"A vault that looks like a moon is still just a moon until someone gives it teeth."
— Yug Bhati
Opening — The Council Speaks
The Vulture chamber smelled of old tobacco and older money. Tonight, the table was live with arguments; silence was no longer the language of the powerful. Omar opened the meeting, but this time he didn't hold the floor. Each member — Rosa, Viktor, Kaito, Fayez, Evelyn, and a dozen others — chipped in: warnings, demands, offers, ultimatums. Voices rose and folded like the weather.
Yug sat near the far edge, green coat unbuttoned, the black bracelet flashing now and then. He waited until the room bled itself dry of talk; then he stood and offered something that made the chatter stop:
"I didn't bring you a threat," he said. "I brought you insurance."
He waved a hand; the table's central projector hummed to life. A rotating object appeared — cratered, pitted, the size of an old cannonball, suspended in the air and spinning slowly. Everyone leaned forward.
"The Lunarium," he said. "Made in-house. Offline. Irreversible."
What the Lunarium Is (in plain terms)
Appearance: A spherical device, cratered like the moon. Polished obsidian shell under which sits a transparent core filled with a viscous, iridescent liquid. Its surface has micro-fissures that are aesthetic but also part of a thermal regulation system.
Storage medium: The liquid is a phase-change memory matrix — fictional tech for story purposes — capable of storing petabytes by encoding data in nanoscale suspended droplets whose molecular orientation represents binary states. Think of it as a liquid holographic vault.
Offline nature: The Lunarium is purposely air-gapped. It has no always-on network interface. To read or write, it must be connected to a specific satellite handshake protocol — a unique orbital key pair that performs a one-way transfer.
Rules & Mechanics (how it actually works in the story)
1. One-Shot Satellite Bind: When a Lunarium is synchronized with a satellite, the device authenticates to that satellite only via a physical quantum key embedded in the device's compound. Once bound, the Lunarium's data can be uploaded to that satellite and deleted locally (if the operator chooses). After the handshake, that Lunarium is cryptographically tied to that satellite ID. You cannot rebind it to another satellite without destroying and re-manufacturing the Lunarium (which is expensive and traceable).
2. Offline Safety, Single-Point Vulnerability: The offline design prevents remote hacking while the data sits in the Lunarium. But because you must bind to a satellite to access the contents, the Lunarium is only as safe as the satellite environment at the moment of transfer. If the satellite is compromised (or harvested by a state), the contents — once uploaded — can be seized. Conversely, if you leave the data only in the Lunarium and never connect, it is inaccessible by anyone (including the holder), and thus safe — until you need it.
3. Backup Paradox — The One-Copy Problem: The Lunarium's genius is also its Achilles' heel. Because its transfer protocol enforces immutability (single authoritative copy) to avoid data proliferation (and thus to limit plausible deniability), making a legal/usable backup requires a second Lunarium or a second satellite with a matching quantum handshake — both practically and politically expensive. You can copy once (Lunarium A → Satellite X) or keep it offline (Lunarium A inert). To create a backup you need either:
A second Lunarium (Lunarium B) manufactured with the same quantum seed — costly ($8B R&D + production trace), or
A second satellite you control that can be physically bound via a pre-staged transfer window (risky, requires physical or political access).
Yug's point: you can't have two master copies without enormous cost or risk.
4. Fuel & Memory: The Lunarium's liquid requires a specific cryo-chemical fuel (kept under pressure and temperature control) to maintain data integrity and to trigger the write/read chemistry. Without the fuel the liquid crystallizes and becomes a permanent, unreadable sculpture. That fuel is proprietary — produced only in Yug's secret factory, and part of the security: lose the fuel, lose the data.
5. Access Control & Signature: Only a person (or machine) with the Lunarium's physical key and the exact satellite handshake can command a transfer. Yug built an additional layer: the Lunarium's access routine requires a hardware signature that's split into three parts across three trusted holders (shards). No single person can click "upload" alone. That's why he brought people into the room.
Why Yug Built It (narrative motives)
Absolute redundancy: Governments can seize servers, freeze accounts, or blackmail custodians. The Lunarium stores everything — encrypted bank keys, cold wallets, passwords, contracts, lists of shell companies — in a form that isn't online, isn't traceable by standard cyber forensics, and can be moved physically if necessary.
Leverage insurance: If a bank or state threatens him, Yug can bind a Lunarium to a neutral satellite and expose or reconstitute his assets elsewhere; the single-copy nature gives him bargaining power and plausible deniability.
Scarcity & Control: Manufacturing is absurdly costly — the R&D and production line cost $8 billion and years of secrecy. That scarcity itself is a control lever.
The Factory (Lunarium Plant)
Name: Lunarium Foundry — Orion Substrate Division (located in an Antarctic industrial cavity and a decoy factory in eastern Europe).
Physical security: Faraday cages, missile-grade EMP dampers, thermal isolation, and armed perimeter — a fortress disguised as a cold-weather prefab.
Staff: Scientists, chemical engineers, and ex-space contractors paid in cash and secrecy — many believe they're building advanced storage for governments.
Fuel production: A separate sealed wing creates the cryo-chemical fuel — the lifeblood of each Lunarium.
The Satellite Conundrum — How Yug Moves Data
Yug has access to a hacked geosync communications satellite (compromised years prior via Julius Krane's cyber contacts). That sat can be used as an interim host — he can transfer Lunarium data to it and then route or pipe the data through other covert channels. But: satellites are traceable, and binding to one stakes a public signature. Once you upload from Lunarium A to Satellite S1, that satellite carries proof the data existed there at that timestamp. Deleting it from S1 requires privileged clearance or physical capture — expensive and dangerous.
If Yug wants to move data from a compromised satellite (S1) to a clean Lunarium (A) and then onto a new satellite (S2) while removing it from S1, he faces the one-copy problem. He must either:
1. Manufacture a second Lunarium (B) to receive the copy (expensive, traceable), or
2. Secure a temporary orbital window on S2 to rebind — but binding is one-directional and requires a unique quantum seed; if he didn't pre-seed S2, the transfer is nontrivial; or
3. Physically seize S1 (rarely possible) and sanitize it.
That's the tension you asked for: Yug cannot casually copy data between satellites without paying massive costs, risk, or political capital. The Lunarium is a fortress, but also a single-point of choice.
Orion Share Mechanic — the Legalized Data Market
Yug's energy conglomerate Orion is the cover and the market vector.
Shares = Metadata Access: Owning incremental shares in Orion gives buyers partial metadata access to data "outlines" stored in the Lunarium network. Not the full keys or passwords — but enough high-level traces (business partner lists, redacted contract terms, non-sensitive ledger flows) that can be monetized.
Tiered Access: The more Orion shares you hold, the deeper your outline access:
Minority holders see shipments, high-level counters, and anonymized counterparties.
Majority holders (large blocks) get access to time-series outlines, supply lane priorities, and aggregated risk profiles — which can be sold as intelligence products.
Why sell access? It's a liquidity mechanism and control tool: by selling outlines, Yug monetizes raw intelligence without revealing the keys. It also aligns powerful buyers (states, corporations, other mafias) to Orion's ecosystem because ownership gives them first right to buy deeper intelligence.
Danger: Selling outlines creates market pressure and leaks — too many data purchasers increase the risk of triangulation and tracebacks. Yug carefully calibrates how many shares exist and who holds them.
Dramatic Scene: Lunarium Binding Demo
At the end of the meeting Yug produced a small proof: a tabletop Lunarium and a live uplink to a compromised low-orbit sat. The device's fuel gland thrummed. Yug called the three shard holders forward; each inserted their signature. The hall watched as a single encrypted packet briefly pulsed across the projector — a hashed fingerprint of a bank key. Then the projection died.
"Only one copy," Yug said. "Only mine to use or to sell."
Rosa, who'd just cost him weeks in Chapter 6, narrowed her eyes. "And if someone steals the Lunarium?"
Yug tapped the object once. "You can steal it. You cannot read it without the fuel, the key, and a satellite. You can take the body, but not the soul. And rebuilding costs more than most nations' yearly budgets."
Setting:
Venice — night. The moon's reflection splits across the still black water of the Grand Canal. A storm's hum lingers in the distance.
Gondolas are still, and the fog eats the street lamps.
Yug Bhati stands at the balcony of the Palazzo del Lupo, coat flapping, one hand resting on the rail, watching the water ripple like liquid glass.
Footsteps echo behind him — heels, measured, confident.
Rosa Moretti, draped in a blood-red coat, flanked by six of her Italian guards armed but trying not to show it.
---
Scene: The Warning
ROSA:
"You think because you built that glowing ball, you're untouchable? You forget who funded half your research, Yug. You forget who moved your ships through the Adriatic without questions."
YUG (turning, calm):
"I forget nothing. But I remember who leaked my satellite ID to Berlin last month."
(pauses)
"Funny how you're always near my shadows when the power flickers."
ROSA:
"I protect my investments. You threaten the order. You built a vault no one can open — even us. You hold the table hostage."
YUG:
"The table was never equal, Rosa. You just didn't notice when it tilted toward me."
She smirks and steps closer, her guards spreading out. The sound of water slapping wood grows heavier, almost in rhythm with the tension.
ROSA:
"Careful. Venice eats men who talk too much."
YUG:
"And yet you still walk these streets. Must be hungry for something."
(He walks toward her, voice colder.)
"You think Vulture 20 is untouchable? You think you're untouchable? I can make it Vulture 19 by sunrise — without firing a bullet."
Her face stiffens. One of her men reaches for his sidearm.
YUG (continuing):
"I can block every bank you use. Leak your accounts to the Financial Crimes Board, frame your shell companies, and let the media eat your empire alive before breakfast."
(He leans in, whispering, almost kind.)
"You built your fortune on fame, Rosa. Let's see how long it lasts when your name's trending under #CrimsonCartelLeaks."
ROSA (low, venomous):
"You'd bring the world's eyes on us? You'd burn the veil just to win?"
YUG:
"I'd burn the world to remind it who lit the first match."
She draws a small silenced pistol, sleek and polished. Her men fan out. The rain begins — first as mist, then as drops, washing down the marble balcony.
Yug doesn't move.
Behind him, from the shadows under the balcony, two figures rise — Omar's operatives, unseen until now. One taps his earpiece; the Venetian lights flicker as if the city itself bowed for a second.
YUG (final line):
"Try it, Rosa. I promise you—by dawn, they won't call this city Venice. They'll call it your grave."
She fires — one suppressed shot — glass shatters, but Yug's already gone, melted into the fog.
Fade out — end of Chapter 7.