Chương 128: LOG-121.

"-and I told her, the prisoner transport left the holding dock exactly when it was meant to. No skipped protocol, no missing logs. Everything was filed, everything was cleared. If the ship didn't arrive, then the problem certainly wasn't mine." Hessonite's voice cut sharply through the ambient hum of the command hall's secondary tier, rich with simmering offense.

She paced slowly along the inset path of polished citrine, heels clicking with each step, one hand gesturing broadly, the other holding a communication relay that blinked in steady blue intervals. The projection beside her shimmered, a geometric, gold cast silhouette of another high standing Gem. I didn't recognize her by form, but her voice was all edge and static.

"I'm sure you did everything as protocol dictates." The projection replied dryly, unimpressed.

"But the fact remains that the vessel vanished mid-jump, and no trace of it has been found. That makes it someone's mistake, Hessonite. And you're the one who signed off." A tight line formed at the corners of the administrator's mouth, her gaze flicking sidelong, first at the projection, then to the empty horizon beyond the hall's open viewport, as if contemplating the energy it would take to simply vaporize this conversation into silence. I didn't look up.

Instead, I ran my finger along the outer rim of the datapad in my hands, just enough to prompt a silent scroll across the interface. The action was delicate, methodical, entirely in line with what would be expected of a properly attentive Pearl recording the nuances of her superior's political woes. To anyone glancing, I was simply keeping a meticulous record of Hessonite's side of the call. To anyone looking, I was issuing directives. One touch to confirm Chip's latest ping.

A flick to send encoded positioning to Scratch. Two more to authorize the proximity veil for the incoming operatives from Blue Nine. They'd be docking on a lower maintenance ring, slipping past inspections by posing as recalibration staff. The timing was narrow, but the path was sound. Their handler had already cleared most of the access logs. All it needed was my word. I gave it.

Across from me, Glitter, decorated in soft layers of golden glass and heavily powdered in bronze (Hessonite had decided to order some physical appearance modifiers for her), furiously tapped at her own slate. Her wide eyes darted from me to her screen and back again, fingers trembling with the effort of trying to replicate every action I made. She wasn't even close, mostly because we weren't actually doing the same thing. There was no sub-program running. No operation routing through dummy data.

Just a blank notation doc she'd been filling with increasingly incoherent shorthand and half-formed sketches of what I assumed were supposed to be glyphs. But she was diligent. Desperate, even. I almost admired it. A sudden, sharp movement from Hessonite made both of us stand a little straighter. She'd turned her back to the projection entirely, voice lowering into that signature tone of elegant disdain.

"Well, if your network had informed you of the ship's disappearance a few moments sooner, perhaps you'd be interrogating the crew that actually boarded it. But please, do keep wasting time calling me instead." And with that, she ended the call in a clean, audible snap of the relay's activation crystal. The projection dispersed with a hissing flicker. The silence that followed was familiar. Hessonite remained facing the window displaying the nearby hangar for a few more seconds before she exhaled. Not dramatically.

Not even with particular annoyance. Just tired. A kind of tired I was becoming used to seeing in high caste Gems who had been handed just enough power to be crushed under the weight of it. Eventually, she turned back toward us, expression schooled but worn around the edges. A hand rose to her temple, then fell uselessly to her side again.

"Viridian." She said, voice soft but edged with expectation. I had just finished sending the last packet to Scratch when she spoke, and let the datapad fall smoothly into a passive screen state before lifting my gaze.

"Yes, my Hessonite?" She didn't correct me. Glitter froze mid-scroll, her stylus hovering just above the surface of her slate. She glanced between us, visibly unsure if she was supposed to speak, or breathe. Hessonite waved a hand absently.

"Glitter, go run vocal calibration. I need your pitch corrected before the next performance block. We'll see if those lessons have paid off or not." The other Pearl scurried out so fast I was surprised she didn't trip over her own ribbons. Once we were alone, the Garnet regarded me for a moment, something contemplative flickering beneath the surface of her eyes.

"You've been…very efficient, lately." She said at last, voice clipped, but not unkind.

"I've received nothing but praise from the Confluence's arts council, and several inquiries from other sectors. Even one from a White Court Morganite. Your work, your presence, has been noted." I inclined my head slightly, the motion precisely the amount of humility expected.

"I live to serve." She smiled faintly at that.

"Don't we all." A pause, and then she folded her arms behind her back, tone shifting subtly, something more private, more serious.

"I'll need you for something different, going forward. At least temporarily." I waited, expression neutral, carefully hiding the fact that I already knew what orders she was going to give me. I'd gotten Glitch to tap into her private terminal ages ago, after all. — The Warp pad flickered beneath my heels, slightly off tone, just enough that anyone listening for the usual harmonic pitch would register it as a malfunction and dismiss it. A little trick I'd approved personally.

The vast chamber I stepped into had once been part of the Confluence's fluid regulation system. In its previous life, it had cycled high pressure coolant through the station's core during expansion trials. But those days were over, and the system was now long obsolete. If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. The area had been stripped of purpose centuries ago. Left idle. Forgotten. Perfect.

A green blur darted to the side as I appeared, the Peridot stationed near the pad scrambling to get out of my path. She snapped into a salute a second too late, limb enhancers pressed against her chest in a practiced, nervous motion. The angle was correct. The spacing was off. She was used to it, but trying to get out of the habit. The Diamond gesture nonetheless remained unmistakable. Her eyes flicked toward me, uncertain. I offered her the barest nod and moved past without slowing.

The way her shoulders dropped in quiet relief was nearly audible. She wasn't one of mine. Not originally, anyway. Another rescued engineer with more talent than options. She'd been passed between two failed cells before landing here, and hadn't yet figured out that I didn't want to be saluted. Not like that. Regardless, the Warp pad behind me dimmed as it powered down, just another glow panel tucked into the lower strata of the Confluence.

Hidden beneath the public network, buried in the blind spot between maintenance and decontamination sectors, the transport was undetectable unless you already knew it was there. Only Fawn knew it was. And thus only Fawn could use it. The corridor ahead was wider than standard maintenance channels, still etched with the original hazard signage from when the coolant systems had been active. The emergency vents had been converted into concealed passages, the valve controls repurposed into lift triggers.

Most of the lights were new. Some weren't. And the space? The space was alive. Dozens of Pearls moved through the chamber, each one busy with something, scrubbing down consoles, sorting salvaged tech, moving equipment crates that bore the faded insignia of distant, unspoken assignments. Every face I passed carried purpose. Confidence. None of them flinched when I looked their way. A few of the newer ones saluted. Their elders waved them off.

On the far side, I spotted Glitch hunched over a terminal, one of her hands tapping furiously at a detached screen while the other one conducted some form of surgical hardware repair that I couldn't even begin to identify. The entire panel to her left was dark, fried again, probably. She didn't seem to notice. Cerulean passed by dragging a cable spool twice her height, muttering something about signal bleed. She nodded at me, short and sharp.

I returned the motion, idly musing that I needed to speak to her more often. She was a veteran cell member, and yet we'd spoken all of a handful of times. Just ahead, Truce was nose to nose with a hulking Quartz, gesturing furiously as she snarled something I didn't catch. Whatever it was, the soldier looked like she'd rather face a solar flare than argue back. I kept walking, repressing a slight smirk. The thought came unbidden. … These were mine. Not by order. Not by rank. Like the Empire might have desired.

But they followed me. They believed in me. Suffice to say, it was a damn heady feeling. Eventually, I reached the final chamber without speaking, the doorway gliding open on manual rails tugged open by yet another pair of waiting Gems, another intentional design choice. Nothing here moved automatically. Nothing could betray us without conscious intent. Inside, the room was dim, softly lit by recessed lines of coral blue striplight that pulsed low and slow, as if it were breathing. No tech clutter. No sound.

Just Glitch stepping in after me, already moving towards a nearby console and gesturing me towards the middle of the chamber.

"Ah-it should be ready now, whenever you'd like to begin. Though it w-would probably be best to remain on schedule with the others!" I nodded once, and stepped forward. The device resting at the center of the table didn't look like much. An oblong frame of mirrored alloy, padded with dark foam, cords trailing out into a series of humming nodes built into the wall. Barely larger than a curled fist. But I knew better. This wasn't just equipment.

It was something between a communicator and a backdoor, an old lattice-based sim rig modified from abandoned Imperial psych-test tech. It was also painfully illegal in the hands of those who weren't supposed to have one. But then again, so was literally everything else here. I reached down, took the device with steady hands, and fit it into place over my gemstone. The room disappeared. — The world shimmered as everything sank into place. There was no jolt. No flash.

Just a momentary sense of detachment, like blinking mid-step and forgetting what your foot was supposed to land on. And then… Light. Space. The sharp, perfect curve of a fabricated sky. I stood in the center of a station that didn't exist. Its walls were too symmetrical, too pristine, more ideal than functional. The simulated air didn't taste of anything. The floor beneath my feet didn't echo.

Every surface was built from sterile, white alloy streaked with programmable light veins, pulsing softly with the digital server's synthetic heartbeat, and part of me felt slightly disturbed at the fact that I didn't find it all that strange to look at. The center dome rose high above us, capped by a false viewport showing the stars as they might have looked if you stood at the very edge of the Empire and stared out into the void. This was a relay hub, designed and maintained entirely by Fawn.

Not a structure in realspace, but the shape of something real, a server core built into a forgotten station, deep within Imperial borders, where no Pearl should have had the clearance to step. According to the notes Fuchsia had left me, the mindspace allowed us to gather, speak, and plan. We weren't bodies here. We were digital selves. Idealized, anonymised, names and visual markers woven into the architecture by choice.

The moment I stabilized, my designation flickered into place above me, even as I took in the distinctly blurred state of my own lightform. Coordinator Star - Crystal Confluence. Across the room, more flickers of light resolved into figures. Pearls, mostly, with a scattering of others. Colour coded tags displayed above each name like constellations. Some names I knew from reports. A few I knew by voice. Others still were nothing but mystery until now.

"Coordinator Star." Said a familiar voice. Azurite's frame settled beside mine, nodding once, her arms behind her back and a knowing smile creasing the corners of her projected form.

"Glad you could join us." I returned the nod.

"You said it was important." She didn't need to say everything was important. I already knew. A few more projections shimmered into place. One, a pale Pearl with the soft lines of an older generation model, raised her hand in greeting. Her tag labeled her plainly. Coordinator Crown - Yellow Three. When she spoke, it was without flourish.

"I'd like to start by confirming the success of Operation Nine Two Zero. All agents accounted for, no traceable interference. Credit to former coordinator Ardent's team." There was a brief ripple of applause, strange in this environment, dulled and artificial like the sound had been coded by someone who only thought they understood what clapping sounded like. Still, the emotion was real enough. Crown bowed her head slightly, smiling.

"Before we move on." She added, turning her eyes toward me, "I'd also like to formally introduce our newest full coordinator and Ardent's successor, now responsible for operations within the Crystal Confluence sector." All eyes shifted. I dipped into a low, practiced curtsy.

"Coordinator Star. It's an honour." A murmur passed between the gathered avatars. Some nodded. A few offered verbal greetings. One small voice near the back murmured.

"That's the one from the Lithoplague stories?" I pretended not to hear it.

"Now now, let's give her the chance to provide a proper report first." Crown gestured for me to continue as I straightened.

"Thank you. To summarise, I've secured a permanent operations base on the Confluence, buried beneath defunct infrastructure. It's invisible to the Imperial systems and accessible only through modified warp access, though we're working on a few physical exits for redundancy's sake." There were approving glances.

"I've made initial physical contact with elements of Blue Nine. Ties are strong. Our data trades have doubled their operation capacity and ours by extension. Coordinator Azurite can confirm." Azurite nodded once, arms crossed.

"True. Her influence has kept the more independent elements of Nine from running headlong into disaster." I continued.

"My Lithoplague narrative continues to spread. More and more Gems whisper about it, worried about the possibility that they might be susceptible to foreign light brought in by various transports. We've leveraged it for chaos cover, redirecting attention from real operations. It's useful. Myth tends to be." The small voice piped up again.

"But…is it real?" I smiled without smiling.

"Does it matter?" That drew a few scattered laughs. No one pressed further, even as I gestured with a hand, making a fist.

"I've also made inroads with three minor Fight warbands, untethered to their own command hierarchy. Using adjusted ship signatures, I've allowed them to dock discreetly at the Confluence for rearmament. They've been raiding lightly armed Imperial logistics outposts under fabricated distress transponders. As far as the Authority knows, it's just station anomalies." More murmurs. Impressed ones. Crown glanced at the collective, satisfied.

"Coordinator Star has made good use of her assignment. We'll be shifting more sensitive traffic her way over the next cycle." I didn't show how much that meant. Not here. Not now. The meeting shifted. Other voices took over. Discussions swirled. A Flight-aligned flotilla drifting on the Empire's rim, open to diplomacy. Unrest apparently growing within Fight, coalescing into something like structure as certain figures took the chance to grow in power.

Potential overtures from fringe-bound colonies looking for new masters. Each conversation was coloured by hope and trepidation, ambition and risk. I listened. And I thought of Earth. I thought of Rose Quartz, and Pink Diamond. Of Emerald's voice, of Brim and Vermilion's smiles. Of pretending that I was nothing more than a minimum wage worker at a donut shop that occasionally went to raves.

I thought of the still living fragment of the Crystal Gems, bolstered in numbers, forgotten by the Empire and perhaps even themselves. I could tell them. I could say it now, right here, and this network would light up with the kind of purpose that stories alone could never birth. I could say that they'd survived. That the first spark of true rebellion still burned. But I didn't. Not yet. Not until I knew what that knowledge would unleash.

So instead, I stood in silence, listening to the meeting even as I watched the virtual stars wheel overhead.