Part 8 - Preparations | Chapter 3

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Whatever the case, Farlina's design had been all but accepted, and her will to work had been temporarily replaced by a will to revel; reaching beside her, Farlina grasped an unopened bottle of 95%, and, forcing the lid off while disregarding the need for a glass, Farlina raised the bottle's spout to her eager lips. A refreshing, tantalizing wave of alcohol rushed down Farlina's parched throat, and she felt tense muscles all across herself relax for the first time in days; the next moment, Farlina's implants notified her that someone was en-route to her office via hypersphere, and as her weary muscles tensed up once more. Nevertheless, once her implants notified her of who was coming to visit her, she became consumed by curiosity; she no longer dreaded this impending visit, but instead saw it as perhaps a worthy, and potentially entertaining, use of her time.

A few seconds later, whilst Farlina was taking a second, appraising sip of her alcohol, her room's hypersphere burst open to reveal the spider-like, metallic form of Elthinar, who was completely soaked in a gel-like substance that smoothly slid off him and drained into the sides of the hypersphere. Stumbling out of the cramped device, a device his eight-legged form barely fit inside, Elthinar seemed somehow possessed of an almost pensive countenance despite his nausea — and despite the fact that he didn't have any muscles left on his metallic face.

Swaying uneasily as he walked out of the device, and looking up at the much taller Farlina, he sputtered, "What in the name of Tehkria did you do to that hypersphere?!"

"I engineered it to travel far faster than the maximum safe velocity, counteracting the otherwise lethal acceleration by retrofitting it so that it floods with a cheaply manufactured stabilizing gel that mitigates any damage to its occupant that would otherwise occur"—Farlina became more elated with every second she spent describing her invention—"You may be nauseous, and you might and feel like vomiting — that is, if you can still vomit when you're deprived of biological innards — but you arrived here sixteen times as quickly as you would have otherwise. I consider that an incredible success for the latest prototype!"

As Elthinar struggled to keep his footing, Farlina, placing her bottle of 95% on a nearby side-table, pressed, "Now, to business. I know you do not rank among those who would visit me for the pleasure of my company, or the equally relaxing and scientific hypersphere ride, so tell me: why are you here?"

Stabilizing himself against a nearby wall, his hand resting in-between two wall-mounted weapons of Farlina's design, Elthinar warily eyed the subtly-raised platform on which Farlina's desk and person stood, before he replied, "Because..."—Elthinar's expression strained, his mouthparts moved, yet no sound came out; when he spoke, even his metallic features winced with every syllable uttered, as if the words brought him great pain to vocalize—"I need your help."

Farlina subtly recoiled in shock; her arm, retreating in surprise, nearly knocked over her bottle of 95%. Despite this, however, she managed to mostly keep her composure, and instead, standing from her seat, she walked towards Elthinar. Stepping down from her elevated side of the room, she continued to walk, not saying a word, until she was face-to-face with Elthinar, though her comely form did tower over the spider-like man; on the same physical level as Elthinar, she asked pointedly, almost all traces of glee purged from her tone, "And what help could the great, illustrious Elthinar need from his mortal enemy?"

"This," Elthinar replied, dispatching a textcomm to Farlina that contained the full details and specifications of a hypothetical particle accelerator that was larger than a planet — though the design was inefficient, its purpose was both clear, and terrifying.

Farlina confused and incredulous as she read the scientific work behind the accelerator, stammered, "Why in the name of the Empire are you trying to fuck with the Higgs field?"

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