In three auxes, we will be free.
Once the lockdown is lifted, we will be on one of the first ships allowed to leave the planet.  This is apparently due to Orthus’s high ranking position and the fact that humanity is likely to be in desperate need of the information and training that we now posses.
The original passengers of the Piti will not be the only beings to leave on it.
Joining us will be three other beings. 
Ishni will continue to guide me in applying my abilities to real situations outside of the training. 
Gheetoh, who has recently graduated as a ship’s engineer, will now be seeking work on Rapture.  Apparently she had been acting as a envoy for the administration to help her work on her social skills, which her love of machinery had kept her from developing. 
The last to join us is Desmosa.  Despite the fact that the issue with my eye was not her fault at all, the Foresight Bureau needed someone to blame, so they dropped her; cancelling all of her training and taking away the contract that she would have worked under.
She came to see me yesterday evening to apologize in person.  She feels as I do, it may not have been her fault however she feels directly responsible for what happened.
She offered me a contract.
Contracts are a blessing and a curse on this galaxy.
They were established by the Community when it was founded and quickly adopted by the thulai races.  A way for one being to help out another without having to worry about the awkwardness that informal agreements usually come with. 
Say one being needed credits or the deed to their house, for example, and there was another being who had extra funds and wished to help.  They could create a contract that laid down the terms of the loan.  The contract would usually be set up with a labour clause; the first being could work to pay off the debt if they did not have the credits.  The work would be flexible and could be agreed upon by both parties.  The more work done, the faster the debt was paid of and the less, the slower.
Simple, straightforward and an effective way to help out a friend.
That was how it started.
Before long such contracts became common place between business and individuals as an alternative to regular employment.
Contracts became enforceable by law.
They also became customizable.
If the first being was considered a risk, the contract would include a device that would act as a tracker or peacekeeping measure.  Some of them would contain electrical charges or sedatives to subdue or punish the wearer.  In a few extreme cases, the device could be lethal.
Those devices were strictly limited to beings who had chosen to sign contracts in place of going to prison.  Such contracts were only offered if the convict wished to redeem themselves or were usually the only way of providing for themselves once out of prison.  On the odd occasion they were used in place of bail.
What Desmosa was proposing was that she would sign a contract with me that would allow her to help me with my crusade to help humanity.  She had more knowledge of humans than most other beings in the galaxy and would be helpful with bridging the cultural gap as well as the natural attributes that her race possessed; telekinesis and compatibility with technology. 
The contract would be for one cycle.  She would work for me in return for accommodation and necessities, with the freedom to work freelance at the same time, using her prediction software to generate credits of her own.
I was hesitant, naturally.  It sounded very much like indentured servitude, however Orthus soothed my apprehensions.  Deia is currently contracted to Orthus.  Her brother had run up a large amount of debt from a business venture that did not pan out and he had disappeared.  She had been the guarantor of that contract so it became hers.  She had known Orthus professionally for many cycles and had appealed to him to purchase her contract as the work that it had been established for was trading.  Orthus’s acquisition of her contract meant that he could create a sub-contract with the tharat government, giving her a doctor’s position on board the Screnac for as long as he was there.
He assured me that, as long as it was all set up appropriately, the contract between myself and Desmosa would be a great benefit to us both.
With the help of Felix and Erin Burgess, my dad’s partner, who had both studied law and politics during our extended stay, we drew up a flexible and fair contract that bonded us together for the next cycle.
I have never been confident in being in charge of people, I once quit a job as a supervisor because I hated it so much, so goodness only knows how we will deal together.  Desmosa seems like a friendly being with an inquisitive mind and kind soul.  I hope we will get along fine.
Due to the nature of the premonition that she calculated, as she gets to know me and experiences what I do, she will be able to update her prediction to make it more accurate and, hopefully, discover what we need to do to change what will happen.

This morning has been spent loading up the Piti.
Our cargo ranges from our own collections of personal belongings, that we have accumulated over the past forty-two units, to crates of machinery and stores of items for Virrion and Rapture. 
The industrial printer that sits in the, now empty, engineering lab, is not something that we will come across very often.  It has been used past its breaking point on a few occasions, as it has been used to create countless bits and bobs; toothbrushes, hairbrushes, cutlery, hats, flip-flops, solar and auxiliary (windup) powered batteries for our old devices as well as the wires that go with them, miniature figures of Earth’s most famous landmarks, water filters, sunglasses, fishing poles and nets, electric razors, medical, dental and optical tools, even the odd bit of jewelry and goodness only knows what else.  Anything that could be printed and loaded onto the Piti was, each piece packed at the time it was created to save time now.
The very moment that the lockdown lifts, we will take off.  Everything and everyone must be on board and accounted for before then.
Everyone has been scurrying around like headless chickens (chicken’s brains were in their necks so they could survive without their heads for a short time, however losing four of their senses would have given them cause to run around a lot) making sure that everything is where it should be.
I came down from the roof as the sun came up.  I have very little by way of souvenirs our from our stay, my eye is going to be an eternal reminder of our time spent here, however I thought that it was probably about time to collect my knickers, bra and socks from where I had left them in the washing machine on that first night.  There was a laundry unit on the roof, I hasten to add that I did not go that whole time in unwashed clothes.
It feels as though I left them there in another lifetime, a small reminder of the person I used to be. 
All that I now own sits in the two bags by my foot.  The only new items, other than a few items of clothing, are an auxiliary battery and a pen-knife that I designed and printed last night.  I do not want to risk using my old one in case it breaks, not to mention the fact that it is tiny and fairly blunt.  My new one is sharp and has a few extra attachments such as wire cutters, tweezers, a file, a serrated blade and a spork.  Everything needed to survive on a desert island.
As ridiculous as it sounds, I always packed my bag with the following thought nestled in the back of my mind; “what will I need if I become stranded?”  Not that I was ever in the region of being in danger of finding myself in an unknown place with no way home, however it relieved my anxiety to know that, if I did, I actually stood a chance of surviving.
I know how to make shelter, how to purify water, how to use my glasses to focus sunlight to start a fire.  A penknife would simply make most of that a lot easier.
I may not need any of that in space, however you never know where you might end up and what will be needed when you get there.  The former girl guide in me refuses to be unprepared.
Physically prepared, that is.
My mental preparation is almost nonexistent.
I know that as soon as we are able to communicate with the rest of the galaxy, everything will fall apart.
My sense of death will become fact.
Until now, for the others at least, it has been like Schrödinger’s explanation of quantum physics, also known as his cat.  A cat and something that might kill the cat are sealed in a box.  The cat is both alive and dead as there is no way to confirm either way, until someone opens the box and looks. 
Until we can communicate with the others, they are both alive and dead.
We are merely waiting to open the box.

From one lockdown to another.
The moment that the planetary lockdown was lifted, the Piti was put under an individual one.
The Community has found out about the illegal technology that was used to locate those that were to survive the end of Earth.
Orthus, and by association Deia, have been escorted to the Veroten in the Gerux system and as we were all with them at the time, the thirty other beings on board the Piti have been made to tag along.
We were all loitering about in the ship, waiting for the release and permission to depart, hovering over our inboxes, anticipation over the messages, that were supposed to be only moments away, driving us to distraction. 
At the appointed time of Kenglowe’s lockdown, there was no change. 
For three lals we waited. 
Impatiently.
Culpin Ocolai’s words were broadcast throughout the enclosed space.
“Duty commander Orthus of the Screnac, Deia Tine, you are to be escorted to the Veroten to answer for your roles in the illegal use of the Muldoon Extrapolation Extractor.”
I overheard someone mutter, “what genius named that thing?”
Probably a being by the name of Muldoon, I answered their question in my head.
“Laura MacPhaid,” its words went on, the hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention, “you have been placed under my supervision and will likely be called as material evidence and witness.”
I closed my eyes and began to breathe deeply, balling my hands into fists and squeezing in pulses.
I felt the nerves that arose in a few of my companions at my reaction, one or two stepped away from me.
I flattened my palms and opened my eyes then, giving a sarcastic smile, sighed, “great.”
Having not spent any time with me since everything has developed, I think they may have become a little wary of what personality I might have adopted.  As long as I exhibited my usual, defensive sarcasm, I suspect they believed me to be closer to the person that I was. 
I am her, yet I am not.
In either case I did not wish to give them any reason to fear me at all, so I simply acted as they probably hoped that I would.
And, true enough, as the word left my mouth, they relaxed.
Culpin’s thoughts were still coming through, “as soon as we have been cleared to disembark on the Veroten, the communication barrier will be lifted and you will be free to move about the station as you wish.  We shall be providing your escort from Community cruiser Aeter, departure in twenty lals.”
“It’s just one fucking thing after another,” I heard Jim cursing quietly to Phoebe.
“I can’t bear this,” Julie was on the verge of tears as Owen wrapped an arm around her.
“What do they mean ‘illegal’?  And what’s a Muldoon extra-whatever it is?” Kimmie was someone that I had volunteered alongside many years ago and had been studying communication which meant that we had shared a few lessons for the first few units on Kenglowe.  She had studied languages at Oxford University and had a knack for photography.  In that moment, I know that she remembered the full name that had been said, however she seemed to be dumbing herself down.  It was only when the next person spoke that I realized why.
“The Muldoon Extrapolation Extractor,” Grant told her, his face smiling warmly despite the circumstances.  Hers mirrored his.
I was not sure whether to be glad that they were advancing towards some sort of rose-tinted romance, or irritated that she felt the need to dumb down her own intelligence to boost his.  It had always puzzled me why people pretend to be different in order to get a person to like them when, eventually, they will figure out the truth.  In all fairness, she may have simply wished to hear his voice, I cannot claim to be innocent of the same motive during my distant past’s crushes.
I simply sank into my seat, which I had already begun securing around myself. 
Whatever sympathy I had gleaned from loosing an eye had quickly petered out with the reminder of my original role and now the possibility that I was part of some illegal experiment.
Which I had been, so any legs that I had to stand on were long gone.
“Don’t worry Lau,” Ishni’s voice boomed out from where he was carefully folding himself into his own chair, his use of a nickname causing murmurs, “they’ll just do a few scans, and physical test.  All that stuff about being dissected by aliens is a bunch of hooey (an English word that he seemed particularly fond of), there’s no need for it, they can find out everything they need to know without examining you post humorously.”
I suspect that someone must have mentioned that sort of thing as I have no idea how he would have thought upcsuch a thing on his own. 
His grasp of human mannerisms was actually quite endearing and, as he sent an over-exaggerated wink across the room, I found myself being relieved by his words.

The Veroten is the hub of the Community.  It is a space station the size of a country that acts almost as a capital or central city for the members of the Community races.  It is home to billions of beings from every sentient race.  Even the thulai races have embassies and wards to allow all races access to the proceedings and politics, as well as the vast trade and entertainment districts.
Not that we will have a chance to see any of that on this visit.
After the journey of an F.T.L. jump, a trip through a different Hylanx than the first time followed by another F.T.L. jump, we are currently physically locked into the ship whilst we wait for them to come and deal with Orthus and Deia, and, at some point, myself.
I have been told that they will likely take Orthus and Deia first, then come back for me once the process is underway.  Both of them have been refusing to divulge any information to the others and have instructed me to be honest when being questioned myself, including their conversations with me about what happened.
My instinct is to try and protect them, to conceal or be vague about what I know.  However I know that it will just come back to bite either myself or all of us if I do.
As soon as they are escorted from this ship, Culpin has been authorized to allow us access to both the galanet and the Veroten’s locanet.
Within the next few lals, we will know.
We will know what has happened, who it has happened to, who has lost friends and family, who is still in danger.
My fingers are poised and waiting.
Simply waiting.