A clatter behind her made Bee turn. Slashex was moving about in the dome’s shadows, dragging scrap components and devices into place. During the lull, while Bee constructed the dome, he had been busy gathering the tools they’d need. Around the circle of corpses, he was arranging a series of spidery apparatuses—medical and cybernetic implements scavenged from the biocrawlers that had been destroyed on the battlefield, carrying their war provisions and equipment. Gleaming surgical arms scavenged from a mechanical unit. A cluster of humming server stacks and cylindrical tanks filled with nutrient gel. Slashex set down a heavy generator with a grunt; it landed next to a tangle of cables ripped from the City’s exposed conduits. The wires sparked, still alive with Acetyn’s bio-electric energy. Slashex began connecting them to the machines, his mechanised fingers moving with precise efficiency.
Bee realised she had been kneeling there, lost in emotion, while he prepared for the “surgery.” She hated that he’d seen her vulnerable, hunched over Vashante’s remains with tears on her cheeks. Quickly she wiped her face and rose.
“Is everything… ready?” she asked, voice rough.
Slashex paused, turning his head towards her. The echolocation device on his face clicked, mapping her position.
“Almost,” he answered. He beckoned her closer to the centre. “We must access SepGNT and key its API to your neural interface. Once that’s done, we can proceed with the reconstructions.”
Bee’s pulse quickened at the mention of SepGNT. So it was true—the ancient intelligence, the forbidden spell—software, Bee reminded herself—hidden in Acetyn’s vaults, was now theirs to command. This was the key to saving Vashante and the others… but also the source of Bee’s deepest unease. She stepped into the centre of the circle, careful not to tread on Vashante’s parts or the bodies around her.
“Tell me what to do,” she said quietly, steadying herself for whatever came next?.
Slashex approached her, the joints in his many legs hissing. He held up one segmented finger, and a slender probe flicked out from its tip.
“First,” he said, “I will connect to your neural lace to upload the necessary programming.”
There was a subtle excitement under his flat tone. Slashex had yearned for this moment – Bee could sense it.
She tilted her chin up, suppressing a shudder of revulsion as she bared her tongue. It tapered to a fine, razored point that trembled in the air. Slashex’s mechanised hand whirred for a moment before snatching at its tip, clamping down around it, and snapping the connection into place.
The moment the sharp metal touched the receptacle, a jolt of information arced between them.
Bee cried out as an electric surge lanced through her tongue and directly up into her skull. It felt as if a hot iron had been driven into the base of her brain. Reflexively she tried to pull back, but Slashex gripped her jaw with unexpected tenderness yet unyielding strength, holding her in place. There was a flash of light behind Bee’s eyes. A cascade of code—bright and alien—spilt into her mind in an instant. She convulsed, her hands clawing at empty air. The worms in her flesh writhed madly at the sudden overload.
======================
ERROR: DATA CORRUPTION DETECTED
======================
>>> RECOVERY MODE ENABLED <<<
>>> UDT SYNC CONFIRMED - 31,541,372,613,718s <<<
>>> PRE-REFEREED SECURITY CLEARANCE GRANTED - REF. SIM_SHALA_SAMP 1-18-J <<<
>>> SIGNAL SEQUENCE LOG UNLOCKED, RE-ENABLED <<<
>>> “TextTrans” RECORD EVENT FUNCTION ENABLED <<<
>>> LACE ADAPTED INTERFACE, HANDSHAKE COMPLETE <<<
>>> CONFIRMATION SIGNED T31 @ L613,719s <<<
>>> SIGNAL SEQUENCE <<<
{trans.: chemosensory basic}, Neural Lace Override Command Sequence initiated. Execution Sequence Commenced @L613,719s. Remote Protocol Services Engaged.
“TextTrans” (recognised archaic non-sentient. Note Well: “TextTrans” Record Event function will remain enabled to document End-Read-point).
Lace Adapted Interface: SIM_SHALA_SAMP 2-32-B Confirmed. Installing bridging software
- “SEP_GNT.PLUGINS.B”
- Commencing.
Signal Overwrite: Soft Execution of Code via Internal Lace. Running Hot Model Repositories…
Searching…
Program Execution Sequence
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Loading…
– ENGAGE Cognitive Restructuring Modules.
– ENGAGE Synergetic Wetware Merges.
– CROSSREF Onboard Engram Datastore.
– Lace Host Synchronized.
Additional heuristics deployed: AICore (S.4.7) 504,575,037,105s Out Of Date. Please Connect To Your Caretaker Host Terminal.
>>> WARNING: Potential Compromise Of Original Personality Schema. <<<
Each check to proceed:
[x]
[x]
[x]
>>> THANK YOU: PROCEEDING <<<
Confirmation set to Y. Proceeding with Overwrite…
ALERT: SEP_GNT_API handshake stable. Overriding subject’s synaptic gating. Neural-lace hooking SIM_SHALA_SAMP 2-32-B’s cortical subroutines. Data Influx.
– API logs appended…
[TRUNCATED HEADERS – CROSSLINK GNTACCESS FILES? Y/N]
Y
– CROSSLINK Confirmed. Pulling relevant logs…
Collating “_RefSystems” to unify engram-based parallels.
Expression Tiers realigned. Auto-run Markov bridging on consciousness files…
SIM_SHALA_SAMP 2-32-B – partial overshadow. Setting Cognitive Overlap = 72%.
NOTE WELL: If Overlap >05%, subject’s continuity threatened.
LAI: ephemeral-lingual link stabilised. SUBJECT SHIFT COMPLETE – SEP_GNT partial embed now active. Ready for external calls. All ephemeral-lingual queries route via “B.SEPGNT.AI” subprocess.
[END EXECUTION LOG]
It was over in seconds. Slashex released her, and Bee staggered backwards, nearly tripping over a coil of cables. She choked, gasping, her tongue slithering back into her mouth with a metallic scrape. A taste of burnt ozone flooded her mouth. Her vision was awash with flickering shapes. Ghostly letters and diagrams were hovering just beyond her focus, vanishing when she tried to look directly.
SepGNT.
She could feel it inside her: a many-limbed presence, not alive, not fully sentient, but powerful. Attached to her thoughts like a parasite of pure information.
An executable worm in her brain—more invasive, even, than the literal worms in her flesh. Bee pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and groaned.
There was no reversing this.
She was integrated with the daemon now?.
“Are you alright?” came Slashex’s voice. Matter-of-fact, but there was a sliver of genuine concern there.
Bee blinked away tears of pain and forced herself to nod. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her weak. Not that he could see, exactly—his sensors whirred softly, scanning her posture.
There was commotion beyond the dome. Muffled voices… raised in alarm? She could just make them out: Jhedothar’s deep roar and another voice arguing with him. The dome trembled as if something struck it from outside.
“Enough!” Jhedothar’s voice filtered through. “You will not interfere—”
Another, closer voice rang out from just beyond the plating at ground level:
“This will take too long!” Another voice protested. “I don’t want to die out here!”
Bee realised it was Jhedothar arguing with one of the commanders. She stood on shaky legs and approached the metallic shell, willing it open. A path formed for her through the metal, shimmering and weeping rivulets of nanomaterial as the dome swept open for her.
Both Jhedothar and his battle-weary commander turned to her, their surprise evident.
“Lady Bhaeryn… the enemy will prepare as we falter,” the commander protested. “We can’t remain here indefinitely. Look how many we’ve already lost!”?
Slashex hissed, clearly annoyed by the interruption. Bee, still dizzy from the injection, stumbled to the gap, even as she tried to force her head high and maintain a confident bearing. She did not want them to panic if they saw how weak she truly felt.
Blinding natural light speared in, forcing her to squint.
Outside, Jhedothar’s towering figure loomed. His centaur-like body was flecked with ash and blood; his antler-clad visage scowled, and his equine lower half stamped the ground in agitation.
Behind them, a handful of soldiers peered anxiously.
Bee met Jhedothar’s eyes before looking at the agitated commander.
She realised that she couldn’t remember his name.
“Leave, then,” she croaked, throat raw. “Go rally whoever’s left. Do what you need to do. I won’t… I won’t abandon her.”
Her voice hardened as she spoke, and she saw Jhedothar’s stern face soften just a touch?. There was a beat of silence. Then Jhedothar inclined his head in acquiescence.
“Very well,” he said, quieter. “We’ll hold as long as we can. Just… be sure this isn’t for nothing, Your Ladyship.”
His gaze flicked past her, to the bodies laid out inside. There was grave doubt in his eyes, but also a glimmer of sympathy.
Bee nodded once, grateful.
From somewhere behind Jhedothar, a weak mewling sounded – the maggot-like form of Blachaeus, still alive in his diminutive, crippled state. He was bound in coils of wire and chain now, dragged along like unwanted baggage. At Jhedothar’s feet, the maggot-Grafter gurgled, multiple glossy eyes blinking in uncomprehending terror?. Jhedothar followed Bee’s gaze and sneered.
“That thing won’t trouble anyone again. I’ll see to it.”
“Good,” Bee said contemptuously before willing the dome closed suddenly.
Inside, a heavy stillness returned. Only the faint electrical hum of Slashex’s equipment and the labouring hiss of Bee’s own breathing disturbed the quiet.
Slashex stepped forward into the centre, regarding Bee. They could hear Jhedothar bark new orders to the onlookers, commanding them away from the dome.
“We should proceed. We’ve little time.”
He didn’t comment on Jhedothar’s concern. If anything, the interruption had put him more on edge, his motions brisk and clipped.
Bee nodded and moved to Vashante’s remains, kneeling by them. The shock of the SepGNT connection was ebbing, and in its wake, a strange clarity settled over her senses. The flickering HUD-like patterns at the periphery of her sight stabilised, aligning with her intentions. When Bee looked down at Vashante’s dismembered torso, she suddenly knew—in abstract, technical terms—what needed to be done.
The daemon was feeding her information, suggestions, and blueprints of cybernetics and biological treatment methods. Countless millennia of lost medical knowledge had just been dropped into her mind, ready to use. It was overwhelming, but Bee focused on one thing at a time.
“I’ll start with her,” Bee said softly but resolutely.
“Vashante,” Slashex acknowledged.
The Eidolon was arguably the most complex case—but also the one with the greatest chance of full revival, given how much of her had been machine even before death. Slashex didn’t have to ask why Bee chose her first.
