MY CRUEL PROTECTOR
for the Syndicate, the one who managed their stolen Source-codes.
"Sool," Nevan whispered, his voice like a razor against a throat. "You’ve been very quiet. Even your gas is looking a bit... yellow."
Sool’s body flickered. The blue gas turned a sickly, bruised gold. "I... I don't know what you mean, Shield. I was just syncing the navigation logs."
"Syncing them with what?" I asked, my voice echoing with the Sovereign’s power. "The Harvester fleet? Or the Architect of the Core? Did they promise to put your soul back in a body, Sool? Did they promise you a place in the Singularity?"