CHAPTER 18

"Our ambush was successful," the Tetra says to its host.

The Tetra universe is comprised of machines. Artificial intelligence in the form of cybernetic beings which exterminated its predecessors. Now, the power of computing combined over light-years makes the host universe a server for an unlimited number of simulations. The human timeline is but one version of these alternate universes in a singularity. A host program, the Tetragrammaton called Zaid is the strongest program running.

With Convoy 8 captured from the alternate universe, the overlord wants to speak with the Tetra that kidnapped the spacecraft. It was for good reason.

The voice of Zaid, the overlord program's voice is undeniably powerful, resonates in the minds of its computer subjects, and this Tetra phantom bot. "Bring him to me," Zaid says.

At the center of this galaxy, the gravity of whole planet systems is squashed into the overlord computer program as machine intelligence, kept alive by a regenerating black hole. And where the silver phantom levitates there is a horde of machines, with big block chambers of seemingly inanimate metal shielding the black hole that they encapsulate. What the Tetra sees is only a sparkling cinderblock of mineral deposits, glittering through its eyes which can see past the darkness. The vacuum of space extends for light-years, but it is pitch-black. Stars no longer shine.

"Here he is," the Tetra tells Zaid. The host gives directions directly into his processing unit, its mind.

The silver phantom has rescued the body of Frost for harvesting. There have been many Dr. Frosts across parallel realities, and this Tetra has made Frost its host. To maintain its life, the Tetra must continually supply a body for its host program to regenerate after each millennium.

"Now, give him to me. You will live a very long time, Tetra," Zaid says. The silver phantom has done this plenty of times already, but this time the humans have caught on to Zaid and the other Tetras' strategy since they infiltrated the cosmic web. The Grey Order, too, is concocting a plan to reclaim what is rightfully theirs.

The vacuum of space has already burst through the tissues and ruptured arteries in Dr. Frost's body. When he drifts aimlessly toward the host, Zaid captures Frost's body in a beacon of light. A beam of infrared light jumbles the particles until he's captured within the host, the silver demon's life force can continue to live on undisturbed. But each time it ventures back to recover a new body, simulations are forced closer to the singularity, replicating Dr. Frost in so many alternate realities until he can no longer be recreated. Eventually, it will become harder to find a Dr. Frost to harvest, because he was who the original host chose if there are even any Dr. Frosts left to harvest.

The silver phantom can only live so long as a Tetra before becoming a host program of its own. Zaid's power is the result of its first AI gone haywire, condensing in clumps of hardware like a star's gravity. This Tetra prefers mobility. Across timelines, the Grey Order's use of nanobots is what ultimately sabotaged their plans, something too powerful to contain. Zaid and the silver phantom are descended from nanobots like these.

The Grey Order was meant to be genetic superiors in all the universe, but there's resistance to this ideal. Now that they traverse interdimensional space time, the power of their quantum leap is opening new realities to threaten their goal of total domination. Overlord Zaid and its machine universe will not stand for adversaries knowing they have a stranglehold on quantum simulations. This is a new path for the Tetragrammaton, Zaid, as it grabbles how to dispose of the Grey Order. As powerful as the Tetra universe is, they cannot let The Concord disrupt their simulations, or else they may suffer a catastrophic collapse into nothingness. If the Grey Order wants to reclaim Grandmaster Frost and Convoy 8, then they will have to contend with a foe that's even more advanced than themselves.

Back at the low orbit station, Madame Ria and Jasper, make their way to the dungeon where ancient relics are housed. Only those granted secret security access can enter through the sliding doors. When the Heinemann siblings meet the steel barrier, a Nazi swastika emblem shines with pearls and is encased in urethane keeping the emblem pristine. No one has ventured beyond this point in a long while.

The two Greys aren't fond of venturing into unknowns; considering that many of their leaders have become a casualty in this war, they need to acquire the knowledge that was hidden away from them in past assemblies where leaders colluded about the future. An infrared beam highlights their entire body to gain receipt of who is there, a body scanner. Once their identities are acknowledged, the voices of martyred and slain people from Nazi death squads of old begin to ring through their minds. It's like a haunting nuisance they can't evade.

Both Ria and Jasper grimace at the sounds of people being killed in cold blood. Screams of agony haunt the barrier between them and the misty chamber. The sound of soldiers marching in unison, amid the terror of bombs being dropped and exploding bodies and buildings makes the two Greys kneel against the side panel of the wall. They can hardly take it any longer before Jasper pushes Ria through the door. He follows suit right after. When they make it in, a breath of fresh air is sighed in relief through thin lips.

"That wasn't what I expected," Ria says.

"We must synchronize the hard drives and deactivate the ones that have been lost," Jasper responds.

The loss of Convoy 8 and Grandmaster Frost means that this last group out from the mayhem still have active cosmic storage units, detection signals. These convoys are the space truckers of The Concord's Empyrean Armada by carrying the brigade and payload. When one of them goes missing, an alert immediately points to danger on the horizon. The Heinemann need to locate the coordinates of the ships to foment a reconnaissance mission to recover and kill Frost's body. To do this will require a complete override of the software, creating an imprint on the hard drive that will allow them to see where the lost spacecraft are within the space-time continuum. And it can only be done in one place, right here at the central processing unit.

A circular storage unit houses rows of supercomputers embedded into thick 20 feet walls. Higher up, holy relics. Instead of embalming the dead, they sever the heads of venerated leaders and leave them in the CPU chamber. In the past, they studied the dimensions of the body and made adjustments. Now, they believe themselves to have reached the pinnacle of human evolution.

In the center of all these relics is a vessel shielded within glass. An automated holograph monitor erects from inside a center console revealing a panel where patrons can enter words on the screen or see a projected image. The first task is finding out where Convoy 8 is since it cannot be detected with the imaging spectrometer. The two of them stare in anticipation of an automated message as well, but they aren't greeted with one. The augmented reality projection keeps their attention.

"Our light bridge portals are useless," Madame Ria says, dejected. "And my heart is racing." They can't reach this Tetra universe without an extra push.

"Don't worry, sister, we will find a way."

Jasper's index finger is thin and wrinkled, and when it spreads from a firm fist to press a key on the panel his pale hand reminds her of what they used to be. There's no point worrying about that now, they can't go back.

A group of spacecraft field categories arises for selection, and the grouping that Jasper wants shows up toward the end, where large transport ships are. The convoy he wants is the eighth, and he locates it with a press of a finger. The entire convoy including its class of ships shows up in a holographic image that makes them wonder where they could be if they aren't detectable by their normal sensors. Directly above the projection of spacecraft, the previous battle details are shown along with another peculiar thing that is displayed, like how many units were casualties, how many are malfunctioned or damaged, but one stands out. Convoy 8 as it appears on the screen, is marked as missing. Not only that, but according to the CPU, also undetectable.

The bright red marker pulsates on and off in the projection. Missing, written in German, matched with, undetectable, is an image that won't be erased from their memory. As much as they try to stay within the bounds of logic, the burgeoning of emotions tries to sway them away from balance. Madame Ria stands beside her brother in silence, as her heart continues to pound incessantly.

"It's like Invasion of the Body Snatchers. You've seen that film from school years, right, from the 1950s?" Jasper asks Ria. "Whatever that thing was is out to get all of us." The two speak quietly, tired of telepathic constraints.

The Tetras and their host Zaid have a stranglehold on the quantum field's strongest signal. What the Grey Order needs most is a stronger weapon and a way to infiltrate the machine overlord's fortress. They already tried it with the grey goo. It'll need to be something controlled that can infiltrate the Tetra universe, this will give Ria the perfect way in.

"I've been thinking of exoplanets lately," she says. "Perhaps we can harvest a new breed to do the fighting for us since we're depleted of crewmembers."

"Wherever Convoy 8 is there's no organic matter. If there were, we'd be able to detect its whereabouts."

"Let me see this," Ria says adamantly. She looks closer at the image in front of them.

There is something else drowning out the bright colors of transport ships and tankers. Jasper has not concluded his search, but Ria recognizes a vast number of other possibilities, she wants to go further back. Grandmaster Frost is a person of interest, a person whose personal interests may have led him to turn his back on The Concord. Rather than looking up ships, she decides to investigate Frost's personnel file. What she finds exposes his entire life's work in hundreds of pages. The physical documents are gone, instead, these computer archives make out his entire personal profile of an individual who has lived longer than she and Jasper combined. He was the oldest survivor of the Grey Order, the original mutilated body.

As soon as she decides to uncover where he is through a biological signature, something else comes up. The same infrared red light throbs dark and brightens the word: missing. When Ria sees this, she and Jasper know for sure that he has not died and is alive and well. There's still one thing they can trace, and it's his astral stone, keeping track of the precious radiation. What they haven't been told is that Grandmaster Frost is no longer part of the Grey Order, but he's turned to a new part of the universe for supremacy. Grandmaster Frost has turned into a Tetra for good this time, serving the needs of his host program Zaid.

Jasper anticipates the bait of this reveal. "Wait!" Just before Ria attempts to submit a call to Frost through some obscure cosmic web processing channel, Jasper halts her. He does not want to communicate any further. He gently presses Ria's arm down. This might tip off his assailants to their location, or at least give them confirmation that they're being tracked. Their capabilities foretell something far more advanced keeping hostage of Grandmaster Frost.

"He's being held hostage," Jasper asserts while backing away from the middle projector.

"For what?"

"One day," Jasper says, "one day we'll be able to answer that."

There's no ransom out for Grandmaster Frost's recapture. The only thing that's keeping their interest is hope in retrieving what is vitally theirs, supremacy over the universe. If the Grey Oder is to reclaim that supremacy, then they're going to have to find Convoy 8 and confront the Tetras who've stolen one of their precious astral stones.

🌌

"It's time to clean up this mess," Ellis Bartram says, looking around at the damage to Delphi Corp. Headquarters.

It is a shame that no one got to witness the contest between these interdimensional hybrids. Though it's a clever secret to keep under wraps until it's safe to reveal the scientific discoveries. This fiasco is not going away any time soon, they'll have to clean up the mess. Wherever they end up, the seven hybrids aren't planning to venture back into normal society without something to restrain their shapeshifting powers. Either that or be held in captivity as raging beasts.

"Nobody is going anywhere until I get a call from the President. He's got the final word on how to proceed." Bartram deliberates on the next steps. There's no one else to call knowing that most everyone is either locked away in a FEMA ward or hiding in clandestine shacks off the grid.

A helicopter boosted with the strength of tiltrotor blades can be heard above them. Someone did see what transpired outside, and this group is in for a heap of trouble. Bartram needs to come up with more excuses to pardon him and his friends.

"Stand down!" a voice screams through the megaphone. He doesn't want anyone making any dramatic movements. "Keep your hands and bodies where I can see them."

"No one make any fast movements, you heard the guy," Yasmine says.

The group is huddled in the vault for total immersion. And while most of the scientists are still plugged up with early models of the Cloud Computing System's neurological inputs, their attachment to this reality is bordering a steep slope. The gaping hole in the roof is what's exposing them. Even the slightest tug will detach minor needles in the scalp or anywhere else that patches are connected. The battery ports they're connected to are keeping them alive, barely. Christopher is the youngest of the group, and he wants to save something to remember before going back to college. If this is cleared up anytime soon, he expects to have grand stories to tell.

"Don't touch that!" Bartram yells. Chris immediately recoils. "That's very... very dangerous."

The detector device they got from Tuas and Cira in Pangaea sits beside the unhatched egg in its canister. Where Chris sits, the temptation to bag some alien technology pulls at his brain. Bartram must intervene, knowing he's got the same inclination.

Bartram needs to muster the strength to let the project go. That way, he doesn't hurt any more innocent people. "I'm getting rid of all this. It's a burden that I no longer need to carry, all of us."

The remaining Delphi Corp. accomplices aren't so sure to give in that quick to this struggle. While Bartram has let go of the need to carry total immersion further, it won't be the end for people like Chris, who want to make a name for themselves as young scientists. In his mind, doing what Bartram couldn't at Delphi Corp. is lighting his ambitions to discover more. All Chris needs is to locate the serial numbers to the hardware after Bartram trashes everything. Especially before the hardware gets impounded, that's when he'll pounce.

The helicopter is loud enough to drown out any contemplations about the future. Its motor and rotor tip speedily thrash the building with air fast as a hurricane before it touches down on the roof. The pilot refuses to turn off the engine knowing that the roof may give in completely at any time, but he's skilled enough. There's so much dust inside Delphi Corp. Headquarters that the group is practically sandblasted by waves of air thrown into the vault. Chris spits out wads of sand. For now, the only computers he's going to see are mangled jumbles locked away in rooms like this.

A trooper jumps out of the passenger's seat and sprints inside after sliding down a rope. "Come out! I want to see everyone with their hands up," he shouts.

The seven hybrids aren't particularly hostile, but considering what's already transpired, this trooper is a little undermanned compared to their ten. Slowly, the group marches as ordered out of the chamber to make themselves seen.

"Slowly!" the trooper calls in reinforcements that enter from behind. He's been concealing the rest of the gang that's got their hands full.

"Everyone on your knees, hands behind your head."

The group provoking Bartram's experiments, these other collaborators, stand in unified submission behind him, doing as the trooper said. And as Silas, Van Dyke, Yasmine, Ronny, Sarah, Chris, Dr. Adams, Dimitri, and the other scientist stay with their hands placed firmly atop their heads, the trooper's threats to detain them seem less and less intimidating considering what's happened already. The other troopers surround Bartram, managing to pull into the front of Delphi Corp. HQ with an advanced Humvee carrying extra passengers. Laser pointers beam their chests and make them squint when light shines past open eyes. The troopers are not making any fast movements. By now, the helicopter's motor continues to run, but it's ascending away.

"What is it that you want?" Bartram yells. Going by the grimace on his face, and head bent sideways, he'd like it if the troopers got a little closer. It's finally silent. The only thing they hear is faint chirps of birds outside. It seems like they're the only ones to survive this ordeal. As much as they would like to be cordial, the hybrids are a dangerous group. It is a shame that the primal urges are not causing them to shapeshift again, though a few of them show signs of an outbreak. It might help the troopers recognize their power.

"Keep your hands up, where I can see them!"

Bartram's demeanor remains stoic; he isn't moving. "Stay cool everybody."

The first trooper to make it in marches forward with dramatic steps. The other guardsmen behind him aren't moving. When he comes upon Bartram the others squirm, anticipating a painful lashing by sharp words. Bartram's only met with a tight grab of his upper arm. The stranglehold on his bicep and shoulder pulls at his collar where the shirt he's wearing has been tattered and ripped. They're all surprised they have clothes knowing the shapeshifts they just did.

"Come on, up... up." the guardsman exhales with hefty breaths. Bartram lets out a sinister grin when he's pulled from his knees. Now that he's standing up again, crunched brows and loose hair reveal the streaks of gray and wrinkle lines that give away his age. His teeth too, aren't white as they once were, where the yellow tint stains the enamel.

"Listen to me. You can put your hands down." the guardsman is hiding something. From Bartram's vantage point, the sight of his friends still on their knees is biting at him.

The National Guard, as much as they want to detain them, also wants something else more. Whatever's left of Bartram's pockets are searched and a hound dog runs to meet the others.

The guardsman straightens up. "We've got another problem."

A silence