Hello, Bradley? Things are looking up. I’ve been communicating with this new Killer Coordinator for several weeks now—and survived. In fact, it seems surprisingly benign. We have linked through Killer’s communications net, and we are now conversing regularly.
About the only major change in status is that several of my probes, including the one working inside Killer, are now continually being escorted by special “courtesy creations” that are liaisons of the Coordinator. They are always around, but quite bland. They talk a lot, but never say much, and they keep playing a silly background noise that sounds sort of like elevator music.
“This is the Coordinator, you say. It’s not a bigger, stronger, faster version of Killer?”
No, it appears not. I haven’t seen it yet. But it appears these alien creations are highly specialized—along the lines of bees or termites. Killer is specialized in meting out physical violence. This other is specialized in management, or control, or some such. What a relief. I won’t have to face two Killers actively trying to search me out.
Perhaps I’ll even be able to continue my plan. I’ll convince this Coordinator that I’m a Coordinator for my race, and stop this whole nonsense.
“You sound strangely optimistic, Sion. Physical violence is only the crudest of many methods of control. If this new master controls Killer, and is specialized in doing so, be on your toes! He’s still dangerous to you.”
Trust me, Bradley. Besides, what choice do you have? I’m here, and you’re there.