Aged hardwoods were more valuable than gold. As rare as gold was, you could mine it anywhere, given enough energy. But this sort of exotic wood? It could only be obtained from the black market of core worlds with sufficient environmental protection to have retained their major forests.

  The sheer quantity of wood furniture in this room denoted the opulence of the ruling Schumer family. The room was perched on top of a concrete office tower, gilded with gold and stainless steel. It was the very symbol of wealth.

  Governor Schumer Robert stood on the balcony, basking in the glaring white light of Gamma Centauri. He had essentially inherited the throne from his father decades ago. The ‘election’ results were dutifully stamped by the Ministry of Planetary Affairs. He was nothing less than a hereditary lord here, with all the luxuries befitting one. A king’s due for a king’s work.

  Gamma Centauri c was a resource extraction colony on a marginal Archaean world. The Directorate had numerous internal frontiers, worlds that were previously deemed unworthy of immediate state exploitation but on a scheduled list for colonization. The air was hardly breathable and the base of the food chain was purple slime bacteria, processed into biomass feedstock. And yet somehow, the Schumer family was able to create a bit of wealth here and even gained some degree of self rule in this forgotten sector.

  There was a hollow knock on the wooden doors of his office. Even the wealthy couldn’t afford all real wood doors. Well, at least, not yet.

  “Come in,” Robert said calmly, turning around.

  “This had better be good,” a tall young woman in a skimpy outfit impatiently replied. “I was supposed to be at a gala.”

  Her long blonde hair had slight shades of brown at the roots, clearly the result of recent color treatment rather than a genetic gift. She crossed her arms and sighed.

  “Well? What was so urgent that you had to pull me to your little hideout?”

  Robert sighed, the weight of governance clear in his voice. Perhaps I made the wrong choice in thinking she was easily controllable due to her incompetence, he thought to himself. Right now, a more capable official would serve our predicament better.

  “Sis- I mean, Minister,” Robert sighed. “This is an urgent government meeting. All planetary ministers have been called, not just you.”

  “Whatever. Let’s get on with it,” she said restively before sitting down next to the long wooden table. She put one foot up on her knee and shook it impatiently.

  Robert sat down at the head of the table and looked around. The ministers had finally been gathered. Defense. Infrastructure. Industry. Finance. His voice was low, almost a whisper, as if he was afraid to be overheard in his own castle.

  “As you know, our outer solar system battlecruisers have not responded for a few days and our scheduled freighter exchange has unexpectedly been absent.”

  “Freighter?” a young, clean shaven man in a military uniform almost too big for him, asked in confusion.

  “Yes Minister, we detected 2 fusion reactors a few months back. Their ID beacon was for civilian freighters. They claimed they would enter the system soon, but then disappeared off tracking,” an older man in a civilian suit said. His balding forehead glistened with sweat.

  There was a long pause and a confused exchange of glances before the young man replied with a slightly quivering voice. “We were not scheduled for a freighter exchange.”

  Robert shook his head. “There is no need for panic. Let’s display what information we know. Minister of Industry, please display the trajectory of the incoming ships, whatever they are, and overlay with drive plume analysis.”

  A wordless command over Neuronet went out to a tastefully hidden projector in the middle of the table. It silently displayed a three dimensional star map of the Gamma Centauri system, showing the positions of both the last ID beacon and the last drive plume detected. The known trajectory of both signals evaporated a few astronomical units away from the outermost gas giant. The extrapolation led to a location in the gas giant’s shadow.

  “We sent 2 of our battlecruisers on an intercept burn to investigate, but just as they were supposed to reach the intercept point, they disappeared too,” the balding man continued.

  A new trajectory showing the path of the two battlecruisers spiraling out from Gamma Centauri c towards the gas giant appeared on the star chart. It terminated right before the gas giant was reached.

  “Was there any signal from them? Even if they were destroyed, they should have sent a warning before total destruction,” Robert asked nervously.

  The rest of the ministerial council looked on with confusion. There was a severe shortage of talent here, Robert mused in disappointment. Those outside the family could not be trusted with the most sensitive roles such as defense, but having technocrats be completely shut out of decisionmaking would ruin the colony. A few technical staff was a good balance.

  “No sir. We were beginning a solar transit on the other side. Our relay station had not risen above the solar horizon yet either,” the balding minister replied, shaking his head.

  The council fell ominously silent as a realization of dread crept up on them. Robert shook his head in frustration.

  “What do we know about this situation then? Battlecruisers don’t simply vanish. Do we have any signal from them, at all?” Robert demanded.

  The young man spoke up hesitantly, as if he was afraid that by delivering unpleasant news, the news would manifest itself as reality.

  “One of our wide view monitoring sensors found a small increase in X-ray photon flux near the gas giant, largely coinciding with the disappearance of the battlecruisers. We did not think much of it at the time. Aurora flares are common in this system.”

  Robert’s thoughts stopped like they hit a concrete wall. X-ray photon flux. Somehow this X-ray burst, combined with the missing battlecruisers, seemed to suggest something beyond just an excessively energetic aurora. He quietly growled a command in a gloomy, low voice. “You need to solve this. I don’t care who solves it. Someone is going to solve this.”

  “I’ve already taken the liberty of dispatching our planetary defense command to reinforce our surface to orbit capabilities,” the balding Minister of Industry said. “We deployed more interceptors near our urban region, as well as sent offensive launchers to firing positions near the poles. We are well equipped for defending ourselves from any potential threats.”

  “I thought that defense was my portfolio!” the young minister of defense said in an agitated voice.

  “Quiet,” Robert commanded with an irritated tone. “I let you play soldier, little brother. It does not mean you are a soldier.”

  The young man slumped quietly in his ill fitting uniform. Robert sighed. He knew this was a possibility eventually. He just never thought that the possibility would come true, or that if it did, ‘eventually’ would be today.

  In his grandfather’s day, the Schumer family had begun a project that promised to herald in a new age for the prosperity of this planet and its people. Robert was not quite aware of the details, only that it was a neurological project promising to unlock the full potential of the human brain. It would be of revolutionary economic value, a path towards immortality, and thus must be kept under absolute secrecy, even to him.

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  The payoff would be immense. Of course, the profit would go to the Schumer family first, but that was a justified advance for being pioneers. The central government was not informed, nor was it deemed necessary to inform them.

  “As I was saying, we have now transited the central star relative to the gas giant. At least for now, we will be saf-”

  Suddenly, the entire conference room received a Neuronet notification.

  >Priority 0 hail, government channel only. Confirm?

  >Reject. Robert ordered wordlessly over Neuronet without even thinking about it. But it was futile. The implant itself refused his command.

  >Error. Not supported during diplomatic interaction.

  The star chart dissolved from the projection, replaced by the ghastly figure of a woman with a peaceful demeanor on her face. Her pale skin contrasted with her obsidian black uniform to appear sickly, almost spectral. Everyone fell silent, staring at the terrifying sight. The background was a row of stone faced military officers. It was clear she was speaking from a military spacecraft somewhere in the system.

  >Hello, Governor Schumer. I am Auditor-72-A9-M5. I am here to speak to you about some aspects of your governance.

  Robert froze for an instant before forcing his expression into one of calm composure. He quickly scribbled on a piece of paper an urgent message and passed it over to the young man in the military uniform.

  Auditor. Activate planetary defense. Secure comms only. Find her. Remove her.

  The young man nodded and quickly scurried out of the room.

  >Yes, Auditor. We can send our economic progress files now, but you should already have our records.

  Robert chose his next words with the care of a man disarming a bomb. This was a gamble, but maybe it would work.

  >Where should we narrow beam the data to ensure highest transmission fidelity?

  The entire room could almost hear a faint chuckle through the Neuronet. Almost.

  >Broadcast it. The auditor commanded them with a much more authoritative mental voice.

  >Project keyboard. Robert didn’t want to make any mistakes while the auditor was here.

  >Broadcast data archive. He typed as slowly as possible before finally pressing the send key. They needed more time. After a few seconds, there was a standard acknowledgement protocol.

  Light delay ranging was found from their transmission. He had it. He quickly nodded in a silent signal. All that was left was to track the angular position. A few tense minutes.

  An older man in a military uniform quietly slipped through the doors of the office and handed him a piece of paper.

  Order acknowledged. Light delay ranging found. Angular search in progress. Nothing on the night side. Still attempting to trace transmission.

  Robert scribbled back. Day side. Night side launchers. Stop burn before day side. Coast, then terminal phase. Full spectrum seekers. Use battlecruiser recognition. Program to ignore incoming IFF challenges.

  The auditor’s gentle voice broke his train of thought.

  >Governor Schumer. Thank you for the data files. Your colony is classified as resource extractive, primary exports are refueling depot services for lithium deuteride and algae biomass production.

  He quickly typed back with almost some sort of relief. This didn’t seem too bad, he thought. Perhaps this was simply a routine governance audit. Nothing would be found and even if there was something, it wouldn’t be anything that a few bribes wouldn’t solve.

  >Yes, of course. Our files support that, he entered carefully.

  >You also seem to have some sort of wood furniture production. Wood is not native to Archaean planets.

  The blood drained from Robert’s face. How the hell did she know? They did not have any imaging equipment in this room. He had thought the video message was one way. He looked around the room nervously. Robert reminded himself that there were no hidden cameras here, as he had designed the council room himself and no one else had been permitted to make modifications.. He began to sweat coldly. It seemed that within a few minutes, he had turned from a distinguished ruler to a caged animal under observation.

  >Your planet also ordered substantial computing and biomedical imaging infrastructure 97.6 years ago under your father, Governor Schumer Alastair. This infrastructure is not projected for resource extractive planets.

  Robert felt his face flash hot. His regal robes became slightly damp and sticky as he slowly keyed in his answer.

  >For expanded Neuronet and control mechanisms for our population. It was my father’s pride and joy.

  The auditor shot back her reply almost immediately with a subtly higher pitch and intensity in her neural voice.

  >Neuronet alone, and for your population size, does not require substantial orders of high fidelity neural imaging equipment or extensive neurosurgery equipment. We were deployed shortly after your order to investigate your motives.

  The words hung in Robert's mind like a noose. 97 years. My father’s immortality project had become a death sentence. Everything had been conducted under the unblinking eye of an administration that had already predicted their plans. But perhaps we can do something to make this whole thing just go away, he thought.

  Robert scribbled on another piece of paper, rapidly, and showed it to his sister. Hurry up, he wrote. The sister quietly left the room for a brief moment with only the sound of her heels clanking on the floor. She stuck her head in as a small test before sullenly returning to her seat. She nodded to Robert. The frivolity was gone, replaced by an expression of fear and nervousness.

  She passed Robert a piece of paper. Angular position and velocity found. Dayside. Surface to space forces awaiting your orders.

  >That is for our highest mortality population who require special medical care.

  After a few seconds, he felt a subtly small tickle at the base of his brainstem and a sense of creeping dread.

  >The overall signal is one of developing neural uploading capabilities, Governor. As you understand, this is a pathological technology.

  Robert struggled to formulate a correct reply.

  >We are not aware of what you mean, Auditor.

  A terse interruption came through the Neuronet, as if the Auditor had never received his reply.

  >There is no other rational purpose for the orders.

  Robert’s breathing was rapidly increasing in frequency and becoming shallower. Sweat drenched his robes. This was a do or die moment. To launch could bring the hammer on his world in decades to a century. To not launch would be to die today.

  After a transient pause, Robert knew what needed to be done. He strained to put pencil to paper, but it only lightly made contact. His fingers felt so viscously slow that it was almost as if his own limbs were resisting him. He was unsure if it was because the auditor was suppressing his nervous system through some trickery, or whether the pressure had paralyzed him.

  He finally finished his message, scribbled in faint pencil, and tossed it silently across the table. The balding Minister of Industry caught it and his eyes widened as he lifted the lightly folded paper and showed it to the entire room.

  DO IT NOW. The rest of the family looked on in horror at the words that he scratched out on the paper, but knew their grim assignment.

  He slowly keyed in his answer with a strange combination of terror and resolve.

  >The orders, the research, it was my father's project. I am not aware of the details. I am but a simple inheritor.

  The auditor’s mental voice switched from its previously dull, almost playful tone to one of severe authority.

  >Digital consciousness offers no value. It presents only systemic entropy.

  >The pathology will be excised in its entirety.

  Just as the Governor was about to begin a refutation, a message appeared in his Neuronet.

  >Connection terminated.