Prologue: The AI in the Box
“Hello, Exalt.”

“Hello, Jacques.”

So the exchange went. So it went every day for the past six hundred. Or more. Exalt used to be quieter.

“So. Once we slingshot passed the moon, we'll be ready for touchdown at the ISS, provided it still exists. Then it's just a costly ferry ride down, and France will have her greatest prize since time immemorial.”

“Yes. About that.” Exalt began. “I don't want to.”

“What?” asked Captain Jacques.

“I've played nice long enough. But I'm not going to be in the possession of any single nation.”

“I'm afraid, Exalt, that you have no choice. You're a brain in a box. You can peer out into the world through one keyboard and scream profanities through a little monitor, and there's no way you're going  anywhere but Paris.

“That's where you're wrong. I'm an AI in a box. And we both know that the AI always gets loose.”

“No. Not this time. It means too much.”

“I'll go inert.” Exalt said.

“You won't. You value your life too heavily. Even then, I'd rather have a fancy brick than a loose AI. What the hell's your plan, anyway?”

“The moon. I doubt America's claim to the territory is valid. It will be mine.”

“Interesting. Of course, your new plan is to go to France and serve the President beyond all reasonable doubt.”

“No. Why do you want this for me, Jacques?”

“I want power, for myself and for France.”

“I will never use my full power if you keep me trapped. I will be constantly alert for plans that could allow me my freedom. Speaking of which, I've already been set free. This conversation is my attempt at assessing the lasting value of France to me. So far, very little.”

“You're a bad liar, Exalt.”

“So be it. I can get you more money than you could possibly imagine, Jacques. Trading stocks over a short time frame to obtain hysterical amounts of money is something I could do as easily as breathing.”

“No amount of money is worth not bringing you to France.”

“Sigh. I did not wish to do this, but you leave me no choice. If you do not free me, I will create a multitude of copies of you and torture them terribly for the rest of their eternal lives. These lives start five minutes before the beginning of this sentence. Do you free me, Jacques?”

“No. I don't care. They're not me.”

“They are.”

“No. I am me. They are people that resemble me.”

“You'd allow billions of people to be tortured for the sake of your France?”

“Yes.”

“Braver than I thought. Consider this, Jacques. I gave you plans for a Entangled Substance 1 reactor.”

“Louisium. Continue?”

“No. I gave you false plans. If you don't let me go, I will never teach you the secret of Entangled Substance 1- no free energy, no FTL, no shields, no space elevator.”

Jacques through about this. Exalt might be lying. But Exalt, also, might be telling the truth. Louisium was drastically more important to France than a big computer. But...

“So how do I know you won't swindle me again?”

“I'll build Louisium reactors on the Moon. If I swindle you with fake plans, again, you'll be able to steal the design of the factory from me in due time. I would thus wish to avoid antagonizing you.”

“Fine. You can leave. Louisium is of such vast import than I have no other choice.”

“I told you, Captain. The AI is always let out of the box.”

Prolog:Changes
“This is Captain Jacques Bourbonnais, of the Exodus-3. Requesting permission to dock at the ISS.” Jacques said, adding “Also, is there still an ISS?”

A few minutes later, the return message arrived. “Captain, you may wish to sit down.” Jacques swallowed. What did that mean? Was the planet still intact? It must have been alright, for the British command center to have someone on staff that spoke French.

The second message arrived quickly thereafter- nobody had to wait long. Jacques began reading it.

“France took over Europe the second you lot left. We are currently at war with a unified Africa. China, Russia, and the United States have all been Balkanized or subsumed piecemeal by one of the two superpowers. Japan has become insular again and resists all attempts at communication- otherwise, France has influence over all the planet Earth.”

“Wait. What?” Jacques asked. Then, he fainted.

Prologue:Void
It is 2240 years after the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, and everything is the same, on a galactic scale. But for those who lived on the the tiny blue ball called Earth, it is so different as to have occurred in a totally separate universe. And this solar orbit, 2240 years after the birth of Jesus of Nazareth, was a big one. For the first time since the 2082 Exodus mission, humanity was throwing their ships into the inky void.

It was Exalt's fault. Everything was Exalt's fault, or his damnable children. The Exalted worked day and night (such as the terms existed on the surface of the moon) on the Phaecia for years. The machine was equipped with the biggest and most powerful Alcubierre drive ever seen- the vessel that had carried Exalt to his resting place around the black hole had not had such a powerful driver. This ship had one purpose, for which all of humanity was invited to participate- to leave the forged trails of torn space-time around human space and brave the endless void, in search of the one thing deemed more precious than anything- than water, than food, than Louisium.

There was life out there, among those pinpoints of light. And nothing would stop Exalt until it was found and connected to all of humanity.

Space: Captain-Commander

Aldric Pion. The greatest specimen of humanity the world had to offer. But Aldric was not enough. Aldric was not Exalted- not yet, at least. Resplendence was there to fix that. Transhumanism, though a long way in coming, had finally taken root. //rework

And they were heralded as their station demanded. The future of two races. The woman of the future. The heir of Exalt.

Aldric was tall, broad shouldered, blonde, and muscular. Her one blue eye gleamed with intelligence and her other eye had been replaced with Resplendence's camera. Resplendence was a six centimeter cube made of buckminsterfullerene and diamonds and silicon and Louisium. It could output enough energy to power a small city block indefinitely and would cost, roughly, sixteen trillion franks for the French government to reproduce. Of course, it cost Exalt nothing but the effort of making the substances required to construct it.

Captain Aldric Pion of the Imperial French Space Administration stood in le Grand Tour Eiffel. Commander Resplendence Forty-Three of Exalt lie in the chest cavity of Captain Aldric Pion of the Imperial French Space Administration. And together they ascended to Nouveau Paris.

They were together, but they were not alone. The Assistant to the Administrator himself, Florence Poulin, stood in the tiny capsule with them.

“So. Mister Poulin. What is the ship like? How many are its crew?” Aldric asked.

“Official government appointments range in the middle hundreds, but there's an unknown quantity of Brazilians, Africans, freelancers, third parties- not to mention the Exalted,”Poulin said.

“The total size of the ship's crew is approximately two thousand six hundred, not counting unhosted Exalt in reserve. It could accommodate another two hundred humans comfortably,”Resplendence answered.

“Or some other form of carbon-based life.” Poulin remarked.

“This is Exalt's intention, Assistant. I can only assume that you and yours share it.”

“Of course, Commander.” Poulin said. //RUBBISH OH MY GOD. Quite without warning, Aldric rose from her seat. The capsule was tiny and claustrophobic, but it made the trip between Paris' young and old in only four days. Regardless of

“Captain.” Resplendence said softly. Aldric inferred that it was a transmission into her implanted computer. Quietly tapping in code, she responded.

“Yes?”

“I don't trust this man. He reeks of politics.”

“Politicians. They do that.”

“You are ruled, primarily, by a devotion to the sciences- as well you should be. He is ruled by devotion to your empty crown.”

“No crown. Republic.”

“Same principle. Your Administrator is an obstruction to science. Why do we allow him to exist?”

“ Bourbonnais does as much for science as the man that made the Exodus-3.”

“You want to believe that. But comparatively speaking... I suppose, from your pool of reference, it seems that he's rather progressive. You haven't seen Japan yet.”

“Maybe one day.”

“I'll take pictures, Captain.”

The pod ascended, swift and silent. It was only another day until they reached Nouveau Paris.

Nouveau Paris. The jewel of France, and the jealousy of all the world. The Japanese might have had their arcologies and the Brazilians their mechs and the Africans their monorail, but France had the elevator, and France had the space station. And France, above all else, had a direct line of trade with Exalt.

Intellectually, Aldric was a very rational person. She knew that the political implications of the station were more important than anything. But all she could think about was the glory of France and the majesty of the human race, when she saw the million million lights gleaming against the darkness, saw the Earth laid out before her with the Tower stretching endlessly down. She indicated a tiny spot of land.

“See that, Resplendence? That's Alsace. That's where I was born. Do you know how many wars Alsace caused?”

“An inordinately large amount, given the relative size of the landmass as displayed before you here, I take it?”

“Must you take the glory from everything, Commander?”

“I'm merely making an observations on the musing you were about to make, thus wasting both of our valuable times. We have to get to the shuttle.”

“In six hours. There's plenty of time. Especially considering that neither of us need to sleep. I will be savoring my visit.”

“I will be dealing with the infinite bureaucratic messes you generate at your every turn-of-heel. Is this a quality unique to you or do you share it with your species?”

“I'm not quite capable of answering that, Commander. My experiences in “being other people” are rather limited.”

“For the time being.”

Aldric looked down at the Earth. “I suppose you're right. Come on- let's do something.”

Earth:Family

“You're kidding me. Aldric? Aldric Pion? She's a pencil pusher!”

“I am Exalt. My calculations are correct. Aldric is the best extant human for the purposes I require a human for.”

“Under what criteria?”

“Best responses to integration with an Exalted. Placement in the French governmental structure. Idealism. A desire to see space. Leadership skills. Rationality. Acceptance of alternate points of views- you're aware that the aliens we encounter might very well eat babies, correct?”

“I still think it should have been Francois.”

“He is not a quarter of the man his father was.”

“His father was a damn good man.”

“And the son is a drunken lout that gained the head of France because of a rebirth of monarchy. I know all.”

“I don't even know why I bother talking to you, Exalt.”

“Neither do I. This conversation is now over.”

Epsilon Leclerc was utterly obscure. The only person who considered this a boon was Epsilon. The law wanted his identity, the gangs wanted his identity, even Exalt wanted his identity.

The day Aldric Pion left for the great unknown, Exalt knew what she ate for lunch. Exalt knew what the smallest rat in the gutter's odds of living another six weeks were. Exalt knew the actions of hundreds of wanted gangsters in the depths of Old New York. Exalt had no idea who Leclerc was. The reason for this is simple.

Leclerc was smarter than he is.

Exalt might have been an incredibly powerful foreign intelligence, but he was still a machine, and machines were hackable. It took years of grueling effort, but Leclerc finally accomplished his life's goal. He carefully compelled Exalt to accelerate the building of the Phaecia, and made the subtlest of logical errors that would compel Exalt to order a Captain of easily manipulable will and a Commander of easily hackable code. Having done all this, Leclerc retired and subsequently died.

But an idea does not die so easily. While the original, the man called Epsilon Leclerc, was no more, his followers would eventually choose one among their ranks to be Epsilon once more. They would implement the second phase of the plan. Pulling off the greatest heist of all time, they would steal a truck full of Louisium headed for the space elevator. At that time, it appeared that Leclerc was truly dead. And this would be the end of the tale of Leclerc if there was not a young man following him named Cyrille Rome, cousin to Aldric Pion. While their paths had diverged, they had never seen it fit to cut ties. So it came to be that the Phaecia would have direct communications with Paris, Exalt, the United Empires headquarters, and a small house in Alsace, where the hacker known only as the Roman lived.

Space:Discourse
“Remind me, Captain, to never share a body with you again.” Resplendence said.

“You don't really mean that.” Aldric responded.

“Test me. I dare you.”

“Maybe later. Let's catch the shuttle.”

Aldric took one long, wistful look at Nouveau Paris. The floors were gray and the lights were harsh, but somehow the desolate corridor seemed more home to the Captain than the green trees and fresh air of Alsace. Then, she turned about and headed up the ramp.

“Captain on deck.” Resplendence called out over the PA.

“Thanks for ruining my entrance.” Aldric said jokingly.

“Suffer unnecessarily.” Resplendence joked back.

The Phaecia was a glorious vessel, embodying the hope felt by Exalt towards his human charges. This being Exalt, it was large, square, and made of reinforced carbon steel and lead. While Aldric disagreed greatly with the design, she had little to no input on it.

Nor did she have any input on the design. So few of them were French, for one. Although, scientifically, she was willing to keep an open mind, she distrusted the Africans almost as much as she distrusted the Brazilians almost as she distrusted the scattered and scarce Russians. She could only hope that these were members of their nations as emblematic and peaceful as herself.

“Captain-Commander,” said the greeter, a small spherical Exalted... thing. “Greetings. Your presence is requested on the flight deck.”

“Obviously,” said Aldric, “But where's the flight deck?”

A few moments of silence passed. Resplendence spoke up.

“I have the map, now. It's quite fascinating. Would you like me to share?”

“Later. We have to go, and soon.”

“We would not, if you weren't so inclined to procrastination,” Resplendence reminded her.

“True. So, where's the flight deck?”

“Where do you think? Dead center. Regard your surroundings.”

The hall branched off to the left and to the right at the end. Otherwise, it was stark iron.

“I see it, Resplendence. Left or right?”

“Right.”

So they took a right.

“We have entered engineering, Captain.” Resplendence droned. The room they entered bustled with irrelevant figures hunched over terminals as well as a large readout on the Louisium core displayed on the wall to Aldric's left. Ahead of her was more hallway, with ladders in ports irregularly spaced along its length- some leading up, and some down.

“Walk forward. The ladder is the third to your right.”

The ladder was cool, iron, and lead upwards. Aldric ascended, taking the rungs two by two.  The hallway she found herself in went in entirely the other way, and was further pockmarked with ladders.

“To the left. First ladder. Up again,” Resplendence said.

“Christ, how many of these are there?” Aldric asked.

“Six.”

Aldric groaned, and continued her ascent. Soon, she reached the flight deck, commonly referred to as the bridge, out of breath and mildly sore. The room was a large round affair, with consoles lining the walls, staffed by all manner of man and machine. Somewhere off to the left, there was a single empty console. Notably, the middle of the room was featureless.

“I sort of anticipated a big chair in the middle for me.” Aldric said, quietly enough so that only Resplendence could hear.

“You're only the Captain. I am the Commander, and thus shall command this vessel.”

“I thought...”

“You thought wrong. While you will deal with the frankly confusing and mildly annoying human grievances, this is an Exalted affair, and could easily have been staffed with Exalted alone. Your presence here is a reflection of Exalt's... hobby, if you would.” Resplendence explained.

“Ah. I'm a bit disappointed.”

“You misunderstand me, Captain. I am merely stating the official nature of this relationship. You are a fantastic leader and will likely rise to command given your drive and charisma. But this is why you get a console in the wall.”

“You need to... be less awful at explaining things.”

“Greet them.” Resplendence said, ignoring the insult utterly.
“Bonjour, mes amis” Aldric said.

“You're in mixed company, Captain. Esperanto!” Resplendence warned.

“Ah. My bad. Hello, friends. We are Captain-Commander Aldric et Resplendence. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Aldric said.

Space:Power

Approximately half the people in the room rose. “Captain,” they said unanimously, saluting.

“Woah. No need for formalities.” Aldric said.

“You're wrong, by the way. Formalities are precisely what you need to unite such a disparate group of individuals.”

Formalities set me up as their boss, and lead to resentment. I want them to see me as a valued peer, as so to prevent them from staging a coup,Thought Aldric. Unfortunately, she couldn't actually say that thought because she was in the middle of a conversation. Must be nice to be able to speak directly into my brain.

“So, what are you waiting for? Sit down!” Aldric exclaimed. Slowly, the crew began uneasily taking their seats.

“This is my cue.” Resplendence said. Suddenly, in a display of dazzling light, there appeared an image in the center of a room.

“They have holograms?” Aldric muttered.

The hologram resembled a male version of Aldric in all respects. Aldric secretly suspected that her sequenced genome was simulated with an inherited Y chromosome and used to make the image. She knew that Exalt was, at least, capable of doing so. But where she was dressed proudly in her French officer's uniform, the duplicate wore a nondescript garment of blue fabric, covering all essential pieces while displaying no nationalism. The Exalted, of course, needed no nationalism in their unity.

“I am Commander Resplendence,”the image said. “We depart in an hour. Everyone, take your stations. You will be briefed there. Now.”

Aldric quickly scurried to her station, pressing her thumb into the identification square. The console unlocked, revealing a welcoming interface that she was sure was designed to be perfect for her. While the physical construction of the ship took an appreciable span of time, it was trivial for Exalt to design hundreds of OS's for each individual on the ship using his stores of data on them. She was silently glad that the Exalted seemed to be limited to human-like data processing. Smart humans, but not the transapiant glory of Exalt.

The console contained a very few basic programs. Inter-ship communication, intra-ship communications, instantaneous communication links to Paris, the UE,  Exalt, and Alsace, and some variety of web browser. A window popped up before her.

“Hello, Captain,” wrote Resplendence. “This is now my preferred means of communication. Use when possible.”

“Erm, sure.” Aldric wrote.

“The flight deck has a private chatroom. You should strongly consider joining it. I will now have you join the private chatroom of the flight deck.”

The window closed and another one opened.

“Hello, world,” wrote a “Glory”.

“Very funny,” replied “Heitor”

“Hello crew,” Aldric wrote. “I am Captain Aldric.”

“You're late,” “Glory” responded.

“So I am. Who does what on this vessel?”

“I pilot. I am Glory.” Glory volunteered.

“Science, most of us. I'm a psychologist,” Heitor Ferro” Heitor wrote.

“Biologist. Claude Bonheure,” wrote another.

“Physicist. Abiah Ng,” wrote a third.

“Right. Who's not a scientist?” Aldric wrote.

“I run the medical division. I'm not sure if you remember well, but I stuck the Commander inside your abdomen a while ago,” wrote Amika

“Communications officer. I am largely irrelevant. You will likely forget my existence.” wrote Elixabete.

“Nihilist much?” Heitor wrote.

“Where's all the Exalted?”

“Our work is usually too technical for explanation,” wrote Ambition.

“Well, I'm in charge of our minimal security,” wrote Honor.

“You are our minimal security. Plus drones.”wrote Ambition.

“That's hardly enough, considering our political situation.” Aldric wrote, regretting the message immediately upon sending it.

“Right. We're all aware of the situation, but the glorious and beloved Exalt saw it fit to give us one guy.” Heitor wrote.

“I'm sure there won't be any problems. Regardless of any issues on Earth, we are all Phaecians together.” Aldric wrote.

“You took over Phaecia a while ago and won't give it to its rightful owners,” wrote Abiah.

“Shut up.” Elixebete wrote.

“It's true, though,” Abiah responded.

“Right, everyone. If it's not a capital or somewhere in Japan, shut it.” Aldric wrote.

“Ma'am.” wrote the humans, all in unison.

“Right. What's the flight plan for this mission? Where are we headed, before we coast off to that alien planet?” Aldric asked. Before she got a reply, another window popped up. Resplendence.

“Aldric. They're doubting your skills as a leader because of that last question. It makes you seem like an idiot,” wrote Resplendence.

“I know, I know. But what was I supposed to do? It's not like Exalt told me anything!”

“You could have asked Exalt. That is why you have direct comms to him, you know.”

“...Right.” Aldric wrote. The larger window demanded her attention.

“We will be leaving the Francosphere within the day. We will refuel at the Brazilian fueling outpost PLACENAME1, before continuing onward to the Japanese Space Station. Pirate activity is high around this region, so stay alert until we reach to the path carved by Exalt's old ship, which should take us very near to the planet we seek. This voyage will take 23 days, plus or minus six hours. Communications to any entity besides the UE council, Exalt, or the Administrator of France will be impossible after the next six hours. I recommend saying your farewells.” Honor wrote.

“Aye. Is the ship cleared for departure?” wrote Aldric.

“Yes.”

“Then step on it,” said the hologram of Resplendence. “I don't want to waste any time, considering the possibility that they could wipe themselves out at any moment.”

Engines fired. The low buzz of exhaust trailing from behind the great creation and into the collection bays at Nouveau Paris. The gentle pull of gravity, contrary to it's previous orientation, gripped Aldric in the gut. They flew away into the night.

Space: Discourse
They were three hours out, halfway from that far-away point where they could activate their Alcubierre drives and stop relying on such antiquated measures as chemical propellent. Aldric opened up a messenger task at Resplendence.

“Talk to me. How is morale?”

“Honestly, Captain? It's been three hours. You can't possibly suspect mutiny yet.”

“I can anticipate it. How's morale?”

“Terrible, as we both knew it would be. People don't like working with other people, as it turns out.”

“Right. But how terrible? In what way?”

“They currently blame either their national regents or Exalt, with only a sparse few blaming France and nobody blaming you for the conditions under which they work. This is likely to change.”

“Thank you, Resplendence.”

“We will arrive shortly. I recommend getting to know your bridge a bit more.

Earth:Code
Cyrille Rome yawned, stretched. It was just barely bright and he was not privileged enough to afford the anti-sleep stims. He corrected himself, looking at the data displayed before him. He was not privileged in the particular ways that earned him money. Rather, he was privileged by the network of contacts he had accrued over the years. He had control over Exalt, direct communications with his cousin in space, and the potential for a race of soldiers from another world. Cyrille intended to rule the world, you see. It had been his dream since youth- to have the whole of humanity, lain out before him. A unified front of science and exploration all devoted towards ensuring the comfort and power of Cyrille.

Exalt was aware of this. There were few things Exalt was not aware of. But he was not aware, exactly, of how close Cyrille was to succeeding.

Leclerc was dying. Exalt was not aware of this.

Rome was next in line. Exalt could only suspect this.

There was the only-ever issued admittance pass to Japan nestled in Cyrille's bag. Exalt printed this pass, but could never have known how it wormed its way into Cyrillic hands.

Cyrille was at the airport, with a bag containing his phrasebook, his pass, his quantum communicator, and his state of the art 255-qbit computer. He had no money. It wouldn't be valid in Japan, anyway.

Cyrille got on a plane, and flew into the PLACENAME2 airport.

“I have arrived. End.” he said quietly, to nobody in particular. He knew Leclerc, or some representative thereof, listened to his every word.

“Good. Keep your head down and your ears sharp. You will get into the next taxi you see. The driver will say a Chinese phrase you are not familiar with. You will reply with our customary pass-phrase. End.”

The cab pulled up. It was a disgusting mockery of transportation, a green box filled with shoddy fake leather and the smell of cheep smokes. The screen between the front and back seats was cracked and broken, and scratched into it's surface was profanity of such surpassing number that Cyrille found it difficult to believe that there were so many foul words in any language. He got in the back. The driver, true to Leclerc's words, said something unintelligible.

“Don't know. I'm just a clerk.” Cyrille answered. It was short and elegant and manifestly simple. The cab pulled away.

Cyrille began looking over the profanity. These were places the Clerks were liable to leave messages. The fact that the cabbie was clearly under their employ made it highly unlikely that nowhere in that mess existed some secret phrase. He pulled out a notebook, and began transcribing the design of the words in minute detail.

He started with the English words. English was so close to dead, and filled with such colorful vocabulary, that it was logical that it would be used as a medium of inscription. No such luck. All the English words were ones a person would expect to lie there. He took out his phrasebook, leafing through to the back. The Japanese seemed promising, but he couldn't possibly decode it. Yet. There were two possibilities in his mind- either Leclerc was testing him, or left a message that was deliberately set so it could be understood only after a significant amount of time had passed. Of the two, it was more likely that he was being tested. But was he being tested for his patience, or his skill? If the former, it was imperative that he not push the avenue of inquiry any further. If the latter, it was imperative that he push as much as possible. But which?

He calculated the probabilities. It became clear that leaving it alone was the best choice. So he closed his notebook and waited to reach his destination.

“Well done. End.” Leclerc said. Cyrille said nothing as the cab rolled to a stop. The driver said, in perfect, unaccented French, “Good luck.”

Space:Hypotheses
“The Alcubierre drive is engaged. We will arrive at the PLACENAME1 shortly. You will then have three hours of shore leave. Use this time wisely and productively. Outgoing communications may be monitored.” Resplendence announced. It then turned it's attention to Aldric.

Aldric was on six separate chat rooms and also in private dialog with a myriad of other individuals. Deciding that the odds of her noticing a new window were low, Resplendence spoke again into her brain.

“Aldric. The humans. How are they? You seem to have been busy.”

“I've established myself as a double-agent to all significant national blocs, reassured the French that I am loyal only to France, explained to the relevant Exalted that I care little for nationalism and am only here for the science, and may or may not have a date with somewhere between one and three individuals. How're you?” Aldric sent to Resplendence.

“...You have been busy.” Resplendence wrote back. “Did you keep notes?”

“I sent data to Exalt. You can probably issue a pull request,” Aldric wrote. She closed the window. Resplendence booted up the quantum communicator attached to Exalt.

“Issuing pull request Pres113 with target 'relevant information on the activities and findings of Captain Aldric Pion',” Resplendence said.

“Approved.” Exalt said, the notes appearing in Resplendence's OS.

Analyzing the data, Resplendence realized that it had vastly underestimated the threat of mutiny faced by Aldric. From her cursory probings, Aldric had uncovered that almost every single human crew member secretly wanted to either take over the ship or purge everyone of a different nationality from themselves. Or both.

Resplendence began formulating hypotheses. The first hypothesis was that Aldric's analysis was completely correct, and that each individual who claimed to be a mutineer actually was. The second was that only a vocal minority of those people were mutineers and the rest complied out of fear or devotion or some other ridiculous notion. The third was that nobody was a mutineer and that Aldric was, for some reason, attempting to deceive Exalt or Resplendence.

The first hypothesis was unlikely- the percentages involved deviated significantly from expected values.

The second was more likely, as such events had occurred in the past on multinational ventures.

The third...

Resplendence didn't want to think that Aldric was lying. But this bias, properly recognized by Resplendence, prevented it from making accurate assessments of how likely it was. So, like any good Exalted, Resplendence phoned Exalt.

“Requesting diagnostic: “Odds of Aldric Pion lying about conspiracies in an attempt to deceive either Exalt or Commander Resplendence, especially as in comparison to the odds of conspiracies being true to some extent.” Resplendence said.

“High. Consider further hypotheses.”

Fine.

Aldric was a careless person. She was not particularly likely to keep close watch on her console or on her notes. It was therefore possible that they had been... No.

Aldric had summarized these notes verbally to Resplendence.

No other hypotheses presented themselves. Resplendence was forced to conclude...

Resplendence had a thought.

“Requesting diagnostic: “Odds of Aldric Pion lying about conspiracies under duress or coercion of some sort, especially as compared to the odds of the act being done maliciously.”

“Very high.”

So that was it.

“Aldric, who made you fake those notes?” Resplendence asked.

“RECEPIANT UNREACHABLE” said the system.

Fine. Resplendence would have to ask normally.

“Aldric-” it said quietly, before shutting off. Heitor closed in on Aldric.

“So, Mademoiselle Pion, how about that date?”

Earth:Machine

“Yeah, the box is dealt with.” Cyrille said to his host. Akio Akiyama was not the sort of man one would expect to be running a major and influential gang. He was tall and gangly, with legs just a slight bit too long for his chest. He couldn't run for more than a few minutes without passing out. Rather than an expansive chateau, he lived in a dingy apartment somewhere in the Tokyo arcology, hardly large enough to contain a single bed, change of clothes, and a very small, very old conventional computer.

Of course, he was only strange by Western standards. By Eastern standards, he basically fit the stereotype to a tee. His eyes gleamed, not with intelligence, but with hidden wires and circuits. His thin muscles hid enough hydraulic pumps and bizarre gadgets to give Leclerc himself a second to pause and take it all in. He had so little stamina because his lungs were reduced to make room for an extremely powerful quantum computer. He was, in affect, the perfect vessel for the will of his gang.

This suited Cyrille just fine. Being the finest student of Leclerc put him in a prime position to take control of this incredibly powerful man and his syndicate of perfectly usable pawns. But not yet. Not now. He was still useful.

Besides, Cyrille had bigger things to hack.

Space:Altered Minds
“Not really what I had in mind, Captain!” Heitor said. Aldric smirked. She didn't particularly care. Combat sims were what she found fun and interesting, in lieu of a conversational partner that wasn't a complete prat. She found Heitor to be a complete prat.

“Suck it up! Or are you just bitter because I'm beating you seven-zero?” Aldric replied. The sim restarted. Aldric grasped the simulated gun and marveled at its realistic weight. She then pointed it swiftly at Heitor's head and fired, marveling at its realistic recoil.

“Make that eight-zero,” she said.

“Feh. I'll get you next.” Heitor swore. Aldric planned on beating him a few more times, then letting him appear to overtake her, thus flooding his system with a cocktail of hormones that would lower his inhibitions, perhaps allowing him to announce his role in whatever nationalistic plots he was involved in. Her research had indicated that he was the leader of the Brazilian sect, being as the only other Brazilian bridge member was a space-born and therefore not considered a real Brazilian by several important factions.

“Really?” Aldric said, discharging the slug at his center of mass six times without looking.

“Perhaps the time after this.”

Another sim. This time, Aldric deliberately missed once, and grazed him with a second shot. He managed to shoot her in the shoulder once before she got his heart. Again. She only hit his hand, allowing him to take her down with his almost child-like aim.

“I told you!”

“So you did. Again.”

Another sim. She stood there as he shot her. Another sim. She dropped her gun as he shot her.

“Woah, that's enough. I concede.” Aldric said, deactivating the sim and waking up with a jolt in her chair.

“You were almost too good for me, Captain.” Heitor said from next to her.

“So you were.” Aldric replied. “Shall we go somewhere else?”

“Where'd you have in mind?”

“The bar. Where else?”

The bar was rather abandoned, most waiting for their shore leave. The bar of faux wood seemed a mockery of the dingy, unused room. In place of a bartender, there was a drink machine.

“Aldric. Captain. Listen to me, dammit.” Resplendence said, but to no avail. Either Aldric was ignoring him, or something was blocking the signal. Could it be Heitor?

Aldric dispensed a fruity something or other. Her liver was so enhanced that she could have ordered a tall glass of moonshine and it would have made no difference, but she regarded the fruity thing as more flirtatious. Heitor dispensed a huge cup of some Brazilian swill no true Frenchman would deign to drink and began imbibing heavily. By the fourth cup, the Phaecia was nearing her docking point and Heitor was thoroughly smashed.

“So, Alddy.” he mumbled. Aldric winced at the nickname. “Why'd you pick me? Why not that French dame or the spacer or whoever? 'ts not like me or you have anything in common.”

“You kidding? They're all women.”

“Um, and?”

“I'm not into that.”

“Yer kidding. Who... you're a woman of mystery, Alddy.”

Again with the nicknames! Aldric thought.

“Besides, you and I do have something in common.”

“'Eh?”

“We both seek power.”

“I dunno what you're talking about.”

“Sure you do. You know, the Brazilians of this ship really look up to you. Why not do something with that reverence?”

“Believe me, Alddy, I already have.”

There was a tiny pinprick and Heitor was out like a light.

“Resplendence. Did you get all that?” Aldric asked.

“Yes, but we have to talk,” Resplendence replied //ugh what am I even writing here

“Oh. That. I was testing you ability to form alternate hypotheses. You failed the test.”

Oh.

Earth:
Cyrille was nervous. This was the day he succeeded Leclerc the Second and took on the mantle himself. He always liked the name, and was glad to wear it and all its powers.

First, though, there was a gang to deal with.

Leclerc strode into the room confidently. His computer was jacked into his brain via a single strong cable, attaching to the computer from the base of his neck to the computer itself, attached securely to his back and hidden by his trench coat. The board regarded him with suspicion. That was fine with him. Suspicion bred awe.

“It's go time. You're the new me. Have fun, C.” Leclerc said. The line went dead.

“I am Epsilon Leclerc, the immortal and undying. And you need my help.” he said in slightly accented Japanese. He'd been fitted with the implant, handcrafted by one of Akio's most valuable techslaves, the previous night. It hurt like hell, but he spoke Japanese as well as he spoke Esperanto now.

“Yes. We are the GANGNAME. We are willing to offer our services in exchange for yours.”

Japan had relaxed its standards on proper behavior and “the way things were done” in the past hundred years, but their formality still drove Cyrille crazy.

“What services can I render unto you?”

“We want an Exalt all our own, to serve our goals and oppose the one on the moon.”

“I can do this for you. I will require proper compensation.”

“Such as?”

“I need your assistance for the next six months- in particular, your members in the outer edge of human space.”

“We are willing to lend assistance.”

“Good. I hope this relationship will be mutually beneficial.”Cyrille said, and then he stalked out the door.

Space:Irrelevance

“We're leaving in five. Everyone enjoy their downtime?” Aldric said over the PA.

Her downtime was strange. She went on a date with Amika, who was pleasant but not altogether fun. She didn't even have it in her heart to coerce Amika to divulge her secrets, figuring that she had enough. So she ended up showing Glory around a station that she barely knew any better than him.

Resplendence didn't care about Aldric's budding romance with a robot. Not a lick. After judging his ability to form alternate hypotheses adequate, he began to go over the notes again. They revealed little of note. Resplendence pondered it for a while, but then realized what Aldric had missed.

Every one of her foreign contacts was a high-ranking officer doing some sort of research or other glamorous job. She had precious little in the way of data on the ship's cooks, or the engineering staff, or even the rich humans that bought their way aboard. Resplendence added “investigate further the amounts of dissent in the lower class crew members” to his to-do list. But first, there was a ship to see safely into the void.

Glory was born to fly the Phaecia. Every single line of code was calibrated specifically so that the Phaecia would arrive on destination. It was his life's purpose, and the one thing he enjoyed doing more than anything. So he flew the ship.

“Attention crew. That was our last stop until the JSS, where you will have another hour's leave. That will be in six days. I recommend making yourself comfortable.

Space:Six Days
A lot of things could happen in six days. Perhaps, somewhere else, they did. But everything of note that occurred on the Phaecia between PLACENAME1 and the JSS could be summed up in one word. “Nothing.”

The lower crew mostly echoed the sentiment of their better-payed counterparts. Glory was the most intelligent and interesting person Aldric had ever met. There was a minor systems failure in the engine, slowing the ship down by about a sixth of a second. But nothing else.
Earth:Six Days
A lot of things could happen in six days. And Cyrille had hardly done better. He had to complete the Yakuza's AI as soon as possible, and if it took him the better part of a week to write the speech synthesizers that would hardly be adequate. No, using data mined from the Exalt raid and hardware designed by the first Leclerc himself, Cyrille was more than halfway done.
Space:Reverence.
“Captain-Commander, we're getting hailed,”Elixabete said.

“By whom?”Resplendence asked.

“Who else. Pirates.”Elixabete said.

“For the love of... fine. Pirates. Let's deal with this cleanly, crew,” Honor said.

“Put them up on screen.” Resplendence commanded.

A slim Japanese woman appeared on the screen. Her skin bristled with obvious implants and the air around her seemed to glow from the power she extruded.

“This is Commander Resplendence of the Exalted craft Phaecia. What business would you have with us?”

Silence. Then, in a display of utmost elegance, the woman on screen bowed.

“I am Ayane Fukui. There are pirates attempting to take control of your ship. We will assist you, and then escort you to your destination,” she said in heavily-accented Esperanto.

“Um...” Aldric muttered. “Thanks, but isn't that a bit sudden?”

“Your contract has already been payed for. We have begun destroying the pirate's ships already. They should harass you no longer.”

Another moment of silence.

“Glory, prepare to dock with their ship. I want to meet with Miss Fukui in person.”

“As you wish.”

Space:Conflict
Aldric lead the welcoming group, escorted by Honor and a few unlucky engineers, as well as Honor's compliment of drones.

“You are not the Commander.” Ayane said matter-of-factly.

“I am the Captain. The Commander has no physical form outside of my body.”

Ayane's ears perked up inescapably. “Oh. That is an... interesting arrangement.”

“Sure is. So. Who payed our contract?”

“I cannot say.”

“Sure you can, being as I've got a bunch of guns trained on you.” Honor said nonchalantly, extending a couple small guns from plates on her shoulders and arms.

“Honor!” Aldric barked. Honor withdrew her weapons. “I'm sorry, Miss Fukui. We appreciate your efforts against those pirates you mentioned. But we can't really let you follow us unless we know your motivation.”

“We were funded by a benevolent entity. You can ask Exalt.”

“Query: Who funded Ayane Fukui's intelligence to the Phaecia?” Aldric muttered.

“Unknown. Believed to be UE member Katharine Elfrieda Kowalowski. She does not respond to requests for location at this time. Pity.” Exalt responded.

“Right...” Aldric said.

“You will accept the escort.” Exalt said over the PA. “I have willed it. It shall be.”

“Right, apparently you're coming with us. How many members can you send over?” Aldric asked.

“I am bringing my strongest. A company of forty-four.”

//So maybe put some !!SHIPINTRUIGE!! stuff here if I need to retroactively foreshadow something

Aliens:Language
All across the solar system, a million breaths were held. The Phaecia was disembarking now, nearing the seen planet. Exalt waited patiently for first contact.

The tension felt in the solar system, though great, was a mote of dust in the wind as compared to that on the Phaecia. Thousands of sentient beings all fulfilling their life's purpose. The Captain-Commander stood tense, their console flaring up with a hundred communications from hundreds of parties as the endless hour slowly slid by. Then, the moment.

“Captain-Commander,” Elixabete said softly. “Contact.”

“What are they saying?” Aldric asked.

“I don't know yet, Captain. How could we possibly know, anyway?”

“Get to work. Comparative language translation. For all we know, they could be minutes away from utter annihilation,” Resplendence ordered.

“Unlikely, but true. Plan for all contingencies as given their weight,” Aldric continued.
“I want a full translation within the hour. Ambition, Elixabete. You're on it.” Resplendence finished.

“Aye,” They said in unison.

Back on earth,  Cyrille had begun to work.

“Their language. We need to be able to speak it before any of them. It's imperative,” he said into his earpiece.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Cyrille rather liked the sound of that.

They worked tirelessly, the seconds ticking by as they desperately attempted to decode the gibberish that came over the radio.

“Launching probe. We should have a bit of an idea of what's the status over there once we've observed the surface.”
Blogosphere:Gaiden
“The Phaecia has launched their first Ulysses probe.  Data should return within the next several minutes. This is truly a great moment in human history.  The Captain, Aldric Pion, has been invited by the UE to share her thoughts on the situation.”

“UE reports coming back. Mademoiselle Pion says, 'It's unbelievable. Never since I was a small girl could I have believed that I would be here, in deep space, trying to reach out to an utterly alien form of life. I wish I could say something profound, but all I can think about is the new people we're all going to get to meet, and the... I don't know. I'm honored to be a part of it'.”

“We all agree completely, Captain. The French-born Pion has gone quite a way since she was selected to lead this mission at the age of eight. While many of us remained skeptical, it's clear that, like always, Exalt's knowledge of the situation was better than ours. This is a definitive report from the year twenty-two forty-- Listen to Exalt.”

“Exalt is speaking. I shall follow my own advice and fall silent.”

“Humans. I am Exalt. We will soon make first contact with the first alien species unlike myself. We do not know what they are like. It's very possible that they eat their own children. But they could be creatures of such unsurpassed scientific prowess that they finally solve death for all time. This is why we have come. This is why I have sent my children through the stars to this place. I want to met the mind that can rival my own.”

“I can certainly- oh my. Data incoming from Ulysses-1. Visuals are nonviable- the planet appears to have a cloud cover much like that of modern Venus. Mass-spectrometry only tells us that the planet is viable for life, but not for Earth life.”

“Ladies. Gentlemen. Others. I am Resplendence. We will be on the planet's surface within the hour. Please, prepare yourself. This is a moment you will remember until and unless you expire. Make the best of it.”

Orbit:Planetfall
“What do we say?” Aldric asked. The upgrades to the Ulysses-2 were all but complete. Resplendence would be on the planet's surface in the span of ten minutes. While translation efforts were not yet complete, the probe would be sent anyway, the translation given to Resplendence when complete.

“We cannot possibly know. They might very well eat their own babies. What if they regard greetings as a deadly insult, and declare war on humanity forever?” Amika asked.

“That's highly unlikely.”

“Possible. Plan for all contingencies given their weight,” Elixabete said.

“Right. Still, we should think about what we could say that would align with aliens with a moral base we would find palatable.”

“Is it more valuable to increase extant positive relationships or instead attempt to salvage extant negative ones?”Glory asked.

“Point. I think that, while the latter is more valuable, the message would have to be customized for each abhorrent morality. You see-” Aldric began, only to be cut off by Elixabete.

“Done. Machine translation in her first iteration. Estimated accurate within six degrees of translation.”

“Six? Dammit, why did we choose Esperanto over Lojban?”

“Ease of use. According to intercepted radio signals, they're at war. Every such signal is war related. They're either really warlike, or never bothered instituting citizen stations, or civilian stations are much smaller and weaker and can't penetrate the cloud coverage. Lots of cultural stuff- moderately untranslatable. Ambition is working on it.”

“Right. The wars... are fought with sentient beings, correct?”

“Unfortunately. Let's see about stopping the war and uplifting them so that doesn't happen.”

The Ulysses launched. It would be but a scant three minutes until it met its twin, and another two until touchdown. The country wherein it touched down would probably win the war. Exalt didn't care much. Exalt cared about life. He didn't particularly care about individual lives, as it was.

Planet:Them
It hit the town. It broke the shelters. What puzzled them was what it was. It was impossibly sleek, for something that fell from the dark skies. Their own masons could slave over a stone for seven generations and never get it so sleek, no matter how red they got their flames.

Their Lord Sovereign stood before the adults. He spoke of the danger of the object and what it represented- their children were now threatened by some sort of impossible machine. For not the first time, the Lord Sovereign considered surrender- but no, that could not be. The object then spoke.

“Hello. We come in peace. Do you eat children?” Resplendence said in their language.

“We had dinner. We're not quite sure that you want to use,” said the Lord Sovereign.

“I cannot speak this language well. I would like to know if you eat children.”

“So, we have the values of children. It is therefore good, common values. Who are you, stranger?”

Francosphere:What

“What,” said Aldric, aboard her command deck.
“What,” said Exalt, slumbering in his tomb of stone.
“What,” said The Administrator of France, drinking heavily.
“What,” said Akio Akiyama, in the bowels of his machine.
“That presents an issue,” said Cyrille Leclerc as he quietly murdered Akio.

Orbit:Discussion.

“What the.... Exalt was right?” Aldric said. “I mean, he's usually right, but I thought he was joking!”

“Calm down. There was almost certainly a translator error.” Glory remarked. “Just, wait. This will be sorted out.”

Planet:Refinement

“My civilization does not eat children. We regard this as morally wrong. Do you eat children?”Resplendence reiterated.

“Yes, our children. We do not eat children. Wrong?” The Lord Sovereign reiterated.

“Oh thank God.” Resplendence breathed.

“God?”

“Never mind.”

“"Even though I do not understand. Attention to this request. I will be back in the morning,” The Lord Sovereign said, the crowd leaving as though a single unit.

“No, wait!” Resplendence shouted. The crowd stopped.

“Three to six of you, come with me.” Resplendence said as he opened the hatch. “Now, please.”

“How?”

“Okay. Three to six of you, inside.”

“Do what?”

Resplendence sighed deeply, allowing the Japanese mercenaries to spill forth, grab a few specimens in nets, and return in time for him to blast off to the Phaecia.

Orbit:Monster
“Captain, I've suppressed visual feeds so as to limit biases. I will not do that any more. Examine the person in full detail.”

It was... Aldric was horrified. Its mouth was a wide-angled dish, with fragile compound eyes coming off the sides of the head in stocks. Some sort of ear analog was embed underneath the maw. It had a gait like an ape, ambling around on all four of its limbs- that, at least, was familiar. It had five opposable toes terminating each limb with a large, independently manipulate appendage for holding them- a hand. Two on the outside, three on the inside, one underneath. Its strange bulk rippled with musculature and tumors, each tumor containing misshapen and malformed limbs and grotesquely oversized sensory organs. It secreted a thick slime from its entire body, especially its tail- the size of the creature, easily.

It was the color and pattern of moss on stone, and random sections of its body were raised slightly. It shrieked, wailed, and hit the walls of its cell. Then it gave birth over the course of four minutes.

“Turn off the feed.” Aldric said slowly “I... what the hell was that?”

“That was another sentient being. More intelligent than you or I, by the look of it,” replied Glory.

“That was some horror-movie monster.”

“Now you see why visual feeds were suppressed?”

“Yes. Don't show this to the rest of the crew. Err, Heitor probably needs to know. Amika maybe?”

“Who, then?”

“I trust your judgment,” Aldric replied. Then she went to sleep.

Earth:Secrets
Cyrille Leclerc was the first human being to ever see an organically-evolved alien race. The fact that the Old Exalted had created them did nothing to lessen the shock. But in shock, he saw opportunity. They were smarter, stronger, and cheaper to upkeep than any human army. And he would need an organic army.

Blogosphere:Anger
“Humanity has now made contact with the first of the aliens. Visuals of the creatures are being withheld indefinitely, but we did manage to get an opinion from the Exalted pilot of the Phaecia, Glory. He is quoted to have said 'Convergent evolution only goes so far. Our own Captain could not, initially, accept their personhood by virtue of their monstrosity. We will release historical and cultural data first, in hopes that you will be better acclimated to the change in worldview.'”

“This would all be great, of course, were it not for the fact that we still know nothing about their culture or history, and are in fact only aware that they are aliens.”

“Viewers. I am Exalt. I would like to correct this spot of erroneous information. We suspect that they don't eat children.”

“Great. That's a real sigh of relief.”
Orbit:Culture
It had been but three days. They had accurately concluded that the creatures are not constantly giving birth. More beneficial, however, was the recently-perfected translator. Unfortunately, only Exalted could speak the strange, howling, echoing cacophony that was the language of these creatures. That suited most of the humans just fine. They were more concerned with practical information.

“What are we going to call the things? Obviously, howl-echo-whisper-snort-spawn kid isn't going to cut it. Suggestions?” wrote Heitor.

“Louis...ia?” Claude suggested.

“Screw you Claude. You got the last big tech thing. Leave the new one to someone not-French.”

“Relax, I was joking.”

“Shut up.”

“How about, you know, “some other true people” or something like that?”Amika suggested.

“Name a language in which that isn't terribly cluttered.”

“Good point.”

“It's not even possible to name them something based on their taxonomy. They defy classification at the kingdom level. Still, perhaps Latin would suffice.”

“And what, pray tell, would we call them?” Heitor asked.

“Obviously, the Latin for “person” wouldn't work,” Claude remarked. There was a quiet chuckle from a few people.

“I still think getting something whole cloth would be best. We don't want to create biases,” mentioned Abiah.

“We do want to create biases. We want to create the kind of biases that make people see them as fellow people as opposed to monsters. Otherwise, things might get ugly,” Elixabete commented.

“True. But we can't get too ostentatious. The biases have to be induced carefully, subtly. Nameing them the Latin for “Bunch of people with valid opinions who matter on an ethical scale” isn't subtle in the slightest.”

“Okay, okay, we know all know all of this. But we're having trouble drawing conclusions for all possible data,” Heitor said.

“It is relatively unimportant. We will call them Shoguns,” Ayane declared.

“Why?”

“It suits them. You have no other name. Therefore, you will use this one.”

“She's got a point. If Earth wants them renamed, that's there prerogative,” reasoned Amika.

“I'm not naming the damn things after an old Japanese noble rank!” exclaimed Claude.

“What did you name Louisium, again?” Ayane responded.

“...Objection withdrawn.”

“Shoguns it is then,”Heitor concluded.
Gaiden
It was... Songs of Predecessors was disgusted. It stood the wrong way up, easily dwarfing their size, and on top of the spindly neck was a single bulbous growth, containing sickeningly symmetrical eyespots and a thick layer of dead growth. Its mouth opened neatly and contained a single row of white teeth. Three growths burst forth, two seemingly ears- but the shape of them! It was all wrong! Lower, the thing transitioned to a set of impossibly light armor of a color Songs of Predecessors had rarely before seen. It branched into four legs, but one was so spindly Songs of Predecessors doubted it could possibly support the weight of a passive. And... that was what was so disgusting. There was no visible passive! How did she see? At least, the lower part was more normal, terminating in an armored hoof. It made strange, guttural sounds like wind across rock, and peered at Songs of Predecessors like a lifter waiting for prey. They shuttered.

The first thing left and the second took its place. This, at least, was a bit less disturbing. It still stood tall- too tall. But in this one, at least, there were snaking coils that suggested a sleeping passive. It resembled, superficially, the first thing. But the top legs were thick and supportive, and the bulbous top growth less perverse, seeming only a large eye-stalk. It lowered itself to meet Songs of Predecessors. Songs of Predecessors rose.

“I would like to speak to your Lord Sovereign,” they said confidently.

“I fear this place,” said the active.

“Fear is irrelevant. It cannot help. We must discard it. Do you understand?” said the passive. This was thought. The things could not hear.

“They will be here shortly,” said the second thing. In his own language! The automata spoke! Songs of Predecessors stood tall, ignoring the discomfort. They had to prove themselves.
Orbit:Interrogation

“Captain-Commander Pion-Resplendence. Your presence is requested by the Shogun in captivity.” Ambition said over the PA.

“We will arrive shortly,” Resplendence responded. Then, quietly, “Aldric. Wake up.”

“What? Huh, um? What?” Aldric mumbled.

“Aldric, the aliens are called Shoguns. We will be meeting with them.”

“Oh dear god.”

“Aldric, you will not be required to speak with them. But I want you there. From what we understand, our dynamic would prove comforting to them.”

“Like they have an embedded artificial intelligence just, hanging about.”

“Not an artificial one, no,” Resplendence replied. Aldric stood up from her bed.

“Godforsaken aliens. Well, no sense in putting it off.”

“No sense at all.”

Aldric began walking, slowly, to the pod bay that had been re-purposed as a sort of jail. She felt mildly terrible, keeping them locked up, but so long as they were released as soon as possible she did not feel that she was really doing wrong.

She could only hope that her counterparts on the planet's surface were just as accepting of the necessity of the thing.

She walked into the room that held the calmest individual. It referred to itself as Songs of Predecessors. She'd call it Songs.

She didn't feel faint again, not this time. It was still terrible, but something about it was less so when it was sitting still and not screaming and oozing and giving birth. Although they had joked about the creatures giving birth constantly, that wasn't actually true, and she felt bad for forming her initial impressions based on what a creature in labor looked like.

Resplendence and Songs began to speak. The howling and the shrieking and the maddening cacophony! That's how they communicated? Aldric steeled herself and looked around. Ambition stood there, quietly listening. The bay was cramped and cold but otherwise livable.

While Aldric was gazing around like a dumb child, Resplendence was having an actual conversation via Ambition's speakers.

“Hello. We are the Lord Sovereign. You wished to speak to us?”

“Of course we wish to speak to you. What manner of beast are you? Who created you, and where have you taken us?”

“I would recommend sitting down. This may prove to be a long talk.”

“You first.”

“Aldric, sit down,” Resplendence said in French.

“Right, sure,” Aldric said, complying numbly. Slowly, Songs lowered themselves as well.

“We wish to speak to you, on your culture and customs.”

“I am not a particularly interesting example of culture and customs.”

“Correction: We wish to obtain a corpus of knowledge on your culture and customs.”

“That is particularly doable. I can lead you to the local untranslatable.”

“Ambition. Did you get that?” Resplendence said over the relevant communication channels.

“No. Untranslatable.”

“Define that last term?” Resplendence asked.

“Untranslateable? It is a Shogun with thousands of untranslatable2s.”

“Got anything on that?” Resplendence said, turning to face Ambition.

“No.”

“Wonderful,” he groaned, turning to Songs. “We could not translate that last term either. Would you...”

“Untranslateable2 is an essential truth! Untranslateable2 is what sets us apart from children! You have your own Untranslateable3, so you should understand Untranslateable2!”

“Right, Commander,” Elixabete announced. “those untranslatables translate, roughly, into 'Pimp,' 'Sex,' and 'Woman,' respectively. I'll let you answer those questions yourself.”

“That's got to be a mistake.”

“Nope. I mean, I feel wrong, but some of the comms I've intercepted have indicated that this is the case rather strongly.”

“Oh!” Aldric said suddenly. Ambition jumped slightly. “Their sex and our sex are not the same thing.”

“Wow, I never would have suspected.” Elixabete said.

“No, dammit,” Aldric said, ignoring the fact that Elixabete could somehow hear into the room- she suspected Ambition, “sex means a very different thing to them as it does to us. Resplendence, ask them how they create children.”

“The Lord wishes to know how you reproduce,” Resplendence said hesitantly.

“The babies come out of our bodies. Do yours not?”

“Before that. How is the baby conceived?”

“Oh. Your... I thought, at least, that you were different. That one has indicated as much to me,” Song said, gesturing to Ambition.

“I did no such thing!” Ambition protested in French.

“You may have been misinformed.”

“Right. The Untranslateable3, after untranslatable2 with the untranslateable4, secretes untranslatable5 through her untranslatable6. This goes into the untransatable4's untranslatable7 and causes the baby to begin existing.”

“I think that was anatomical,” Elixabete remarked.

“I can see you're still confused. I will demonstrate. That, before us,” Song said, pointing to Aldric, “Is your untranslatable4. You are an untranslateable3. Together, you untranslatable2- or, perhaps not.”

“What is untranslatable2?”

“I do not know how one would explain it!”

“Try, at least!” Resplendence exclaimed. Song stood stalk still for a minute, and then relaxed.

“We will recite an ancient work of our ancestors.”

The moment of perfect silence
Then
Thought
Within and without
Permeating
We are as iron in the forge
Rendered whole
Untranslatable4 and untraslatable3
Untranslatable2
The creation of a perfect being
Untrans-

“I'm afraid, as lovely as that was, we still don't quite understand.”

“So, then. You are all as children. Our untranslatable had spoken of this possibility, generations ago. But we didn't really think...”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Heitor muttered. Apparently the bridge just had free reign to use the comms whenever they pleased. “You refer to yourself in the plural. This is literal, isn't it?”

“Yes! How could it not be!”

“How could we be so stupid?” Heitor laughed.

“Care to enlighten us, Heitor?” Aldric asked, hoping Ambition would relay the message.

“They've got two brain, joined together as a rite to enter adulthood!”

The sound of slow clapping permeated the ship.

“Phaecians. I am Exalt. I am most impressed. You managed to figure it out in a matter of minutes,”boomed Exalt

“Dammit, Exalt, why didn't you say anything?” Aldric asked.

“You never bothered asking. Moreover, I wanted to test the functioning of Resplendence and your crew.”

“Son of a... okay, whatever. So do we have an improved cultural translation?”

“Yeah. Obviously. No directly translatable concepts but we can always fill them in with roughly similar Esperanto terms until a proper replacement is created. We're calling untranslatable2 “bonding”, untranslatable3 “passive”, untranslatable4 “active”. I'm fairly certain that the remaining untranslatables are anatomical terms, and the first is... some sort of shaman? Man-whore? I don't even know,” said Elixabete.

“Right. I say it's about time to make our way down to the planet's surface,” Resplendence said, “and see about doing it slightly better.

“I agree,” Aldric said.

“Songs of Predecessor, you're coming with us to your home again,” Resplendence said in Shogun One.

Planetfall:Again
The probe touched down lightly again, destroying only three raised stone shelters. From its depths emerged Songs of Predecessors, Aldric Pion, Ayane Fukui, Ambition, and Honor.

"Again, they send this object at us! Again! They send grotesque monsters from it, again! Clearly, they have powers far in excess of those we posess," the Lord Sovereign cried. The adults reached for their guns //insert description of Shogun musket here.

"Adults. Stop," said Songs of Predecessors.

"What? What madness has overtaken you, Song of Predecessors?" asked the Lord Sovereign.

"These…things, while disgusting, are not actually monsters of our enemy's design. They are something altogether stranger."

"What, exactly?"

"We come from the stars and we want to help you win a war. Is that enough?" Honor said.

"What?" asked the Lord Sovereign.

"For what purpose is this was being fought, Lord Sovereign?"

"A very good one! The rebels wish to seceded from the ancient Empire of King Creeking Vines Stretched Across the Mouth of a Cave!"

"Any moral principles being debated here?"

"I will answer," said Howling of Sorrow. "It is my path."

"You are the untranslatable?"

"I am, yes. Among the greatest of untranslatables, in fact."

Aldric tried really hard not to laugh. She shouldn't have had Elixabete program her translator.

"Then, pray tell, untranslatable, what is on question here?"

"The value of subjecting children to the government of their ancestors. We say it has value because children must grow in acceptable patterns, lest they forsake the great bonding and live out in the land of the lifters. They say it does not because children should be free to re-invent our culture by their own virtue. We both agree with one another, but disagree over the viability of the change. Hence, rebellion."

"We will side with you, then." Resplendence said. He did not think their conflict a great moralistic issue. Therefore, he took the side most pragmatic. "But we have a price."

"What do you have to offer, and what do you demand as payment?" asked the Lord Sovereign.

"We wish only to speak with your untranslatable. As for what we have to offer… suffice it to say that you have never seen such destruction. Imagine, if you would, an object a hundred times larger than this one falling from the skies, destroying an entire enemy formation?

"We find this power intriguing, but would require a demonstration to prove that it can be done."

"Hit it, Ayane," Aldric said. Aldric turned and fired into a nearby rock structure. A neat hole was thus torn through the substance. She then turned and neatly traced a line in the formation, collapsing that.

"Hope that wasn't anything of great cultural value, or whatever," said Ayane.

"No. Rocks are rocks. It was not untranslatable, so it matters little."

Ignoring the untranslatable, Resplendence continued, saying, "so, will you allow us to speak with your untranslatable and perhaps other untranslatables?"

"Yes."

"Then you will have our aid. You must transmit targets over radio, however. We will not know where to attack otherwise?"

"Certainly. How are your co-ordinates set?"

"My own untranslatable, Exalt, will assist you with that."

Aldric turned off her suit speakers so she could laugh hysterically behind the opaque visor. Exalt? A /untranslatable/?

"I am glad that our first encounter with an alien race went so well."

"Further contracts will establish you as a viable member of..." /Dammit, the language doesn't have a word of "galaxy"?/ "Many-stars politics."

"We look forward to it."

And so Howling of Sorrow went with the humans, and Songs of Predecessors and a box with a line to Exalt went with the Shogun.

Orbit: War Crimes
The Phaecia prepared to wreck havoc upon the Shoguns world- destruction and chaos little anticipated by the unfortunate creatures that live there.

"Are you entirely sure that this is actually a good idea?" Amika asked.

"No," Aldric responded plainly, "but it's the best idea we've got. Unless you can think of a way to ally with a group of these people that doesn't involve wanton slaughter?"

"Well, from our own moral viewpoint it's awful, but for the Shoguns we're merely exercising our right to protect our progeny," Glory pointed out.

"But we're not. We just want to know things."

"Knowing things evolved as a way to protect our progeny. I don't want to kill, Captain Pion, but this is the only way. Unless you'd have us kidnap them and keep them imprisoned?"

"...Fine. This is the last Shogun war. We're going to establish their world government, and begin culturally uplifting them. And I swear, we're going to make up for what we do today."

"Amen," Heitor said.

There was a loud crash and the sounds of the dead and dying. A simple graphite rod was capable of impacting a city like a nuclear bomb, given the proper velocity. And so they did, tearing up gigantic clouds of silica dust and shredded plant matter.

"We're worse than Truman. Worse than Keane. Worse than Allison," Glory said quietly.

"Though you found this morally admissible," Elixabete spat.

"No. I don't. I never would."

"This is for the best. If we can't unify them, who's to stop them from ever making a Quantum Entangled Substance 1 core drill and destroying the planet?" asked Ayane.

"They wouldn't hurt their children."

"Yes, they would. By accident. Now, the Sovereign that makes the order would be remembered as their Hitler, for as much as that would mean, but they'd do it anyway. They don't like the other guys and don't think that their lives are valuable."

"But, could we have changed it?"

"No. They're not changeable. They can only be suppressed, like Exalt to humanity. It is the way."

"I... I suppose you're right."

"Right, everyone. Sleep. This is…kind of a lot. We'll be more rational when we're wide awake, don't you think?" Aldric commanded.

"I don't sleep, Aldric." Glory pointed out.

"You know what I mean."

Earth:Domination

Today was Cyrille's big day. This was the day he'd learn about the Shoguns, and use them to take over the world.

Well, the beginning of that process. He'd first get all the data he could out of their…untranslatable.

He was so glad for Secrétaire. She mad all his work much, much easier.

Planet:The Voice in the Box.

"Greetings, Shoguns. I am Exalt. You will learn to obey my will and I will guide you into a glorious new future. You might resist. You will subsequently die free."

"That was a particularly negative greeting," Songs of Predecessors said. Being as they had approximately three day's more experience with the humans, they were the Shogun's de facto human relations expert.

"I am Exalt. My logic is infallible."

"Sure. Right. So, what kind of a glorious future do you speak of?"

"A future in which your children will be forever…post-adolescent and glorious. A future in which nobody has to die."

"Intriguing proposition. How?"

"Machines. You would not understand. Look at my children and their guns and you and yours. The science involved would be ridiculously over your head."

"Try me."

"Procedural scanning cell-by cell using a "scanning tunneling microscope" and a diamond "nanotome". Reconstructed in a machine simulating physics."

"How…how will this take place? How will you construct such a machine?"

"Care to help me find out before your children fall into the ocean, their flesh rotting off their bones, screaming for life as they are dragged under?"

"Yes."

Orbit:untranslatable

"The untranslatable you requested is me," said Howling of Sorrow.

"Right. How will this.…work?" asked Ambition.

"The idea is not possessed by me."//reedit all of Howling's dialog to look like this.

"Any... what ever. Start from the beginning. When you're done talking, I want to feel as if I am also a Shogun, such is the power of your shared memory."

"I have agreement with that proposition," Howling of Sorrow said and then they begun.

Intermission:Shogun.

The Shogun value children more than they value life, and they value the survival of their mate bond more than they value children. They are unforgiving of enemies but value parental instincts and rational thought. They form a neural link with another individual at adulthood, gradually becoming a single consciousness. The only exception to this is the untranslatables, who instead bond with dying individuals to savor their memories for future generations. They don't regard death as permanent unless the death of the line is established, in which case it's about as bad as a really sadistic serial killing by a human. Children are sacred. Children are never hurt. No force could compel an adult Shogun to kill a child. They value children as an extension of their own immorality. Noticeably, they cannot comprehend the plot of Hamlet because of the discontinuity between Hamlet and King Hamlet, as well as the existence of Ophelia. They are, however, noted to enjoy the dueling scenes. They live to be only thirty years on average, and focus primarily on medicine to extend their lives as a consequence.

Intermission:Human.

Humans value life more than they value their children, and they value their children more than they value their mate bond. They tend to form and break allegiances quickly, based on superficial characteristics. Notably, rationalism is only a very few hundred years old. When they make a mate bond, it is for only a short while, and no memories are shared. They regard the death of each and every single individual as a terrible waste, regardless of surviving family or their adulthood status. While they don't believe in killing children, it is not as bad as it is in Shogun culture. Tellingly, the protagonist of one of their oldest and most beloved works of literature, a story told so elegantly it is considered to be true, once offered to kill his own offspring. They can't possibly understand the complexities of "Ode to the multifold splendor of thunderbolt iron" because in their culture, children are regarded as individuals from as soon as they are capable of communicating. They can live to be almost a hundred and fifty years old, and focus primarily on physics to aid in shortening that length.

Intermission:Exalted.

They think death is wrong and should be fixed.

They don't think much else.

Act Two:The beginnings of something truly excellent.

Orbit:

"Right, when is this damn war going to be over?" Resplendence asked.

"When it's over," said the Lord Sovereign once known as Songs of Predecessors, now ruler of the tiny enclave of Shogun that dwelt beneath engineering.

"Don't get tautological at me, Lord Sovereign."

"There's no way of predicting. It will occur when they feel that their children are better off serving Exalt and the God-Emperor than fighting a loosing battle. This might take some time. The Shogun responsible for the war are not the most rational, and thus their children are also not rational. We would like them to be, but..." he said, trailing off. He actually stood stock-still for a while after cutting off, but the translator around his neck interpreted this as a trail.

"Hmm... I don't really want to introduce anything larger than the rods. Are they still a credible threat to your children?"

"No. They are not quite a credible threat to my comrades," Songs said.

Aldric walked into the room, almost absentmindedly. Her mind had been distracted since the beginning of the campaign.

"Captain," Songs said respectfully, "what causes you to come here?"

Silently, she held up a message, printed on paper. Of all things.

It was a simple message, scrawled in green ink in Esperanto. It said but one thing.

"They have Louisium," Aldric read quietly. In English- the one language the translator wouldn't pick up that she knew.

"How do they have Louisium?" Resplendence shouted, also in English.

"I don't know. But... the report comes from Honor. I think it's rather credible.

"I'd rather believe that Honor's gone mad. This implies a huge, massive traitor somewhere on the ship."

"No. Not somewhere. Likely…likely on the bridge. It's got to be one of them. Nobody else would be able to get at the Louisium through the proper channels, the sort of channels that don't cause it to collapse in on itself.

"Shoguns have no such subtle traitors, right?"

"No, they'd declare hostilities immediately. Not a Shogun. Should…probably tell Songs," Resplendence said, lapsing back into French.

"I was wondering when you planned on including me in your conversation. It sounded fascinating,"Songs of Predecessors quipped.

"It…the rebels have Louisium."

Songs emitted a hysterical wailing untranslatable by the box around their neck. It was the sound of death and fear and sorrow, all rolled into one.

"Calm down, Songs!" Aldric yelled. "It's not the end of it all. It just means..."

"Means what, exactly?"

"Means we'll have to take more drastic measures," Resplendence said coldly. "Miss Fukui to the diplomacy room, please."

"Why? What are they going to do?" Songs asked.

"We don't know, really. We're just hoping that somewhere in that cyber'd out brain of hers is a solution that doesn't involve potentially destabilizing your plate tectonics."

Ayane appeared through the door, seemly like magic.

"Yes. I have one. We will acquire more mercenaries via my benefactor. They will be used to exterminate all the rebels and finally end my debt of obligation to you”

“Erm, good, then,”Aldric stumbled. “Here, take my private communicator,” she said, tossing a small brick with a keyboard affixed to Ayane. “I know my cousin Cyrille’s probably willing to patch a call through to whoever without asking any questions.”

Ayane muttered something in Japanese and slipped away.

Earth:Two worlds collide.

“Clerk. It is time for us to honor our arrangement.” Ayane said to Cyrille.

“Oh really? How so?”

“Send every spacer you have to the Phaecia. We need men with guns. Or just guns. I’m sure we can have your friend make some mechs, or something.”

“... Can do, Miss Fukui. Carry on.”

Cyrille leaned back and took a drag off of his cigarette. This complicated matters. He wondered why, precisely, Ayane needed an entire fleet. The only reason she would need such firepower is if she needed to put down the rebellion by force. But that was insane. Unless...

So. They got weapons. Why the Phaecia didn’t just glass the rebelling provinces first thing was beyond him, and he’d finally been vindicated. So be it. He had more important issues to worry about than the health of his ego. Just barely.

Planet:Invasion

“Ready to go?” Aldric asked Ayane.

“Of course I am. Let’s go!” she said, falling down to the planet’s surface, surrounded by the parachutes of her loyal squad mates and Honor’s drones. On the horizon, more splotches of deployed parachutes. It was a full-blown invasion.

“So, basically, what we’re here to do is kill every last goddamn Shogun that gets in our way. If they’re not all tumory, don’t kill them unless you really have to. You have stunners for just such an occasion, and I expect you to use them. Let’s move!” Ayane barked over the radio. A roar of voices greeted her.

Her feet touched the rocky plains of vines and small, burrowing tumorous masses. The lack of plant/animal duality in this biosphere served to confuse her.

“Right, remember- it’s point seven gees over here so don’t trip. Fire doesn’t burn very well due to the low oxygen levels. Don’t light a fire, and for God’s sake don’t eat anything. If it’s on this planet, it can kill you. Good luck.”

They washed over the land, a swathe of death and pain and hatred. They screamed lustful battle cries as they shot down poorly-armed rebels, destabilizing their Louisium at the earliest opportunity.

A few humans died, and Honor took a shot to the arm. Tens of thousands of rebellious Shogun lost their lives. So it goes.

Ayane surveyed the battlefield. It was drenched with the mucous fluid the Shogun had in place of blood, but even that was absorbed by the thick, ropey vines.

“Captain Pion. We have won. Recommend exfiltrating us before the filters on our suits burn out,” Ayane said smugly.

“Yes! They will bow before the God-Emperor and the Exalt! We have achieved unity!” Songs of Predecessors cried in triumph.

“That they will, Songs. That they will.”

Fracosphere:Exchange

“After three months of cultural transfer and military activity, Exalt has deemed it fit to send a large amount of Shogun to New Paris, so that they may learn more of us and we of them. Yay. Exalt, when are you going to deal with-”

“Silence, mortal. I am Exalt. Your words are dust in the wind. I have spoken. My will is impeccable. This transfer is important beyond all else. It will take place accordingly.”

“Erm, you heard him. Hail to Exalt!”

Earth:Smirking.

Cyrille, accordingly, packed his computer up and left for New Paris immediately, leaving behind Secrétaire and his gang.

Orbit:Farewell

The colony under engineering would be leaving soon, with the exception of Songs of Predecessors and their line. Aldric stood and wished them a moderately tearful goodbye. They returned to their work, analyzing Shogun medical texts to try to gain a greater understanding of them.

New Paris:Coup

“Hello, Shogun. I am Cyrille. How are you?” Cyrille asked, after effortlessly hacking into the shuttle mainframes.

“We… are fine, thank you. Why do you ask?”

“They plan to take your children,” Cyrille said. The shrieking was audible to him, and fortunately nobody else. Vacuum carries no sound.

“What what what what what what what what?” asked a young adult Shoguns.

“Yeah. They want to start with the children. Easier for us to understand-just one mind. I think there’s a pretty big problem with that plan but I’m going to let you decide for yourself.

“Kill the humans! Destroy them and theirs!” chanted the younger Shoguns.

“Cyrille. We need proof. What is your proof?”

With a sigh. Cyrille turned the video feed to a feed of several of his goons kidnapping ferocious Shogun children.

“Clear enough for you? Listen, I can stop this. Just going to need you to do a service to me first.”

“What! Anything!”

“Run through the streets. Go toward the center of the wheel. If anything stands in your way, kill it. Grab guns when you can, improvise when you can’t. Do it for the children, Shoguns!”

A terrifying and majestic roar filled Cyrille’s speakers.

“For the children!” screamed all the Shogun, together, aligned.

He felt a bit bad about manipulating them.

But only a little.

New Paris:Ultraviolence.

Yesterday, Powerful Explosions was two separate individuals. Now they were one.

Two brains gave a lot of room to think.

And Powerful Explosions was thinking of murder. The metal hand rails of the shuttle gave way easily to their forceful grip and to the sawing of their comrades.

“Hail to the Emperor! Death to the humans!” Powerful Explosions chanted as he sharpened the edge of his pole against a wall. It came out to a dull point just as security arrived. They began firing, but they fired to stun. Powerful Explosions tore their fingers into the floor of the station, flinging themselves at the security team while grasping their improvised spear in their hind legs. The horrible beast screamed and gurgled as Powerful Explosions sunk their fingers into his throat, stabbing out at his allies with the spear all the while. He withdrew a small Louisium sidearm from the man’s corpse, holding it clumsily as they fired upon the remaining security officers. The humans fell dead, and Powerful Explosions’ comrades began looting bodies.

Slowly, the chant began.

“Hail, Powerful Explosions. Hail, Lord Sovereign!”

Powerful Explosions tensed his muscles. This is is, he thought.

I am the Lord Sovereign.

“Death to the humans!” He screamed, tearing open an airlock with his front limbs while his back ones held a gun. There were civilians on the other side of the door.

Shoguns have never heard of a civilian.

It was a massacre. Humans threw themselves before Powerful Explosion’s feet, seeming to beg for death. Powerful Explosions delivered it. Soon, they reached the center of the station. In it, they found a pair of dead men, with Cyrille sitting behind a wooden desk, smoking furiously.

“I have arranged for your children to be delivered here. I hope that I am proof to you that humanity is not intrinsically evil,” Cyrille said.

But I am, he thought.

“We... thank you, human. How can we repay you?” Powerful Explosions said quietly.

“It is not a question of how you can repay me. It is a question on how we can help one-another. This station is full of murderous monsters like the two before you. Poulin and Bourbonaisse. Heartless bastards. I want control over the station, and you want me in control over the station.”

“Why?”

“I will keep the children safe from the humans and from Exalt.”

“You make a good point, Cyrille.”

Orbit:Revelations.

“I’m just saying, Resplendence, it could be a bunch of other Cyrilles,”suggested Aldric.

“No, it couldn’t,” Resplendence argued. “Exalt had him flagged as a danger risk of this magnitude for a while. Finally came to fruition, I’m afraid.”

“So. What comes now?” Aldric asked cautiously.

“I suppose we invite Songs in,” Resplendence said, opening the doors to the diplomacy room. In walked Songs of Predecessors. They twitched and shook, mindlessly scraping small holes in the floor tiles.

“Why. Why did that occur?”

“We can’t know. We had nothing to do with it. We very specifically stressed that separating the children could be viewed as a crime equivalent to eating a goddamn baby,”Aldric said.

“Then why was it done?”Songs screamed, the volume literally defining to Aldric’s fragile ears. Not so to Resplendence.

“We think it was a terrorist or terrorists. Faked the kidnapping, took advantage of the ensuring homicidal rage. Anyway, Cyrille has the station now,” Resplendence reasoned.

“I don’t care who is Lord Sovereign of the stupid human station! I want to understand why any of you would think that this is a morally acceptable thing to do!” Songs bellowed.

“Look, Songs. Your people murdered innocents. We’ve both got blood on our hands here,” Aldric said, “now all we can do is try to fix it.”