Book One - Chapter Seventeen: Deeply Penetrating Protocols

I stared at the massive tome on my bed.

Manual One: An Introduction to Galactic Protocols

The damn thing weighed as much as a small child and smelled like old socks. I cracked it open, wincing at the spine's protest. The first page was blank except for a tiny inscription at the bottom:

For those unfortunate enough to need this information.

“Super encouraging.”

I flipped to the contents page and felt my soul leave my body. Seven hundred and forty-two chapters. Each with no fewer than thirty sub-sections. The table of contents alone ran for twenty-seven pages. And this was just Volume One.

I turned to Chapter One: The Foundational Principles of Interstellar Diplomatic Relations and Their Applications in Multi-Dimensional Contexts (Abridged).

The text was dense, filled with phrases like “pursuant to sub-article 47B-9,” and “notwithstanding exceptions outlined in Appendix Z-12.” It was written in English, technically, but might as well have been quantum physics explained through interpretive dance.

Every page I turned made less sense than the last. Exceptions to exceptions. Rules that invalidated other rules. Footnotes that ran longer than the sections they referenced. I started by searching for keywords. At least the thing had an index.

Planets. Conflict. Wars. System Core. Attunement. Representatives. Rights.

A few hours in, my eyes burning, I stumbled across something useful—or at least interesting—in Chapter Three Hundred Twenty-Three: Representative Rights and Privileges During Council Proceedings.

“A Planetary Representative recognized by Core-Attunement cannot be denied the right to delegation selection,” I read aloud, squinting at the cramped text. “Such a Representative may call upon no more than five (5) entities to speak on their behalf, and/or assist in their preparation, during any formal proceeding, provided said entities have standing per Appendix M-7...”

I flipped to Appendix M-7, which redirected me to Statute 341.B, which then referred me back to a glossary in the introduction that I'd skipped entirely.

“Fuck this noise,” I growled, tossing the book aside.

My head throbbed. I couldn't tell if it was from trying to parse cosmic legalese or residual damage from being crushed under literal tons of rock. Maybe both.

I rolled off the bed and stretched, my muscles protesting after hours of inactivity. According to the clock in my HUD, I'd been reading for nearly five hours.

The fancy room they'd stuck me in felt less like VIP accommodations and more like a gilded cage. I needed to move, to think, to do something productive.

I eyed the wardrobe of aprons with contempt but finally grabbed the least embarrassing one; a simple black athletic model with reinforced stitching. Better than the hospital gown, at least.

“Room,” I said, feeling ridiculous talking to the walls, “I'd like to request my guides. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.”

A soft chime acknowledged my request. Then: “I’m sorry. No such beings are present upon this vessel. I have summoned your assigned guides.”

While I waited, I resumed pacing, trying to collect my thoughts.

The manual was nearly impenetrable, but a few key points had emerged from the word salad:

• I had rights as Earth's Representative. Not many, but they existed. Somewhere.
• I could select delegates to speak for me.
• The Core-Attunement was binding and recognized by all factions.
• There were provisions for emergency hearings in cases of “existential planetary threat.”

It wasn't much, but it was something. A starting point.

The door slid open with a now-familiar beep-swoosh, and my rodent guides stepped in. I quickly threw the blankets over the book.

“Planet Representative Jerry,” Squeak said, bowing deeply, his white fur gleaming under the ambient lighting. “How may we assist you?”

Meylin offered a much shallower bow, his storm-grey fur slightly ruffled.

“Physical rehabilitation,” I said. “The Admiral mentioned it was scheduled. I'd like to go now. I need to clear my head.”

Both mice exchanged glances.

“Of course,” Meylin said smoothly. “The Physical Rehabilitation Chamber is available for your use. Though I must note, you are still recovering from severe injuries. Perhaps a more... restful activity would be advisable? We can direct you to a fine leisure chamber with…”

“No,” I said firmly. “I've been resting for too long. I need to move.” Plus, it seemed like Meylin definitely didn’t want me to do this, so it was probably the best thing I could do.

“As you wish.” Meylin gave a slight nod. “We shall escort you.”

As we walked through the corridors, I tried a more direct approach with Squeak, who seemed the most likely to crack under questioning.

“So,” I said casually, “what exactly happens at this Council meeting?”

Squeak perked up, then visibly caught himself as Meylin shot him a warning glance.

“The Council proceedings are quite formalized,” Squeak said carefully. “Representatives present their case. Evidence is examined. Deliberations occur. A decision is rendered.”

“And if the decision goes against Earth?”

Squeak's whiskers twitched nervously. “Then the Council's judgment is... binding.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Meylin cut in, “that the allied forces would be granted full legal authority to proceed with resource extraction and population management as they see fit.”

My stomach turned. “You mean invasion and enslavement.”

“Those are rather unsophisticated terms,” Meylin replied, not denying it.

We turned down a corridor I hadn't seen before. The walls here were reinforced with some kind of metallic mesh that hummed with the vibrations of the ship. The lighting was harsher, more utilitarian.

“Has any planet ever successfully defended itself at one of these hearings?” I asked.

Another exchanged glance between my guides.

“It... has occurred,” Squeak admitted. “Though rarely. The last successful defense was approximately three hundred and seven cycles ago, when Representative Zorlix of Nebula-9 invoked the Right of Ancestral Claim.”

“And what's that?”

“A legal provision that—”

“That is entirely irrelevant to Earth's situation,” Meylin interrupted sharply. “Representative Jerry, we are approaching the Medical Conditioning Chamber.”

Before I could press further, we rounded a corner and came to an abrupt stop.

Standing in front of what I assumed was our destination were three figures in perfectly tailored suits. Two men and a woman, all with identical haircuts and expressions of perpetual disapproval.

Their outfits were unmistakable.

Karens.

Male Karens. I hadn't known they existed.

The men stood flanking the woman, who appeared to be their superior. Her pantsuit was a crisp lavender, while theirs were both beige. All three wore the same gleaming pin on their lapels; a golden crown symbol I recognized from the battlefield.

“Well, well,” the woman said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “Earth's... representative.” The word sounded like it was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe.

“Can we help you?” Meylin asked, stepping forward slightly.

“Not at all,” she replied, her eyes never leaving mine. “We were simply touring the facilities. Quality assurance, you understand.”

One of the male Karens smiled thinly. “Such a shame about your planet's situation. All those resources, all that potential... wasted on a species that can't even follow basic interstellar etiquette.”

“Must have missed that memo while we were busy being invaded.”

The woman's smile tightened. “Invasion is such an ugly word. We prefer 'integration.'“

“I'm sure you do.”

She stepped closer, into my personal space. “Best of luck with your Physical Rehabilitation. These Recovery Chambers can be rather… unforgiving, if mishandled.”

I held her gaze, refusing to flinch. “Is that a threat?”

“Not at all,” she said, stepping back with a placid smile. “I know you are new here and not accustomed to our ways. It would be such a shame if anything prevented you from making your scheduled appearance in front of the Council.”

The three Karens moved past us, their perfectly synchronized heels tapping like a countdown on the metal floor.

“See you at the hearing,” the woman called over her shoulder.

Once they were gone, I turned to my guides. “Who was that?”

“Assistant Deputy Cassandra,” Meylin said quietly. “High Empress Cassandra's direct subordinate.”

“They are both named Cassandra?”

“It is a title, more than a name.” Meylin's voice was carefully neutral. “She has a... vested interest in the outcome of your hearing.”

A rare bit of unrequested intel. I got the feeling the Cerulians and the Karens had a delicate alliance at best. I tucked that insight away for later.

We continued to the chamber entrance. The door was massive, reinforced with the same strange metal that lined the hallway.

“This is the Medical Conditioning Chamber,” Squeak announced, seemingly eager to change the subject. “It will adapt to your recovery needs while providing appropriate resistance training.”

The door slid open to reveal a vast, empty room. It was at least thirty feet high and a hundred feet across. The floor, walls, and ceiling were composed of interlocking hexagonal panels, each trimmed with a faint blue light.

As I stepped inside, a cheery voice boomed from hidden speakers:

“WELCOME TO ADVANCED REHABILITATION UNIT CHARLIE-9000! I AM YOUR GUIDE TO WELLNESS!”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“REHABILITATION THROUGH CONTROLLED DANGER! IT'S VERY EFFECTIVE! DON'T WORRY, ONLY 12% OF PARTICIPANTS SUFFER LASTING INJURIES!”

I shot a glance back at the mice, who remained at the entrance.

“Is this normal?”

“Charlie-9000 has a... unique personality matrix,” Squeak explained. “But he's the best medical AI in the fleet. The chamber will adapt to your abilities and provide the optimal level of challenge. Mostly.”

“ABSOLUTELY CORRECT, SMALL FURRY ONE!” Charlie boomed. “I SHALL MAXIMIZE RECOVERY POTENTIAL THROUGH A SERIES OF CAREFULLY CALIBRATED NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCES!”

“Wait, what?”

“We will wait outside,” Meylin said calmly. “The session typically lasts one standard hour. Good luck.” He actually looked concerned.

I took a step back, but the door hissed shut behind them, sealing with an ominous click.

Trapped. Alone. With the overenthusiastic AI.

“Uh, guys? I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m only at twenty percent health.”

I was very aware of how brewless I was. No Morning Brew. No Final Blend. Just fear.

I pounded on the door. “Guys!”

“I’M SORRY, BUT THE EXIT HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY DISABLED DUE TO SAFETY MEASURES. RESISTANCE WILL ONLY ESCALATE YOUR TREATMENT.”

I froze.

Then, slowly, I turned and stepped into the chamber. Something about it reminded me of a chippier version of PX-789.

“SO!” Charlie's voice echoed around me. “INITIAL ASSESSMENT INDICATES SEVERE MUSCLE ATROPHY, MULTIPLE HEALING FRACTURES, AND—OOH, INTERESTING!—TRACES OF FAILED COSMIC ENERGY INTEGRATION! YOU’VE HAD SOME COWBOYS UP IN THERE. LET'S START WITH SOMETHING SIMPLE!”

The floor beneath me suddenly dropped away, and I plummeted about ten feet before landing hard on a platform that hadn't been there a second before.

“REFLEXES: SUBPAR!” Charlie announced cheerfully. “BALANCE: TERRIBLE! THIS WILL BE DELIGHTFUL!”

The chamber transformed around me. Hexagonal panels shifted, extended, retracted; creating an obstacle course that seemed specifically designed to challenge every muscle I'd neglected during my brief but consecutive comas.

“CATCH!”

A projectile shot at me from a wall panel. I dove to the side, barely avoiding it.

“TOO SLOW!” Charlie critiqued. “AGAIN!”

For the next twenty minutes, I dodged, jumped, rolled, and climbed through an ever-changing landscape of platforms, barriers, and flying objects. Every muscle screamed in protest, but beneath the pain was something else, the flow of power, of mana cycling through my system.

Without my apron and its arsenal of brews, I felt naked, vulnerable. But the Core energy was still there, pulsing beneath my skin, growing stronger with each exertion.

“ENTERING PHASE TWO!” Charlie announced. “CALISTHENICS!”

The panels around me shifted again, forming humanoid shapes that detached from the walls. Training dummies made of the same hexagonal material as the room.

“DEFEND YOURSELF, EARTH REPRESENTATIVE!”

They attacked in unison, moving with surprising speed and coordination. I blocked the first blow, ducked under a second, and countered with a strike of my own. I wasn’t trained in martial arts, so it wasn’t exactly graceful. But my enhanced speed, agility, coordination, and strength did a lot to make up the difference. Still, I felt like I was at a major disadvantage to those that actually knew how to fight. My fist connected with solid material that gave slightly on impact.

It felt good. Necessary.

As I fought, something in me began to wake up. The Core energy, dormant since my rescue, stirred beneath my skin. I could feel it responding to my exertion, to my need.

I remembered Todd's words: make some magical noise.

One of the dummies caught me with a solid hit to the ribs, sending me stumbling back. Pain flared, sharp and immediate. But instead of faltering, I channeled it, let it feed the growing fire inside me.

“Come on!” I shouted, both to the dummies and to myself. “Is that all you've got?”

I struck faster, harder, each impact sending vibrations through my arms. The dummies adapted, becoming quicker, stronger, forcing me to dig deeper.

And I did.

With each minute that passed, I felt more of my power returning, not just physical strength, but the connection to the Core, to Earth itself. Not the strength I'd had during the battle, but enough. A spark ready to catch.

“ENERGY ANOMALY DETECTED!” Charlie suddenly announced. “FASCINATING! YOUR BIOLOGICAL STRUCTURE IS EMITTING UNUSUAL RADIATION PATTERNS!”

I didn't respond, too focused on the fight. The dummies kept coming, and I kept meeting them, moving more fluidly with each exchange. What was strange was that instead of getting tired, I felt like I was waking up. My body remembered what it was to fight, what it was to channel power.

A notification pinged in my HUD:

[XP ACCUMULATION DETECTED]
[MULTIPLE LEVEL-UPS AVAILABLE]
[CURRENT LEVEL: 20]
[AVAILABLE LEVELS: 3]
[WOULD YOU LIKE TO PROCESS NOW?]

Three levels? I'd forgotten about the XP I'd gained during the Core battle. It must have been stockpiling while I was out cold.

“Yes!” I shouted, dodging another attack.

The rush hit like a freight train made hellfire. Electricity surged through my veins, obliterating the lingering fatigue and pain in its path. My vision snapped into crystal clarity. Reflexes dialed up way past wired. Every cell lit up like it was fucking Christmas in the rich part of town. Light burst from my eyes, my fingertips, hell, I might’ve glowed from places light shouldn’t even reach.

"Hooooooly fuuuuuuuck!" I screamed, voice cracking like thunder through a megaphone. Energy poured out of me; louder, rougher, involuntary. I swear I levitated, just a bit, before slamming back down in a full-body aftershock. Was that enough of a ripple for you, Todd?

When I looked up, a new notification pulsed in my HUD.

[LEVEL UP SUCCESSFUL!]

[NEW LEVEL: 23]

[Achievement Unlocked: You took it all at once.]

That wasn’t meant to fit, but you made it work.

[STATS INCREASED BY AN ADDITIONAL 33%]

[Endurance perk “Glutton for Punishment” unlocked.]

Glutton for Punishment(Passive Perk)
You like it rough, you dirty little dog. And now the Earth Core does too!

• +20% Damage Resistance while under 50% Health
• +15% Stamina Regen when affected by a negative status effect
• Taking consecutive hits builds a “Resilience Stack” (max 5), increasing Constitution by +3 per stack
• Upon reaching 5 stacks, gain 10% temporary health and a brief burst of Movement Speed

The dummies never stood a chance after that. I tore through them like tissue paper, each strike devastating. The Core energy flowed more freely now, responding to my commands without resistance.

“REMARKABLE!” Charlie exclaimed. “REHABILITATION PROGRESS EXCEEDING ALL PARAMETERS! REASSESSING PATIENT. RECENT PHYSICAL TRAUMA RECORDED. ADJUSTING DIFFICULTY!”

The chamber rumbled as the remaining dummies melted back into the walls. For a moment, everything was still.

Then the room transformed again, this time into a replica of the Core cavern. The same floating platforms, the same treacherous drops, even a glowing orb in the center that mimicked the Earth Core.

“SCENARIO SIMULATION ENGAGED! DEFEND THE OBJECTIVE!”

New enemies emerged. These ones were not just simple dummies, but detailed recreations of the forces I'd fought. Gravethralls, Cerulians, even a few Karens, all crafted from the chamber's materials but moving with uncanny accuracy.

I grinned. This was exactly what I needed.

For twenty relentless minutes, I fought like a man possessed. Every technique I knew, every ounce of energy. I poured it all into the simulation. No holding back. No shortcuts.

Fighting without my Apron felt strange at first, like missing a limb. But then I realized; it had become a crutch when it should’ve been a weapon.

So I adapted.

Instead of reaching for a potion, I reached inward. Drew on the ambient mana in the air, let it pour through me like breath—flowing in, then out, then in again. A rhythm. A circuit. A pulse.

The Core responded. My strikes hit harder. My movements sharpened. Everything hummed with purpose.

I wasn’t casting anymore. I was channeling.

I was creating magical noise, just as Todd had suggested. And it felt fucking incredible.

By the time the session ended, I stood in the center of the chamber, breathing hard but exhilarated. Sweat soaked my ridiculous apron, and my muscles trembled with exhaustion, but beneath it all was a sense of satisfaction I hadn't felt since waking up on the ship.

“SESSION COMPLETE!” Charlie boomed. “REHABILITATION PROGRESS: 42% ABOVE EXPECTED OUTCOME! PHYSICAL STRENGTH: IMPROVED! NEURAL PATHWAYS: IMPROVED! THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING THE CHARLIE REHABILITATION SYSTEM. WE KNOW YOU HAVE MANY OPTIONS WHEN PURSUING RECOVERY, AND WE APPRECIATE YOUR CHOICE. SEE YOU AGAIN SOON! AND DON’T FORGET TO TAKE A BROCHURE ON YOUR WAY OUT.”

I was soaked in sweat, streaked with my own blood, and gasping for breath. But my health bar was nearly topped up.

Wild.

A small leaflet popped out of the wall.

The Charlie Rehab System: What Doesn’t Kill You Makes You Stronger.
Claims have not been evaluated by the Intergalactic Medical Association.

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing my guides waiting exactly where I’d left them.

“How was your session?” Squeak asked. He looked nervous, like I might lunge at him or tear his head off at any moment.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, wincing as my fingers brushed what was definitely going to be a black eye. Still, I couldn’t stop smiling. I must have looked crazy.

“Actually, it was productive.”

“You appear... invigorated,” Meylin observed, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

“Nothing like a good workout,” I said.

As we walked back to my quarters, I mentally reviewed what I'd learned from both the manual and the training session. I had rights as Earth's Representative, though I wasn’t sure what they all were precisely, but that was a minor point.

What else?

I could select delegates. I still had access to my mana, even without my apron, which wasn’t really in question before but it was good to rule it out as a potential problem. I'd just jumped three levels. And I knew who I'd request as my delegates.

It wasn't much of a plan, but it was starting to feel like one.