Vigilance without consequence is the first step on a path toward a ruinous end.

  First Arbiter of the Grand Restoration

  Far above the Forge, the current bane of Duxon’s existence stood silently before a large, brightly illuminated screen and sighed loudly. Around him, the inner workings of his personal command center hummed with cascading lights as a dozen other smaller screens collected info from the hundreds of other habitable planets in this sector.

  Normally, the comings and goings of the various races on these planets went blissfully unnoticed by the Arbiters who oversaw them. After all, what interest did he have in the plans of creatures far too insignificant to matter on a cosmic scale. Sure, these instances of pebbles being tossed into a vast ocean were recorded for later analysis. But they were hardly acted upon.

  Of course, that type of planetary scale apathy did not extend to murder. Because murder, no matter how powerless or inconsequential the victim, was not a matter to be overlooked. On the contrary, the murder of a sentient life form was an affront to the first and most sacred of Arbiter law. And a Head Arbiter like himself responded to such sacrilege with unrelenting precision.

  Meanwhile, all the other trappings of life and politics were rather superfluous to his keen eyes. Still, time often felt like an infinite path to the watchers and not everything experienced in one’s duty rose to trigger those all-encompassing consequences. Hence, given enough boredom, even the mundane could interest the most discerning of gazes.

  Accepting that fact, it was with a sense of morbid fascination that he found himself watching a screen full of mundane creatures making a whole slew of mundane decisions. Or to be more precise, the Head Arbiter watched with mild amusement as the conversation unfolded between the Forge Commander and the so-called leader of The Sisterhood of Choice.

  “It’s amazing how shadows and shrubbery can be mistaken for privacy.” Shaking his shrouded face, the Head Arbiter chuckled loudly before waving his hand horizontally in the air causing the screen to go dark. Sighing, he turned away from their useless machinations with an unnaturally athletic step. “Not that anything they’re saying requires hiding.”

  Weighing the options before him, the Head Arbiter walked over to each monitor in turn and spent a moment or so just scanning through the information they had been projecting up until now. What he found on those screens only confirmed his hands off approach was more than justified. Satisfied, he turned back to the main screen and stopped.

  “Report.” The solitary figure called out to no one in particular.

  Almost instantly, another video feed appeared on the large screen. This live picture showed a figure draped in shadows from the dim glow of distant firelight. Seemingly prepared to be called on, this person’s response rang out in both bright white letters on the screen and crystal-clear audio from three carefully placed speakers.

  “We’ve found the first Solon Leader, Arbiter Ashmin.” The figure paused their report and waited for another picture to appear beside them on the curved screen. This feed contained the still image of an unconscious and bedraggled Solon Fentee. “The southern leader was in the village of Mackrae. Apparently, the fool thought one more roll in the hay was necessary before he headed out to spend time with his workers.”

  “For them, Scylan. One more roll in the hay is more important than life itself.” Ashmin shifted his weight purposefully on the bare floor beneath his feet. Instantly, the surface directly behind him rippled like water before coalescing into a sturdy, padded chair. Without looking back at the new creation, he sat down. “What of the others? Any news?”

  “No, Arbiter Ashmin.” The figure edged closer within the video feed until more details could be made out. Details like how this figure was wearing similar clothes to the Head Arbiter and his guards. “My scouts have come up empty at most of the main villages. We’ll begin moving into the harvesting fields at first light.”

  “Do you foresee any problems?”

  “No,” Scylan said from behind his own warping mask. “Hunter Deloria has infiltrated one of the outbound parties. She should arrive sometime after dawn at the main granary. From there, it should be a simple matter of extracting the necessary information.”

  “Scylan,” Head Arbiter Ashmin leaned back and said with a weary voice. “Speed is of the essence, but don’t damage the locals too much.”

  “Level of pain?”

  “Low, old friend.” His body shifted slightly in his seat like the leader of the Arbiter contingent on Solon was uncomfortable discussing the finer points of torture. Which was weird because he absolutely wasn’t uncomfortable with the idea of torture. Not in the slightest. “Remember, these creatures are very important to the grand scheme.”

  “Understood, Head Arbiter.”

  “Knowing that limitation.” Ashmin placed his hand through the shrouding mask and began to massage some unseen portion of his face. As he did, a guttural sound akin to huffing escaped from inside the warped space. “Do you have an estimate for when we may begin our trial?”

  “The population of the planet has grown considerably over the years. Given such a large pool to search, I would say conservatively two cycles before all leaders are brought before you. One and a half if Hunter Deloria can be motivated properly.”

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  “How you motivate your hunters are none of my concern, Scylan.” Chuckling at the thought of Deloria being motivated, he waved his other hand in the air in a circular pattern. This gesture caused another section of floor began to rise and morph into a small table. On top of the table was a bowl of something very similar to large Earth grapes.

  Only these grapes shifted from side to side as if something was alive inside of them.

  Known throughout the universe as consequence fruit, these wiggling delicacies were revered by countless space travelers for their ability to satisfy any hunger, no matter what species consumed them. This miraculous feat was accomplished by way of an undifferentiated cell structure permeating the fruit’s outer core.

  A stable precursor substance, this gelatinous membrane waited to be ingested by a new set of taste buds. Once inside, the fruit would melt within the eater’s mouth without ever needing to chew. During this process, the precursor substance would rearrange its structure to fit the eater’s sensory clusters perfectly.

  This chemical pairing produced the most exquisite flavor ever experienced by the consumer of the fruit. Hence, the eater would not stop eating after only one grape. No, they would devour as much as they could find.

  Of course, food didn’t often provide such a tailored experience without getting something back in return. And that’s where the inner core comes into play. Because at the center of this forbidden fruit was the embryo of a Stark Fly. What is a Stark Fly? Well, a Stark Fly is a ravenous insect that can live inside the stomach of a small animal for weeks.

  Then, once the larvae matured, the newly guested creature would do anything within its power to escape from inside whatever poor animal munched on it for a snack. Such escapes were often messy and violent end for the host. However, that type of horrific ending only occurred to the smallest of creatures with the poorest of digestive systems.

  But for anything over four feet tall, the Stark Fly would simply be digested slowly over the course of a couple days. And during this digestion, the insect would fight back the only way it could by releasing a highly potent neurotoxin. One that caused the host to slip into a mild euphoric state for about an hour.

  So, depending on your size, the consequences of eating a consequence fruit would either be a gruesome death or getting slightly buzzed for a short time. An easy choice to make for large creatures with the means to procure them. But for anything else, going hungry was the more sensible/less bloody decision.

  “I can wait two days.” The Head Arbiter said as he plucked one of the living grapes with his other hand and pushed it through the outer contours of his warping mask. After a second, he pulled out his empty hand and moaned softly with satisfaction. “But no longer than that. We need to follow up on our primary orders.”

  “Speaking of those orders,” Scylan’s voice sounded almost reverent as he asked his next question. “What exactly are the Consciousness Protocols?”

  “Scylan,” Ashmin looked around at all the screens and the data they contained. How had they come to this precipice, he wondered. After all, the first Arbiters had crafted such meticulous plans in the beginning to prevent this outcome. Not to mention the ensuing legion who rallied around their call. Those untold beings had been so careful in bringing those plans to fruition.

  Still, intricate plans and dedicated followers mattered very little at this moment. Not when you had to explain the unexplainable to someone who deserved some answers. “The Consciousness Protocols are a set of contingency plans.”

  “For what?” Scylan asked.

  “For an event that hasn’t occurred in our universe in over 250,000 years. And please refrain from asking about the origins of that event. For I will not speak of such things so far from home. However, once this trial has concluded and our prisoner secured. We shall execute those protocols in a way Hunter Deloria would greatly appreciate.”

  “If the danger is that grave, should we not postpone the trial in favor of prudence? Maybe we should go directly to the rendezvous point and push aside this small thing?”

  “No, Scylan.” Ashmin plucked another wiggling grape from the bowl and proceeded to pop it directly into his veiled mouth. “First, I’m not sure if the danger is all that real. To speak plainly, we are talking about an impossible confluence of events that hasn’t occurred in hundreds of millennia.”

  The Head Arbiter shifted his wandering gaze back to the largest screen. “And second, the need for overaction is hopefully unwarranted. Still, I have already sent the twins ahead to secure the refueling station. Just in case.”

  “In case what, Head Arbiter?” Scylan, his own face veiled from view, had to make do with his voice cracking to imply his concern.

  “In case that impossible set of events has somehow found a way to return.”

  “Dare I ask what such a return would mean?”

  “You can dare to ask anything, Scylan. That’s what old friends do.” Ashmin leaned back against his newly formed chair and spent a moment trying to quantify the ramifications of such an occurrence taking place. Still rubbing some unseen portion of his face, the logical conclusions reached in those few moments made him visibly shudder beneath his shrouds. “But I would not dare to verbalize the answer to such a question.”

  “Head Arbiter?” The figure leaned closer to the recording device that allowed for their communication. Without removing his own warping mask, the figure tried to convey the doubt he was currently feeling. “Ashmin? Why would you hesitate to answer such a question?”

  “For two reasons. First, such explanations are better suited to ones higher in the command structure than myself. And secondly. Well, I’ll just say that such a return would threaten to unravel the tight grip on peace we currently hold. And by extension, throw the entire known universe into chaos.”

  "Ashmin?"

  “Now is not the time for worry, old friend.” The leader of the Arbiter contingent on Solon said with an unseen smile as he removed his hand from the swirling mass of bland colors and waved the table away. “The best thing you can do for me and our mission is to find those Solon leaders. The quicker we conclude this trial, the faster we can investigate these troublesome events for ourselves.”

  Without another word, the figure snapped to rigid attention. “Of course, Head Arbiter. I’ll have them to you within a cycle and a half.”

  “Thank you, Scylan. As always, your enthusiasm and loyalty make the long trek bearable.”

  Nodding curtly, his old friend dashed off into the night leaving only a darkened screen in his wake. Alone again, Ashmin Trenta turned off all the other monitors in his alcove with another wave of his hand. Quietly, he waited for the thoughts swimming around in his mind to become awash within the aftereffects of the consequence fruit.

  Until that happened though, a somber yet resolute Arbiter sat in his very comfortable chair and tried very hard not to think about a very uncomfortable future. He also thought about the lengths he would go to in preventing such a future. The options, whether cunning or bloody, seemed limitless.

  "For those who fell. No others shall fall."