THE POWER UNIT was a typical concrete box, seven meters tall. At its center stood another concrete box, lined with shielding panels. This inner box would house the future reactor of the first power unit. But since building a fusion reactor required high-tech production chains, the colonists initially used the reactor from their capsule.

  An energy conduit ran underground from the reactor, branching out in four directions.

  For a developed production system, one power unit wasn't enough. But this unit was called "First" and placed at the base's center because its main purpose was to power the organic synthesis chambers where synthesans would be reborn. Moreover, this power unit was manufactured on Earth, meaning its quality was hard to match in the colonies.

  For now, the interior of the "house," as colonists usually called the first power unit, looked bleak—rough gray walls, dim lighting, and the damp smell of not-yet-dried building materials. Blue rings of energy conduit sockets glowed in the corners, where AKOSes would later be connected.

  "Well, the political prisons in Kazakh Autonomous Prefecture look better than this," Jeanne remarked.

  Four synthesis chambers had been transferred from the capsule and stood along the walls, but installing the rebirth system had to be postponed—there was no orgmat anyway.

  Containers with devices, cabinets with UniComs, and buildbots were also moved from the capsule. Next to them stood a bright green biocontainer. It held the most valuable resource at the moment—donators. Several million seeds of artificial plants, which some people mistakenly called microorganisms.

  Of course, if seeding the donators in pools failed and they all died, they could count on getting a small number of extra donators from other colonists, but...

  "But they'd sooner give us a face full of buckshot than share a valuable resource," Ron sighed.

  "Quit whining," Jeanne said. Opening one container, she took out two ration packs. "We were prepared for the possibility of facing extreme survival conditions."

  "We weren't prepared for other colonists to be the extreme conditions, not nature."

  Jeanne tossed Ron a packet:

  "That's you engineers who weren't prepared. Us fighters were trained exactly for this. Although... the fall of the central government is an incredible scenario. We didn't even run that in simulations. Because no colonist would risk the rebirth system controlled by the central government."

  "Nevertheless," Ron noted, "the rebirth server on Locus is working. If the central government has fallen, it hasn't fallen very hard."

  Ron unpacked the sub-ration—it was a bar of material resembling dried bread. Sub-rations contained a small amount of orgmat, from two to five units, which could be consumed as food. It was impossible to fully restore orgmat reserves by eating sublimate. You'd have to eat tons of the product, and a synthesan's sublimate processing system wouldn't accept more than a few grams of the substance.

  Sub-rations had a different purpose—psychological. After all, people need to eat. Synthesans, mimicking the workings of a human body, also imitated the process of eating. True, eating real food like meat or vegetables provided nothing but the sensation of taste. And after a while, the synthetic organism would spit out all the food. Which wasn't the most pleasant sensation.

  All sublimates had flavor additives, imitating familiar foods. Some could be dissolved in water and slurped like soup. Unlike food—water was necessary for synthesans to function. Though not in the same quantity as a real human body needed.

  "If you close your eyes," Ron said, biting into the sublimate, "you can imagine we're eating real chicken."

  Orgmat received: 2.

  Orgmat received: 3.

  Orgmat: 4,320.

  "I'm a vegetarian," Jeanne replied, chewing her sublimate. "Mine tastes like salad, carrots, and cucumbers."

  "As always, I'm speechless," Ron remarked. "Your passion for killing and vegetarianism just don't compute in my head."

  "Back on Earth, my vegetarianism was purely cosmetic," Jeanne explained. "I don't care about the spiritual aspects. I was just watching my figure."

  Ron glanced over Jeanne's figure:

  "But there's no point in that now, you'll stay this gorgeous for a long time."

  "Force of habit," Jeanne answered. "Lost the taste for meat."

  She pulled a bottle of whiskey from the container:

  "Fancy a swig?"

  "Sure," Ron nodded. "We promised to share the second bottle with Benny."

  "Benny can go screw himself," Jeanne replied. "That sly fox can do without our booze."

  Alcohol had no effect on a synthesan's body; it simply absorbed the water from it, filtering out other substances, which were then excreted through the skin. But in a synthesan's brain, where the binary array of human consciousness was located, there was something like opioid receptors. Their purpose was to transmit all sensations from the synthetic body to the synthetic brain and binary array. They also contained pleasure functions.

  True, alcohol didn't directly affect either the brain or the binary array. When alcohol was detected in the liquid, it triggered an "intoxication" state, which was then simulated by the binary array interface. The alcohol's effect was short-lived, just like in a game, and it was impossible to reach a "dead drunk" level of intoxication.

  "How disgusting," Ron took a swig and passed the bottle to Jeanne. "I never understood why people drink this stuff."

  "Well, not all people drink," Jeanne replied. "Only those who know why they need it. But why we synthesans need to drink—that's the question."

  "Force of habit again?" Ron smirked.

  Ron approached the project panel connected to Benny's drone. The drone's weak computational core would serve as the home base's central computer until the capsule's onboard computer was repaired. This imposed limitations on the base's operations.

  For example, the computer struggled to calculate instructions for subject-printers. Reading a single instruction for fence construction, which Ron had loaded as a test, took half an hour. For the onboard QCP, it would have been a matter of milliseconds.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  "Well, colleague, ready for registration?" Ron asked.

  "I was born ready, my boy," Jeanne replied.

  RON AND JEANNE stared at the project panel, where the inscription "Connecting... Please wait..." glowed.

  "What if Smartass Benny limited the server connection?" Jeanne asked.

  "Why would he do that?" Ron hadn't yet lost faith in the colonists' mutual support. "What's in it for him?"

  "Smartassery always finds a way to profit."

  Instead of the expected registration window, a red notice popped up on the project panel:

  — ! —

  Your equipment doesn't support all Locushost network features. Switch to simplified mode?

  "Oh, Benny," Ron sighed, tapping the project panel to confirm. "Couldn't spare us a more powerful computer?"

  Ron confirmed. After that, the "Locushost Launcher" loading window appeared.

  In simplified mode, all information on the project panel was displayed in reduced detail. Maps lacked specifics, and it was impossible to access the list of free production instructions that colonists were supposed to share with newcomers.

  Even with these limitations, data output sometimes occurred with noticeable lag. The launcher's loading percentage crawled upward.

  "Is the rebirth network really this slow?" Jeanne fretted. "How can anyone be reborn at this speed? I didn't pay much attention to the BATS lectures, but even I know that low data transfer rates affect binary array integrity!"

  Ron pulled up the network data on the project panel:

  "I don't think rebirth will be a problem. As you can see, the transfer rate is within effective limits. And don't confuse the Locushost information network speed with BATS. Ninety percent of the channel is always reserved for binary array transfers, another five to six percent for various Central Government services. The Locushost network itself gets only three to four percent, which is usually more than enough."

  "I see," Jeanne replied. "Smartass Benny again?"

  "I don't think he did it on purpose. After all, the drone whose computing core we're using was produced with resource conservation in mind. And it's certainly not designed to serve as an operations center for a colonist base."

  Meanwhile, the registration program finished loading, and an invitation appeared on the project panel:

  — Locushost Launcher Message —

  The Central Government of Locus welcomes you, colonists.

  Local date and time synchronized.

  Day 12, Season 2, Year 33.

  Two synthetic organisms detected and a request for home base registration. Begin network registration?

  Below were three windows: a card with Jeanne Chou's data, a card for Ron Cooper, and a card with a new hexagon on the Locus map—their future home base.

  "The time has come to name our first base," Ron said solemnly. "Any suggestions?"

  Jeanne shrugged, showing her indifference:

  "Base of Smartass Benny."

  "We're not playing games here!"

  Ron got genuinely angry when Jeanne didn't take certain things seriously. It especially irked him that she knew it annoyed him and despised even more the things he considered important.

  Back on Earth, Ron and Meirong had argued about what to name the base. Both believed their home base would inevitably become a significant geographical and economic landmark on Locus's map. It couldn't be named carelessly. Trevor and Jeanne limited their participation in these discussions by suggesting names like "Ass End of the Galaxy," "Edge of the Universe," or "House of Four Piglets."

  Ron and Meirong had agreed on a name, but now Ron felt uncomfortable conducting the important base creation ritual without Meirong, since she had proposed the name that ultimately satisfied both of them.

  "Fine," Ron said to Jeanne. "If you don't care, then I'm naming our base... 'Progress.'"

  "Stunning!"

  "The name will symbolize that we sent copies of our consciousness to Locus not just so our originals could receive rewards and bonuses on Earth," Ron said as he entered the name. "We're here to contribute to the cause of progress, to the spread of intelligence throughout the Universe. Thus, we—"

  — ! —

  Attention, the name "Progress" cannot be assigned as it is already in use. Identical and similar-sounding toponyms are prohibited by the decision of the 3rd General Citizen Referendum.

  Jeanne laughed:

  "Considering that Locus isn't at all what we expected to see, it'd be more logical to name the base 'Regress.'"

  The solemnity of the moment was finally shattered. Ron grimly entered the name "Hope."

  "More like 'Hopeless,'" Jeanne immediately corrected.

  After confirming that "Hope" was also taken, Ron waved his hand and finally entered a name the system accepted.

  Congratulations, colonists! Base "Chou" has been registered in the network.

  "Ha-ha, I'm flattered the base is named after me," Jeanne said. "But don't forget, we're free synthesans. If I don't like it here, I'll join some alliance. But you can keep my last name."

  After connecting a functioning AKOS, you will be able to be reborn into new synthesan bodies if something goes wrong with the old ones. Available rebirths: unknown. Available saves: unknown.

  Warning, AKOS not detected! Urgently connect it to the network.

  Tip: If your AKOS was destroyed in an accident, you can create it yourself. This requires production chains of the appropriate level.

  Get instructions for AKOS production >>

  Learn more about synthetic body rebirths >>

  After this, the cards of the new colonists were linked to the "Chou" home base. Each received their own page in the Locushost information system. Ron kept his name unchanged, while Jeanne was now listed as @Jeanne "Assassin" Chou.

  Due to data transfer restrictions, the colonists' pages contained no frills, no video streams or heavy file uploads, just the necessary minimum of text information. The only thing that could be placed on the page was one photo.

  Jeanne, for instance, immediately used the drone's camera to take her picture. Holding the rifle in one hand, she chose a stern expression. A strand of slightly curly white hair fell on her forehead, her plump lips tightly pressed, slightly furrowed brows emphasizing the piercing look of her blue eyes. Having achieved the desired result, she set the photo on her card.

  "So colonizing a planet is still some kind of game for you?" Ron couldn't help but comment. "We traversed thousands of light-years, broke space and time so you could set up an avatar in a game profile?"

  "No, we did all this so you could install a sex Phenom."

  Ron blushed—Jeanne had gotten under his skin after all.

  "We need to choose a base manager," he changed the subject. "The manager will make most of the decisions about its development. We need to vote on this."

  "Who else but you?" Jeanne agreed without hesitation.

  "Hurray," Ron responded listlessly. "By majority vote, Ron Cooper is appointed base manager..."

  — ... —

  Note: Full base registration may take some time. After this, it will appear on all maps of all colonists connected to the network. Thank you for your patience.

  Completed: 1%.

  Ron pulled a thin mattress rolled up in a tube from the UniCom cabinet. After a hundred and thirty years of traveling through the wormhole, the mattress refused to unroll and lie flat. Ron tried to straighten it out to spread on the container lid for a while, then tossed the roll aside:

  "Just wasted space... Damn, and we don't even have a way to tell the training center that the mattresses deteriorate. They're probably still supplying colonists with this junk."

  With these words, Ron stretched out on the container lid and switched his body to sleep mode.

  Jeanne, meanwhile, pulled the rifle from behind her back, checked it, and said:

  "I'm going to do some recon. Maybe I'll shoot a couple of bots for dinner."