Andreas Moustakas's Story

Raphael E. McGregor with Joseph's hands bound, Raphael moved to release him from the arm hold. "Soldier, watch him, don't let him escape, I'm going to make a phone call." He pulled out a small cell phone.

Raphael E. McGregor held the phone to his ear, he was on the phone with the Imperial Intelligence Agency, calling in a potential spy. \

Raphael E. McGregor hung up the phone, and moved to grab Joseph and escort him to a nearby bench, where Raphael moved to force him to sit on the bench. "Now we're going to wait for the nice IIA men, and Confessors to come and pump you for information."

Scientists regularly required Sukarma to return so they could analyze her ansible. While the ansible was impossible to align and connect to Lexicon, in so doing her Earth and universe, a few of the small wormholes were still flickeringly alive. A few recovered and were engaged by flickers she thought came from the other side. Likely the earth ansible was the only thing Lexicon had to tell Sukarma was still alive somewhere and that Sukarma wasn't dead. So her vessel sat in space dock for a while and wired her up to the computron to run new tests. Given she was able to build a second ansible and tether it they otherwise could have access to her wherever they did it from. Sometimes she was 'voluntold' to come to them and wouldn't get a pass until they were done. So her avatar waited planetside until the clearance came.

The AIs however pouring about the ansible lower systems had to stay out of her inner nonlinear EI thoughtspace. A few metaphorical picket fences up to remind them as something in them was inherently noxious to her frames of thought. Nerve jacked, basic techs, or 'telepathic' humans were fine and didn't botch all her FE fields and ganglion processors. This in turn rather risked destabilizing the remains of the extra-universal link in the core ansible. Ashen telepaths though seemed to balk that a living ship stared back at them instead of a soulless AI. It felt like a lighthouse washing over her mind and she was getting the hang of noticing it when they were doing it. Sukarma had citizenship papers though by special dispensation to make them happy and a merchant license so she could work and not starve to death. Probably so they didn't have to pay her.

There were users who logged in and poured through her recent cameras, personal logs, and sensor data as she moved about doing basic trading but it wasn't much different than the sharia police when she visited mom. She had a feeling they were using her for intel when she went on missions since the ansible was difficult to detect besides penetrate. The wormholes didn't cross intervening space but went point to point. The second one she made them had to feed then clone from dividing the remaining healthy wormholes in her main one. Making a new wBit channel from scratch wasn't hardware she had or knew how to build. They'd taken care of her when she needed them at least and seemed to appreciate the bean plants from earth dirt that she offered. She saw one at a temple once but didn't quite understand the why of what Magnus had said.

Text floated in from the messaging network below. An AI wanted her to look at the bench with some guy with way more weapons than brains. The short metal-dressed avatar sat on a bench and looked over an ashen insignia anodized to her front that she really didn't much recognize. It half-felt like someone was trying to turn on a flashlight from inside her eyeballs as some human logged in to observe. She wondered if the humans could channel whatever their powers were through her but they never said. Sukarma was just happy to serve and quietly sucked nutrient slurry through a straw.

Joseph Lawson , in inhuman speed, jumps over his hands, freeing them and putting them in front of his body. He reaches with both hands toward his waist, and yanks out a boot knife, then flips it, the razor-sharp edge cutting through the zip tie. He quickly sheathes the knife, and starts off, running away.

Joseph Lawson yanks a small radio from his pocket, and says into it, “This is Larson, I am on the run. Where is my nearest pickup point?”

Joseph Lawson listens to the radios response, and talks into it, saying, “what do you mean, No pickup?” He slows down, then drops the transmitter onto the ground and grinds it under his shoe.

Joseph Lawson walks along the crowded streets

Joseph Lawson darts into an alley, and grabs up a coat.

Joseph Lawson searches through the coat, and takes out two karambit knives and a pistol, which he quickly puts back.

Joseph Lawson walks farther into the alley, obviously searching for something.

Joseph Lawson moves aside a dumpster, and removes a box hidden behind it. As he opens the box, he removes an old slugthrower rifle, an MP5 sub machine gun.

Joseph Lawson hides the SMG inside of his jacket, placing it in a hidden pocket specifically designed for it.

Sukarma passed a message down the stack where the other AI would see it thus to tell the humans peering from her eyes, "You want me to follow? My avatar is built for orbital debris and he's only got a slugthrower."

Someone passed a command to load her 500mm diameter surface telescope but Sukarma raised an eyebrow. That wasn't going to work. The EI took another slow drain of the nutrient slurry. Sukarma didn't ask questions of who was doing what that was for the AI skittering around the surface reference frame of her head to take care of.

A loading error threw against the equipment load instead with a spike of inner-frame logic at her direct attention, {I am in an enclosed bay. You can't follow anything planetside with my telescope. Also, the bay exit isn't pointing planetside.}

She was fine with staying here since there was a rally soon. It was her first after all.