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[b][u][h2]Terran Low Orbit[/h2][/u][/b]

“I think that bit used to be an ocean, XV-25.” The chirpy tone directed towards the automaton was met only with a series of confirmation beeps, the speaker looking out over the slowly turning visage of Terra. The orbital station wasn’t large, by design, intended once for some sort of communications relay. The great nest of optical and communications relays now repurposed for a new aim, observation and espionage.

Acolyte Verona Zorel Omatah, colloquially known to those who mattered as ‘Oma’ didn’t like to ponder the true role of her post too much, which, she often considered, was pr[img][/img]obably the main reason she had been assigned to it. Once she had longed to study the intricacies of the Biologus, her father had been a dedicated organist and she had inherited much of his fascination with the study. But then her training had begun, and her talent for datasmirthery had become known to both her and the wider Priesthood. There were few of her generation who had completed their training by now, let alone receive a post in what could be considered a honoured role.

Oma, though, couldn’t’ quite bring herself to despise the technobarbarians of the world below as much as she was supposed to. Of course, academically, she was aware of how substantial a roadblock the factions below had been to the pursuit of knowledge, often attacking the Explorators who had landed on Terra, seeking the secrets of a lost age. She had experience with some explorators though, and she quite understood the desire to shoot them. Her listening post was a key part of any ongoing operations, watching the world below for gaps in the capabilities of the Terran savages. To her, it more felt like listening out for a chance to drop a strike team on some poor people who finally thought they had a moment of peace on the world below. Because of this, no matter how capable she was at the spooling of the data-looms, of the artistry of encryption, she was never tempted to manipulate, she would provided objectivity through ambivalence.

She enjoyed her post though, for reasons many back home would probably find childish, or even vaguely heretical for the true emotion puritans.
“Hurry up, XV-25, it’s starting.” She called back to the automation which began to clank its way across the small lounge space, the smell of freshly fried cooking wafting ahead of it. With a loud clunk the thinking-machine came to rest beside her, handing over the paper bag in its hands. Once she was sure she wouldn’t be kicked off the station  for the breach of protocol, she made some alterations to her nutrition station, able to approximate something close to her favourite comfort snack from back home. She bit into the first long stick of fried and sweetened dough with a happy hum, before pointing out across the viewport. It was entirely unnecessary, the automaton only had rudimentary optical sensors and the barest hint of what could be considered intelligence, but that hadn’t stopped her adopting the assistant as a sort of pet.

At the trace of her finger, the spectacle begun. The blazing light of Sol began to crest over the far horizon of Terra. The light streamed through an atmosphere abused by thousands of years of industry ad war, igniting the tortured clouds into a kaleidoscope of light. The light formed a corona across the planetary rim, while the world danced in tendrils of rainbow light. It was a shame only XV-25 ever joined her in watching the Sunrise, her colleagues were far too lost in their tasks to consider such frivolous things.

Despite her capability, she was the least augmented of the small crew. This wasn’t too unusual, considering she was also the youngest member by several decades. It was unusual that someone of her age and junior rank within the Cult should be assigned to the position. Many subsects of the Cult didn’t adhere to the unrestrained augmentation found among her station mates, but they tended not to be members of the Data Logi. She didn’t quite see why, they already had computers, she had no desire to become one. Another deepfried snack passed her lips as she continued to watch the light show of the world below, and she mused that perhaps she could do with being a little less ‘fleshy,’ but that the Cult doctrine probably wasn’t there to shrink a robe size on your hips. 

“You are wasting time, Acolyte Omatah.” The droning voice snapped her out of her reprieve in watching the planet below. Magus Hemmar had not approved of her assignment to his posting, nor her ‘eccentric’ qualities, although he had begrudgingly accepted the results she had brought to the team. A suggestion that perhaps by retaining more of her human form than the normal datasmyth she provided a more nuanced ability to manipulate data had once been posed in a report to him by another member of the team, and that had almost caused a station wide schism. Considering their team was made up of only four Acolytes and the Magos, it wouldn’t have been the most impressive of Terra’s civil wars.

“I’ve already finished the latest data package, it is ready for sacred transference when you have time to evaluate its merits, Honoured Magos.” Oma’s tone was chirpy, but her vision didn’t shift from her view. The twin mechdendrites that linked to the base of her spine motioned towards her nearby work station from her improvised seat infront of the observation window. That, along with the bright blue glow of her eyes, and the metal edging along her temples and cheek bones were the only visible signs of augmentation Oma presented.

A brief burst of noise from XV-25 confirmed to the Magus in simplified binharic that the Acolyte spoke true, the Magus responding in a noise that was part frustration and part impressed surprise. “If you committed fully to your task, Acolyte Omatah, you could have my position within mere decades.” She didn’t dislike Hemmar, despie their disagreements. He was committed enough to his belief in results orientated piety that he was honest in his reports about her capabilities. That, or he knew enough about her ability to understand no transmission from the post would be out of reach for her ability decrypt. Sometimes she did snoop on her colleagues, but only out of boredom.

“I wouldn’t want to take that from you, Honoured Magos, Observation Post Beta-4 wouldn’t be the same without you.” In truth, as much as she enjoyed the Sunrise, Oma didn’t want to consider spending the rest of her days aboard, no matter how divinely blessed the opportunity was. 
“I see our assessments about the offensives across Eurasia have been vindicated.” The Magus didn’t speak further on the matter, the mechanical eyelids across his optic enhancements closing as his mind delved into the data package she had prepared for transmission to Mars, his modified memory cores rolling through the data at lightning pace.

“Yes, the ‘Imperium’ continues to press their Eastern front, their assault on the Nordyc bloc seems to be going well, if their own reports are to be trusted. I’ve been able to back that up via orbital imaging, but, sadly, the Sen don’t have much in the way of data-based communication to confirm from their side.” Oma stood and stretched, or at least floated up into a standing position, her mechadentries no longer holding her down to her throne of repurposed boxes. The installation was meant to be gravity locked, but steadily as the ancient systems aged more and more of the post had reverted into near zero-g. As the newest replacement, she’d been assigned one of said chambers as her work station, despite it posing the greatest risk to her functioning given her more human physiology. She didn’t mind for the short term, in fact, it was quite fun.

“Merica is a cascade of transmissions, the fighting must be fierce, but it does not seem as if all of the Vault-Cities have unified.” She continued to muse, correctly estimating where in the report the Magus would have reached. “The Pan-Pacific Invaders are starting to negotiate terms with some of them, it seems many are weighing up the opportunity that vassalage could give them in combating local rivals.” That, in fact, was exactly what the encrypted information passed between the invading force and some of the more central territories of Merica had shown her, timed with the start of the Imperium’s intervention into the territory.

“Very well, Acolyte Omatah, I will begin the sacred rites to-“

Every light in the room suddenly wavered for a moment, before returning to usual brightness. It was a momentary glitch that interrupted the Magus’ thought process, but he made to immediately carry on, were it not for the Acolytes sudden frantic activity. “Acolyte, your heart rate has increased dramatically, explain.”

Oma had her face practically pressed to the glass of the observation window, gazing down at the surface of Terra as a new series of lights joined her treasured Sunrise below. “Magus! That was an electronic disturbance from the surface, a detonation!”

“There is nothing in ongoing datastreams to suggest-“

“I can see it! It’s in Eastern Ursh.” She gestured frantically with both a finger and the right of her two mechadentries, her frantic motion causing the long strands of her blonde mane of hair to cascade around her in the weak gravity.

“Visual assessment is not a part of your duties, Acolyte.”
For once entirely ignoring her superior,  Oma’s eyes blazed an even brighter blue as she accessed the Noosphere web of the station, the far more hidden and subtle enhancements to her cortex immediately plunging into the dataweave. There hadn’t been any warning from such sources prior, but now that the attack had commenced, and the territory below recovered from the electronic pulse, evidence blazed before her.

“Then look to the data, Magus, four thermonuclear detonations in Eastern Ursh.” While such devices had been a key factor in the current state of the world below, in the modern day they were vanishingly rare and even harder for the states below to maintain. That was, at least, the official stance of most of the Cult. Accepting that some of the Techno-Barbarians of Terra had become advanced enough to understand and implement the greater technologies of their past was something of a taboo. “It’s on their Eastern border, the Empire has struck them too.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she spoke, pulling together the conclusion from the data almost as fast as it was realised in real time. The gridlock of powers that had held sway over Terra for at least her entire lifetime was beginning to shift, a power grab that would have more consequences for Mars than even the Explorators could have anticipated.

“We may need to modify your report, Acolyte.”