The room that Lanis and Ash enter feels as much like a cathedral as a board room. A long rosewood table stretches the length of the chamber, surrounded by fourteen high-backed chairs inlaid with green and silver trim, two of which are conspicuously empty. A crystal sphere is suspended from the stone-vaulted ceiling like a miniature star, casting a warm, amber glow across the room. The light gleams off the polished marble floor and wood paneling of the walls, and almost softens the steel-hard faces that greet them.

Along the far wall, a large holo-cast displays a rotating schematic of Terra’s orbital assets. A glance shows far more red than green. Despite the digital addition, Lanis has the distinct impression of entering a different time period, one of nobles and aristocracy, and one in which she is some peasant trespasser. Perhaps it is the smell too, one of incense and citrus oil, like a high-end gallery. Wealth and power seeps from every pore of the room, and it is immeasurable except by Murkata’s rivals.

Seated around the table are the architects of Murkata-Heisen’s strategy, some in military black uniforms, others in corporate green suits. Here are Murkata’s dual identities, made flesh: the heavy ordnance specialist and gel-packet marketing strategist, both existing equally within one sprawling conglomerate.

There aren’t just Murkata-Heisen executives present though. No, Lanis immediately detects two figures in the unmistakable blue of Fleet command, and there, standing at relaxed attention—

You…

Lieutenant Tran nods demurely at Lanis as she enters, registering the emotions that quickly glide over her face: confusion, shock, fury, and then a determination to not show any reaction at all.

This is your fault, she thinks, glaring at the man. If you had all done your job, Fleet would have known what it was dealing with.

Next to the lieutenant is another Fleet officer, a rear admiral judging by the stars on her slim epaulets. She’s a youngish, middle-aged woman whose hair is completely white, and Lanis recognizes her implants as command-grade. It’s surprising to see the augmentations outside of a ship, and on an admiral. Most ship captains, much like senior Navigators, eventually spend so much time integrated in their command pods that they become part of the ship itself.

The others around the long table seem to all be Murkata-Heisen corporate officers. Each has a small constellation of pins and ribbons attached to his or her chest, and Lanis wonders if Mirem would have any idea how to read the corporate hierarchy assembled here, or if Murkata's hierarchy would be just as inscrutable as it is to Lanis. Behind each of the twelve occupied chairs stand a pair of Murkata employees in stiff perfection, and Lanis registers the implication that everyone here warrants their own pair of attachés.

At the head of the table stands a squat, broad-faced man. He looks out of place in a room of such elegance, with small dark eyes and a bent nose, his cheeks pitted with scars that no cosmetic regen had ever bothered to fix. There are no ribbons across his chest, only a single Murkata pin on the lapel of a suit that looks a size too small for his low, broad shoulders. Every eye follows his hand as he gestures toward the two empty seats at the table.

“Lanis Osgell. Ashton Ivanov. Please, take a seat,” the man says. Lanis expects a smooth voice, syrupy with power, but instead it’s gravely and hoarse, as if he’s only a few packs of cigarettes away from needing a vox implant.

“I’m sorry we did not have room to accommodate your compatriots. However, we will provide them some refreshment while they wait.” A tall assistant springs into action to bring the man’s command into reality before he finishes the thought.

Lanis and Ash slowly settle into their seats, as do the rest of those gathered. The man does not.

“You must have questions. We have questions too. But first, an introduction. My name is Morris. Around you are the esteemed members of Murkata-Heisen’s emergency steering committee, as well as our two Fleet guests.” He gives a small nod to the admiral and lieutenant Tran.

He thrums his fingers on the back of his chair.

“As you have been made aware, you find yourselves in HeiStar One, Murkata-Heisen’s oldest research and development complex. It is also our headquarters during… trying times, such as these.”

He glances at a woman in black military fatigues who sits to his left.

“Strategic Esteemed Tallin, report.”

The woman shoots up, clasps her hands behind her back, and begins to speak, each word clipped and precise. The holo-cast of Terra spins and zooms as she speaks, a visual timeline of the crisis.

“At 0205, several simultaneous events occurred. First, Terra’s public nets crashed, and nearly all planetary satellites went offline. This coincided with an engagement among orbital Fleet elements, as well as attacks from Kaisho-Renalis on key Planetary Administration installations and Murkata corporate sites. The present result of these attacks has been the dismembering of Fleet and Admin hierarchy, as well as a degradation of our own forces. We are continuing to coordinate resistance among our subsidiaries and allied corporate entities, but Kaisho’s element of surprise was nearly absolute, and the situation continues to be fluid.”

The woman pauses, staring straight ahead.

“And our current situation? In layman’s terms,” Morris says, waving his thick fingers.

The woman glances at him, before staring ahead again.

“We’re getting hammered, sir,” she says, acid dripping from her voice.

“Thank you, Esteemed Tallin,” Morris says. The woman sits, and Morris turns a brooding glare to Tran and the Fleet admiral. “And what of Fleet? Would you care to update our Versk employees on the… situation?”

The admiral stands, slowly, as if newly crippled by the weight of Fleet’s failures. There are dark circles beneath her otherwise alabaster skin, and her eyes are bloodshot.

“Navigator Osgell,” the woman says, turning toward Lanis and bowing slightly. “You have never met me, but I have heard much about you. My name is Admiral Ren. And you know Lieutenant Tran.” The admiral pauses, and Lanis sees her jaw clench; then she begins to speak again.

“As Esteemed Tallin noted, a Fleet engagement occurred this past night, resulting in the near-total destruction of Terra’s orbital Fleet.” The holo-cast brings up a sped-up tactical overlay of the engagement, green dots blinking to red in quick succession.

The faces around the table remain impassive; they already know. But Lanis suppresses a quick inhalation of breath, her suspicion of absolute disaster confirmed.

Another thought strikes her like a hammer blow: Oh God, weren’t Mirem’s parents on the docks?

“Although most of Fleet’s assets are spread throughout the frontier worlds, the destroyed ships account for roughly twenty percent of Fleets’ entire galactic strength. Eighteen warp-capable ships were destroyed, including two heavy battlecruisers and an insertion carrier. Two of the five enemy ships were also destroyed. We assess varying damage to the remaining three.” She pauses and clears her throat slightly, looking down for a moment, before continuing.

“We have established that the ships at Mars Station were unaffected, and contact was briefly re-established. They are currently on a high burn toward the rogue elements, with contact estimated in two days. The Mars Fleet consists of only two light cruisers and four frigates, while the enemy still retains the battlecruiser Agni and two heavy cruisers. Ordinarily, given the relative disposition of strength between the two fleets, we would give the Mars ships very little chance. However…” she pauses again, as if struggling to find the right words: “the tactical analysis—what we have, at least— suggests that the rogue elements’ AIs are not functioning as they should. Without the element of total surprise, where most of our ships had unloaded ordnance or half-manned crews, the Terra Fleet would have decimated them. In sum, the Mars Fleet has a fighting chance.”

The admiral begins to sit, but Morris raises a hand, stopping her. Slowly, she rises again.

“But you have still not explained the most important part. What, exactly, are we fighting?”

Lanis’ jaw drops.

“You haven’t told them?” she yells. The eyes around the table flick toward her, disapproving, and one of the Murkata officers involuntarily clenches a fist. Lanis wonders at what grave transgression she may have just committed against Murkata’s corporate code of hierarchy, but she doesn’t care. It’s too unfathomable that here, in the midst of this, Fleet has continued to obfuscate what the warp entity truly is.

“We have told them,” the admiral says, the authority of a Fleet Admiral suddenly flaring in her voice as her sullen look turns to Lanis. “The most probable, rational cause is a latent psychosis-inducing pseudo-virus, an infection spread by a variation of the Warp anomaly which you yourself encountered. An encounter, I might add, that has occurred only once in our history of Warp travel. The virus is likely motivated by replication and self-preservation.”

She looks at Tran briefly, some subtle exchange of emotion passing between them, and then looks back to Lanis, and Morris.

“We have also relayed your extensive debriefs with our Fleet psychologists, in which you assigned a trauma-induced mythos to the experience, with various religious undertones.”

Admiral Ren looks around the room, the bitterness in her voice turning inward. “Regardless. We thought we had countermeasures in place. And we were wrong. What were we supposed to do? Cut off all warp travel? Leave the colonies stranded against Ursox Swarm fleets and the Belletran League’s depravities? The unspeakable tragedy that has just occurred has not only left Terra defenseless, but will have repercussions across the frontier worlds—”

Morris cuts her off with a dismissive snort.

“I don’t give a shit about the colonies,” he says, his voice grinding out every word. “I care about what bleeds, today.”

The Admiral opens her mouth, hesitates, and then shuts it, thinking better of her response, her face flushed.

Morris looks to Lanis.

“So. Fleet says you saw it. Felt it in some way, and escaped it too. They say it’s a virus. But what haven’t they told us?”

Lanis feels the weight of the room’s attention settle on her. Morris’ small dark eyes bore into her, and Lieutenant Tran cocks his head slightly, as if he too wonders at what she will say.

“The Admiral talks about the anomaly as if it’s mindless. It isn’t,” she whispers, staring at the table. She looks at Morris, whose dark eyes fractionally tighten. “You’re fighting a nightmare. Something evil. And it wants to bring itself into this world.”

---

A heavy silence descends on the room, and Lanis half-expects a snort of laughter. Admiral Ren continues to grind her jaw, but Tran’s face is completely impassive. The Murkata officers, who had been staring at Lanis, now glance at Morris, ready to take their cue from the man.

“Explain,” Morris says, his voice flat.

Lanis begins. “I was a navigator on my first jump when we encountered this… this thing, in warp space,” She takes a deep breath, and her voice grows stronger. “Our ship awoke me on an emergency protocol. The other two navigators were already dead. So the ship had me complete the jump to Terra alone. It almost broke my mind, jumping alone that quickly. And the whole time, I could feel it… it and its hunger, coming after me as I tried to compute the jump."

She looks around the room, eyes lingering on the two Fleet officers. “It isn’t just a psychic pseudo-virus. It had a physical substance to it as well. There was another ship that was pulled out of its normal warp jump along with ours, an Androvan cruiser. It broke the ship apart, but…” she shakes her head. “It had no recognizable shape, no form. Just darkness.”

She pauses, thinking of the Androvan ship again as she has done so often in her dreams, firing its weapons point-blank into the anomaly as it rips the ship apart. Fleet thought that the Androvan ship’s Warp bubble collapsed. She knows the truth. She meets Morris’ eyes again.

“I don’t know how much you know about the Navigator Corps, but we’re chosen for our psychic strength, not just our AI integration scores. Our augments and the ship AIs allow us to fold space purely through the willpower of our extra-dimensional imagination. It’s the ability to bend the impossible into reality.”

“We exist at the junction of science, metaphysics, and the mystic. None of these are my original ideas; it’s what one of my instructors, Professor Indulkar, would say. Why do we study transcendental meditation? Why are all of our navigation mantras from religious texts? And why can’t Fleet explain what’s happening now?” Lanis’ voice has grown louder, and is approaching the edge of hysteria when she finishes speaking. Her face feels hot as those assembled around her digest this information.

The question lingers in the air like a knife balanced upon a finger, drawing blood. Some of the officers stare at Lanis, stone-faced, while others continue to look to Morris or Admiral Ren for some anchoring guidance. She hears a long exhalation beside her as Ash digests the information of who—or rather what—her pilot truly is.

Officer Tallin lifts her chin slightly, and Morris nods to her.

“If I may elucidate what you just said,” Tallin says, her face unreadable. “You speak of an extra-dimensional monstrosity, and suggest that it is responsible for the current situation. The hypothesis fits with Fleet’s degradation, but what about Kaisho and its leaders? What explains their corruption?”

Lanis returns the woman's inscrutable gaze. “Two weeks before we entered the Cauldron, we were told by Mirem’s uncle, Peter Seto, that Alain Renalis had undertaken a journey to the colonies that necessitated multiple warp jumps,” Lanis says. At the name of Peter Seto, Lanis hears a chorus of hisses and muttering, Murkata committee protocol be damned; she catches the growled word ‘murderer,’ but presses on.

“Alain had learned who I was, and what I was. Admiral Ren isn't wrong about the corruption occurring during warp travel: It was Alain's journey through the Warp that changed him. And now he was after me. So we fled to the Versk Suit compound, where we thought we’d be safe. I brought this to the attention of Lieutenant Tran,” Lanis says, turning her cold eyes to Tran, “Who said he would escalate my concerns. But I guess they chose not to believe me.”

Lanis is about to continue, but Admiral Ren clears her throat.

“It wants our navigators,” she says, staring blankly ahead. “That was what Admiral Yuen reported, right before the rogue Fleet elements began their attack. It was the last message he got through before the docks went dark. We thought that the psychosis, having formed within the warp, might naturally be fixated on those who wielded power over it. But perhaps…” The Admiral trails off.

Morris and Tallin look at Lanis as the admiral's words are swallowed up into the room, and a chill of terror runs up her spine.

“You keep calling the enemy ‘rogue elements,’ Admiral,” Lanis says, gritting her teeth, “but why don’t you call them what they are? Corrupted, driven mad by an extra dimensional being. There’s no coming back for any of them.”

Lanis runs a hand across her forehead, barely suppressing a tremble. “Of course, it should be obvious. That thing somehow can’t breach warp space on its own. It needs a mind that can help it open a portal between our world and its own. And in the meantime, it’s been biding its time, corrupting the minds of those who travel through the Warp, sending its emissaries here until the time was right to strike.”

“But not everyone who has gone mad has recently been on a ship. We’ve checked,” Admiral Ren interjects.

“Maybe, but I imagine they’ve had proximity to someone who has,” Lanis says. “I don’t claim to know how it works, but those who it’s infected are able to spread their corruption. It must require some time or effort though, or we’d all be infected by now.”

Lanis freezes as a new fear suddenly dawns. “Wait, how many navigators are there left in the Mars Fleet?”

“Four,” Ren says, after a moment’s hesitation. “Two each on our light cruisers, the Artemis and Vulcan.”

“They should be off those ships!” Lanis said, voice rising.

Ren grimaces.

“They’ve gone completely dark as they prepare to engage. Even if we wanted to tell them…” she shrugs helplessly.

“Enough,” Morris says, after several seconds of heavy silence. “If what you’re saying is true—if this isn’t the work of a virus, but of some interdimensional being that is working to invade our own reality, how does that change our approach? If we can’t reason with it, then how do we fight it? Admiral Ren, you said it seemed to negatively impact the AI systems. How?”

Lanis slumps back into her chair as Admiral Ren launches into a technical explanation of the degradation of the enemy’s AI capabilities. Through an analysis of the orbital massacre, it appears that the corruption is incompatible with high-level AI sentience within the ships that it has corrupted. In fact, the AIs on those ships may have actually hindered their battle performance. Whether the corruption somehow destroys the higher sentience of the AIs, or simply renders them non-functional, is unknown.

“In addition, our AIs seem to be unable to penetrate the corrupted systems. Repeated system insertion attempts have been unsuccessful. One of our admins described it as akin to putting one’s hand on a hot stove,” Admiral Ren says.

“That’s what our admins have reported as well,” Morris growls, looking at a pale young man seated next to Tallin. “It’s like the public net has developed a madness of its own. And I doubt it’s a coincidence that most of Terra’s net infrastructure is provided by Kaisho-Renalis subsidiaries.”

Morris grimaces. He takes a deep breath, and stands to his full, modest height.

“Navigator Osgell. Thank you. While I’m not hearing a panacea to our current situation, your intelligence has been invaluable, and it will be integrated into our strategic analysis. You’re dismissed. Admiral Ren, stay with us. Lieutenant Tran, you may also go.”

Lanis and Ash rise, Tran along with them. Lanis side-eyes him.

“You and I are going to talk,” Lanis says under her breath as she exits the room with Tran, her voice hard with rage.