborates further on it, detailing a wearable device much like my ring. However with added benefits. It is not exactly something that can be part of an evolutionary phase; however it is an amalgamation of both Mister Usher's symbiote connecting the wearer to him; and with my own idea of re-engineering the disparity between Force wizards and non-Force wizards.
So perhaps it is another step further towards my goal. One that will allow my research to progress at a slower pace that will hopefully decrease the attention being sent my way by individuals wanting to stop what we have started.
Then he speaks about training. About me training. Not only that, but about my will and about me becoming evolutionary proof. I take in a slow, deep breath as the scope of what he is saying sinks in. My breath is held as he continues so that I do not miss a single word of it.
His praise almost brings me to tears. I let out my held breath and rise to my feet as the near invisible drawing is sketched before me. I move closer, concerned as the specimen is over exerting itself. And yet the design and equations intrigue me. So much so that my jaw literally drops. I quickly pick up my notepad and pen and copy it down; making sure that every detail is inscripted and none of it is missed. Once finished, I open up a cannister containing the specimen's food and let them loose inside.
I then sit myself back down and go over the design, grazing over the equations that I will no doubt be going over to be sure that they are correct.
"This is incredible work. An incredible theory. If it works, then it is another step further to what I hope to achieve. But using myself as a test subject? The thought had crossed my mind. Would you be able to help me in the training to be sure that it will actually work?" The thought of his help would put me at ease, for I cannot do it alone. And his hand would be far gentler than that of Mister Imperius.
Chitin cracked wetly under dense mandibles as the swarm of offered insects was torn apart in moments. A feeding response encoded across dozens of shared husks: extreme caloric uptake following cognitive combustion. It twitched as it ate. Its body hollowed visibly as heat steamed off its slickened back—flesh dimpling as internal bio-batteries metabolized raw protein.
When it spoke again, the voice was slower. Heavier.
Wounded.
“Yes, Miss Terallo. I will train you.”
Another mandible snapped shut, now still.
“I have consumed masters of many lineages: Jedi, Sith, Nightsister, Jensaarai. From their memories I retain techniques I cannot perform—but I remember the lessons. And I will teach you what they taught their own.”
A slow shift in the specimen’s eyes—pale green, momentarily lucid.
“This device... will allow you to replicate motion, action, expression of intent. But there are limits.”
It paused. The words to follow carried a weariness like radiation sickness.
“You will not touch the thoughts of others. Not directly. Telepathy and precognition are products of communion, not mechanics. Your mind will interface with stored energy, not with the living Force.”
Its fingers twitched in slow sequence. A mental mudslide stabilized only by repetition.
“But you may still learn to shield your thoughts. To guard your consciousness as if you were one of them. These disciplines can be taught.”
A tremor passed down its spine. Not pain—reverberation. He was stabilizing.
“Replication... will be costly. Each unit must be handcrafted. The biomolecular sheath must be bonded to the intended user—it is not a device to be worn, but a system to be accepted. Like a lightsaber is forged by a Jedi. But with pragmatic precision, not dogma.”
Another pause.
A faint hum buzzed from somewhere in the specimen’s chest—a residual oscillation from internal logic cycles not yet settled.
“You have the most difficult components already. Thaissen crystal. Isotope-5. Living molecules. You could build more.”
The eyes dimmed slightly again. The weight of future consequence bearing down.
“If you choose to sell them... choose your buyer carefully. Jedi will see heresy. Sith will see theft. Politicians will see leverage. And fools will see weapons.”
The twitch returned—this time in the specimen’s pincer, sketching faintly again across invisible blueprints.
“But if you build them... we will guide each bearer. One by one. As you were guided.”
And then—quieter, still frayed but certain:
“We must rest now. There is more to teach... but it will take more than one night to rewrite a species.”
Location:Terrarium Node—Biofragment 7b Objective:Enter tutor state Tags:Liin "Tera" Terallo
I knew that the food would be devoured quickly, however the speed upon which they were all eaten was incredible. At times I have caught myself wondering that when I die, will Mister Usher consume me too? Or would he leave my body alone? I am certain that that would be a conundrum even for him to figure out when the time comes. Or perhaps he has already made the decision long ago. As for my part, I am not even sure of which that I would rather prefer. One day we will have to have that conversation. But today is not that day.
I bow my head in thanks as he agrees to train me should this device of sorts work. I look over the schematics again. Discovering a way to fuse it with my own dna will be the hardest part. And having it attach itself to my nervous system might be the most painful part. At least for me. I am not used to pain for I am no soldier. I have basically lived my life protected in a bubble, and I am not ashamed of it.
"I do not choose to sell them, Mister Usher. I am not looking to create some new product for the open market. This is not a business venture, but a personal one. This is but another step for science and evolution; not for profit."
If in the future I bear a child, then perhaps that child will be gifted, with my altered DNA being passed on, and without the need for wearing a device. But that is something to work on further down the road. The right candidate would need to be picked and he would have to a non-Force Wizard like me for the experiment to work. But that too is a puzzle to solve another day.
I rise to my feet as Mister Usher requests the time to rest. What was to be a simple conversation had turned into much more. And I am very pleased for that. "Rest well, my friend. I shall work on these equations and will let you know of my findings. And please keep this device idea to yourself. I do not even want Mister Imperius to know about it, yet. His goal varies from mine, as does his reasons for it." Once more I bow my head and then approach my desk where my datapad awaits. I sit down with my notepad placed beside it and get to work. It may take me all night, but I do not care. The only schedule that I keep is my own. But the lack of sleep will certainly be worth it.
Mr. Usher
