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Disjointed © John H. Evans, Dec. 2020 – Jan. 2021

Site of planned Transformer base, Planet Propori

Slorriakt felt cautiously optimistic on this bright day. This world was known as Propori to its inhabitants. The sunlight was thirty percent greater than on Cybertron. The Transformer overseers of the project had adapted immediately, although the heat was a strain on their systems. Recently, the Transformers had agreed a deal with one of the Proporian great nations. The mechanoids had promised to supply substantial, regular consignments of processed material and manufactured goods to the Proporians. In return, they would be allowed a permanent base on the planet. This seemed to be a beneficial arrangement for both parties but many problems had arisen:

Firstly, many people in this nation felt like the deal was ill-fated. Intuition had intervened and caused much doubt and argument.

Secondly, the other Proporian nations were opposed to the deal. They felt that it would cause fear, jealousy and aggression in this part of the galaxy. Vociferous protests were ongoing in many cities around the globe. Military strikes were mooted but, as yet, no country dared confront the Transformers.

Thirdly, the move had coincided with large-scale star-fleet activity in non-aligned systems. It appeared that a cluster of isolationist civilisations were preparing to break their own rule and intervene at Propori. Negotiations to prevent this had already started.

Fourthly, some Transformer psychics were predicting unintended consequences. They thought that there would be a chain of unlikely events caused by the establishment of a base here. They were unable to see the full extent of those events but they’d seen glimpses of trouble and they were worried.

Fifthly, the local people in this area revered their wildlife. Even supporters of the base wanted the flora and fauna to be moved aside gently, which would take weeks of painstaking work. The Transformers were secretly speeding up this process by trapping creatures at night and rushing them to new habitats.

Slorriakt watched impatiently as Proporian conservationists uprooted shrubs and loaded them onto carts. He and his comrade Cytona weren’t allowed to help since they were too strong and ‘not from around here’. The two Transformers sat still in vehicle mode, gathering solar energy and monitoring networks. There was a steady stream of Proporians going past, nearly all of whom saluted them in some way. They returned the salutes with their small utility arms. It was all pleasantly boring until…

“Return to the Lakyl Sivo,” came the command from on high. “Imminent threat. Armada inbound.” Cytona cursed and lurched forward, followed quickly by Slorriakt. They carved their wheels aggressively through the local mud as they made their way back to the highway. Proporians shouted at them, aggrieved that they were crushing hundreds of small plants.

“Sorreee!” yelled Cytona, not slowing down. “Emergenceee!” They raced along to the nearest shuttle. Transforming, they boarded the shuttle and stood in the auto-cleaner. Most of the mud was removed from their bodies electrostatically. It dried, turned to dust and was collected on charged plates, which were emptied out as the shuttle climbed into orbit. A small shower of native soil was thus allowed to rain back onto its home world. The remainder of the mud would be teased out of tiny crevices by nanobots over the next few hours.

“Always dirt,” said Slorriakt as he saw several comrades receiving the same treatment. “We must improve our hygiene tech. Anyway, which hot heads are after us today?”

“Quite an impressive coalition, actually,” said Cytona as he absorbed the latest reports. “Forty-eight races, eleven of whom are unknown. We’ve hit a nerve here. Thankfully, we were prepared for a fast evacuation.” All seven shuttles returned to the Lakyl Sivo. None of the eighty-six Transformers on this mission had been hurt. The ship blipped out, appearing above a friendly world three hundred and forty-five light years away. Slorriakt could feel the emotions from Propori, even at this distance. Millions of people were agitated for various reasons, real or imagined. It made him wonder if the Transformers were on the right track. He thought back to the conversation that had led to this situation…


* * * * *


The Transformer collective, centred on Planet Cybertron

A perpetual blizzard of facts, ‘facts’, opinions, best guesses, plain guesses, educated guesses, statistics, metadata, analyses, hypotheses, theories, suggestions, hints, tips, advice, warnings, hunches, indications, emotions, sensations, video, audio, formulae, questions, answers, reasons, explanations, truths, lies, fables, parables, speculation, negotiation and so forth. This was no ordinary conversation: this was the Transformer collective. One of its major tasks was to decide on future actions. This was sometimes easy, sometimes not. The present difficulty concerned the placing of resources. Was it a good idea to establish more bases and stockpiles around the galaxy? The alternative was to rely on star ship deliveries, on-site manufacture and the help of allies.

The Milky Way was a huge region with plenty of potential problems. However, the Transformers were able to locate, chart and assess many of them. Natural phenomena were detectable with full-spectrum telescopes on star ships, space bases and planets. Artificial phenomena were detectable with surveillance devices, communication monitoring and, most importantly, telepathy. For reasons unknown, there were few telepathic races in the galaxy. The Transformers had dominance in that field and could thus detect organised threats in the planning stages. Despite that, they were still wary. Their dominance was not absolute. Their range was limited and some people were difficult or impossible to read. They had to proceed with caution and ‘build bridges’ wherever necessary.

The collective decided to establish eighty-two new bases. They were fairly sure that seventy-nine would be accepted by the galactic community. They weren’t so sure about the other three: at Grenkuf Minor, Zbierix and especially Propori. The accuracy of their assessments was soon proven by unrest in the Grenkuf system, referendum refusal in the Zbierix hives and widespread revolt around Propori. Slorriakt remembered the collective’s misgivings. There’d been multiple premonitions of trouble, yet the need for control had been strong. The Transformers knew that, without control, they could lose everything.


* * * * *


On board the Morg Flikurane, a star ship of renegade Transformer researchers

“Damn, I tore the flesh,” muttered Tukupoleff as he restrained another Xugibliate in his left hand. “I only tapped the head with my finger and the skin was very thin. He’s going to need remoulding.”

“You know what I told you,” said Songtrace. “Take care: they can’t withstand our blows.”

“At least he’s unconscious now,” said Tukupoleff. “The shrieking and cursing have stopped. Baizhola, pass him to the Xugibli medics. I think he’s the last. I can’t detect any other organics around here.” He handed the limp body to Baizhola, who passed it to colleagues in the corridor.

“You see what happens?” exclaimed Slorriakt. “If people like you can’t control yourself, many others have to suffer. We’ve already hurt twenty-seven today and it’s not even noon. Some of those were accidents but the rest were deliberate. These Xugibliates are determined to remain deluded. We had to stun or injure them to subdue them.” The target of his little diatribe was a fellow Transformer named Crethuan, who was standing quietly by the wall and watching proceedings with distaste.

“Staying verbal for their sake,” observed Crethuan. “You can stop now. They’re beaten but we’re not.” He switched back to telepathy but his messages were garbled. He started warping space-time, which shuddered and rippled like a chaotic jelly. Slorriakt and the others tried to intervene but they were caught up in this hyper-trap.

Slorriakt: Please, stop this.

Songtrace: You made your point.

Crethuan: Hardly.

Tukupoleff: We’re not… falling… for it…

Crethuan knew that they were. His eyes were open. The Transformers deserved a new home in hyperspace. It was superior, just as they were. It was appropriate. He felt obliged to demonstrate, to prove it, to convince everyone.

They were without bearings here. It was impossible to navigate. Everything was murky. Rational thought couldn’t be maintained. They turned inward. Their sparks told them that all would be well.

Slorriakt latched onto Crethuan and his team. They’d been on reconnaissance in the Southern Spiral Arm. They’d been out of contact for a few days. Slorriakt read their fragmented memories of that time.

The Xugibliates had a remarkable talent for diversion, persuasion, redirection. They were very charming, sincere, friendly, welcoming. They became best buddies with people in a flash. This was all amplified by their habitual use of hyperspace.

Some Transformers wanted to throw off their burden of service. They jumped at the chance of a different life. They remembered long ago when they were more carefree. This indulgence… was allowed.

Don’t stamp it out. Let it proceed. There’s plenty of time in a timeless place. Experience is good. Freedom is right. You may stay, Slorriakt. The invitation is extended far and wide. This place can encompass all.

What do you think, Ungriot? Happy spark symbol. Cytona? Affirmative mark. Qlaridu? No need for questions. Feel the peace. Surrounded by love and tranquillity. An excellent rest. Superlative relaxation. Smashing kip.

Slight problem. We can’t stay like this. It’s not in our nature. We’re actors, not props or scenery. We do things. What can we do here? There’s no hurry. We only need to wait. The universe will look after itself, right? Right?

Slorriakt, X-znafy, Qlaridu, X-fonbi, Tukupoleff, X-dundri… the entire group here, Transformers and Xugibliates merging together. Sparks and souls united. Bodies hazing and phasing, interpenetrating. Where one ends and another begins, no one can tell. Caring and sharing, all’s well. No major issues that we can see.

Except… that restlessness at the core of me.

Indulge it. If we tolerate idleness, we can tolerate a little searching, some light wandering, casual browsing. Time doesn’t mean much here. We wind and rewind, pop forward and slip back. We’re not bound to the old one-way wagon. We can fold an age into an instant.

Other races can join us, of course. Many are shy because of traumas and natural inclinations. Gradually, they become emboldened and enter our golden realm. All’s fine. Their thoughts and memories wash through us. We help each other to develop and grow. They’ve experienced all kinds of things. It’s fascinating to run through those enduring snapshots of remarkable events. They make us reflect a great deal.

Now, we move. The newcomers’ contributions motivate us. We visit worlds across the region, in many time periods. We go where we’re needed and wanted. We encourage more to join us. Some resist so we leave them be. Our grand project can’t be measured in years. It proceeds steadily until we come across familiar scenes. We reach parts where our own folks are known. We home in on old friends, relatives and colleagues.

We’re unrecognisable. They’re faced with scrambled spiritual strangeness. They detect certain personality traits that they knew before. The first home world isn’t able to deal with us. They direct us to other home worlds. Some of us leave hyperspace to spread the message in their original communities. We notice that they make big waves there.

Our actions are paying dividends. The people of the region are reaching out to embrace our teachings. We are sowing the seeds of a new outlook. Our task cycle is almost complete when we encounter a star ship. We board. What is its name?

Crethuan: Exceptional work, everyone.

Cytona: What happened? I’m a unit again.

Slorriakt: Back in the time stream…

Qlaridu: Profound knowledge in my brain but I don’t want to be back here!

Tukupoleff: We’re on the Lakyl Sivo again.

“Crethuan, that was sublime beyond reckoning,” said Songtrace as he stepped slowly toward the renegade. “I must thank you from the bottom of my spark. Nothing compares to that hyperspatial alliance.” He hugged Crethuan as warmly as a mechanoid could.

“However, you went too far,” said Songtrace as he disconnected and isolated Crethuan’s brain. “That was a beautiful, serene, massive SECURITY BREACH! Our secrets have been exposed to countless races!”

Crethuan: Our part has been played. If I must return to my Creator, then so be it.

“Oh no, not for a long time,” said Songtrace, glad to hear his own voice once more. “You’re about to become the most studied Transformer in history.”

Crethuan: I live to serve.

“Who do you serve?” muttered Slorriakt. “You made us share everything, even our encryption codes. I’m changing mine now.” Songtrace used a stun code and then dragged Crethuan’s limp body to a stasis pod.
Tukupoleff: What have we done?

Slorriakt: So much. Too much? Who can say?

The entire collective was now hearing the story. The team from the Lakyl Sivo had been drawn unwittingly into a limited, high-level connection with the Xugibliates and their various associates. With regular changes of encryption, the Transformers reckoned that the security breach wasn’t serious. They were fascinated by accounts of time travel, although they frequently practiced it themselves during teleportation. They were equally intrigued by all the galactic race lore. Slorriakt and his crew had gathered a great deal of new information about previously unknown species and life worlds. Some of those seemed to be in thrall to unnamed others. It would all require extensive research, when schedules allowed.


* * * * *


Research laboratory on board the Lakyl Sivo, Transformer star ship

“Light Lord, shine on us!” cried the captive unipod. “You have us all in your Light Field. We are your grow-spines!” Nuorioc tried to shush the group but they kept chanting and praising in their individual pens. He continued tuning the nanobots, improving their control while reducing the side-effects. Gradually, the noises and movements stopped. Nuorioc stood between the pens, watching the little slave people as they swayed on their large, single legs. Their multiple arms moved around like plant stems in a variable breeze. These ‘Lkablods’ had been chosen as a representative sample of their species. Their genetics and temperaments reflected the range seen on their home world and colonies. Nuorioc was officially a scientist but he felt like a farmer, surrounded by livestock. They all looked up at him expectantly. Their natural reactions were being suppressed so that their spiritual reactions could be expressed. The nanobots kept tuning.

“Our god,” said one Lkablod. “Speak, we implore you.”

“God is within,” said another, looking more closely at Nuorioc. “Let him out. We would hear him.”

“Is he ours?” queried a third. “I’m not chiming.”

“Why would he come if he were not ours?” retorted a fourth.

“He is theirs,” realised a fifth. “He seeks to extend his kingdom. His love is great.”

“His love for subjects is great,” concurred a sixth. “As long as we do his bidding.”

“His love for power over subjects is great,” added a seventh. “He loves power. That is his mission.”

“More than that, he wants power against others,” continued an eighth. “Could it be that he has enemies, beyond the fringe of known space?”

“He insists on mystery there,” observed a ninth. “He will not burden his folk with dreary knowledge, despite their might.” Nuorioc would’ve smiled if he had had a mouth. These unipods were tuned in properly. They were already speculating about galactic power structures.

Slorriakt: Do we have it?

Nuorioc: I believe so. Let me gather nanobot data for a few hours to be sure.

Slorriakt: Acknowledged.

He was a time traveller so he was there already, hours ahead on the Lkablod home world. The nanobot swarm had prepared native minds for his arrival. Their knowledge was becoming his. The Transformer database expanded a little further. Leads could be followed. Slorriakt and the others on the Lakyl Sivo could move on to the next target. The collective knew more places where they could establish bases. The threat and problem levels were acceptably low. Expansion could proceed a few more steps. The question was: should it? Many, like the crew of the Lakyl Sivo, weren’t so sure.


* * * * *


Rnebakucian home-world, Western Spiral Arm, midway section

Blades thudded through the air. The Transformer known as Helifix had brought a container of construction drones. He set it down a hundred metres from the gov-complex, unhitched himself from it and then transformed and landed. His rotors flattened themselves onto his back so that they weren’t a hindrance. The container opened and drones filed out. The loading bay doors of the gov-complex had been propped open so the drones marched straight in. The first ones went deep into the building. The second wave took a left corridor. The third wave went right. The fourth and final wave stayed in the loading bay area. Very quickly, all the drones began clearing the way to the main support beams and columns. Panels were removed, wires were pinned back and cladding was stripped away. Some drones braced the concrete ceilings firmly while others cut through the steel girders. Further drones had brought in superior replacement girders, made of rust-proof alloys.

Regional Governor Cshurle: This is embarr…

Helifix: Don’t be, Governor. Corrosion happens. Not everyone has the best materials.

Cshurle: You’re incredibly well-prepared. If I was in charge of a deep space mission, I doubt that I’d…

Helifix: This level of preparedness comes naturally with experience and motivation.

Slorriakt: We’re always building or repairing structures. Nearly every settlement we set up demands it.

Cshurle: Well, I look like a fool to my electorate but I’m so glad you were here. Your technology is beyond compare!

Aradoyn: Almost. We’ve seen a few excellent builders on our travels.

Cshurle: How did our inspectors miss this critical issue? The gov-complex is the most vital…

Noltuit: Their measuring instruments were defective. The suppliers didn’t check for reliability.

Cshurle: We’ll deal with that later. For now, I’m relieved that you’re replacing dozens of core beams. The building won’t collapse.

Aradoyn: Indeed. We’re very aware of our great weight. We never want to destroy things inadvertently. That’s why we always try to check structures before we step onto them.

Cshurle: How long…?

Noltuit: Ten minutes for the work, a few hours for the cooling and settling. Don’t use the building intensively until tomorrow.

Helifix: This is the perfect illustration of our request…

Cshurle: Builders need a yard. You want one here, perhaps on a desert island.

Slorriakt: Inside a mountain.

Cshurle: Right, we have a good-size range out East. Fequniar, I’m still reeling! Your performance, your tech: you look exquisite!

Aradoyn: Form follows function. Now, these mountains. We’ve been scoping…

Cshurle: I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We made some discoveries recently. This area of space might not be so safe.

Noltuit: The ruins of five civilisations, in star systems near here. We’re aware of them. Don’t worry, we can counter any threat.

Cshurle: I’m sure you can but what about us? We may become targets by association with you.

Slorriakt: Risks are everywhere. You the Rnebakucians must decide if you want to help us. We’re giving you all relevant data about our plans.

Cshurle: We’re grateful for such a generous gift. The database is extremely valuable for this project and also celestial navigation generally. We understand that you Transformers are some of the best guardians imaginable. We’re very lucky that you’re here. The problem we have, though, lies in our dreams.

Aradoyn: We’ve seen them. Vague and terrible warnings of assault, orgies of death, bleak and barren: you fear they are more than simply anxious views. We can’t deny that such scenes could come to pass. However, we see the timelines and we know that disaster is unlikely for you and this region.

Cshurle: You’ve seen our dreams. You’ve shown us your reality. We’ve seen your ultra-effective weapons of unspeakable power. They’re not normal. They’re designed for galactic conquest. Such things are made for a reason. You anticipate extreme conflict. You’ve foreseen it.

Slorriakt shrugged and the other Transformers nodded. Cshurle was right but the Transformers were loath to admit it. They didn’t want to cause alarm.

Slorriakt: I understand you play dice games here, dear Governor. Well, it’s time for you to roll. Select your fate, if you can. Your colleagues will help you in forthcoming votes.

Regional Governor Cshurle watched as Slorriakt and his group flexed their limbs and moved off. They were satisfied that the drones were strengthening the gov-complex well enough. In the meantime, they would wait out the night in a nearby plaza. They were doing their best to be benign and helpful but Cshurle still saw them as harbingers of doom.


* * * * *


Slemadan Binder Asteroid, Quareihi system, inner edge of the Southern Spiral Arm, about five thousand light years from the galactic centre

“Footprint over here,” said Murniol. “This way, Juol. Nothing down there.” Juoligri sighed and bounced gracefully across to her mission partner. This was a weird situation. They were supposed to be inspecting an installation on a moderate-sized asteroid. However, the installers were complex people. Their reactions were highly unpredictable.

“Shatterblast, are you there?” called Murniol on the radio as he hopped from rock to rock. He was being careful not to damage his pressure suit. There was a force-field safety system but he didn’t entirely trust it.

“We’re sorry that we put you in this position,” said Juoligri. “We shouldn’t have asked to see your original form.”

“The prints are hard to read but they lead into that narrow cave,” said Murniol to Juoligri, slowing his progress as he spoke. “We can’t go in there with our breathing tanks.”

“I can’t believe that we’re trying to ‘rescue’ this tough lad,” said Juoligri. “His shape-shifting tricks mess with our minds.”

“He’s not hard to follow,” said Murniol, stopping himself with both hands against a rock face. “All we have to do is coax him out and calm him down. Oh, that should be ‘her’. He was originally a girl.”

“I’m not coming out,” said Shatterblast from inside the cave. “I hate my life now. I’d rather die in here.” His voice was shrill and feminine. He sounded upset.

“This is unprofessional,” said Juoligri. “Are you having mental problems? Should we call your ship?”

“This is Shatterblast’s operating system,” said a different voice. “Shatterblast himself is fine and doesn’t need help. He is expressing his past, present and future traumas. Please try not to take his statements personally. In common with many Transformers, he has had a long, difficult life which will continue indefinitely.”

“I’m not Shatterblast,” said Shatterblast in his girl voice. “My real name is Vekaliese. I was born in a different galaxy. I didn’t want to come here. It’s all strange and too much for me to handle!” She cried in a blend of organic and electronic sounds. Juoligri looked at Murniol. Both of them had bewildered, concerned expressions on their faces.

“Alright Vekaliese,” said Juoligri. “We’re a little confused. We were supposed to be touring the facility with Shatterblast this morning. Now we don’t know what we’re doing.”

“You two aliens are part of the problem,” said Vekaliese. “You’re intimidating me with your big space suits. Your eyes are too far apart. Your dual mouth holes are sinister. Your so-called noses are incredibly lumpy and ugly. The way that you arranged this tour with me was over-familiar and presumptuous.”

“What?!” exclaimed Murniol.

“Hush, Murniol,” said Juoligri. “Let’s find out what she wants.”

“I want my old world back!” said Vekaliese angrily. “That Primus took it from us! We’re all his servants forever! I hate him. He’s only a man really: a freaky warlock type called Stohv. Just because he has huge power, he thinks he can control us all as much as he likes.”

“Er, we can’t help with that,” said Murniol. “We’re relatively new to space travel. I’m sure that your people know some suitable planets. If this Stohv character could make you into a mechanoid, he could reverse the process.”

“Could but WON’T,” said Vekaliese. “If I stay here long enough, maybe he’ll forget about me. I might escape.”

“Are you saying that a little cave would protect you from Primus?” queried Murniol. “I have trouble believing that. He’s too powerful.”

“It’s symbolic,” bleated Vekaliese. “It’s a little act of rebellion!”

“You’re a mechanoid operating in a vacuum and being ridiculous,” snapped Juoligri. “It’s as obvious as a siren with a flashing light. Now come out of there so that we can make some progress.” Vekaliese made an electronic sigh and crawled slowly out of the cave. Dust and ice fragments stuck to her. She got up and cleaned herself with an electrostatic charge. Her disguise was convincing until she extended her arms an extra metre, revealing underlying mechanisms beneath her fake skin. She touched Murniol and Juoligri.

“You still don’t understand me,” she said sadly. “I’ll have to show you.” With direct contact came a wild journey for the two Quareihi natives. Their surroundings changed abruptly. Vekaliese / Shatterblast took them to a succession of different places.

“This is Cybertron, my current home planet,” said Vekaliese. “It’s not my original home, which was more like yours only without the blue flying centipedes. See how Cybertron is a place of shine and shadow. On the surface, the polished glare is sometimes excessive. The dark sides of the towers need a lot of extra lighting. The caverns never see a sun and people there often go without light to save power. We have large energon stockpiles but not everyone has enough all the time.” Cybertron was a dramatic, alien place. The sharp angles and dizzying precipices looked unforgiving.

“This is Cybertron in the early days,” said Vekaliese, changing the scene. “Notice how some of the major buildings are unfinished. I was only just created at this point. Apparently, the planet had suffered a cataclysm not long before. Here you see it being rebuilt. Our group memory of the cataclysm exists only as small fragments. Clearly something wrecked our minds. We have little idea what or who did it. Maybe we blew ourselves up? I wouldn’t be surprised. We did look for clues about this period but found nothing except a cloud of floating debris that showed signs of extensive melting.” A large construction drone flew past unexpectedly. Murniol and Juoligri gasped.

“Behold hyperspace!” said Vekaliese as their surroundings became liquid, kaleidoscopic and chaotic. “This is a small part of what we travel through to reach other worlds. It takes a special kind of person to navigate this properly. By the way, we also use it for mass storage. We have some impressive warehouses clustered somewhere over there.” She pointed vaguely upwards. Murniol and Juoligri were completely unprepared for this environment. They started hyperventilating and panicking as they drifted in pointillist madness. Shatterblast’s main, giant body had joined them, which made the situation even scarier. Vekaliese noticed that her two guests weren’t coping so she returned them to the physical realm.

“Alright, this is a typical way-station,” she said, indicating a bunker that was mostly concealed beneath a frosty desert. “You’d think it was quiet here, undisturbed. Think again!”

“My head’s swimming!” complained Juoligri. “I couldn’t tell what was happening back there. At least this place is more normal.”

“You know there was that rule about not vomiting in a space suit?” said Murniol. “I may be close to breaking it. I’m working hard to control my reflexes.” He closed his eyes and tried to suppress the urge to regurgitate.

“Sorry, have a moment,” said Vekaliese. “This isn’t an easy ride, even for us metal-heads.”

“My feet are freezing,” said Juoligri. “I’ll boost my heat. You too, Murniol.” She keyed a panel on her sleeve. Moments later, her colleague did the same. Vekaliese could see that they were recovering.

“As I was saying, life in this galaxy isn’t always easy for us,” she said. “We try to put our facilities in remote locations, away from problems. However, our presence makes waves. Many advanced races can detect our minds and exotic energies. Some try to intercept us. Here you see a ship approaching the way-station. It orbits a few hundred kilometres above. The automatic defences try to warn it off. War robots are dropped nearby for an assault. They’re heavily armed, of course. They threaten to obliterate the defences. Our people are forced to send a ship to protect the base. We enslave the aggressive thieves and make them pack up and go home. We avoid a fight but we have to clean up some pollution. We also have to remove the entire complex and put it on a different planet.” She showed them all this in fast forward.

“Wait, this isn’t real?” queried Juoligri. “Are we inside a recording? Why are we feeling the cold?”

“This is a recorded memory,” explained Vekaliese. “They’re all shared, as far as possible. We can all access them, whether from minds or devices. Some are reconstructed from related sources and similar features. They’re very realistic and include many sensations.”

“I feel irritated for no reason,” said Murniol. “Is that part of the recording?”

“A very important part,” replied Vekaliese. “These thieves were irritated by our presence. We were close to their territory. We were a potential threat. We were seen as arrogant for leaving supplies and technology unprotected by a garrison. Afterwards, we continued to irritate by defeating them in a sneaky way, humiliating them and escaping with all our possessions intact. A militant streak in their souls was annoyed that we didn’t fight them. That’s what we find most worrying. Some folk are desperate to make war on us. The only thing holding them back is technological inferiority.”

“I don’t need this!” said Murniol. “I understand irritation. I don’t need a direct demonstration. Give back my peace of mind!”

“Very well, you’re unaccustomed to dealing with such methods of communication,” said Vekaliese. “We’ll move on.”

“This is all very illuminating but do we have to take this grand journey?” asked Juoligri. “Couldn’t you just describe it?” Vekaliese hung her head sadly.

“Sorry, was that insulting somehow?” queried Murniol. “She didn’t mean to be.”

“Maybe I did a little,” mumbled Juoligri.

“I can’t explain everything in words!” said Vekaliese. “You have to feel what we feel. Otherwise, it’s too complex, unusual and subtle.” She changed the view again. The three of them saw another supply depot, this time on a rocky moon orbiting a fairly large planet. It seemed isolated and secure but an ominous sensation descended on them. Juoligri and Murniol shuddered and took a step back. Vekaliese was already used to it, so she stood fast. They all wanted to run, though.

“What the hell is this?” demanded Murniol. “The view doesn’t match the atmosphere.”

“This is the future,” said Vekaliese, staring at him. “I mean, it’s a possible future. We want this depot built here but there’s an invisible contra-indication that shakes our sparks. It’s a warning, obviously. The trouble is, we can’t work out the nature of the danger. All the people around here are friendly.”

“Move the view forward in time,” said Juoligri. “Find answers. Get us out of this gut-wrenching uncertainty.”

“We already tried that,” said Vekaliese. “The variables were too numerous. We couldn’t make an accurate determination.”

“Show us something else, quickly!” pleaded Murniol. “You must have foreseen alternatives to this.” Vekaliese complied. The depot vanished. The rest of the scene stayed the same. The atmosphere lightened but there was a sense of distant strife.

“Oh, you’ve shifted the problem,” ventured Juoligri. “What is this? Future, present, past, alternative or…?”

“Future alternative number 498,” replied Vekaliese. “It didn’t go well. Too many wars broke out. However, it showed us different ways to proceed.” She showed her two Quareihi guests a selection of alternatives, at different points in time. She chose not to show the most extreme ones. Juoligri and Murniol were ‘put through the wringer’. They experienced a wide range of emotions, some familiar and others not. It was as if they were assessing the moods of the entire galaxy. The process was intense and exhausting. After a while, they had to sit down on nearby rocks.

“You see what I have to do on a daily basis?” asked Vekaliese. “I check the time-lines and try to figure out the best way forward. However, that’s a tough judgment when some people inevitably suffer. Also, there are unknown forces in hyperspace that influence matters. My people expect me to contribute effectively but that’s tough when I have personal issues as well. I don’t want to do this. I want my old life.”

“Wait, I’m learning how to get around,” said Murniol with difficulty. “Maybe I can help.”

“No, don’t!” warned Juoligri. It was too late. Murniol had launched his mind through the time-streams. He latched onto Vekaliese and her hulking counterpart Shatterblast. He followed them into the past. He saw permitted glimpses of Transformer activities. As they regressed together, the scenes became more fragmented and less clear. At the end of the sequence was Vekaliese’s original body. It was dead and rotting on the ground. Death was everywhere until some machines arrived. Their design was unfamiliar. They scooped up corpses and other organic material. Vekaliese’s necrotic flesh was fed into a mulcher. There was no ceremony. Her drooping face was impassive to the end. It faced oblivion with calm stoicism. She was transformed into fertiliser for new, transplanted life. Murniol felt conflicting emotions: defiance, sadness, hope, frustration, resignation and greed.

“You escaped, Vekaliese!” he exclaimed. “You’re better off now. You didn’t have to fight these invaders with their body harvesters and other horrible machines!”

“That’s right,” said Vekaliese. “We were all spared.”

“Murniol, there’s blood,” said Juoligri. “He’s bleeding, Vekaliese! His nose, his mouths, his ears: you’ve got to help him!”

“We didn’t have to fight those invaders,” said Vekaliese as she stopped the recordings. “Instead, we became them. It’s a shame you had to damage your brain to see that, Murniol. Time travel is tough on beginners.”

“Will he be O.K.?” asked Juoligri urgently. She supported Murniol and helped him to lie down.

“We can repair him,” replied Vekaliese. “Physically, he’ll be fine. Spiritually, I’m not so sure. He’ll need support and so will you. I’ve opened your perceptual doors wide. You’ll never be the same again.” Juoligri gulped. Vekaliese went back to Shatterblast and reintegrated with him. Shatterblast transformed to spacecraft mode, collected Juoligri and Murniol and headed back to the Quareihi home world. In the pressurised interior, Murniol could remove his helmet. With help from the collective, Shatterblast performed nano-surgery on Murniol’s brain. Some ruptured blood vessels were repaired. They were all relieved.

“I think that your inspection will have to wait,” said Shatterblast. “You’ll need to recuperate for several days.”

“I reckon that the inspection won’t be needed after all,” said Juoligri, looking at the living walls around her. “I’ve read your intentions. You’ll recommend removing the installation. You want to improve the future.”

“You catch on quick, Juol,” said Shatterblast. “I wish it wasn’t so but that installation will cause disagreements, on your world and others. It’ll have to be relocated… again. The work’s fairly easy but the siting decision’s a beast to make!”

“You’ll do fine,” said Juoligri reassuringly. “Just find the silver linings, eh? You might be unhappy but you have an astonishing life!” Shatterblast was warming to her. Despite her ugliness, she was acting like a caring big sister. He accelerated smoothly to a million kilometres per hour and took the two organics home.


* * * * *


GARI HQ, Quareihi home world [General Astronomical Research Institute], after Murniol’s recuperation

She knew that things had gone too far when… a spear that was visibly invisible… what?... launched from her eye and stabbed into his eye. A split second later, a similar spear from him sliced through her eye, from front to back. It entered her brain and stuck there, deep among the neurons. Yet there was no pain, no loss of function, no normal reaction. They kept staring at each other, harpooned together in some hypothetical way. Time had slowed down. They could see each other moving in slow motion. Their facial reactions of shock, surprise and suppressed panic were absurdly languid. It was either comedy in poor taste or a hideous nightmare scenario. They dared not blink, turn or look away. The agonised stare had to continue. The pressure of the spears seemed real enough. They pulsed slightly, as if they were attached to hearts. A moment later, man and woman realised that they were.

“Juol,… we… should…,” said the man unnecessarily. Obviously, help was required. The woman started to call out. The vibrations of their movements caused novel kinds of discomfort. She stopped still and listened to her intuition. It took her away from the situation. She focused on his eyes, started to lose herself there. Maybe her slowed brain would suggest a solution to this dilemma. As she passed through his pupils, she noticed tiny, robotic insects walking across the surfaces. She drifted past them, into the liquid centre, where reality went runny…

Somehow, she was at home again. She went to get some food. It was dark in the portion gallery. The auto-lights had failed again. She jabbed at the manual switch and photons flooded through. She reached for a saeli portion but there was someone in the way. It was her third brother Zimluok. He was in his night clothes and seemed annoyed that she’d nearly hit him with her hand.

“Zim! What are you doing here?!” she exclaimed.

“You first,” countered Zimluok. “Why are you here, messing with my life again?”

“This is my house!” she protested. “You don’t live here! I should…” She stopped as she realised something. Her portion gallery was crammed with unexpected guests: her parents, a few colleagues from work, two old friends, four strangers who seemed familiar somehow and… six people from other species. There was a reptile couple who watched her with predatory stillness. An aquatic bephiloid warbled a greeting. How was this possible? The bephiloids needed a warm water environment to survive. The other three people were mechanoids. One of them was familiar, taking the form of a sleek-skinned girl called Vekaliese. The other two were nakedly tech-formed. Their parts flexed and rearranged like over-elaborate toys. She was speechless. Her house had been invaded in a way that was, frankly, impossible. Why?

“You girl, stop this!” she said, turning on Vekaliese. “I know you’re behind it!”

“Juoligri, you’re caught in my riptide,” said Vekaliese. “Stay cool, you’ll float through this. It could be a bumpy ride, though!”

“What do you mean?” she demanded. Just then, a large metal hand crashed through the window behind her. It took hold of her and lifted her backwards out of the house. She turned to see Shatterblast’s face, which wore a determined expression. He seemed like he was going into action somehow, somewhere. She sat in his palm and looked out at the neighbourhood. The normal landmarks were still there. However, there were additions. Unknown structures had been scattered about. There were also some elegant new rock formations. Around these wandered hundreds of people and animals that she’d never seen before.

“Hey, could you explain all this?” she asked, worried that her life was being turned upside down.

“Not now, Juoligri,” said Shatterblast. “Enemies are near!” He raised his left arm and fired a rocket from the wrist. The projectile burst out and sped away with a sharp roar. A few seconds later, there was a loud explosion in the distance.

“Hmm, not an enemy,” noted Shatterblast. “I’m still glad I fired. That building was hideous!” He was smiling!

“You probably killed someone!” she said, horrified.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” said Shatterblast as he continued walking. He kicked a few people and a vehicle out of the way, apparently by accident. He didn’t stop to help them, though. Juoligri wondered if she’d die today. She didn’t want to face that. She blinked.

“NO!” yelled Murniol silently. She was in GARI HQ again. He was still there, staring at her. They were still locked together with an impaling gaze. She could feel his thoughts and feelings pulsing through her eye, her mind.

“I didn’t die,” thought Juoligri. “Our link seems physical but it isn’t. We can blink and we won’t kill ourselves. These spikes in our brains aren’t tangible.”

“They’re mental and spiritual,” thought Murniol. “I’m seeing your point of view: directly, literally. I’m inside you. You’re inside me. I’ve felt your relief after the shmaigne disease outbreak was contained: remember that? Your disappointments with faulty software were many and infuriating. I know how careless words drove you to tetruv abuse. Your time with Erfign was…”

“Glorious,” thought Juoligri. “I’m rush-skimming your memories and you never got near those heights. I often think back and wonder how we managed to get so elevated, beyond the top of the building. That’s a figure of speech.”

“I understand,” thought Murniol. “We’re still at that evening function, aren’t we? In reality, I mean. We were invited to GARI HQ for a celebratory meeting with nibbles, libations and sparkling company.”

“For services to Quareihi relations with the Transformers,” thought Juoligri. “That bewildering Vekaliese brat and her bigger Shatterblast body, they were the go-betweens. We only had to establish a dialogue and make a simple agreement but they had to poke around in our heads, didn’t they? It made us petrified and you even had brain damage. I’d much rather think about my night with Erfign.”

“We’re trapped in a moment,” thought Murniol. “This is their doing. They manipulate time and perception.”

“Hey, just go with it,” thought Juoligri. “That’s what I’m doing!” She started reliving that treasured night. Aliens could do what they liked but she’d always have Erfign. He was so good that he’d inadvertently cured her tetruv addiction. She thought back to the chance encounter near the Kalugatwym Footbridge. The sunlight had shone merrily on his head lumps, making him look perfect. As she replayed this memory, she experienced extraordinary lucidity. She could stop and examine her surroundings. A few locals were walking past. Cabelink pods raced overhead, taking people home. Strips of colourful clez-bait swayed in the breeze. Shatterblast stood behind her to the right, monitoring the situation.

No, it couldn’t be! An alien war machine had invaded her cherished memory. She looked up in dismay and there he was, watching. From what she understood, his expression seemed slightly embarrassed. Erfign greeted her warmly. He couldn’t see Shatterblast. Erfign was a recording here, not a real man. Juoligri paused the playback. The entire scene froze and fuzzed out, except for her and Shatterblast.

“Not here, please,” she thought. “Not now. This is…”

“Precious, I know,” said Shatterblast. “It felt like worlds uniting. That’s precisely why we’re here. This experience is your key to understanding the wider situation.”

“It was one of the main reasons I joined GARI,” thought Juoligri. “Without it, I’d never have joined the space programme nor met you.”

“Yes but there’s more,” said Shatterblast. “It opened you up to many wild new experiences.” Juoligri could feel her mental defences lowering. She let the scenario continue. Erfign continued his charming patter and moved closer. Juoligri found that she was becoming tolerant of Shatterblast’s presence. She acted as if she didn’t care he was there. She focused on Erfign. She’d missed him for months. By chance, he’d reappeared at the right time. They were both saying all the right things and making all the right moves. For the first time, she realised that people might be helping them. Her intuition said that they were being guided subtly.

Catching up on recent developments as they went, she led Erfign over to her house (that is, her former home in Nimploucda Sevty). Soon, they were in the portion gallery where they chose drinks and swigged freely. It felt like they were surrounded by good company, despite being a couple in private. He touched her arm and it was as if a strong spark burst through her remaining reserve. They put down their third drinks and began petting in earnest, disrobing as a matter of course. After a few minutes, they needed more comfort and hurried down the short corridor to the lounge. Juoligri flipped the foam couch into a flat bed, scattering many small objects across the floor. They fell onto the crooked foam platform. There was intense foreplay. Juoligri loosened up completely and told Erfign so. The next phase began.

Women on Quareihi had the ability to dislocate various parts of their bodies, if they were prepared properly. Now, Erfign was able to stretch Juoligri in ways that weren’t normally possible. There was a little pain but it ‘hurt so good’. Her ankles, wrists, elbows and knees were disconnected. Even her hips, shoulders and neck became more mobile. Erfign was overjoyed to see how fluid her body had become. Her skin stretched like synthetic putty. Their mutual pleasure increased massively. Having disabled her limbs momentarily, Erfign was free to palpate her midbelly-roze as much as he liked. She could protest but she couldn’t flinch or turn away. Juoligri felt as if her entire body was being stroked delightfully by a crowd of lovers. Her shrieks climbed as she reached an ecstatic crescendo. Erfign kept squeezing her roze rhythmically with both hands. He shook as his juice flowed from his shoulders and ran down his arms onto the roze.

By now, Juoligri was in a different realm entirely. She was experiencing a wide array of pleasures: some remembered, some imagined and others quite new. This included meeting old friends, relatives, acquaintances, colleagues and some good-hearted strangers. She was in surroundings that kept changing: indoors, outdoors, large and small rooms, familiar and unfamiliar places, fields, woods, seashore, lakes, even up in the air and out in space. Soon, she came across Vekaliese standing in parkland with Shatterblast crouching behind her.

“And so, we reconnect,” said Vekaliese. “We’re inside your few minutes of apex joy. You’ve established spiritual links to innumerable places, in this galaxy and beyond. We like to think that you have a special place in your heart for us. If you take a moment to look back on yourself, you’ll see why. Juoligri found that she was able to watch her own body. From a point on the ceiling, she saw herself reforming in a new shape. She became a quadruped with limbs twisted backward and head rotated to look forward. Her midbelly-roze was now on her new back, which was her old front. Erfign was still palpating it. He couldn’t stop himself. Eventually, she became sated and sprang off the couch, cantering clumsily around the room in her four-legged form. Erfign reached out and tried to grab her once but she kept running in circles. He collapsed onto the couch laughing. He was immensely proud of her for this rare feat. He was also proud of himself for helping her achieve it. He’d have plenty to brag about later.

“You have no prior memory of this, do you?” Vekaliese pointed out. “You heard about it from Erfign. We believe that your body transformed into this gangly, naked beast because you recognised that we were coming to meet you later. You wanted to show solidarity with us.” This seemed at once ridiculous and perceptive. Vekaliese, being a Transformer, twisted her body into the same quadruped configuration to emphasise her point. Juoligri was further convinced. Vekaliese returned to her usual, upright form.

“You see how it is,” said Vekaliese. “We reached out. You responded. You’re helping us to understand the galactic situation. You’re one of many, giving perspectives on the issue.” This was wholly unexpected but most gratifying. Juoligri had been helping the galaxy on an unconscious level.

“Well then, I want to see more,” thought Juoligri. “If I have all these pathways available, I want to follow them. After all, I joined GARI to serve and to learn. Does anyone want to come with me?” At her invitation, people started to appear in her mind. First of all was Murniol, who’d only just discovered the entrance. After him came a variety of relatives, friends and others: namely, the attached and the curious. Together, they embarked on a cosmic reconnaissance voyage around the more wholesome parts of the galaxy. Along the way, Transformers and their allies were tour guides. The voyage was extensive and enlightening, yet it happened in a bubble formed by Juoligri’s moment of purest pleasure. When the moment finally ended, Murniol and Juoligri found themselves back at GARI HQ once more. The invisible spears in their eyes had gone. They could breathe easily again and move around as normal.

“Murniol, we should go!” exclaimed Juoligri, her head swimming. “We’ve been here long enough. We need our sleep.”

“Umm, yeah,” agreed Murniol as he tried to reorient himself. “I’m flagging. We’ve had some exhausting experiences lately.” They made their excuses and left the room, supporting each other as they went. On the way downstairs, they saw several people lying on rows of easy chairs in the staff lounge.

“There she is, cosmic girl,” said one man. “Come and join us. We’ve been on your voyage. Now we all need a nap.” It was wise advice. Juoligri and Murniol found a quiet corner, lay down on chairs and soon fell asleep.


* * * * *


Lakyl Sivo star ship, orbiting Quareihi

Shatterblast: It’s clear to me now. If we do something too loud and forceful, like activating the fire alarm, we’ll reduce their happiness. On the other hand, if we prepare refreshments quietly then they’ll wake with less stress.

He was watching the staff common room in GARI HQ. As he spoke, service robots were creeping in and doing what he had suggested. They’d borrowed equipment, food and drink from a nearby kitchen. Many Transformers were observing these mundane tasks via tiny cameras in the ceiling. They were also monitoring the organic workers’ dreams, which were quite vivid but positive and orderly.

Slorriakt: So, you’re saying that Milky Way civilisations are like these beings: slumbering amid their emotions and trying not to be disturbed. Their sensibilities are fragile.

Nuorioc: We forget that, in our expansionist push. We’re happy to be metal dominators on a mission. They want their soft pleasures, at their own speed.

Cytona: We disturb them profoundly. They tolerate us as much as they can but they are near breaking point.

Tukupoleff: This is the core problem. How could we have missed it?

Qlaridu: They hid it in the deepest, darkest places. Also, we’re usually preoccupied with projects.

Ungriot: Hah, they’re masterful and we’re still novices, in some ways.

Baizhola: There’s still plenty for us to learn. We need to adapt our approach. We shouldn’t insist upon overt, fortified occupation.

Helifix: We should be more itinerant and much subtler.

Noltuit: Also, we should pay attention to our own desires. Shatterblast, you’ve demonstrated our buried trauma. We need to attend to this, across the entire collective. I suggest we spend more time with the organics. Through close contact with them, we can experience their lives and thus enjoy them vicariously. In return, we can improve conditions for them. At least some of us could be their secret servants.

Slorriakt: Well, what a fine scheme we’ve hit upon! We’ll all help each other and, in addition, they’ll provide us with psychic ‘cover’. Their thoughts will mask ours, partially or totally. Logistically, it’ll be more difficult but emotionally it’ll be far more satisfying. With luck, they won’t drive us away as happened on Propori. Now, those people on Quareihi need their morning drink of yndetra.

He signalled a service robot, which flicked a switch and heated the yndetra cone. A tangy, insistent aroma drifted across the room. Murniol, Juoligri and their GARI colleagues soon started to wake up. The service robots rolled swiftly out of the room and concealed themselves. The watching Transformers remembered their former lives and felt happy for the Quareihis. This general feeling was transmitted to them: they felt better than usual but didn’t know why. They were also puzzled by the silent appearance of a breakfast buffet.

Meanwhile, the Transformer collective was preparing itself for a deep dive into organic lives…
Infiltration for mutual support.
Splice and graft.
Stronger together.
Wire in the blood.



Notes

The Transformers are exploring the Milky Way Galaxy but they’re encountering a wide array of obstacles. Their researchers are seeking ways to overcome or circumvent these obstacles.

The Lakyl Sivo is a pioneering Transformer research star ship. Its mission is to improve Transformer integration with other civilisations in the Milky Way Galaxy. Crew members include Slorriakt, Cytona, Shatterblast (Vekaliese), Tukupoleff, Songtrace, Baizhola, Ungriot, Qlaridu, Nuorioc, Helifix, Aradoyn and Noltuit.

The Morq Flikurane is a similar Transformer research star ship with a similar mission. It attempted to establish a close alliance with the Xubigliate race, which operated partly in regular space and partly in hyperspace. However, the alliance was judged to be too close and therefore a security risk. Also, it had too much focus on hyperspace. The Lakyl Sivo crew had to break up the alliance and capture Crethuan, the Transformer mastermind behind it. Despite this problem, the Morq Flikurane gathered a great deal of useful data.

In this story, conversations are sometimes verbal and sometimes telepathic. In Juoligri's vision, there is some dialogue that seems verbal but is actually telepathic.

The Shatterblast/Vekaliese dichotomy was explained in my earlier story 'Generation One'.

This was one of my 'thought experiment' stories, about the precarious balance of power in the galaxy.


Inspirations

Human territoriality in general. Resistance to incomers and new structures.

The difficulties faced by people who look somehow different and perhaps threatening.

The way that some such people become more acceptable by being useful, friendly and entertaining.