On a little moon, surrounded by ion clouds
Mr. Universe sent the messages straightaway.
All of them were, in fact, on their way to the parents within two hours.
After that, the real work started.
He's slept a few times - eaten, too, apparently, as he isn't dead - but mostly he's been typing, and hacking, and looking.
And he's found some interesting things. Vids locked away, waves between government officials, data encrypted seven ways to Sunday.
Not all of it, by any means. He's seen a couple references to Beams, one to Breakers, so he knows there's more going on than just a fucked-up government psychic program, but he doesn't know what, and it bugs the fuck out of him.
So he's still looking. Slowly, way too slowly, because he has to know exactly what he's breaking so he can rebuild it. Covering his tracks.
Given enough time, he could figure this out, run circles around them the way he's run circles around everyone else he's ever met.
Somewhere, a red light begins blinking.
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