November 15th, 2467. A call came in through the CPPD line. The members of the Chryse Planitia branch were vexed. The only sounds that could be heard were in archaic English Morse Code that was later translated to, "MURDER. A6BYY RED GROVE. PrOLUM STOLEN." followed by several hundred documents that revealed that MarTH Corporation had been torturing subjects for research over the last two decades. 

When police arrived, they found the body of the Director of Research at MarTH Corp. His body had a hole through the heart that was impossibly smooth.

No charges were ever filed.

______

Neimaia stood over the body of her father, her clothes splattered with fresh blood. She grabbed a rag to clean her sword only to find it was pristine, like it had never been dirtied.

"True Star-Glass... If I didn't hold it in my hand, I wouldn't believe it," she said.

She stared into his face, lines of shock and fear firmly planted. Forever. Relief washed her, sending tingles through her limbs. He was gone. finally gone. 

The relief quickly mixed with nausea. Followed by horror. She doubled over, her stomach twisted in knots. The last fragment of her sanity held her together screaming in her head to not vomit. 

"My my... the wicked witch is dead, eh?"

She whipped around, her mind suddenly sober.

"WHO IS THAT. I WILL RUN YOU THROUGH LIKE I DID HIM!"

"Hmm. You could. Of course, I saw the whole thing and yet haven't alerted the police. That should count for something."

Neimaia stared around wildly as the voice seemed to come from everywhere.

"That might have more weight if I had a proper uplink but I guess this is the hand I've been dealt," it said.

"Where are you?!" Neimaia said, panic fringed the edges of her voice.

A glowing blue face suddenly materialized. She screamed and scrambled backward, the glass sword trembling from adrenaline. The hologram laughed.

"You're fun. You were this guy's daughter right? I hope you fell far from that tree."

"What are you?"

"I'm one of his projects. Sort of like you, in a way. That man saw relationships like everything else: research."

He hovered, politely allowing her to compose herself.

"I'll make you an offer," he said. "I assume you know something about programming. You can access my code from his console. If you finish bridging me to the network, I'll let you wear me."

"Wear you?"

"Sure. This is just a visual manifestation for UX purposes. I'm hanging over there in the corner."

She hadn't noticed it before. Hanging, in a glass case, was bodysuit. It was armed yet flexible and fitted for a woman's figure. A small glowing panel was fixed to the arm. 

"I'm Olum," said the suit.

______