“A means of equivalent exchange is to be preferred to simply take what you want.”

- Hob

***Deep Space***

***Antioch***

“So, what do we do about them?” Sam asks. “I don't know about you, but I have a feeling that they won't get better if we keep them locked up. Their bodies might be immortal, but their minds aren't. They already seem a little unhinged.”

“Do you think that putting them all together in a single room might work?” Min offers. She plays with her hair and looks up to me. “They seem to have done fairly well for themselves as long as they were in their hidey hole.”

“I hope you aren't serious.” Lisandra crosses her arms in front of her chest and tilts her hips in a show of displeasure. “If we put all of them in a single cell right now, I can guarantee you that there won't be much left of this Martin guy. Are we really that desperate to complete the quest? It's just a week's flight to the next quest marker. Let's go there and see what awaits us before we decide. As I understand it, we can always add them to our ranks later on.”

I nod slowly. No matter how I look at the situation, I think that Lisandra has a point. “You are right. Whatever we decide on, I think we should allow them to cool down before we continue the negotiations... or should we call it an interrogation?”

The annoying sound of an alarm denies me an answer, and I quickly access the network to find out what's happening.

Lisandra looks at the ceiling, confusion and worry written all over her face. “What's going on?”

That's when I realize that she still doesn't have access to the ship's network, so she can't find the answer for herself.

“It's the proximity alert. A ship has entered our sensor range and it's coming directly towards us,” Silith informs her sister. Like me, she accessed the network to find out what's going on.

“The matter here can wait a little longer.” I turn and leave the ward. Running down the long central corridor, I reach the pilot chamber and take place in my chair. Closing my eyes, I access the pilot controls and become one with the ship.

When the others reach me, I already have a good overview of the situation.

The sensors tell me that the other ship's warp-bubble causes much less interference than ours, so it must be smaller than ours. Either their whole ship is just a single engine, or their tech-base is better than ours. Even with better technology, I don't think that anyone would bother to mask the effect of a warp-bubble on the surrounding cosmos.

Despite the size difference, it's much faster than us. At least four times our speed. The Haven could match that, but it would be a strain on our engines. There is no doubt that running away isn't an option. If the other ship is wrecking their engines in order to catch up to us, then we might have a chance. But somehow I have a feeling that this isn't the case.

I relay my observations to the others and inform them of my decision. “We will drop out of warp and wait for them to reach us.”

Silith and the others reach the cockpit and sit down on their own chairs. Given that our little group is growing, we installed a few back-seats in order to allow possible visitors to watch the pilots at work. Silith watches me with a concerned expression, the question obvious on her face.

“We can't shake them off, they are much faster than us,” I elaborate. “They also entered our sensor range in a way which makes it pretty obvious that they knew where we are, even before we saw them. They were on a perfect interception course right from the beginning.” I clear my throat. “As I see it, all we can do is delay the confrontation.”

Silith nods, understanding my reasoning. “There is no point in doing that. The sooner we disengage the warp-drive, the more time we have to fire up the fusion engine.”

Having affirmed the situation with them, I allow the ship to drop out of warp. It's already clear that the other ship has superior warp technology. That's a bad sign, but it still leaves us with the chance that our ship might be the superior one in real space.

Right now, I can't think of any way to attack a ship while it's inside a warp-bubble. It would be possible to run another warp-bubble into ours, but that would eliminate both ships. That doesn't mean that the other ship doesn't have a way of attacking us. Why else would they head in our direction with such surety?

I redirect all energy to the weapons and the engines, then I tilt the ship by ninety degrees to allow us a quick course change, should the other ship attack us.

With us being out of warp, we are practically a sitting duck to the unknown visitor, so they catch up to us in no time.

They drop out of warp a comely lightsecond away from us. Close enough to have a decent conversation, but far enough away to be safe from most conventional weapons. Haven's sensor array picks up the flash of the collapsing warp-bubble when the other ship deactivates their engines.

The ship is smaller than the Haven, less than a hundred metres in length. The whole construction is a mess of wavy protitutions and intersecting geometric figures. There seems to be no logical meaning to the design, other than that the builders of the strange craft might find it beautiful. That is, if someone gets his kicks from flying around inside a spaceship-turned fractal. I run the shape through a few calculations, confirming my theory. It's indeed a fractal.

At a first glance, there is nothing I would identify as weapons, sensors, or even an engine. Their tech seems to be beyond anything I have access to right now. Maybe we should run? How long does it take them to reconfigure their warp-emitters? If we get a head start, we might make it out of their sensor range.

While I check for a nearby solar system to hide in, we receive a call over an ordinary laser transmission. After looking at the others, I answer and display the embedded video stream on the front monitor.

Blue, stick-like limbs appear in front of a green background on the screen. They wave around, reminding me of a certain someone. After a few moments, I realize that I am looking at a sideways torso.

Silith narrows her eyes and tilts her head in a questioning manner, trying to compensate for the tilted image. “Hob?”

There is a shuffling noise and someone curses in galactic standard. “Where did I put it? Damn low-tech. Why is there no easy way to transmit large amounts of information with this technology? I always forget these minor details.”

More shuffling ensues until the owner of the voice finds the camera. “There it is!”

The camera is picked up and tilted sideways, until Hob's spindly figure is in full view. “Hello there! Would you believe me if I told you that communicating like this is a pain in the ass? I don't understand why you people refuse to use all the knowledge you have access to.” The alien who we met on the pirate station sounds entirely too cheerful.

Min and Sam let out a combined sigh of relief.

“It's just a Hob,” Min comments.

“Yes, I thought that the Cyber found us and that we are fucked,” Sam adds with relief.

I look back at the children. “You know him?”

Hob answers my question. “It would be more accurate to call me an 'it', as you humans have no way of understanding Hob's nature.” It wriggles. “On the same account, I also have a hard time making sense of you. At least you understand the concept of trade, I suppose.”

Apparently unhappy with the way it is displayed, Hob adjusts the angle of the camera. “It seems that you are assuming that I am the same individual as the one who you met at the pirate station. That's wrong, though, I am also Hob. We are many, yet we are one. It's the best way to describe it to individuals like you.”

Min leans forward and opens a private connection with all of us. Using it, she quickly explains without Hob being able to overhear the conversation.

'Hob is an alien gestalt-mind which controls their whole race. They are spread all over the galaxy and hoard knowledge like a dragon its treasure. Tell one Hob something, and all of them know. Several factions within the V.C. suspect that they are actually like us, fused with their technology. But instead of hiding out and keeping their minds and personality separate, the whole race fused into one being.'

'Why would they do such a thing? And why doesn't the G.S. attack them too?' Lisandra asks.

'We think that the G.S. don't know. Also, the Hob isn't keen on interacting with government bodies. Why do you think you encountered one of its peripherals on a pirate station?' She huffs. 'Be that as it may, Hob probably has found an interest in something we have. They always want just one thing: trade.'

Hob wriggles, apparently annoyed with our lack of response. “Are you interested in equivalent exchange? Yes or no?”

“Yes?” I answer, turning the reply into a question.

“Good. I am contacting you because one of my informants made me aware of something interesting. During a recent confrontation with a shadow group of the G.S., your ship took a hit from one of their plasma weapons. Your armour prevented any significant damage. Yet, according to everything I know, you shouldn't have access to anything comparable. I gave you a decent tech-base, but none of it should have enabled you to create such a strong armour. At least not that quickly. Either you have access to an industrial base which I know nothing about, or you came up with something new and interesting.”

'Hob wants the diamond armour,' Silith broadcasts. 'Is it really that special to be of interest to him? We invested a few days in refining the concept, but I never realized that it's anything important.'

I didn't either. To be honest, I just shook the solution out of my sleeve to make the best use of the available materials. I have already a few far more promising projects in my research queue.

'To us, it isn't,' Sam interjects. 'It requires the nano-tech to manipulate matter on an atomic level. At the same time, you need the mathematical expertise and calculation power to arrange the atoms correctly. You may have realized that the S.C. were trying to utilize your mathematical gifts. The nano-tech inside our bodies works on principles which are rooted in real quantum computing. Which means utilizing real quantum effects. While you may not be aware of it, each of our bodies is the equivalent of several planet-wide server farms when we compare it to conventional electronic devices.'

Min continues. 'Hob probably has access to a similar tech-base, though I am not sure about nano-assemblers. In any case, it doesn't mean that he had the idea of utilizing it in such a way.'

Silith smiles and turns her attention towards the screen. “What would you exchange for our armour? We aren't exactly in need of anything.”

Hob curls in on itself, apparently a gesture of contemplation. “You mean that you don't know of anything you need, but I know of things you do need.” It bobs, happy with its choice of words. “I could feed you political and economic information. I could give you information about your next quest, which saves you time.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you know about our quest?”

“Enough,” Hob answers evasively. “I am well aware of how you humans avoided mental breakdown by transcending the limits of your minds. I know that the bodies in front of me are just the hardware, that the V.C. and G.O.D. transcend your physical bodies, though I admit that I never managed to penetrate your little pocket dimension.”

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I relax in my chair. “Then why don't you negotiate directly with G.O.D. or the V.C.?”

“Because I didn't know that I want something from them.” Hob wriggles. “How can you know that you want something if you've never seen it. And to be honest, negotiating directly with G.O.D. is very tedious. I don't want to do it. It's like talking to someone with multiple personality disorder.”

Min giggles. 'He hasn't realized that G.O.D. isn't just one person.'

Silith takes over when it becomes clear that we won't get anywhere this way. Instead of asking for more mundane information, as Hob calls it, she asks Hob to warn us if he becomes aware of any danger heading our way. It's clear that the blue alien has its spindly fingers dug deep inside the S.C.'s government.

Strangely enough, Silith also asks for a detailed compendium of human lore and history, which Hob is all too happy to provide as a bonus. When I ask where it got the information, Hob simply waves away the matter, explaining that any culture's legacy can be gained by simply listening to the background chatter of the universe.

I suppose that Hob simply placed an observation platform a few thousand light years away from Earth and listened to the transmissions of random satellites. In any case, such a project would require gigantic effort. I slowly become wary of the blue alien. The sensor platform and equipment to pick up and make sense of any signal received from such a distance must be immense.

Finally, we submit the information and Hob stretches in silent frustration upon seeing the specifications of our diamond armour. “It seems like I have to develop nano-assemblers for that.” It lets out an all too human sigh, like a child who got tasked with a particularly tedious homework. “Whatever. A deal is a deal. The first warning is this, don't continue to your next quest marker. It's a trap, and your quest is already failed.”

Silith raises both eyebrows as she, I, and all the others get a souring system message.

G.O.D.: Quest Failed! You didn't reach the destination in time. Be quicker in the future. G.O.D.: New Quest: Find another means!

“How-”

“Hob simply knows such things,” the alien speaks in the third person and gestures with a spindly appendage. “By now, even the slow thinkers in the G.S. realized that you were freeing their test subjects. They terminated all projects in your immediate vicinity, killing the subjects. All that awaits you at your destination is a trap. I suggest going the other way. Hide somewhere in the galactic fringe...” Hob continues to give us a few well-meant suggestions.

Finally, he calls it a day and promises to visit again, should he hear of anything that's of interest to us. He doesn't seem to find it necessary to ask how to find us.

After cutting the connection, I turn around and find Sam and Min with unusually grim expressions. I can understand them. Our failed quest means that another human died, possibly forever, without ever learning of his or her true heritage.

It also means that we are now stuck with the option of accepting one of the prisoners as the fourth progenitor. Or we have to embark on a long voyage to Sol... hoping that there may be a way to break the siege.