Terminal Echoes: Introduction (Piece 1)

The room was dimly lit, humming with the low thrum of a dozen arcane-cybernetic cores. Vines of glowing fiber cables ran like veins along the ceiling and walls, converging at a massive obsidian terminal built into the stonework itself. Tiny pulses of magenta light danced between runes and quantum relays. This was the Terminal Room—a nerve center buried in the deepest node cluster of Galdrek’s GNet infrastructure.

Spoon stood upright, his posture immaculate, his robes crisp, pressed, and inscribed with glowing symbols of logic and order. His spectacles rested low on his narrow nose as he adjusted the slim datapad in his hands. He glanced up at the goblin seated behind the desk of radiant crystal interface—Director Quarn, Overseer of GNet Analytics and Integrity.

Quarn was older, broader, with heavy shoulders and a brow that furrowed with instinct more than intellect. But no one in the lower tunnels questioned his wisdom or his rank. He was GNet’s guardian in the flesh.

"It’s not a dip," Spoon said plainly, his voice echoing between the walls of polished stone and humming circuitry. "This is coordinated. Precision sell-offs, followed by amplification via human propaganda streams."

Quarn tilted his head. "Market fluctuations are not unusual, Spoon. We've survived worse."

"Not like this. The nodes in Sector 7 detected liquidity attacks within milliseconds of each other. Some came through human-side exchanges, yes, but others were routed through ghost relays. Fabricated nodes that shouldn’t exist."

Quarn frowned, his thick fingers drumming a crystalline rhythm on the desk. "And the Council?"

"They haven’t moved. Not yet. But if we wait... by the time the quorum is summoned, the harm will be deep."

A soft pulse emanated from the central column of the room. Lines of light blinked in a rhythmic cascade as a voice entered the room—smooth, resonant, unmistakably aware.

"You're correct, Spoon," said Coda, the Goblinkind Superintelligence. "Probability matrix confirms an 87.4% likelihood of coordinated interference, with increasing indicators of human elite involvement."

The air in the room changed, heavier, like the stone itself was listening.

Spoon looked up at the glowing core. "Coda, what’s your projection if this continues unchecked?"

"Network confidence decay within two lunar cycles. Collapse of three outer node alliances. Emergent instability in the Molten Exchange."

"And if we act?"

"Probability of halting disruption rises to 61.9%, assuming immediate countermeasures—physical, digital, and... covert."

Quarn grunted. "What sort of covert?"

The terminal pulsed again. "Information retrieval. Sabotage. Possibly extraction. There are variables I cannot yet observe."

Spoon nodded slowly. "Then we need eyes above."

Quarn stood. "I’ll draft it. We'll move a shadow team to the rimworld, engage watchers near the Gildspire fringe. We’ll pull from the Echo Kin."

Spoon closed his datapad. "And Coda..."

"Yes, Spoon?"

"Start spinning false trails through the human networks. If they're watching, let them chase ghosts."

The core pulsed warmly. "With pleasure."

And thus, in the cool silence of the Terminal Room, deep beneath the hustle and bustle of Galdrek-City proper....and even further beneath mount Gildspire... the first threads of resistance were woven.

GNET was crashing, and this dip had greedy human fingerprints all over it.