The control room was the one they had seen in the recordings. The lights lightened up immediately as they stepped inside. In the middle of the room, a large chair, looking like a barber’s chair, and a big desk, the Captain’s. The spy walked his finger on the desk, thinking about his ancestor.

“Genetic marker present. Mind waking up in three, two, one,” spoke a voice.

And suddenly, a shiny woman in her late fifties appeared in their midst.

“AH! A FAIRY!” shouted Faredhiel, jumping back.

“Goodness, please, not savages!” said the apparition.

“Is she a recording, too?” asked Istaìnn.

“I’m no such thing, young man. I’m… oh, shoot. The barrier has broken... and is broken for good, cannot repair it... Sorry, what was I saying? No, I’m not a recording. I’m the operating system. Artificial intelligence with the appearance of the Captain’s aunt. But how comes that you, the one with the genetic imprint of the Captain, don’t know who am I?” she asked.

“Well, a long time has passed…” he tried to say.

“I have an atomic clock at my disposal, thank you, I know exactly how much time had passed. Why didn’t your family preserve the knowledge of my existence, passing it from generation to generation?”

Maybe because they had their own stuff to do and didn’t care? thought the spy.

“We don’t know,” said Feyra. “You are saying that you are an intelligent piece of machinery? That’s… amazing!”

“I have some solid parts, but most of me is what you see, a hologram…”

“Look, we’ll figure this later,” said the spy. “For now, we really need your help in an important matter. The Others have returned.”

“The who?” asked the woman, surprised.

“Those you stole the ship from… They survived and thrived on the Second Moon, and now they are back.”

“Oh, the hierarchs of the Potentate multinational! The CEOs... I see it now. Well, what can I do for you? Do you need some strategic advice?”

“No, we need you to start the Reactor!” explained Faredhiel.

“And give us control over it. Those fake quacking ducks in that cauldron are giving the Others magical powers,” continued Heyra. “HEY! Why are you laughing at me? You too?”

The woman's image calmed down, but slowly.

“Oh, Goodness! I didn’t even know I was able to laugh. That was precious. Ducks and quacks! Well, what you want is not possible, but I’ll try to explain it to you in a simpler language. Where is that kindergarten educational software again? ”

“You make very bad jokes,” said Feyra.

“Thank you, dear. Now, please elaborate; what makes you think that starting the Reactor will solve your problems?”

They started their story, and because they already had the experience of telling it before, they finished it in less than five minutes. The Mind remained deep in thoughts.

“Well… I’d say that if those Others are really coming here with an army, you are pretty much screwed. Not that I don’t believe you, because I have a lie detector incorporated, but nothing in what you say makes sense. Not the slightest part. Somewhere there is a mistake.”

“No, it’s not a mistake,” protested the spy. “Look at that half baked sardine on the other side of the door. Is he an illusion? They are coming, I’m telling you, and we need to stop them.”

“That they are coming, I believe. But what for, not. The only thing around which could present some interest to them is my database. I store an invaluable amount of scientific data. But the Reactor part is pure fantasy, I assure you.”

“Still, dear lady…,” began Faredhiel.

“Look, elf, all your theories are aberrations. There is no incompatibility between the Reactor and Magic; the Reactor does not work this way. Second, that power giving thing is a myth too. There is no way the Reactor could give magical powers to someone. Absolutely not.”

“But…” tried the elf.

“But not possible.”

“Still…” he tried again.

“Still not possible. It can not be. And to be clear, both the things which made you come here, the fear of the explosion, and the power to the Others, are impossible. Impossible.”

“But…,” the elf whispered in sorrow, then silence fell.

“Dear sir,” began the woman in a compassionate yet condescending tone, I bring to your attention the following facts. First, the Captain made me one last visit before he and the rest of the family retired to the Southern Islands. He was very, very old, I’d say maybe one hundred or sixty, or more. Magic users live long lives. If they don’t kill each other, that is. We had a chat, for old’s time's sake. He told me explicitly that the Others’ ship crashed. He even said to me how. After they attacked the Old City with a nuke, Santiago, the Captain’s son, had remotely disabled their controls by magic to stop them from launching other nukes.”

“Those being?” asked Feyra.

“Atomic Bombs who can obliterate a whole city, leaving behind only ashes.”

“Ah, the anatomic things!” exclaimed Faedhiel, and the woman continued after throwing him a glare.

“That’s the truth, so no such thing as incompatibility exists. If you calculate how much energy a ship so big moving very fast delivers, it’s consistent with the Continent's damage. As for the second part, the magical powers, that’s even a more idiotic theory. Our Reactor can not grant magical powers, and that’s it.”

“Are you sure?” asked the spy.

“Let me think. Hm… yes, I’m sure.”

“What makes you so sure?” continued the spy.

“Oh, Providence! You’re really getting on my nerves!”

“Maybe there is a hidden sense in Quenya for Istaìnn,” joked Heyra. “The Exasperating Chosen One. Or the Aggravating Hero. Or…”

“Thank you so very much!” said the spy, really upset and hurt.

Her reaction surprised him. She gasped, blushed, and rushed to hug him.

“I apologize, Istainn; you didn’t deserve that. After all that you’ve done for us, how could I’ve been so crass? Please accept my apologies!”

He remained silent, not because he wanted to, but the sensation to feel her in his arms was inebriating.

“And the sky is falling!” said Feyra. “I lived to hear the Queen of Sarcasm apologizing. Do you know that all boys who liked her ran away in tears after one or two days of courting?”

“Well, it’s refreshing to know they didn’t stay around, but for now, let’s think about our mission. Our friends are risking their lives to buy us time as we speak. Are you absolutely sure that the Reactor is not giving powers to the Others?” asked the spy yet again.

“What do you think happens to a ship once you don’t need it anymore?” asked the Mind abruptly. “It gets dismantled. They took everything from it, everything they could use or recycle, furniture, cables, everything. The Reactor is long gone. It cannot function because it doesn’t exist anymore. They used the plasma conduits for the Citadel’s sewage if you can imagine! Look, I’ll show you something.”

From the floor, a pedestal appeared. On it, a shiny multifaceted object, a fist's size, looking like a diamond.

“This is the last piece of the Reactor; it’s called the Certitude Inductor. It had no use whatsoever except for making the wormholes safe, so it was left behind. I’m telling you: if they want something here, it’s my memory.”