Location - somewhere in the Olian Cloud -

The lights on Zendichez goggles flickered with satisfaction as he pulled the shard from the fusion reactor. Not a single scratch could be seen, and it's surface temperature dropped extremely quickly as if nothing had happened. It would seem that even the hottest conditions his lab could conjure up wasn't enough to damage it. He figured as much; he wouldn't risk putting the shard under such conditions if he hadn't been fully confident in it's resilience. His durability tests were almost complete. He had attempted to crush, cut, stretch, electrocute, melt, shoot, detonate and every other stress test he could think of in a laboratory as extensive as his, but the shard experienced no physical change at any level.

Zendichez made his way to his desk to finalise and record his final examinations. After scanning the shard, he found, as he had before, that none of his experiments so much as changed the perfectly smooth surface, even on a microscopic level. He tapped his finger on the surface of his unkept desk, prompting a holographic computer interface to appear before him. He entered his password into a keyboard that used the Juridonian alphabet. The interface then transformed into a series of windows, each of which represented the various phases of his research. His recordings were written in different languages and levels of encryption, often in the same sentence, as well as using various other coded languages including galactic Void, but never in the common tongue. This way, should his research somehow fall into the wrong hands, they would have difficulty deciphering any of it.

After entering in and finalising his findings in the "Durability" folder, Zendichez moved his gaze over to the "Atoms" window. A single sentence for that one, "Atomic makeup: Unknown. Mutable." This had frustrated him in particular. Whatever elements this was made up of, it was nowhere on the known galactic periodic table, and it seemed to react to no other element or compound, nor did any element or compound react to it.

Zendichez turned his attention back to the shard, "What are you?" He asked it.

The inanimate shard did not respond, so he turned his attention back to the interface. To his left, sat a small red bet labelled in Arkian: "Record." He pushed it, and he was shown his face, the backdrop of his lab behind him. Zendichez straightened his posture before speaking,
"Final cycle since my experiments began. So far, the shard is immune to all forms of harm that I am able to inflict here in this lab, which compels me to come to the conclusion that it is essentially indestructible, at least in a conventional sense. It contains 500 yottabytes of information. The seas of information on this shard alone are easily equivalent to whole planetary data systems. I have whole caches of schematics for arsenals beyond any current technologies. Reams of details on countless undiscovered systems, their ecosystems and planetary resources. And I have only scratch the surface. Which makes me think if one single shard contains this much info one has to wonder wha..." Zendichez was interrupted when he slipped out of consciousness for a brief moment, the lights on his goggles blinking out of sight. His body nearly fell from his chair before the lights of the world came back to him. He gathered himself quickly, bracing hard on the table. He looked at his likeness on the screen. Trying to process what had just happened. His thoughts were almost gathered before his consciousness blinked out again, only to bring him back just as quickly.

He realized what was happening, quickly jolting back up and heading toward the hidden door that blended seamlessly to the wall. A familiar buzzing began in his head. It was happening more abruptly than usual. The door opened at the motion, and Moham entered the room.

Out of consciousness again, then back. He had fallen to the floor, he was out longer this time, perhaps a full second. Zendichez quickly got up, and closed the door behind him. He looked around the room. Dozens of synth sleeves of all shapes littered the place. Many were stacked neatly on shelves, some were simply laid out on the edges of the room. These sleeves came into his possession in a multitude of ways. Most were brought as a trading piece, some he had stolen, some he found, some he had grown himself. At the end of the room was a machine with two chairs. One was filled by an empty sleeve, the other was empty. He made his way to the empty chair, and sat himself down.

Out of consciousness again. He awoke to find he had gone limp in his chair. He burst back into movement. The buzzing had turned into pain now, all throughout his syth body. He frantically pressed buttons preparing the machine, which whirred into activation. The machine began to move, placing devices upon his head and that of the next sleeve he had selected. Another, larger part of the machine enclosed the two in a steel cocoon.

He went out of consciousness before he saw the large metal arms close around him and his next body. He awoke again to find himself in the dark, a small green button sitting to his left. Without hesitation, he pressed it. In the blink of an eye, he was somewhere else, like he had teleported directly to his left. He looked to his right to find himself, or what had been him, sitting limp in the chair he had once occupied. Relief came over him. He didn't realise how weak that sleeve was, a miscalculation he'd be sure to not make again. He knew this one was strong, though. He wished the sleeves would last longer, but he still had not cracked that equation. The synth sleeves were not meant to last long and consciousness transfers meant to be provisional only. That cursed project started so long ago was costing him much. His original body long gone. He had no choice but to constantly jump from husk to husk. To stay alive. To stay away from the darkness.

Zendichez clicked a few buttons to deactivate the machine. The head-device retracted, and the cocoon opened up. Once the way was clear, he stood. This sleeve was shorter than the other one, just by a few inches. No matter. He turned to his former shell, retrieved his goggles and dragged it out of the room, through the hidden door, through the lab, and hoisted it into the fusion reactor. He took the time to watch it burn before turning back to his desk...

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