-Oh? Darling, but I think that now we should resort to the services of some lone wanderer.
-I don't think that it...
-Don't be so jealous, my girl- do not forget that I have already given you far more than any other Bishop. Any news about Opus?
-No, madam. He stopped responding, and even if we could contact him... In his current state, Opus will not be able to help us.
-Well, well... Don’t be so critical towards the young one, he is trying. Anyway ... Tristan?
-I suppose he's dead - although augury system does not give me any accurate information.
-Dead? I rested for so long... Thorax?
-Thorax is no longer alone, madam.
-Lo and behold... Gather me a detailed report on his activities, please. Although... No, no, don’t waste Albedo now. Any reserve may be useful to us. You’ll collect the data after our little promenade... Finish the preparations, dear, we are engaging marked coordinates together.
-Right a way, madam.
Tall for a man, but slightly hunched over, a shapeless figure in a stiff dress, abundantly covered with lace, sat in a soft rocking chair. The light of the old fireplace, jumping over her wrinkled face, was replaced in a couple of seconds by a sharp white glow.
-No, a little bit slower. I want to do this with maximal accuracy ... And on manual control, as in the good old days.
On the lap of the old woman a black and white head without a lower jaw layed, bleeding in streams of pulsating tubes and wires. The ethereal disks revolved around it, flooding everything around with cold, synthetic light, and streams of numbers and words rushed through their orbit in awe of impartiality.
-So... I authorize the introduction of a double portion of Albedo into the core.
-Done.
-And be kind, give me a hundredth of an Ambrosia with a quarter-dose of Nigredo.
-Done.
-Citrinitas.
-Done.
-Now rotate the predictive cycles. Nimbuses ... First ... Second ... Wait, I see an unstable fragment. Another eighth dose of Albedo to the core... Excellent, excellent. Bring the results back to normal. Third...
-I initiate a ritual.
-I authorize the injection of Citrinitas in a step-drive. Wonderful.
-Step.
A spotted black and white ship is where it was not a moment ago. For some hypothetical viewer it would be near impossible to remember exactly when this piece of unknown alloys appeared here; most likely, he would not achieve anything at all. Covered with asymmetric stains of the abyss and light, the ship hung in the void, like a decisive ultimatum declaring its right to exist at this point in space and time, appearing here in the absence of special effects - no portals or flashes, only a modest and endlessly impudent appearance from nowhere. But this did not feel like a harsh or aggressive appearance; oh no, the black-and-white ship seemed to structure the universe around itself, crowding out contradictions and inevitably adjusting reality to its own truth, looking like a certain axiom, the only objective constant, motionless monolith of truth and contempt for anyone else's point of view.
It is a pity that there was no one to watch.
-Calculate the route for me and prepare the appropriate unary transport. We are not savages, after all.
-You will...
-Yes. Give me a couple of puppets, please, and take the same amount yourself.