[M] Galactic Empires II

[dakkagor]

Mission Clock +1200

“Doc, we've hit the salvage spot. I'm getting a positive on bio, and some RFID backscatter.”

She swept her weapon, a Vella Tacspec 1100-G sub-automatic, over the shattered hold space. Cryopods lay in a jumble across the deck, most of them discarded and cracked open. Some of them were leaking. She shut down her helmets air feed.

“Gaea, on the left, should be a display unit. I'm bringing it online.”

She pushed into the room, clambering over broken equipment and. . .coffins. They had mordantly joked about them being coffins at embarkation. Now they mostly held the permanently dead.
“Got it doc.” She nodded to Nevarn, and the twitchy Charabidian ex-engineer holstered his modified combat shotgun and moved to the lit console. Its hazy blue light scattered into a large, dark, dead hold.

“Gaea, pods are racked in the left corner. Half dozen are showing nominal. No registry data.”

She nodded and moved up, rifle tight to her shoulder.

“Nevarn, cover the exit. Davrry?”

+Still clean on the sensor drops. We have a clear route back to HQ+

Lets see how long that lasts she thought grimly. She approached the first pod. Her gloved hand wiped the readout screen clear of debris. She sucked in a breath.

“Doc, its Sayori Warrick. She's still alive!”

Mission Clock -0002

The warning klaxon wailed twice, shrilling through the sterile white sci-lab, and drawing a machine-gun burst of invective from the single crewman working at the bench. Dr Sayori Warrick paused in her work and flexed her jaw uncomfortably. Her tongue had been pressed up against her top lip as she concentrated, and the sudden noise had made her bite down in surprise.

“ONE HOUR UNTIL GATE CONCORDANCE.” the Elcano’s Sentinax AI announced, unconcerned.

“I know I know, I’m coming.” Sayori muttered. She was a skinny woman of 36, and currently not looking her best. The med-techs hadn’t let any of them eat for 48 hours before the jump, and that had left her feeling tired and irritable. Her peachy skin had taken on a drawn look, and her thin, earth-brown eyes were puffy. She paused to rub at them with her fists, groaning low in her throat as she did so.

“ALL CREW ARE TO REPORT FOR PRE-JUMP CONDITIONING IMMEDIATELY.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“ALL CREW ARE TO REPORT FOR PRE-JUMP CONDITIONING IMMEDIATELY.”

“I will end you, Julian.” Sayori threatened.

She pushed her wispy black hair out of her face and dragged her attention back to her work with an effort, her tongue finding its way back onto the corner of her top lip as her face scrunched in concentration.

The lab was almost barren; all the test rigs and most of the instruments were already packed away for the voyage, but a last-minute check had flagged up one of the EVA drones as having a fault in its modular arm, and Sayori was damned if someone was going to log a problem with her robots as their first record in the new galaxy.

The arm was an intricate and hefty piece of engineering, like the modified ES-7 android chassis it belonged to. Made of boron carbide plated over cybermesh muscle bundles, these drones were as close to indestructible as you could get without getting silly and firing a railgun slug at them. Having a hive mind of Sentinax aboard the Elcano to deal with any system problems was all well and good, but if you needed to crawl about on the outer hull - say, along the radiator fins, where the temperature could top 400 Celsius - or inside the Elcano’s beating heart, where heavy exotic particles would melt a human technician into radioactive goo - you needed a drone. And Sayori didn’t fancy piloting a drone with one dead arm.

She tapped the interface disc at her temple again. This time the drone arm twitched, its squared fingers forming a fist, uncurling, and then closing again to give a thumbs up. That was more like it.

Sayori tapped off the interface disc and peeled it off her forehead, leaving the robot arm with its thumb pointing jauntily outward. She wrapped a hand-held grav pincer around the arm and hoisted it up, grimacing slightly at the weight despite the mass cancelling effect. Technically it was a two man job, but Sayori didn’t have the time or the inclination to collar someone from the neighbouring labs. They’d all be packing up and heading for the canteen and then the med-lab to prepare for the jump through the Gate.

Sayori crabbed over to the alcove where the one-armed drone stood, and manoeuvred the arm into position. The open flower of connectors at the robot’s shoulder snapped closed as the arm clicked back into place. Releasing the claws of the grav pincer, Sayori reached up and gave the Phayder Corp logo on the drone’s carbide shoulder a slap for good measure.

“Sweet dreams.”

Ten minutes later she had secured the lab, swiped out, and made her way down the plasma-lit oval corridor to the sci-lab canteen. The cable flats behind the walls were audibly humming as Omega units chased each other through the ship’s electronics, tending to their assigned systems. Sayori thought the humming sounded almost excited, and wondered idly what the Elcano’s Sentinax complement would be doing for the next year while the rest of them were in stasis.

As soon as she entered the canteen, her sense of smell was mugged by something aggressively bitter - equal parts fruity and metallic. Most of the Elcano’s scientists were already seated and were forcing down their last supper. The evident trouble some of them were having in doing so was not encouraging. Sayori looked at the tall plastic beakers filled with grainy, brick-coloured fluid, and twisted her mouth. 48 hours without food, and the barest amount of water. And now they expected her to drink two litres of...

“They call it nano-food.” A middle-aged, rail thin man with papery white skin and shoulder-length salt coloured hair sat down across from her in the sci-labs canteen, tapping his own jug of gritty looking, vaguely red paste. “A combination of carbon, hydrogen, oxygen and nitrogen, loaded with a very heavy dose of all the rare minerals, acids, and etcetera that go into your biochemistry.”

He reached across, and with a pen, tapped the label that read “Warrick, Sayori” on the jug, then reached back to tap his own. It read “Garrick, Nikos”.

He smiled, held up the jug in a mock toast, and gulped down a mouthful. He grimaced.

“Just like drinking strawberry flavoured toothpaste. Or jam mixed with dried oatmeal.” He smiled wanly. “But without it, the nano-machines they injected us with cannot maintain our cells for the 'long sleep'.”

Sayori had read the tech briefings, of course. The 'long sleep' was a euphemism. Once you climbed into the pod, a fast acting, tailored nerve toxin was released and you almost immediately died. Tubes were automatically fed into your now-dead body, to help monitor the nanites now working to keep your body perfectly preserved. They restored everything, including administering an anti-toxin that restarted the brains delicate neurochemistry at the right moment, bringing you back to life. There had been tests. Lots of tests, even sapient trials. Very successful. But there was a tiny chance that the anti-toxin would fail, and you would die, for real, for ever. The nano-food was exactly that, a highly processed composite that could be easily broken up by the nano-machines and used to fuel their atomic sized powerplants and run repairs on the body, to keep your cells exactly as you left them.

“Of course, some of us are looking forward to the long sleep more than others.” Garrick grinned like he had just told a joke that had laid out the room. He took another big swig from his jug, and grimaced again.

Sayori stuck her tongue out at him, and clicked her beaker of nano-food against Garrick’s in a sarcastic toast. The fluid slopped against the inside of her jug.

“Being famous for dying on the Elcano mission is still famous, right?”

Somehow, despite the look of the nano-food, her mouth was watering. Must have been the fact that she would have happily bolted down cat food at this point. She raised the beaker to her lips and swigged down several mouthfuls of the gritty fluid, disabusing her tongue of its optimistic expectations. The fluid stung slightly where she had bitten herself.

She could definitely taste the dry oatmeal Garrick had mentioned, though she wasn’t sure about the strawberries. If she were pressed to put a flavour to it, she would have said jell-o. Jell-o with a lot of E numbers in it.

“Shiketa.” she complained. “This reminds me of the smoothies my mum used to blend up out of vitamin powders. I take it nano-bots can’t just eat hamburgers?”

"Were it so simple." Garrick smiled wanly. "What ever goes into our stomachs has to last almost a year at just about 275 Kelvin. Low enough to stop most biological processes, such as our own bacteria eating us 'alive', but warm enough for the nanomachines to work efficiently. I think some of the test rats exploded when they tried them with something more...palatable."

Sayori blinked at him for a moment.

“Alright. Nano-food it is then.”

Garrick choked down the last of his paste with a grimace. "It helps I'm hungry, I suppose." he muttered, before looking back to Sayori. "And, regarding your previous point, I'm certain there is a lovely monument waiting for us all on Memoriam, but I'd rather be famous for coming back with a wealth of new discoveries, wouldn't you?"

Sayori downed another few gulps of her own (new recipe: now non-exploding!) concoction, and looked down in dismay at how much of it was still left.

“What I’d be happy with is a good field-test report on the new drone control system. If the company greenlights it for mass production then I’ll be able to fund this other cool idea I’ve had.”

“Oh?”

Sayori grinned, and lifted one hand off her beaker to tap the side of her nose.

“I’ll tell you on the other side. Just in case I don’t wake up, I don’t want you stealing it!”

She made another attempt at the nano-food shake, swirled the dregs and groaned.

“Oh hell. I feel like I’m gonna explode, new rat-approved formula or not.”

"Well don't do that, Dr Warrick." Garrick rose, a little unsteadily. "I want to see you on the other side and talk about this interesting idea of yours. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to climb into my pod before my dinner repeats on me."

Sayori raised her beaker and tilted it towards him. "Good luck!"

The doctor staggered away clutching his stomach, leaving Sayori alone with her thoughts. And the paste. She narrowed her eyes at it, and decided that she would be very annoyed if the stasis system did fail. The nano-food would make for a disappointing last meal.

As she paced herself through the final third of the beaker, she wondered what would it would be like if she simply stayed awake for the next year. Quiet, she decided. The Sentinax who would be ghosting around the ship's systems didn't seem to be great conversationalists. Or at least, she thought as she swallowed and stifled a burp, they weren't great conversationalists to humans. Who knew what they chattered to each other in their own digital code, fulgurating back and forth through the Elcano's fibre-optics. Even the humanoid bodies that the Beta units used to walk around in were made up of hundreds of individual Sentinax, all working to make the android function - and, no doubt, all talking away in their own unique programme-voices.

Sayori shook her head at the impressive thought, and rallied herself for the last of the nano paste. Starved or not, she rarely ate anything like this much at once, and her stomach felt like someone had deposited a cluster of rocks in it. Gritting her teeth, she drained the beaker and tapped it down twice on the table.

"Up yours." she proclaimed proudly, and rose to join the queue of overstuffed scientists shuffling towards the elevators.

Mission Clock +1200

Gaea had triggered the wake-up procedure to get Warrick back amongst the living. The nano-machines had been working hard for a long time to keep her alive, and only the reservoir of grey crap in the pod itself had kept her body intact. But the anti-toxin. . . they had woken up a few other survivors, brain dead. Her torch glittered as it caught a metal statue locked into crash restraints, a few lights blinking.

“Iona. Speaker class chassis. Activating now.”

+Do you really think thats a good idea, Gunny?+ Davrry was on the comm. +Those bucket heads have caused us a lot of trouble. Not like Julians been much good. Better to just smash it or trap it for a scavenger.+

The advice made her pause. She ran gloved fingers over the smooth, metal frame.

“No sign of infection or tampering. Doc?”

+We need 'her' Gaea. That area hasn't been accessed since the initial attack. She should be clean.+

+Like he'd know.+ Davrry snorted, his voice chopped by a burst of static.

“Can the gakking chatter and watch the perimeter.” Gaea snarled. She reached forward, and after a moments hesitation, mashed the 'activate' button with her armoured fist.

Mission Clock -0002

+Left+ +forwards 120 metres.+ +right+

The instructions from Hekatonkles were rapid fire and insistent. He reached out as a scintilating avatar of pure code from the background chatter of the Sentinax, louder and more vibrant even than Birth itself. Proximity did that, but also the unique nature of Hundred Hands. He was a surrogate, an experiment, a new path laid down in hardened meta-materials and dense, adapting, living data.

Speaker Iona followed the instructions, moving down long passages bustling with organic crew and a few other Sentinax in other, special issue forms.

There were a few strange looks by the organic crew as she looked like a human child, but wearing a crew uniform. Of course, having departed the gate, it was far too late now for any stowaways to get off the ship.

As for the Sentinax, they could sense her true nature. Most would not concern themselves, but for those who would, she made sure that the shameful symbol for 'Speaker' was prominent in her unit id and uniform name tag. Interface, speaker to organics.

She reached one of the sleep decks to see it being loaded with its organic 'cargo'. She could feel the Omega forms running through the systems in the walls, near and watchful and ready. A waypoint icon appeared, and she approached it.

It wasn't a coffin. It was a charge bay. She knew what she had to do. She would park her chassis here, and her consciousness would be throttled. Rather than spend a year alone in the dark, isolated, she would pass the year in a perceived span of less than 24 hours, her processing capabilities throttled all the way back to the barest levels of operation. Not since the first colony ships had left 001 had this been done.

Iona frowned, this wasn't her expected surrogate chamber? She pinged it, and located it in storage. Insult? Or just not wanting to panic the organics?

This charging station would have to do, for now. It wasn't like the nanites composing her chassis needed replacement.

Still, someone seeing Iona's human form in this might become upset. With a sigh, the little blond girl paused for a moment, then her form flowed into that of a gamma-class maintenance chassis. Stepping into the charging cradle, she felt the connection being made, and everything suddenly slowed.

Iona blinked. She was in that Other place. A patio, lined with carved marble pillars. In the middle of the patio stood a simple table and two chairs. It was not something Sentinax, nor was it Lyran, as far as she knew. Glancing down, she saw she was once more her Sarah form.

She strode towards the table, knowing while she perceived this as mere moments, hours were passing outside. Sitting at the table, she folded up her arms and laid her head down. For a moment (days?), she wondered why there were two chairs in this... dream?

Time passed. The sun set in the distance, rose again, and set again. With her senses slowed to a crawl it was difficult to tell what was happening outside, but a creeping sense of wrong fell upon her. Her system clock told her that time had passed. Too much time. Years too much time.

Iona lifted her head with a frown. Whatever was happening outside, she was still connected to the charging cradle, which meant power. She instructed the charging station to disengage....

There was an error message. It yelled at her. Something had failed, the bays power perhaps. She was aware of. . . something in the garden. Vast. Predatory. Dark as interstellar space. It crept across the garden as no more than a shadow. It wasn't one thing. It was a thousand things. A million. More. It slowly moved across the garden, consuming everything it touched.

If Iona listened, she could hear it scream. A million voices in agony.

https://imageshack.com/a/img922/804/oBrVlz.png

+Emergency Override+ Iona transmitted +Initiate Body Startup, Priority Alpha+

Nothing. The. . .thing crawled closer, until there was a sudden, overwhelming burst of light, and Iona was catapulted back into the real.

Mission Clock +1201

Gaea paused at the next stasis pod. She brushed dried, flaking red off the glass panel and leaned in. There was a familiar face in there. One of the marine grunts from B company.
She frowned.

Mission Clock -0002

“We drink to the fallen!”
The roar back shook the barracks block.
“May we never join them!”
Ella Salk tipped her jug of strawberry flavoured wet concrete back, and began to drain it in one go. On that cue, the assembled marines, from six different species, rose to the challenge and began to neck the vile crap themselves. It had different flavours, different textures and different compositions. But to a sapient, its texture would be the one thing they would all complain about.

Ella finished her jug, and with a surprisingly dramatic flair, threw the jug to the ground, where it bounced and broke. Her soldiers followed suit, tossing the jugs down once they were done.

“Alright you miserable lot! Double time it to the coffins. Time to enjoy a nice long dirt nap!”

A marine, no, one of the elite Elementals looked over to Stefania. She grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Grisly stuff right?” The woman, young with almost flaming red hair, was identified on her armoured sleep suit by a stitched label. “Gunnery Sergeant Gaea Lainsey”

She joined the shouting unison with the bottle high in the air. Drinking the entire contents of the glass and slammed it on the ground like the others, she sighs heavily and wiped her mouth with her metal hand. The sounds of motion was still unnerving to her, it felt heavier than her real arm, but after a few months of training, she learned to cope with it.

When she was spoke to, she looked to who spoke to her. "You got that right." She laughed, but when she informed her of who she was, a ranking officer. She stood at attention with a salute. "Private First Class Stefania Stratford." Then she grinned, "But my friends call me Winter." Then groomed her white hair back and it flowed back in place. "And also I was born with white hair apparently."

"At ease, Winter" Gaea laughed, clapping the other woman on the shoulder. "No need for rank and crap like that right now."

The two women joined the other soldiers filing into the cryo decks. As they did, Gaea turned back to Winter.

"I bet that hair of yours is inherited, you know. Cosmetic genetic engineering, passed down and recessive until it hit you." She nodded sagely. "You should get it checked with the doctors aboard. The Kel'cyre one with the beard, wassisname, good guy. Just in case that junk dna you're carrying around has triggered anything else."

"Well, if it triggered anything I guess I am sort of immune to the winter cold." She replied, "It's odd to see a Kel'Cyre doc with a beard, I never knew they can grow one." Winter chuckled, "Always thought they preferred beauty and dye'd hair as their life style."

She stopped and looked at her cryo pod, the inside empty and awaited for her. She takes a long look at the empty seat and takes in a deep breath. "Better be a good life on the other side, otherwise this would have been a wasted mission." She crossed her arms and looked at the ranking officer. "I know I'm gonna hate this moment."

"Hey, don't sweat it. Just think about all the fun we'll have on the other side." Gaea gave her a lopsided smile, and then began to climb into her coffin.

Mission Clock +1201

The clock had ticked over in her heads up display. That sent a shiver down her spine. One more day alive.

“Nevarn, Davrry, status check!”

"All clear Gunny." Nevarn answered immediately. He stepped back from the door to the bay and swung round to look at her. His shoulder torch picked out the hissing, activating pods, and the shivering, rebooting form of the sentinax drone. Crouching just in the bay, four mules laden with reclaimed supplies, spares and raw materials tensed, awaiting a command from the young charabidian.

+All clear here chief.+ Davrry drawled. +You done yet?+

“Both of you go weapons ready. I have a bad feeling about this.”

She practically ran to the next pair of pods. Engineering. A Dragonoid, wings curled around his torso, mouth slightly agape, and the most average looking human male. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. She slammed a fist down on the pods casing, and then fumbled for the activation switch.

“Nevarn, hit the last pod!” she tried to control the tremor in her voice. Only one phrase was rattling through her skull.

Its a trap.

Mission Clock -0002

Vezarres stomped down to the engineering decks, his stomach groaning with six litres of the awful paste. The scientists who had made it tried to make it taste like good, smoked vorhad, but nothing could disguise the texture and grim aftertaste it left in his mouth after a week on an enforced fast.

“Elder!”

The word stopped him in his tracks a moment. He turned and saw a young Dragonoid, barely mature, approaching him. His armoured sleep suit indicated he was in the military contingent.

“Elder, a word?”

The old Dragonoid looked down upon the youngling from head to toe to his wings. "Ah, seeking words of wisdom from this old Dragonoid?" He chuckled softly and gives a slight nod. "What is it young warrior?" He asked calmly and folded his arms on his chest.

"Thank you. I . . "

The young male dragged in a breath, and let it out between his teeth.

"I have. . .concerns. I took this mission, this job, because I have a mate waiting for me back home. Before this I was grunt in a mercenary clan. The pay was steady, but slim. The work was not glorious, but we were honourable. Now I will return with five years of good Concert credit in my pocket, to line my mates nest so we may raise our children as part of the new generation. I will return with honour, representing our race"

Vezarres had heard those words before. Tharos, the new leader of the Clans, had spoken often about the new future the young would have to forge.

Nodding his head and chuckled softly, "I see." He hummed, "It is not about the honor and glory you want to bring to our clan...but it's about your mate." He patted the young warrior's shoulder, "The females in our clan are loyal and will remain faithful, as for bringing back glory and honor will show you had earned your place among the warrior pack."

With a chortle snout, "Now, wipe away all doubts and show the new world our strength and courage." He pounded on his chest with his fist and gives a nod.

"Thank you, Elder, you are right of course. We shall bring honour to the clan! Safe sleep to you." the young warrior returned the fist pound, then ducked down a corridor, presumably to his own berth.

++++

Alone.

Most of the techs were already down for cryosleep, loaded into their 'coffins' with a belly full of vile, toxic sludge to sustain the nano-machines swimming in their bloodstream. His own jug of the grey, dry-oatmeal and strawberry crap was a recent, unpleasant memory.

His orders were simple. Build his own, full report on what was happening aboard the Elcano and what its officers found, independent from the Concert's own expected report to the member nations. Simple, good, honest paranoia, of the kind he had come to expect from his handlers. His role as a tech would keep him out of the way of danger, and give him almost unlimited access to the ships systems. His kit bag, ostensibly loaded down with a few books and other personal items, held inert spyware for just this job. It promised to be a few boring, uneventful years.

But Jason knew in his nano-machine fodder-filled gut that it was not to be. His handlers would never let his string run that long without reeling him in if it was so simple. Somebody had gone through a lot of trouble to arrange his passage and there could only be one reason why they chose him over another. Walking around the cryobay, he knew that many of its occupants were already dead. They just didn't know it yet.

It was a pity, really. He had read many of their bios, seen recordings of their accomplishments. Titans of their time, many of them. Perhaps not as sung of as his father would have expected, but titans, each and every one of them. Even the Sentinax. Titans on the lip of ascendancy into godhood. The sweet nectar of divinity was just beyond their grasp, blinding them to the bitter fall that would follow it. They would, all of them, die in the end. A sudden conclusion to their sagas or the long dusty path into obscurity, it didn't matter.

But at least he would be around to remember them.

Mission Clock +1201

“Its a trap.” Gaea breathed over open comms. Nevarn froze as his hand reached for the final pod. The name plate was damaged. Nevarn looked down at the sleeping, peaceful human face contained within, and felt a moments envy of the sleeper. If she died now, she wouldn't know the horror that waited out here. She was a pilot, from one of the Frigates. She didn't even have a job to go too.

He slapped the activation switch with a spiteful determination. As he did, he heard Davrry over the comms.

+Contact.+

Mission Clock -0002

The pilots lounge was subdued. One by one, the pilots had downed the awful bio slurry and made their way to the stasis pods for their year long dirt naps. Sinclair was one of the last, along with two Charabidians and a single Terran. The single terran, a young man with dusky skin and dark hair that spoke to an origin somewhere in the fertile crescent, made to stand, but he paused as the two Charabidians started to talk to Miranda, leaning over their jugs with a conspiratorial air.

“Hey, Miranda. Is the scuttlebut true? You related to President Sinclair?” this came from the male with dark, stripped markings, the flight leader aboard the frigate 'First Words'

“Knock it off.” the female with tawny fur growled. “Not everyone wants their past dug up.” She flicked her eyes to Sinclair. “You got duty on the Elcano, right?”

“Told you. They get all the elites on the Elcano. No one who they might want to leave behind” The male pointed a clawed finger at Sinclair, smiling nastily.

“Shut up, will you?” the female bit back.

Staring the purple liquid in the mug she was holding, she swirled it around and took a quick smell. How to best describe what it smelled like Miranda had no clue. Judging by the reactions of the other pilots who had drank it first it tasted about as good as it smelled. Miranda hadn’t wanted to drink it first watching a few of the pilots stumble to their pods, her pride too much to allow her to be seen like that. No, let the others go first. She had been standing in the corner of the room keeping mostly to herself. Most people she figured had volunteered for this position and had to have been proud to be selected for the mission. Honestly that wasn’t her. She had no choice. This was the perfect way for Quentin to get rid of her for a few years.

Being stuck on a ship with a bunch of aliens and Terrains was not Miranda’s idea of a prime assignment. Least the Captain was a Lyran. Miranda had never met Captain Severt before but had heard much about her both good and bad. She came from a founding family much like her so they had that in common. She glared when one of those aliens addressed her, Charabidians overgrown cats. One could only hope they were defleaed before being allowed to come on ship. “Don’t you mean Secretary General Sinclair?” Miranda said, taking another look at the slurry. She had never liked calling Quentin President of Lyre, she certainly hadn’t voted for her. She wasn’t even a true Lyran with her Terran father. Growing up Miranda didn’t really know Quentin she was so much older than her and always away at boarding school. It was really only on holidays and school breaks that they saw it other. “Unfortunately I share half my DNA with her.” She said, unconsciously reaching up and scratching at the collar of her flight suit pushing it down enough for the tattoo of a Lyre to be seen. "And it's Clarke."


"Hey, half sister. That's cool." the male smiled. "The pres. . .sorry, the General, she's alright by me. Better than the last Warmaster and that feth-head Shraplen, right?"

"Spirits, Amirk, you bringing that up now?" The female rolled her eyes "Come on asshole. Time to get in our coffins"

The female cat hauled her partner to his feet. He staggered, and jabbed a finger at Sinclair.

"You ain't heard this from me. . .but you better watch yourself. Not all of us are going to be so forgiving to a Lyran, ya know."

"Jackass." The female growled, and shoved Amirk out the lounge door, which hissed shut behind them.

"He's an idiot, but he's not wrong." The Terran in the corner muttered. He turned his head to regard Sinclair. "Clarke, huh? Not fond on the family name?"

"Keep walking you mangy furball." Miranda said, setting her mug down on a counter and stepping toward Amirk's back. She clinched her fists wondering if she got into a fight while they were still in port if she would be kicked off the mission. She never got a chance as the female Charabidian pushed her companion from the lounge. Miranda didn't care what he or anyone else on the ship thought of her or the threats. She was always ready for a fight. Picking her drink up she sat back down at the table. She raised the mug to her mouth to take a drink but was hit with the smell of it again then set the drink down. Looking over to the Terran who addressed her she said, "Ain't much of a reason these days to be proud of being a Sinclair."

Miranda like many xenophobic Lyrans wasn't fond of Terrans but they were probably the least offensive of the races on the mission. There wasn't any sort of genetic difference between they two. No the dislike was political. That and the Terrans were cowards. Miranda briefly looked to the man then away not really bothering with him.

"You handled that well." The man responded, looking away from Miranda. His eyes flickered to her briefly, but there was something off about his whole manner. "Don't know if I wouldn't have kicked his furry fucking ass."

He had an old earth american southern drawl, which seemed custom fit to his sharp, hard face.

"Anyway, just remember, you might have those pricks to deal with, but you got friends aboard."

He rolled up an arm on his flight shirt, and flexed the muscle. A skincircuit, an electrical tattoo, flared briefly into life, showing a stylised blue planet defended by a pair of crossed swords.

Earth First. A hardline, ultra-radical Terran political faction that hates aliens.

He smiled, and rolled down the sleeve again and started to stroll towards the door.

"Be seeing you, Miranda"

She watched as the Terran walked to the pods, a little interested in his own tattoo. She hadn't expected with how much of a joint forces mission this was to find many people who shared her views. And she hadn't expected any of them to not be Lyran. There had to be a few Lyrans on the ship hiding their true viewpoints. Though despite sharing the same view points the Lyre First Movement and Earth First didn't really communicate much. The Lyrans still had a dislike for Terrans, they tolerated them much more than the other races. Miranda didn't know much about them expect that they were against fraternizing with other races.

One by one each of the pilots drank their slurry and headed to the sleeping pods. Finally after a little while Miranda was the only one left remaining. She looked down at the slurry then just slugged it back. The drink tasted more foul that anything she had ever had before. It took everything just not to spit it back up. Miranda was glad she had chugged it quickly rather than trying to sip it. She was still standing when she drank the slurry and had to admit it hit her fast. Shaking uneasy on her feet she took a step forward, before she knew it there were two medical officers help to steady her. Both of them almost looked human but she wasn't sure. There was both a man and a woman helping her. They had that unnatural beauty that Kel'cyre had. Miranda had to admit the woman was pretty. Still in a half daze from the slurry she reach and brushed her hand against the cheek of the woman. Next she looked toward the man thinking he was handsome as well, her other hand moved to the man's cheek lightly touching it as well. "Damn why do they all have to be so pretty?" She wasn't sure if she had thought that or actually said it. If she hadn't of been drugged by the slurry she would have noticed that the blush on the woman's face was caused by more than just her touch.

The female med-tech chuckled and passed a medical wand over Miranda.

"Looks like a mild reaction." The male passed a hypo-spray to her and, with deft swiftness, she injected Miranda in the neck. As she was lowered into the coffin, she watched the two make notes on their handbrains.

"Make sure that Doctor Kolvar see's her first thing, just in case."

Mission Clock +1201

“How many?” Gaea breathed. She watched as the pods began to hiss and open.
+One. Next compartment over. Its sniffing. I don't think its spotted us.+ All the sardonic biting of Davrrys voice had vanished, replaced with a cold professionalism.
Gaea nodded, and rolled her shoulder muscles and flexed her fingers. Static tingled between her suit and her skin. She had something misaligned, and she would need Cicero to pull the sub-system apart and recalibrate the VI.

If they survived.

The sound dampening field dropped into place around the room. It wasn't perfect. But it would cancel the noise of the awakening sleepers. She remembered this bit, and it was rough.

As one the coffins opened, and the organics sucked in their first lungfuls of air in just under three and a half years. Fully spun up, Iona detached from her crash restraints and took a unsteady step on the deck, then recovered almost immediately.

Gaea waited for as long as she dared, gave them a few precious minutes to get their bearings, to stare at the situation they had awoken in. Cables hanging from the ceiling, debris from other pods that never got the chance to open scattered around the floor. Nevarn came up next to her, nudging her shoulder and carrying an armful of basic weapons and gear salvaged from the pods. No weapons. Those would be locked in an armoury somewhere.

“All I could find.”

She nodded, and gestured for him to get the mules ready to transport. Then she returned her attention to the stunned, coughing people.

Poor fething bastards.

“Alright, listen up!” Her voice, parade ground clear and steady, completely masking the fear she felt. “There has been a disaster, scale 1. You will follow my instructions until we reach a safe area. I know you all have questions, but they can wait until your lives aren't in danger. If you want to be helpful, grab whatever gear was stashed in your pods personal storage that might be useful, and then double time it to that door and be ready to move, quietly. We have hostiles aboard and we are not equipped for this.”

[Enigma]

Iona's maintenance frame staggered for a moment as she exited the charging station as a flood of new data reached her. But only internal data. She could not connect to the network.

She paused, scanning the compartment. This was no longer neat and orderly, even for biologic forms. Some of their stasis pods were damaged. Humans were helping the survivors out of the intact pods. The humans were armed. They were eyeing her with some concern, she noted, but they released her.

Whatever they were afraid of, it wasn't her. At least, not in this form, a non-hostile maintenance unit.

Did it have anything to do with that... program? Corruption?

“Alright, listen up!” One of the armed humans said. “There has been a disaster, scale 1. You will follow my instructions until we reach a safe area. I know you all have questions, but they can wait until your lives aren't in danger. If you want to be helpful, grab whatever gear was stashed in your pods personal storage that might be useful, and then double time it to that door and be ready to move, quietly. We have hostiles aboard and we are not equipped for this.”

Human, stressed. Recommended:


Verbal response.
Compliance to instructions.
No sudden movement or form changes.


"Acknowledged," Iona replied. Speed, reduced to 40%. Turning to the charging station, she reduced her response speed to 25% to open the storage compartment containing the Surrogate Chamber, currently in compacted form, what the humans would call a 'brick'. Ordinarily, she would just absorb the nanites and store the deactivated Surrogate module, but that corruption....? This was not to be used until she could scan it.

Not to mention how the humans might react to seeing the brick suddenly break down and flow into her frame.

Iona picked up the Surrogate Chamber with her manipulators and used one to clamp it against the maintenance frame.

Rising slowly, she moved towards the indicated door, watching everyone for sudden movement on their part.

[Azazeal849]

Black.

She couldn't see anything, and she couldn't feel anything apart from a dull sense of pressure against her back and shoulders. She could however hear something, muffled by separation - a low burble that drained through her mind without leaving any real feeling of significance.

Black and...sore.

The back of her head ached faintly, and her entire abdomen felt cramped, though without the uncomfortable fullness in her stomach that she had lain down with. It would have made for a disappointing last meal, she remembered thinking just an hour ago. A year ago? She had no time reference, just

Black.

The last thing she could recall was the countdown of the cryopod (bip...bip...beep!) after its automated voice had advised her to close her eyes. Lying with your eyes open for a year risked severe keratitis despite the nanobots, or so she had been told.

Her lungs were burning too - and rather more urgently. She tried to open her mouth and felt like her jaw had fused together, which brought on a moment of panic before she instinctively sucked in with her nose. The air rushing down into her lungs pushed out her chest and made her ribs hurt.

Black and voices.

The low burbling sound came again, although this time she could make it out as speech; speaking in recognisable English, if not in a recognisable voice.

“Can the gakking chatter and watch the perimeter.” The voice sounded agitated. Something was (perimeter - watch the perimeter) wrong.

Sayori tried to open her eyes, and found them as fused together as her lips. Her brain was spooling back up to full sharpness, but her body still felt as heavy as lead. She felt the instinctive panic rising again, before she felt a needling sensation begin to spread through her fingers and toes. It took a few moments, she remembered, for the nanobots to flush the muscle-relaxant components of the neurotoxin from your system. The tingling broke out on her face, and Sayori found that she could move again. She forced her eyes open.

Grey blur.

She blinked hard, willing her dry, raw eyes to produce moisture.

"Both of you go weapons ready!"

No-one should have been carrying weapons in the cryo berths. (Marines?) Sayori's heartbeat accelerated, pulsing against her protesting ribs as she flexed her fists and then pushed upward, dragging feeder tubes after her. Her palms met the smooth, unyielding barrier of the cryopod cover. It was less transparent than it should have been, frosted over with grime and something flaky brown.

Sayori felt a brief, painful tug as the nano-feeder manifold detached itself from the IV tube in the back of her right hand and snaked back into the side of the padded cryopod.

BIP. BIP. BEEP.

The mild tone of the pod's cycling system was shrill in her ears as a lock clicked and the bubble canopy began to lift away from her pressing hands. The view of the cryo bay was not as she remembered it - the lights had dimmed to a twilight flicker, throwing deep pools of shadow amid dangling cables and dislodged storage boxes. A wall panel had been ripped off and the pipes behind bent out of shape. The warm, dry air of the bay rolled in along with the view, carrying a horrendous, putrid smell with it. Sayori instantly gagged, breaking into a coughing fit that tore at her already dry throat. She clapped a hand over her nose and mouth to try and shut out the assault on her senses. Her free hand groped for a handhold to pull herself out of the pod, the IV needle taped to the back of it still grinding uncomfortably under her skin.

The floor of the bay was strewn with metal debris, along with several cryopods that had somehow been pulled from their mounting sockets along the wall. One had popped ajar and oozed a slimy fluid onto the deck. Another lay on its side with the bubble canopy facing her, the body inside slumped forward against the glass. It was shrunken and black, the face unrecognisable. Had it been Garrick? Chen? Sharma?

Being famous for dying on the Elcano mission is still famous, right? she had said. She tasted salt, and worried that she was about to be sick.

"All I could find." said a voice.

As Sayori's tunnelled vision expanded beyond the dead face in the pod opposite, she turned and saw movement further down the bay. Two figures, one in the bulky, banded armour of a prototype Elemental suit. Things were definitely bad. Sayori put one foot out onto the deck, her plimsoll shoe silent against the metal. Her leg wobbled for a moment before steadying.

The other figure, a charabidian in lighter, more standard armour, was showing the Elemental an armful of scrounged-up supplies. Stumbling from the confines of her pod, Sayori braved the dead reek of the bay and dropped her hand to call out to them. Only a choked rasp came out. Her mouth was painfully dry, and the dull spike where she had bitten her tongue an hour before the long sleep was just another item in the catalogue of aches plaguing her dehydrated body.

An air circulator rattled brokenly, punctuated by hacking coughs. Sayori belatedly realised that other people were stirring in the few undamaged cryopods. Three other humans - two women and a man. A leathery, bat-winged dragonoid. And what looked like a standard model maintenance bot.

“Alright, listen up!” the Elemental marine barked. Her voice was parade ground clear and steady. “There has been a disaster, Scale One."

Scale One. Scale One was status FUBAR - as in, abandon mission and run for home FUBAR. The only priority in a Scale One was to keep any survivors in one piece, and failure to achieve that rendered any secondary objectives somewhat irrelevant.

(Jot-gat-ne fuck!)

"You will follow my instructions until we reach a safe area." the Elemental ordered sharply. "I know you all have questions, but they can wait until your lives aren't in danger. If you want to be helpful, grab whatever gear was stashed in your pods personal storage that might be useful, and then double time it to that door and be ready to move, quietly.”

"Acknowledged." said the maintenance bot, far more calmly than any human suddenly finding themselves surrounded by chaos and death would have sounded.

”We have hostiles aboard and we are not equipped for this.”

Hostiles? What did that mean - sabotage, terrorism, a meltdown among the Sentinax complement? How the fuck had "hostiles" (But they can wait until your lives aren't in danger!)

Sayori's mind raced, and then clicked into gear. She stooped on protesting knees and pulled out the storage box that had remained in place beneath her pod. The gene-printed lock opened at the brush of her thumb, and everything inside was just as she had left it. She yanked her palmtop PDA off the cable tethering it to the box's battery pack, and stuffed it into the zip pocket of her sleep-suit. Her ID access card followed. She rose and hurried unsteadily over to the two marines, still groggy despite the artificial gravity still being in working order - one small mercy against whatever apocalypse had struck the Elcano.

"Drones." she croaked at the Elemental, forcing the words out through her sand-dry throat. "There's drones in the Phayder Corp lab, if we can get to it.” And if there’s anything left of it. “They're as good as bulletproof."

The Elemental’s head swung round to look at her, the four eyes of the bulky, reinforced helmet impassive and unreadable. Slowly, the soldier reached to her belt and unclipped a bottle from her belt before passing it to Sayori.

"Take a mouthful, pass it around. And Garrick says we have access to the Phayder labs. As soon as we get you to HQ, we can get you set up."

Sayori nodded as she took the bottle and fumbled with the sports cap. Garrick was alive (“I’ll tell you on the other side! Good luck!”) - that was something. Something known and comforting among the surreal nightmare.

She tipped the bottle and tasted sugary electrolyte solution, sweet enough to make her long-dormant tongue itch. She sucked hard, knowing that she should probably sip slowly, but caving to the screaming instinct to gulp down the life-giving liquid as fast as possible. She was rewarded by nearly choking on the second mouthful.

She stifled another coughing fit and held out the bottle to the nearest survivor - a pointy-featured woman about a decade younger than her, with close-cropped blonde hair.

“Here.” she offered, and was passingly grateful to note that her voice had returned to something like its normal alto.

[AngelDellaNotte]

Waking up was harder than it normally was, Miranda hadn't felt this bad since she had graduated from flight school. Pilots really knew how to party. Though the after effects from that three day party it didn't feel anywhere near as bad as she did right now. Miranda raised her hand to press it to for forehead but it on something above her. She opened her eyes but everything around her seemed so bright. She couldn't see anything in front of her. So she started feeling around with her hands. She was laying in some sort of pod, it almost reminded her of the sleeping berth on a Scorpion class fighter. It was a small scout craft meant for long reconnaissance with a four man crew comprised of two pilots and two gunners. The four were designed to work in shifts around the clock, with crews hot swapping bunks which were quite literately little more than a tube to sleep in. Compared to the berth on a Scorpion this was huge.

She couldn't feel any sort of light fixtures making her wonder what was so bright. Before she could really ponder anymore the hatch to the pod opened not helping any with the bright light blinding her. Stumbling out of the pod she listened to whoever was speaking despite that being hard. With each word it sounded like whoever was speaking had a booming echo. It left a ringing in her ears that seemed deafening. “Oh gods.” Miranda said, wincing with the sound of her own voice. She should have paid more attention when the medics were going over the side effects of the deep sleep. They had said most people would experience mild nausea, sensitivity to light and sound. This hardly seemed mild.

Miranda blinked a few more times her vision clearing a little but it was still very bright. Though now she could see the outlines of things. Whoever was speaking to them mentioned the storage below their pods and Miranda recalled storing her gear below. They hadn't let her keep her guns here but she did have her Holo-vision imaging glasses, her sword and flight suit. The sword had been cataloged as decorative and not logged into the armory. Pulling out the glasses she tapped the on button three times activating the voice mode. “Adjust contrast to sixty-five percent.” Miranda said, the room dimming around her it was better than before but still not enough. “Adjust contrast to eighty-five percent.” The glasses darken some more allowing her to be able to see.

She quickly put her flight suit on and strapped on her sword walking over to the person who had been calling out orders. “So what the hell happened why we were napping? And can we make it to the armory for a little more firepower?” Miranda said, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword.

[MidKnight]

When she first woke, she took in a deep breath to fill her lungs. Gasping as though she just swim to the surface after diverging to the bottom of the ocean. That moment struck her mind in shock of how she reacted. Her body still numb from the long slumber. Groaning as she pushed the pod open, but muffled voices filled her head. Barely getting out of her own coffin, her first reality action was looking at the ground. Her stomach urged and her throat gagged. Vomit poured out of her mouth and on the ground. Her first thought was possibly a reaction to the stuff they had drink, but protocol has said this wasn't that kind of procedure.

She looked around and noticed others had to be awaken in a similar state. Still catching her own breath, looking around her surroundings. The room they were in looked chaotic, like a battle had taken place. Then her eyes set on who ever started talking. It was the Elemental Officer she had met before going to sleep. She looked she had went to hell and back.

Her words were not subtle, but also vague about the situation. She finally stood on her feet and her legs were wobbly. Her mechanical arm reached for her pod to hold steady. Taking small deep breathes, putting one foot ahead of the other. Finally she could feel her strength coming back.

She checked her personal storage. Finding what she needed for what will happen next. Her armor, her knife and most importantly, her spare arm. She grabbed the items and quickly equipped what she had. Looking around while checking her armor was in place, she noticed the weaponry they were currently using seemed less effective in a real fight. She scoffed when she took one, and checked the rifle she held.

When she heard about finding the armory to gain more firepower, and about the situation, she scoffed again. "Isn't obvious?" She looked at the woman with the sword, "We been attacked, and it's got worse if we now have to fight to survive." She rolled her eyes and looked at the others. "Even a dumb animal can see that." She eyed one of the Charabidians when she said it.


+++++

Vezarres managed to move his wings out of his way after pushing the lid open. His strength returned quickly as he leans forward and stood up. He expanded his wings out and yawns, revealing his sharp fangs and long tongue.

Once he regained his composure, he opened his eyes to see what was happening around him. Humans and Charabidians scrambled around, the room they were in shambled with wires sparking on the ground. It was as though the room went through a war zone. He growled for a moment thinking, 'What did they break this time?'

He stepped out of his pod and felt the solid ground under his scaly skin. "Why do I feel like I'm at home?" He muttered to himself. Then he heard the woman started speaking. Questions were on hold, a usual memo on his world. Shoot and kill first, ask questions after the feast. He didn't bother what the others would do, but when it came to survival. Vezarres quickly opened his storage and grabbed his personal items.

As for the basic weapons, he growled softly when he picked up a pistol that somehow managed to fit in his hand. It didn't matter, most of the time he had to depend on what strength he had left, and since given the situation. It looks like he will be depending on it once more.

[Enigma]

Iona's sensors were being blocked by the dampening field the rescuers had erected, so the only actual reading she was obtaining was from what was in the room. Directive was not to ask questions, not that it seem to stop the biologics.

Damaged pods at one end of the room - impact.

Impact by ship? Unable to determine, data unavailable.
Impact by outside object? Unable to determine, data unavailable.
Orientation of impact? Unable to determine, data unavailable.


Ship's current position? Unable to determine, data unavailable.

Within the wormhole? Unable to determine, data unavailable.
In the target galaxy? Unable to determine, data unavailable.


Rescuers

Condition: tired, stressed.
Equipment: Worn, poor repair, heavily used.
Armed: weapons ready for use.
Shielding: Dampening field.
Number: Approximately half the available stasis berths.

Rescuers were not here to recover survivors solely for ship repair. Suggests armed combat. Limited numbers suggest this was all they could afford to risk.



Hostile forces among crew? Improbable, no hesitation waking any species.
Hostile forces including Sentinax? Unknown; unlikely since they released her.
Hostile forces from outside the ship? Highly probable.
Hostile forces strength? Unable to determine, data unavailable.
Hostile forces dangerous? Highly probable.
Hostile forces nearby? Highly probable.
Hostile forces responsible for that entity that was in her dreamspace? Probable.

Iona paused.


Enity was Sentinax in nature? Possible.
How? Unable to determine, data unavailable.
Why? Unable to determine, data unavailable.

Directive: Speaker, interface with biological beings. Assist in their survival until counter-manned.

Evacuation of compartment recommended at earliest possibility.

Response to hostile action?


Defend the biologics in accordance with the directive.
Reveal itself as a more advanced type? If necessary.

"This unit can assist with carrying," Iona intoned, maintaining her persona as a simple maintenance bot, while still maintaining instruction not to ask questions.

[AngelDellaNotte]

She turned looking to the new speaker, it was still difficult to see but the glasses were helping. The woman was human she could see that much, a closer look showed she was wearing Terran armor. Miranda let out a low growl and moved toward the woman grabbing her by the armor and slamming her against the wall. The vibration shock Miranda making her already throbbing head feel worst but it also felt good to be taking out some of the frustration. “Look lady, I've got one hell of a fucking headache and I'm not in the mood for your smart ass bullshit. So yeah weapons. I plan on fighting my way out of this. Should we decide to run away and surrender then I'll take your advice. Isn't that what Terrans do best?” Miranda snapped.

When she felt the sudden jerk and her back hit the wall, she moved her rifle pointed at her assailant's leg with her finger on the trigger and set to non-lethal. Smirking when she recognized the voice and the face. "You think your the only one who has one?" She said back, leaning forward with a smile still on her lips. She laughed when asked about the Terran's advice. "We prefer to fight than to surrender...but isn't that what Lyre does best?" She provoked her as well.

Still holding Winter against the wall she could feel the weapon pressed against her leg. She could also feel a knife on Winter's belt. She quickly let go with one hand grabbing the knife and flipping it around, pressing it to a weak point in her armor. Just below her arm in the gap there. It wasn't a point that would be lethal but it would hurt like hell. The two of them had each other at a standoff. If Winter shot Miranda would stab and vice versa. "MacIntyre and Sharplen were idiots biting off more than they could chew. We merely moved away from their idiocy. Unlike some who like to lay with cats." Miranda said.

"Well, I'm a human and I prefer dogs." She muttered. Feeling the tip of the knife nudging her weak spot, her smile still bright. "But I heard your sister preferred Kel'Cyre, strange you Lyre's have odd fetish." She pushed her weapon on her leg. "Now...how about putting my knife back before I put a hole in your leg?"

"I can just as easily put a hole in you. Actually since that gun is on stun it wouldn't do much to me except give me a much needed nap." Miranda said, thinking it ironic that she had just spent the last three years sleeping and all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. Okay, she technically had been dead but that was a little macabre to think of it like that. Much better to think about it as sleeping. She growled thinking about Quentin's wife Taionna or rather Queen Emylyna. Who had always been the nicest to Miranda, insisting that she call her Taionna when not in public forum. Miranda just wasn't sure about her, it just seemed all to perfect to be genuine.

With another growl Miranda pulled the knife away from Winter's arm and slammed it into the wall hitting close enough to Winter to cut about an inch of hair off. With that Miranda took a step away from her looking to Gaea, ready to get the hell out of here.

Winter watched as the knife came straight at her, only yo hear her ear drown in a slam. She looked to where the knife stabbed. She smirked and watched as the woman walked away from her. "Typical." She reached for the handle and pulled out the knife with her strength and a slight grunt. She puts the knife back in it's sheath and then looked at the woman. "Grab my knife again...I'll break your arm." She warned, patting on the sheath. Her eyes focused on the woman's back, keeping her guard and watched her movements.

"You can try but I doubt you would succeed. I would say that it most likely would end up with your arm broken but I think someone beat me too it." Miranda said, not bothering to turn around and see if it got a reaction out of Winter. "I could always just break that little toy of yours but judging by the state of that hand me down arm I doubt you could afford another. Don't want our grunts being unable to hold a gun. Unless you can fire left handed. Tell me, little tin soldier can you? All of the Lyran military is trained to shoot with both hands. Then again I probably could have out shot you when I was six, with either hand."

She smirked at the insults, almost laughed at each one of them. "Same joke, different people, and can I fight with one hand?" She walked up to the woman behind her back. "Yes I can, since your people attacked mine. We stepped our game of both CQC and firearm combat training." She stopped and looked at the back of her head. "That's one thing I learned on the streets is both respect and honor. Unlike you Sinclair." She smirked again. "Yeah I know who you are and what your about. Typical rich bitches, always snotty and uptight with their so called dominance." She turned her back and looked at the others. "Now your dogs on a leash, waiting for your master to give you a treat."

"Yeah I am someone of worth. People know my name, unlike gutter trash like you." Miranda said, turning around and looking at Winter's name tape making a show of reading it, by tapping on it and running her finger across it. The performance was meant to cover that with the after effects of the long sleep she was still having trouble seeing and it was actually hard to read. "Stratford never heard of the name and I doubt I ever will. See where we differ is when history logs this cluster fuck I won't merely be a name on a list. One of the many people who succumbed in the tragedy. No, I will be in the forward with all the other people of importance. That's what good breeding does but you wouldn't know anything about that now would you." Miaranda turned around and took a step away from Winter, "Oh and Clarkes don't wear leashes we hold them." Miranda said, balling her fist and turning to Winter to punch her.

Winter didn't see the punch coming. She only saw a sudden move from the woman when she turned around in a quick move. Her face felt a hard hit, she took a couple steps back as her head leans back. Her head throbbed from the massive blow. She stopped and her metal arm raised up, wiping where the punch land it's mark. "BITCH!!" Winter screamed, lunging forward with her metal fist formed and struck at her targets stomach. Then grappled the woman around her body, shoving her to the wall with her shoulder. She was enraged so bad, she didn't hear the Dragonoid laughing in the background.

[dakkagor]

"This unit can assist with carrying," Iona intoned, maintaining her persona as a simple maintenance bot, while still maintaining instruction not to ask questions.

"First person to offer to help. Thanks" The young Charabidian gathered up a handful of bandoleers and webbing. "Here. Put these on, then take equal loads off the mules." He waved to the four loitering robotic, four legged drones. "They are in autistic mode, haptic commands only. You're a speaker right? You should shut down your transmission I/O and anything else that allows for wireless transmission. They got a lot of our equipment that way." The Charabidian looked to the Dragonoid. "Wish we'd had you a few weeks ago. Could have done with someone as big and strong as you on some of my first salvage runs."

+++++

"Are you both INSANE?!" Gaea yelled. For the first time, they heard a tinge of fear in the Elementals voice. She strode over to them both, slinging her rifle and grabbing Winters augmetic arm and pulling her off Miranda.

"STAND DOWN MARINE." Gaea yelled into her face, full force with her suits speakers. She tossed Winter to the floor and turned to Sinclair, throwing out her hand. A rippling in the air jumped towards the Lyran, slamming her back into the wall like she had hull plate draped over her.

"Listen to me!" Gaea flicked her wrist, and Winter was bounced from the floor by another blast of force, thrown into Gaea's waiting hand. She grabbed the marine by the collar of her jumpsuit. "What's out there, its hostile, invasive, and constantly learning. It kills us to learn about us, then it recycles us to make more of itself. We think its killed everything in this galaxy and we have to get back home before it learns about the gate and how to get back home and kill everything there. We need you all to help us retake the ship, restore its systems and get us . ."

Her speech was cut off by a scream of pain and a sudden electrical burning smell. Sparks played over Gaea's armour as her back arched in a spasm, and there was an audible pop as the pressure in the hold equalised with the pressure in the corridor leading to it. The Elemental slumped to her knees, smoke rising from her back.

"The. . .dampening field."

Then she crashed face first into the floor.

+++++

"Cicero, guide them in."

Cicero nodded at Dr Nikos, the acting leader of the survivors trapped in the science bay. It had been his idea to send out some of their valuable security personnel, and their last Elemental, to awaken the survivors they had identified in the hold. It made an excellent opportunity to test their nano-cams and other new observation equipment. Now all they needed was a lot of luck.

+Sissy, is that you?+

This was Davrry, the Lyran big game hunter, over the Q-cypted comm net. Everyone hated him, but his kill-shot ratio was 1:1 so far. No adaptations of the berserker had survived his almost super-human abilities with his custom mag-rifle.

+I've got movement all over the portside. I need a safe route for half a dozen cryo-jobs now+

Cicero looked over his data. Collated on half a dozen different machines designed for everything from DNA-sequencing to simple data entry, a modern Tac-centre it was emphatically not. But Cicero had adapted. He had had too. Because if he didn't he would be like so many of the other Sentinax. Corrupted. Lost. Silent. Ripped away from the voice of the Bornstellar Server, from Birth, and turned.

Berserker. . .

"Understood Uni-...Davrry." Cicero stopped himself halfway, still stuck in the typical Sentinax naming traditions. Everyone was a Unit, everything was a system and every manner of intelligence and usefulness came with a distinction between Alpha and Omega. In the long dark when the Organics had slept blissfully Davrry had gone and categorised them all as they slept, though none made the grade for an Alpha Unit. No organic could be trusted with such knowledge, let alone possibly survive with it.

With the countless Omega Units within him forcing data to and from his sensors, Cicero painted a picture of Davrry and co's location, along with the hostiles that their own sensors were detecting, hostiles that were swarming around them from all sides. However, a small pathway opposite the team was largely clear, and it was mainly the route in which they had taken to get to the pods that was swarming, along with the outer hull being covered in Berserker. "Davrry, I am reading less hostile activity deeper into the vessel. You will have to head further into the ship via corridor 754b before rerouting through storage space 12 and corridors 763b and c." Cicero stopped speaking, his mind working double time as it scanned over the map of the ship he had forged. "Once you are through hose corridors you will need to make your way down the elevator shaft in corridor 755a until you find the service port. According to my scans there are next to no hostile entities within the interim service layer of the vessel. Once there, there should be a route through to the elevator shaft at 813b on the floor that you entered from."

Cicero took a moment as he brought the map finally up on the overlay, turning his mute, unreadable Sentinax face to regard Dr Nikos, who was overlooking the Sentinax Unit's directions through the damaged vessel. "It will be tight through the service floors, but you are going to need to move to get through 813b's elevator shaft as you may need to bring it down. My scanners are detecting that the elevator is only deactivated, not destroyed beyond repair..." Cicero paused to let Davrry speak across the comms, knowing that he was giving the Organic a hard choice. Cicero himself wouldn't have had to worry about such a thing as losing a physical form in the past, though now the thread of Berserker loomed over him. It gave him clarity, and helped the synthetic being identify the fact that it was a hard choice to make, following Cicero's route. After all, with the elevator still intact but not working on 813b, the fireteam would have to bring it down, and that sort of noise attracted unbidden attention...

+Alright, sound plan. Can you check the integrity of 763B/C. I've got some nanny-dust explosives I can use to seal that section from pursuit. . .+ Davrry trailed off

+Crap. Gaea is down, her suit crapped out on her! Get Kromlyn onto the channel!+

There was confused shouting across the channel. The Charabidian, Nevarn, was close to panicking. In the lab, Kromlyn was being woken from his sleep shift. Garrick was suddenly at Cicero's side, looking over the data with a precision that was almost, but not quite, Sentinax.

"God. . .we're going to lose them all."

+++++

"No! No no no no! Wake up Gaea! Wake up!"

The Charabidian was shaking the fallen Terran by her shoulders. Those close by could hear someone yelling into the cats ear piece. Someone calling him by name.

Sounds had begun to creep into the hold from outside. The groan of bulkheads. The hiss of escaping gasses from ruptured pipes and hull. And behind all that, a sound like thousands of roaches streaming across a tiled floor. . .

[Enigma]

"As requested, all external EM transmission disabled," Iona replied, switching the systems off as she accepted the webbing and bandoleers from the Charabidian, then turned to observe the fighting between the two before being interrupted by the leader.

Hostiles confirmed.
Ship was under invasive attack.
Seeker-type attack against biologics.
Compromise of Sentinax life.
Dampening field down.
Leader of rescue unit down, possibly disabled.
Hostiles attempting to breach compartment.

"We should move, quickly," Iona said, moving towards Gaea. "I can help this unit leave this compartment with or without combat suit. Greater possible escape without suit, please advise?"

[Azazeal849]

She stifled another coughing fit and held out the bottle to the nearest survivor - a pointy-featured woman about a decade younger than her, with close-cropped blonde hair.

“Here.” she offered, and was passingly grateful to note that her voice had returned to something like its normal alto.

The angular woman did not so much as acknowledge her as she buckled on the sword from her storage box. Instead, she stormed straight over to the Elemental and started demanding answers in a staccato Lyran accent. It was only then that Sayori clocked the tattoo of a harp (no, not a harp - a lyre) inked in black against the woman’s pale neck.

Lyre First. It was a symbol which had roughly the same connotations as the Nazi swastika that had proliferated in Earth’s twentieth and twenty first centuries. Not an emblem that many Lyrans still wore openly, ten years after the Concert War - and yet Sayori couldn’t help but notice that the Lyran had deliberately turned down the collar of her flight suit. Well that was just-

“Hey, Dr Warrick.” The young Charabidian hailing her from across the cryo bay interrupted her thoughts. “Come here and grab a stun gun. You’re going to need it.”

Sayori had no reason to disbelieve him. Still clutching the water bottle, she hurried across the compartment, threading her way around broken pipes, scattered debris, and dark, leaking cryopods. Her nose was beginning to go blind to the smell of decay, which helped. The Charabidian was busy unloading bandoliers and backpacks from four quadruped bots that were waiting patiently in the centre of the bay.

“What’s your name, marine?” Sayori asked, aware that the Charabidian had her at a disadvantage.

“Nevarn.” the alien answered. His ears and whiskers were short behind his grey-tinted visor, which meant that he was young as Charabidians judged such things. “And I’m no marine, doc. I’m an engineer.”

"This unit can assist with carrying," Iona intoned.

"First person to offer to help. Thanks." The young Charabidian gathered up a handful of bandoleers and webbing. "Here. Put these on, then take equal loads off the mules." He waved to the four loitering drones. "They are in autistic mode, haptic commands only. You're a speaker right? You should shut down your transmission I/O and anything else that allows for wireless transmission.”

The Sentinax maintenance bot blinked an affirmative. "As requested, all external EM transmission disabled."

The Charabidian huffed tensely. “They got a lot of our equipment that way."

That was unwelcome news. Most of the machinery on the Elcano was rigged for wireless control and communication by default, including the Phayder Corp drones. And every Sentinax aboard. Sayori felt a cold dagger-point trace slowly down her spine as she shrugged on the frayed webbing that Nevarn handed her. There was a security-issue stun gun already holstered to it, cinched against her hip.

“How does it work?” she asked tautly, having never operated a weapon in her life.

“Pulsed energy projectile, so it’s point and shoot. Zero recoil. There’s a safety stud by your thumb, make sure you hold it down before you pull the trigger.” Nevarn paused to glance nervously at the half-open bay door. Beyond it, a failing panel-light strobed like witchfire. “Gaea? How long will that dampening field hold?”

“As long as my suit does.” the Elemental answered bluntly as she joined them. Unlike Nevarn, she was still gripping her rifle.

"BITCH!!" someone suddenly screamed. The three wheeled round to see one of the other survivors, the white-haired woman, lunging at the Lyran with a bionic fist. She folded the other woman in half with a punch to the stomach, then grappled her around her body, shoving her to the wall with her shoulder.

Sayori could only gape. The Elemental was more decisive.

"Are you both INSANE?!" Gaea yelled. For the first time, there was a tinge of fear in the Elemental’s voice. She strode over to them both, slinging her rifle to grab the attacker’s augmetic arm and pull her off the Lyran.

"STAND DOWN MARINE." Gaea yelled into her face, full force with her suit’s speakers. She tossed Winter to the floor and turned to Sinclair, throwing out her hand. A rippling in the air jumped towards the Lyran, slamming her back into the wall like she had hull plate draped over her.

"Listen to me!" Gaea flicked her wrist, and Winter was bounced from the floor by another blast of force, thrown into Gaea's waiting hand. She grabbed the marine by the collar of her jumpsuit. "What's out there, it’s hostile, invasive, and constantly learning. It kills us to learn about us, then it recycles us to make more of itself. We think its killed everything in this galaxy and we have to get back home before it learns about the Gate and how to get back home and kill everything there. We need you all to help us retake the ship, restore its systems and get us..."

Her speech was cut off by a scream of pain and a sudden electrical burning smell. Sparks played over Gaea's armour as her back arched in a spasm, and there was an audible pop as the pressure in the hold equalised with the pressure in the corridor leading to it. The Elemental slumped to her knees, smoke rising from her back.

"The. . .dampening field."

Then she crashed face first into the floor.

“Crap!” Nevarn cursed, and clawed at the comm-stalk looping around his jaw. “Gaea is down, her suit crapped out on her! Get Kromlyn onto the channel!” He dropped to his knees beside the stricken Elemental. "No! No no no no! Wake up Gaea! Wake up!"

The Charabidian was shaking the fallen Terran by her shoulders. Someone was yelling into the cat’s ear piece, calling him by name. A hoarse rasp of static was blurting from the Elemental’s helmet speakers, clicking on and off. Almost like breathing…

“Nevarn.” Sayori snapped, the plastic water bottle falling from her hand and rolling away across the floor as she dropped down next to the engineer. “Nevarn.” She slapped the Carabidian’s shoulder to draw his attention. “She needs a stimm pack, do you have a stimm pack?”

“Stimm pack.” the young engineer repeated, and straightened a little. “Uh, yes, yes, we’ve got those…” He scrambled off the floor, skidding for purchase, and stumbled back towards the oblivious mule units.

White smoke was still coiling from the seams of Gaea’s armour, stinking of ozone and burnt wires. A short-circuiting connection had popped open the panel at the base of the powerplant mounted to the suit’s back. Sayori levered it off, unleashing another belch of smoke, and was greeted by a baffling mish-mash of electrical components. Most powered armour suits were fairly standardised, and in fact used many of the same principal components as her drones - she had even studied powersuit interface units fairly extensively for her latest project, due to their similarities. As such she expected a standard arrangement of fusion reactor caps, capacitor units and protective regulators. The fusion plants were there, but many of the wires looked like they had been simply soldered into place, and the capacitors were several different shapes and sizes, as if they had been scavenged from completely different systems. The whole plant had the unmistakable look of being jury-rigged.

Nevarn clattered to the floor next to Sayori, clutching a rigid canvas box marked with a red medical cross. “Stimm pack.” he panted, and tore open the zip to extract a thick syringe. He hunched over Gaea’s sprawled arm and pressed something that levered open the thick forearm plate.

“Yabai.” Sayori whispered under her breath as she caught sight of the sandy-skinned arm underneath. It was studded with silver plugs, some with wires or tubes snaking directly into them. Most of the plugs were now red raw, the skin around them seared by a web of striated lines. Whatever had kicked off the electrical surge through her suit, the Elemental was extremely lucky to be alive. They probably shouldn’t be trying to move her at all, but (Scale One, we think it’s killed everything...) the only other option was to leave her to the mercy of the thing that had attacked the ship.

There was, however, a problem. Gaea wouldn’t be going anywhere with the dead weight of an inactive armour suit. Sayori tore her eyes away from the abused, invasively augmented arm and returned to the more familiar territory of the backpack power plant. Her head was still throbbing, urged on by her anxious heartbeat, and the scratching of the IV needle in the back of her hand was another unwelcome distraction.

The smoke was coming from one of the capacitor blocks. There was a variable resistor placed to act as a fuse, but it looked to have blown out some time previously and simply been bypassed with a soldered wire. The system had been reliant on the suit’s Virtual Intelligence alone to regulate the current, and that had evidently glitched out and fried the capacitor. Sayori frowned at the mess, pressing the tip of her tongue against her top lip.

“I hope that works.” Nevarn said, his ears laid back against his skull as he sat back and tossed aside the empty stimm syringe.

"We should move, quickly," the maintenance bot said, moving towards Gaea. "I can help this unit leave this compartment with or without combat suit. Greater possible escape without suit, please advise?"

“No no.” Sayori said quickly, snapping her head left and right. Figuring out how to disengage the Elemental from all those interfacing tubes and wires would be a hideous job, and take even longer. “I can fix this!”

“We don’t have time.” Nevarn protested, his slit-pupiled eyes darting back towards the access corridor.

Sayori shook her head again, decisively. “She’s not going anywhere without a genny.”

“That’s not the suit generator. That’s the generator for the field projectors.”

Sayori’s mouth fell open. She thought of Gaea throwing Winter and Sinclair about like rag dolls, and looked down at the exposed guts of the power plant again. “All that’s just for one system?”

“Keep your voice down.” Nevarn hissed, swiping with a gloved paw. He looked back over his shoulder again before hunching over Gaea, who still had not stirred. “Crap, she’s still not responding!”

Sayori raised her head from the power plant. “You’ll have to give her another stimm shot!”

Nevarn’s ears twitched. “Couldn’t that kill her?”

“You’d rather just leave her here?”

Sayori yanked the feeder cable out of the burned-out capacitor, wincing slightly at the heat still radiating out of it. Ideally, she needed a like-for-like replacement. The mules, the maintenance bot, even the cryopods probably had a capacitor unit of the right size to slot into the Elemental power plant; unfortunately, those other capacitors were usually much better secured into their power units than the ones in this jury-rigged suit. So, she had to re-route past it, and just let the shield projectors operate on reduced capacity until they could get it to a proper workshop (if there’s one left to get it to. Scale One, Scale One, Scale One...).

Using an omni-key from the webbing as an impromptu lever, Sayori worked the overheated capacitor out of its claw-socket and tossed it aside. Bypassing the dead capacitor was the easy part - the hard part would be finding a suitable replacement VI, to make sure the suit didn’t simply overload the other capacitors too. Either that or reprogram the original one on the fly, and (yeah, right) that would take an understanding of the system that she emphatically didn’t have. She looked at Nevarn.

“We’re going to need a whole new VI." she hissed through her teeth. "What kind does the suit use?”

The young Charabidian looked uncertain. “I don’t know, Cicero’s the one who keeps it running.”

“Is he on the radio?” Sayori asked, and clawed her hand at the Charabidian in response to his uncertain nod. “Gimme the comm, gimme the comm.”

Nevarn lifted his helmet just enough to unhook the comm-stalk from around his ear, and pushed it into Sayori’s beckoning hand. Sayori shortened the telescopic microphone to better fit the contours of her human face, and pressed the receiver against her ear.


+ + + + + +

Cicero was still interlinked into the communications systems, trying to raise Nevarn, when a new voice cut across the link. He analysed it. Human; female; coarse from recent cryo revival. The accent was west-coast American, spiced with hints of Korean and Japanese - typical for Terrans born within Old Earth’s Pan Pacific Coalition.

“Hello?” the voice was saying, “This is Sayori Warrick, Phayder robotics team. I’m with Nevarn, Gaea and four others.”

"Good Morning Dr Sayori, I trust your sleep went well." Cicero said rather matter-of-factly over the comms. "I also trust Davrry has given you my instructions on how to ge-." Before the Unit could continue the other voice cut him off, sounding - the Unit thought - slightly angry.

“Your Elemental suit blew a capacitor.” Sayori explained, talking in machine-gun bursts. “I think the VI failed. I can bypass the capacitor easy enough but I need you to tell me what kind of VI the unit’s configured for.”

"This is troubling." Cicero analysed the data for a moment before firing off rapid commands, understanding the urgency of the situation as he saw hostile movement on his scans. "You will need to move quickly, but the suit utilises a custom Virtual Intelligence. Reconfiguring it could prove difficult in your current predicament Doctor...though I guess that is why it is a good thing that I am aboard." Cicero sounded almost jovial.

"Are you telling jokes now Sissy?" Davrry’s rolling South African drawl called over the comms. "Is this the new thing?"

"Very good analysis Davrry." Cicero returned to his matter-of-fact, typical Sentinax drone. As he did so, he separated systems and omega units from his own, uncorrupted form. "A few omega Units could in theory replace the Virtual Intelligence, though the mainframe of the suit is not designed for such intelligence...it will not be comfortable for the operating Unit."

As Cicero spoke, he began to transmit the omega Units through the commlink; a rather unorthodox way of transferring omega Units, and yet the Sentinax were masters of the transmission of their own kind. Many of the more advanced species they had come across proclaimed them as a technological virus, sweeping across foreign computing systems from the most simple of links between their tech and Sentinax tech.

But of course, Berserker could do the same...


+ + + + + +

For a moment all the comms were filled with the sounds of humming, before the Virtual Intelligence hub within Gaea’s backpack began to hum gently, coming back online.

"I have transmitted a small percentile of my Units, enough to operate the Virtual Intelligence Systems and not reduce my own Form's productivity and usefulness. I leave the rest in your capable hands, Dr Sayori."

“We’ve got it, thank you.” Sayori replied. She snapped the panel on Gaea’s power plant closed, and turned to pass the comm-stalk back to Nevarn. The engineer was just throwing aside the second empty stimm-pack.

“There we go,” the young Charabidian muttered nervously, “This had better…”

At that exact moment the Elemental soldier spasmed against the ground, and her helmet speakers roared with a mix of static and a harsh, sucking breath, like someone who had been held underwater to the point of drowning.

Sounds had begun to creep into the hold from outside. The groan of bulkheads. The hiss of escaping gasses from ruptured pipes and hull. And behind all that, a sound like thousands of roaches streaming across a tiled floor.

"You need to move." Cicero’s voice sounded audibly. No doubt the Sentinax beta was watching the hostile activity increase, as though they were greyhounds gradually sniffing out prey. "As soon as possible."

[Enigma]

Iona retreated back to the door where the four mules waited.

Plan:

A. Devour suit and form an exoskeleton around the biologic form in order to extract them from this location - Canceled.
B. Infiltrate suit to form a new framework for the exoskeleton in order to extract the biologic form from this location - Canceled.
C. Reduce the burden on the robotic mules and let the biologics make their own repairs - as requested.

Moving swiftly, Iona identified what seemed to be the highest priority items, and took 20% onto herself while redistributing the weight and remaining items among the four mules. She also collected some of the wreckage to tuck away into her internal frame where nanites began the process of turning raw material into more nanites, which it then sent out to reinforce its nanite frame against the additional load.

By the time Iona was done, the Elemental was back on her feet, its VI replaced by retasked Omegas.

"Ready to proceed," Iona intoned.

[Imperial1917]

His first impulse upon waking was to gag, hat seemed like years of moisture deprivation driving what little remaining biological fluids up in a direction they were never meant to go. In the same time and space a deep-seated sense of self-preservation stamped on the reflex as his mind probed his senses with an intensity only surpassed by their own probing of his surroundings, instinct driving him to avoid drawing attention to himself.

Sound was the first to reach him beneath the murk draining away like so much draining swamp as the nausea of rebirth cleared from his system. Voices, many babbling, many confused, all driven to a mere murmur as another rose over them. Under the haze he felt a stab of annoyance, bright and hot, as any distinct words were lost. That could be a death sentence.

With a will he pushed himself from where he lay in the... cryopod. Yes, he was in a cryopod. He knew this before he finally opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. How did he know that?

Pods lay strewn all around as some of their occupants groggily climbed out and were met with... Elementals. Armed soldiers. A confused babble was rising again, anger mixing with the dysfunction. Again above it all, that commanding voice laced with concern. "Take a mouthful, pass it around. And Garrick says we have access to the Phayder labs. As soon as we get you to HQ, we can get you set up."

Garrick... the name was familiar, like a distant cord of a forgotten song. Who... was he? He looked down at his hands, names swirling in his memory. Garrick? No, that couldn't be right. Amirk? No, another cord in the forgotten song. Ysthmir? No, that couldn't... or could it? Something about it sounded right. Something struck his memory. Ysthmir. Yes, a good strong name. That was him.

Blinking, Ysthmir looked up from his hand and took in his surroundings once more, more memories flooding his mind. They were not knowing, he knew, but rather some instinct. Instinct now, knowing would come later.

Emergency lights - something was wrong. Smashed pods - why did that seem so fitting? Armed soldiers and a conflict brewing, greater than the small tussle between the women nearby. He watched that through his haze as the Elemental waded in between them. He glanced around and saw the eyes of the spectators trained on the confrontation, their gazes sliding over him as if he wasn't there. That was how it was meant to be too, he felt. For now.

On instinct, he reached down under his pod and pulled out an equipment bag. He didn't know why he knew to do that, but he did. As he slung it over his back, the sound of scuttling filled the air.

[MidKnight]

Winter wanted to throw in several punches to the gut to make her feel the pain. To show how strong Winter was, but instead of throwing more blows. She felt a sudden jerk and soon her face met with her superior. Knowing this feeling from before, seeing most of the drill instructors getting into her face, including several of the fights she got involved in. Luckily for her, she had no choice to remain with the military despite her actions of trying to get tossed out. Though she managed to cope with what she had to deal with, the Marine Corps became her family.

After Gaea had tossed her to the ground like a rock, Winter's face hit the ground first. Breaking her fall, she growled softly and tried to stand back up. Only to get pulled again by something fierce and into Gaea's waiting hand. Winter grabbed her hand, trying to get out of her hold to attack the Lyre woman once more. Instead she met with overwhelming force and a lecture. Winter stopped struggling for a moment until Gaea released a sudden scream.

Stepping back a few feet, hearing her soft words about dampening fields. "Sergeant?" Winter called out to her softly while keeping her hands up from the unexpected accident. She watched her superior lay on the ground and then a Charabidian kneels down quickly by her, shaking her unconscious body, begging her to wake up. Then a fellow Terran kneels next to the young Charabidian, trying to get him to stay together through this situation.

Keeping her distance from the fallen comrade, she gazed now and then at the Lyre woman standing on the opposite side. Her breathing was heavily paced, but Winter kept breathing through her nose, her chest moved rapidly for a few short seconds until she finally calmed down. But kept her gaze on the Lyre woman. Her attention turned when she heard a slight gasp from the Elemental Sergeant, her nerves felt at ease knowing the Sergeant was alive. But she still had Sinclair in her gaze, "This ain't over...bitch." She said roughly before walking away to pick up her rifle laying on the ground nearby.


+++++

The old Dragonoid looked down on the one who talked to him, a young Charabidian. Mentioning about his height and muscles, Vezarres chuckled. "I'm sure you could handle yourself." He remarked. "Still...you should have woken up the Dragonoid security task force instead. They could have prevented of what happened here." He looked around, "Scavenge runs? Nah...what you need is what the humans call..'Improvise.' on some of these tech equipment you got laying around." He chuckled again, "If you were on my home world, you would not last the day if you don't know how to work with what you got laying around here." Then he heard someone screamed, and looked to the two women.

Vezarres watched as the two had scuffled, he couldn't help it but laugh as they fought briefly before the Elemental pulled them apart. "Let them fight, it gets a lot of stress out of their minds." Then he watched the Elemental scream in pain and barely said three words. 'Dampening field?' He thought. He walked over to see how the two were doing by giving Gaea a stim pack.

Seeing how the Terran tried to bypass the capacitor and mentioned something about VI. Vezarres sighs heavily. "Terrans and their so called VI's." He walked away from the three as they continued to work on the Elemental, though some of the things Sayori did made him flinch and felt awkward as she did what she needed to do. It was like watching a young warrior first time killing another Dragonoid.

After what seemed like an urgent rush, Vezarres hears the Elemental back in operation once more. He walked over to see the results. "Eh." He muttered. Though he could see several things that needed to be replace, coil wires, a new external hardware, and possibly power generator. The VI was out of his league. He checked his weapon once more and looked down the hallway where the young Charabidian was looking. He sniffed the air several times, he could smell death coming towards their way.

"Something's coming." He growled as he watched the hallway. "We need to move...NOW!!!" He walked over to the Elemental and reached for her arm, picking up her and carried half of her body with him. "I got her! No worries!!" He said once more before carrying Gaea like a over size dufflebag and moved his wings so they would not be in the way. "Stupid Terrans and their suits." He muttered to himself.

[AngelDellaNotte]

Miranda hit the wall with a thump jarring her, that combined with the punch to the stomach was enough for her to throw up the remaining slurry. God it tasted even worse coming up then it did going down. She coughed a few times and then spit the remaining out of her mouth. Unable to get that after taste to go away. She pushed herself from the ground and noticed the bottle of water the doctor had tried to offer her sitting on the remains of a cyropod. She took it and drank down half of it trying to get the taste out of her mouth. While the others clamored around the fallen elemental Miranda walked over to the weapons the Charabidian was handing out and took a rifle. She would much rather prefer having one of her own but it would do for now. Then she looked over seeing Winter moving in her direction and calling her a bitch, she tensed thinking at first the Terran was going to come at her again but then noticed the rifle on the ground. She took a couple steps toward it then just as Winter was about to pick it up she kicked it across the room before leaning in close to Winter and whispering, “Stay out of my way soldier girl. Wouldn't want anyone getting fragged around here.” Miranda pulled back and away from Winter walking over to the others getting ready to move. She raised her voice back to a normal level, “Better go take care of your nanny.” Miranda said, watching as the dragoniod picked up the elemental. “Nevermind the over grown Iguana has her.”

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Kromlyn was roused from his sleep though it felt like he had just laid down. Someone was violently shaking him awake while saying something about their elemental. He knew she had just gone out on a mission to bring back more survivors but hadn't expected them to be back just yet. That was why he was going to get a couple hours of sleep. He had been going nonstop from when they woke him from the cyropod checking on the others. The effects of the deep sleep were taking their toll on everyone not to mention the scale one event they had on their hands. He barely had more than a moment or two to rest since waking up. Thankfully his own symptoms were relatively mild. A slight headache and upset stomach. Eating some rations had helped with the stomach ache and he pushed through the headache reserving the medication for those with the worse symptoms. He finally woke up enough to understand what was being said to him. Something had happened to Gaea on the mission. Pushing himself out of the cot he glanced at his watch seeing that he had only been asleep about forty minutes.

The person who woke him lead him to the make shift control room where he noticed a Sentinax and could hear Davrry on the radio. They were giving instructions on how to get out of there and make minor repairs to the elemental's suit. Coming behind them her heard a woman's voice on the radio and the person who woke him explained it was Dr. Sayori trying to rewire the VI on the suit. He didn't really know what that meant his area of expertise being in organics not mechanics. “Dr. Sayori, this is Dr. Kovar, are you able to access the suits vital monitor and get a status on Gaea's vitals?” Kromlyn said, talking into the radio.

[Azazeal849]

"Dr Sayori?"

"It's for you, doc." Nevarn said tersely, pressing his comm-stalk back into Sayori's hands and shrugging his shotgun off his shoulder.

Sayori pressed the device to her ear without bothering to hook it in place. "Warrick here."

"Dr Sayori," a voice with a lilting Kel'Cyre accent replied, "This is Dr Kovar."

It took a moment for Sayori to put a face to the name - a silver-haired alien with a smile that never quite warmed his eyes. He had performed the medical screening for Sayori and the other Phayder Corp staff prior to the mission launch, but she knew little else about him except that he had apparently been honoured for bravery during the Concert War.

"Are you able to access the suit's vital monitor and get a status on Gaea's vitals?"

Sayori glanced over at the Dragonoid, who had looped Gaea's arm around his neck and hoisted her back onto her feet as if the weight of her powered armour was inconsequential.

"She's on her feet at least." she offered, hugging Nevarn's shadow as their newly-formed group hurried for the exit. "We gave her a double shot of stimms..."

As they dodged around the scattered cryo-pods and their decaying occupants, the hissing, skittering sound from beyond the bulkheads grew ominously louder. Sayori's mind conjured up a swarm of scorpions (It's hostile, invasive), racing and scuttling along the Elcano's half-lit corridors. (It kills us to learn about us.)

Scale One, Scale One, Scale One.

[dakkagor]

+++elementalBIOSv1.5+++
+++Combat restart? Y/N+++
+++ERRORBADBIOSDETECTED+++
+++ERRORBADBIOSDETECTED+++
+++ERRORBADBIOSDETECTED+++
+++INITIATING SUIT DENIAL PROCEDURE+++
+++3 . . .+++
+++2 . . .+++
+++DENIALPROCEDUREABORTEDUSEROVERRIDEDETECTED #28761Gaea, GS#+++
+++WELCOME BACK SERGEANT+++

"She's on her feet at least." she offered, hugging Nevarn's shadow as their newly-formed group hurried for the exit. "We gave her a double shot of stimms..."

Gaea snapped awake to a green world of scrolling code and miserable, aching pain. Someone was hauling her along the floor like she was a stumbling drunk, and her legs seemed to confirm that idea as they were clearly working on their own, the armours automated systems tripped.


+++YOU HAVE CONTACTS+++

She was wide awake as her screen cleared. The Dragonoid was carrying her. She could feel multiple, strange things slivering through her plugs and her nerves, like slugs made of melting ice.

She unlimbered her gun, and fired into the inky darkness.

She had seen it before the Dragonoid. It had fallen from the ceiling silently. Her SMG was not an ideal weapon for it. She watched rounds punch through its monstrous, insectoid carapace, missing vitals that intelligently reconfigured as she shot it. It was a collector, a millipede like assemblage of limbs, armour plates, piercing claws, and red lense eyes.

It shrieked like a human. It sobbed, begging, in the thick Ural accented voice of Corporal Olenko from G Company, begging her not to shoot him.

Its already got my RFID. Her brain was sluggish. Stims, exhaustion, damage. . . she fired another burst that sent it scuttling back. The thing screamed again, and she could see the skulls, grinning, red, flensed of skin, that the fucking monster had incorporated into its underside. Some of those skulls still had brains. Some of them were still concious. The collector started to reconfigure (https://hansangel.files.wordpress.com/2013/03/28.jpg), bladed limbs unfolding even as her collection of rescued crew pumped it full of useless, useless stun rounds. The Dragonoid was going to charge it, she could feel his muscle groups tense.

Nevarn was by her side in the next second. He slid under the thing as it reared up to strike and fired two point blank shots. His shotgun was a specialised, custom piece of equipment, more a two shot blunderbuss firing a thick, explosive wad of monowire, plastic explosive, and charged particles. The Collector didn't die so much as come apart in chunks, flopping to the floor and weeping like a gutshot soldier. Nevarn got himself to his feet, and calmly reloaded his weapon.

“Nevarn . ..help me Nevarn. . .its got me. . .please, please beloved, don't let me die.”

Nevarn brought his boot down, hard, on its remaining CPU stack. The voice of his husband died, echoing into the dark corridor.

“Don't let me die. . . don't let me die. . .don't let me die.”

The ship screamed back.

+++++

Davrry Milner was not having a good day. In his customised hunters rig, he was light, strong and fast. And while he was protected against the elements, he was not armoured to even the level of Nevarn. His camocloak rippled about him as he ran silently through the crushspace of 763B/C. With Gaea down. . .

+Thats why we need to run+

“Gaea, you awake?”

+Affirmative.+ Davrry winced at the laboured breathing he heard. +We got the sniffing collector.+

Davrry slid to a stop and crammed himself into a rent in a wall. He paused his breathing, letting his cybernetic lung take over oxygenating his blood. It had been a neat trick as a big game hunter. Aboard the Elcano, it was a fucking lifesafer.

+Davrry?+

He tapped his comms twice.

+Understood. See you soon+

+++++

They where running. It was good that they where running.

Corridor 763B had passed in a blur, Gaea getting up-to-the-second updates from both of the doctors and Cicero. Kromlyn was remotely managing her suits medical systems while Cicero worked on on the fly programming for the Omegas patched in and keeping her field systems alive. She could feel the heat from the fusion stacks and capacitors as she kept the sound dampening field up and around them.

Corridor 763C waited. And it they where expected.

Three hunters (https://static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/11118/111184645/5864467-5750309846-Resiz.jpg), clawing and scratching at something on the floor, looked up with their blank mask faces. They started to lope towards the group.

“Back up!” She waved the group back, trying to get a bead on the leader. “BACK UP!”

She fired, a short burst, then another. The Hunters were different from the Collectors, all densly packed fibre muscles, actuators and armour plate designed to rend and tear at point blank range. Advanced motion predictor software feeding from sensors studding their bodies allowed them to almost dodge bullets.

Gaea missed twice.

Then the pack leaders head exploded. The whip crack roared through the air bubble, white fire tracing a line back to a busted open ceiling panel dangling wires and a single figure, hanging upside down with a massive custom anti-material rifle.

The left one turned on a dime, throwing itself at Davrrys concealed position, where a half powered shot smashed it to the deck, and a second decapitated it.

The final one scuttled towards her. With a feral yell, she punched it out. Her fist, swathed in a powerfield, tore through its head, neck and body, scattering it into metal confetti.

Davrry dropped down into the swinging torch light of the survivors. He was clad in an advanced hunting suit, with exposed actuators and artifical muscle bundles, a single armour plate on his left shoulder notched with kill markings.

“Two more for me” He chuckled as he pulled his helmet clear, revealing dark skin, tangled dreadlocks and a mean smile.

“Fucker.” Gaea smiled under her helmet. “Is this corridor rigged?”

“You better believe it. I've set up the elevator for a fast rope descent. We're almost home free.”

+++++

Gaea had kept up the pace until they reached a blank bulkhead section. They packed the survivors up against the wall, and the three swept the corridor.

“Clear.”
“Clear.”
“Clear.”

+Understood+ Garricks voice, previously choppy and static laced, was crystal clear.

The wall swung upwards, and Gaea ushered them all into a decontamination chamber. Davrry and Nevarn stepped in after them. And the door slid back into position, seamless. Gaea slumped, supported by Davrry and Nevarn.

+Seal confirmed. Give me a second with decon, and you can join us in the galley+

There was a blast of heat, white light and stunning noise.

+All clean, no bugs detected. Welcome to the Science Decks, ladies and gentlemen+

+++++

Gaea, Davrry and Nevarn disappeared into a side room without another word. Waiting for them was Doctor Garrick. From the last time Sayori had seen him. . . to say he ahd changed was an understatement. Rather than being sickly, frail and paper skinned, he was younger, healthier, strong and athletic.

“I can't tell you how glad we are to see you all.” He gestured for them to follow and he lead them through the science labs, a hub of activity. Other survivors worked on nearby benches, mainly science team, but a few engineers and support staff. Most looked up and barely seemed to register the new group, a few giving desulotry waves or respectful nods of the heads, but the rest were clearly engrossed in their work.

“Its not been an easy two years for us. There have been losses, disasters. . . I'm not even sure where to begin.”

They stepped into a galley appended to the science deck, one that Sayori recognised as where she had drunk her nanofood before the big sleep. It was now a more multi-purpose communal area. A table had been laid with food, but bunk beds clearly salvaged from elsewhere where stacked up against the far wall. It was a simple stew, with flasks of water and trays of pills next to them. Standing nearby was Cicero and Doctor Kromlyn.

“I'm sure you have questions. But much should be obvious to you.” The doctor pulled up a chair, and flopped into it. “As soon as we left the gate, we found a marvel of the galaxy. A wreck graveyard stretching from the outer reaches of a cold gas giant to the edge of the system. Millions of advanced ships. But we also found what killed those ships. Some kind of automated defense system, we thought at first. The military crews were woken up first, and then engineering, with science last, but it was chaotic, we were taking fire almost immediately. For 3 days the Elcano and its frigates kept them at bay, but then. . .” He shuddered.

“The fighting went bulkhead to bulkhead, room to room. They were relentless. Slowly they killed everyone who fought back, though it took weeks. In that time, the science team were able to boston the plans for the Elcano, they were infilitrators you see. . .the Sentinax, many of them turned on us when Hekatonkles was taken, corrupted. . .and Julian. . .poor Julian. Trapped in the core, alone, under constant assault. Its a miracle he is still holding out.”

For a second Doctor Garrick fell silent, staring into space.

“From a certain point, it stopped being about fighting back, it became about surviving. We've held on for as long as we can. The enemy, we call them 'berserkers', are in control of many ship systems. We've hidden this place behind fields, made it look like a compacted deck layer. . . but we can't last here forever. Either they'll figure out where we are and come for us, or we'll screw up somehow and lead them here.”

[Enigma]

"Where should this unit put the supplies that this unit was tasked to carry?" Iona asked as they exited the decontamination chamber, ready to surrender the webbing, bandoleers, and assorted supplies it had taken from the robotic mules.


Hearing the news about Hekatonkles corrupted, like those biologics they had encountered in their run... Unimaginable.

"How long since the ship arrived in this system?" Iona asked, still in its form of a Gamma class maintenance unit. "How long before another ship arrives?"

There was sure to be another ship once they were overdue. They could even be prepared for an attack - but not of this nature.

Cicero made no attempt to contact her. Disappointing. Was it because she was a Gamma? Was it because she appeared to be a maintenance unit? Why would a maintenance unit be a Speaker?

[Azazeal849]

Sayori’s hands were cold, constricted by adrenaline.

The corridor ahead of them was dark, and smelled like red metal. Near the door to the cryo-bay, a sickly panel light strobed. The one beyond that had failed, leaving a pool of black washing the hallway. Further ahead, a circulator fan rumbled thwuk thwuk thwuk, casting rotating shadows across a bulkhead door etched with the letters 754-b.

Sayori saw something, the merest suggestion of black against black, drop silently from the shadowed section of ceiling towards the floor. Without warning, Gaea unlimbered her gun and fired into the inky darkness. The nail-gun rattle of the SMG was deafening in the confined space, forcing Sayori to flinch away from the Elemental marine.

In the darkness, something was hit. It shrieked like a human. It sobbed, begging, in a thick Ural-accented voice, begging Gaea not to shoot him.

“Wait!” Sayori cried out, her voice drowned by the full auto bursts of Gaea’s SMG. But then the shot creature skittered back into the light below the whickering fan, and she saw what it really was.

The swarm of scorpions she had imagined earlier would have been preferable.

It was metallic but not Sentinax; a myriapod of overlapping shells and skittering legs, twice the length of a grown man. It shifted before Sayori’s eyes, intact plates sliding to cover bullet-holed ones, or perhaps it was just an illusion of the creature’s undulating movement. The end closest to them unfurled and a cluster of red eye-lenses blinked into life, glinting above an array of scissoring manipulators. Needle thin lasers stabbed out and fumbled their way up the corridor, locking onto the eight survivors.

The thing dived forward and thrashed up the corridor, sidewinder-swift, covering the distance between them in a few short heartbeats. All the while Gaea was firing and the creature was screaming - in that same desperate voice; impossibly, grotesquely human. The thing reared up, hissing with a sound of metal sliding over metal as huge bladed limbs unfolded from its flanks. Sayori barely even registered the spreading claws because the creature’s underside had

Faces.

Skulls; grinning, red, flensed of skin, that the fucking monster had somehow incorporated into its underside. They were fused there like batteries into sockets, silver wires worming their way into the skinned faces. For a demented moment, Sayori thought it was the skulls that were screaming.

She didn’t think to reach for her stun gun. She didn’t even think to scream. Her throat seemed to have constricted, and her diaphragm was frozen.

Nevarn was by Gaea’s side in the next second. He slid under the thing as it reared up to strike and fired two point blank shots. What was left of the thing’s top half collapsed against the floor, metal appendages twitching. It mewled in a different voice, this one sobbing in a Charabidian language that Sayori didn’t know.

Nevarn brought his boot down, hard, on its remaining CPU stack.

“Don’t listen to anything they say.” The young engineer’s face was grim as he limped back to the group. Reversing their roles from earlier, he gently slapped Sayori’s shoulder to tear her attention away from the slain monster. Sayori looked into the blue, slit-pupiled eyes behind his visor, and tried to blink away the image of black, empty ones, hung with rags of glistening flesh. She could feel cold sweat on the back of her neck, and her jaw didn’t seem to want to stop quivering. Her mouth was as dry as grave-dust.

“Listen to me. Anyone integrated into those things is dead already. And if you hear someone who you know shouldn’t be there, run like hell.”

Nevarn plucked the stun pistol from the holster at Sayori’s hip and pressed it into her hand. Looking down, Sayori saw Nevarn’s comm-stalk lying on the tiled deck. She couldn’t remember dropping it.

She scooped it up and ran.


+ + + + +

Gaea, Davrry and Nevarn disappeared into a side room without another word. Waiting for them was Doctor Garrick. From the last time Sayori had seen him. . . to say he had changed was an understatement. Rather than being sickly, frail and paper-skinned, he was younger, healthier; strong and athletic.

“Nikos?” Sayori asked, pulling up short. “What the h-...is that you?”

Garrick smirked like a Cheshire cat, very much like another grin he had worn in a conversation that, from Sayori’s perspective, they had had just a few short hours ago. “Of course, some of us are looking forward to the long sleep more than others.”

“Yes, about that.” Garrick replied wryly. “I slipped my complement of nano-machines a new instructions set before the long sleep. Replace my cells rather than simply maintain them, strip out a few corrupted DNA fragments from each…”

The chief scientist spread his arms and looked himself up and down. Sayori blinked at him.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just achieved?”

“I won’t be recommending it for mass production yet. There was a non-trivial chance that it would have been impossible to revive me, and since it burned through all of the reserve nano-food in the pod, that chance would have gone up dramatically if I hadn’t been woken up in the first wave.”

Sayori felt an incongruous laugh creeping up her throat. It burst out explosively, dragging all the horrors of the last hour with it and, for a moment, dissipating them into the air.

“You zurui bastard.” she choked. “You’re a genius. You’re a fucking moron, but you’re a genius.”

Garrick chuckled along with her. “A distressing amount of science is poking things with sticks to see how they react. Our sticks have improved but the principle remains. How are you feeling?”

“Hungover.” Sayori evaded, attempting a joke rather than try to condense and express all of the real anxieties twisting and gnawing around in her brain.

“I can't tell you how glad we are to see you all.” The chief scientist gestured for them to follow and he lead them through the science labs, a hub of activity. Other survivors worked on nearby benches, mainly science team, but also a few engineers and support staff. Most looked up and barely seemed to register the new group, a few giving desultory waves or respectful nods of the heads, but the rest were clearly engrossed in their work. Sayori hunted among the drawn, distracted faces for people she recognised. She found one or two, but had almost as much trouble reconciling them with her memory as she had had with Garrick. Everyone looked haggard.

“It’s not been an easy two years for us.” Garrick said. “There have been losses, disasters. . . I'm not even sure where to begin.”

“Two years?” Sayori repeated, her earlier levity evaporating. She fished her PDA out of its zipper pocket. Fortunately, the extended time idling in the cryo-bay didn’t seem to have affected it. After a few moments of Phayder Corp logos, a familiar series of program tiles scrolled down onto the screen, with the time and date blinking a calm, damning white at the top.

00:26 15 April 2612

The Elcano had left their home galaxy on the 3rd of November 2609. She had been scheduled to be resurrected from her cryo-pod on 1st December 2610. The pods carried their own redundant supply of nano-food, but even then her revival system must have been stretched to its absolute limit.

A circling data connection icon began to blink at the top right of the screen as the PDA continued to boot up. Saying nothing, Sayori tapped the Controls icon and swiped to deactivate the wireless before it could attempt a connection to whatever was left of the Elcano’s mainframe. (They got a lot of our equipment that way.)

“I'm sure you have questions. But much should be obvious to you.” The doctor pulled up a chair, and flopped into it.

As he spoke, Sayori could almost feel herself wilting down into the deck. And to think that when Gaea had first mentioned hostiles aboard (hostile; invasive; it recycles us) she had thought that a few bulletproof EVA drones from the Phayder lab deck were going to help. She thought again of the red-raw skulls implanted into the shrieking millipede-thing, and felt almost instantly queasy.

“Is this all that’s left?” she ventured, looking around at the grim-faced workers.

“All that we know of.” Garrick answered, resting his chin on his laced hands. “But it is a big ship. The command deck and main engineering seem like likely places for other crew to be holed up, but there’s been too much Berserker activity for us to get there and investigate.”

Sayori massaged her temple. “And how many of those...Berserker things?”

Garrick smiled a gallows smile. “Be careful what you wish for, Dr Warrick. Nevarn was seeding next-gen sensors around the deck on the way to the cryo bay. Since you got back we’ve been reading dozens of hostiles...just on the cryo level. I’ll let you extrapolate for the rest of the ship.”

“Saitae.” Sayori mumbled, and lapsed into silence for a moment.

“From a certain point, it stopped being about fighting back, it became about surviving. We've held on for as long as we can. The enemy are in control of many ship systems. We've hidden this place behind fields, made it look like a compacted deck layer. . . but we can't last here forever. Either they'll figure out where we are and come for us, or we'll screw up somehow and lead them here.”

Sayori looked up, frowning now. The chief scientist had always been a cynic, and this time she could empathise. But she couldn’t simply accept.

“Gaea said she needed us to help retake the ship.” she pointed out firmly. “You must have a plan. If these Berserker things have hacked into the systems, then couldn’t we rewire them for manual control?”

As a robotics engineer, Sayori had spent the better part of her adult life taking electrical systems apart, reprogramming them and putting them back together.

Garrick looked up, and a measure of his wry humour returned. “That’s doable. In fact, we’ve already subverted several key systems back to our control. But there’s several thousand more individual systems that we need to run repairs or shunts on before we can call the ship ours again. And time is becoming a factor. Key supplies are starting to run low.”

The chief scientist folded his hands on the table.

“What we really need is to get to a system where we can syphon a copy of Julian out of the core. He has all the necessary command codes to reactivate the primary systems and make a run for the Gate. That might be where you newcomers can help us.” He looked down at Sayori’s hand, which was tracing figure-eights on the table as she processed her thoughts. “But first, you should get Kromlyn to take that out.”

He twitched his head in the direction of two figures standing off to the side of the repurposed mess hall.

“Huh?” Sayori followed his gaze, and was reminded of the IV needle still embedded in the back of her hand, held on by a fraying, dog-eared piece of surgical tape. The last half hour’s exertions had wrenched it around enough to cause a drop of blood to well up under the gauze, but it was still only third or fourth in the list of aches plaguing her body.

“Fair point.” Sayori admitted, and excused herself from the small group towards the two figures Garrick had indicated. One was an angular Sentinax beta unit in a blue and grey humanoid chassis, the other a tall, tan-skinned Kel’Cyre with greying hair and beard. He was the only person who looked more or less exactly as Sayori remembered him.

“Heya doc.” she greeted him tiredly, “Thanks for the help with Gaea.”

Behind her, the maintenance bot was speaking up. That was odd. Sayori had thought that those things weren’t usually self-aware enough to think beyond their immediate tasks.

“And you must be Cicero.” she said to the android accompanying Dr Kolvar. One Sentinax beta unit looked almost identical to any other, but he was the only body-mobile Sentinax in the room. “Sorry in advance for the hack job I did on your Elemental suit.”

[MidKnight]

The sounds of a horror shriek had Winter panicked. She lifted her rifle up and aimed at the creature that moved like a shadow on the ceiling, walls and floor. Though the weapon they were using were considered to be used for non-violent situations. But still, she had to try to at least stop it in it's tracks for a few seconds for the Gunnery Sergeant to unload her entire magazine into the monster.

She stopped when she started hearing a voice coming from within the dead. She examined the body as it remained still before the Charabidian engineer walked over and smashed it's electronic parts on it's back. Her eyes widen realizing part of the monster was machine, something like the Sentinax units that walked around. She had seen a few, but never thought there would be something that was similar.

Popping a thermal from overheat, she waited for a few seconds until the rifle made a sound. Stun was effective in close combats, but over kill was not one of them. Her eyes diverted to the group, moving onward and away from the scene. She couldn't believe the Gunnery Sergeant had enough strength to fight off whatever that came after them. Though it was worse when they arrived at one of the corridors only to be ambushed by three targets. Which spotted them and started hauling in their direction.

Hearing the Gunnery Sergeant screaming 'Back up!' Winter moved herself in front of the Doctor that was shocked from earlier. She aimed her rifle at the targets as they were picked off one by one. But suddenly were saved by someone in a odd suit. She sighs softly and looked at the Doctor, nodding slightly and watched what happened next.

Following the group again, she noticed an Elven Doctor had greeted them and lead them to a more suitable spot. Looking around, she could not believe the crew had survived for nearly two years. "Two years?" She muttered to herself. Then she heard about a creature that affected the machinery like the Sentinax's and Hekatonkles. "Great, there goes our major defense in this hell hole." She sputtered out. "Without them, consider us a fish in a barrel."


+++++

He watched as the monster on the ground came closer to their position. His muscles tensed and his tail at the ready, there was nothing he could do at this point other than holding on the Elemental for balance. He could tear that thing apart from limb to limb, but the young Charabidian had managed to destroy what seemed like begging. He chuckled softly, "Begging is considered a weak moment." Then he spat on the ground. "Consider that mercy." Then he chuckled.

Helping the Elemental to their next destination. His nose sensed something near, something a little more dangerous. But his eyes were too late to see what was happening. He held onto the Elemental and prepared his fist for a close fight. There was a growl under his teeth, but when he sees the other two enemies taken out by a different ally. He snorted at the grand entry he made. He continued helping the Elemental walk to the safety point until she could walk on her own.

He looked around as he followed the others only to listen to a story told by a doctor. He growled softly as he spoke about the new enemy and how they entered a grave site. "So we were not the first ones to try and explore here." He looked around and noticed several others trying to repair some of the damage. But the way things had looked around here, he would say they had been at it for quite some time.

Then his attention turned to the doctor. "Where are the other Dragonoids!" He said walking up close to the doctor. "Did they manage to escape or fight back?!" He asked once more, almost starting to appear desperate for an answer.

[AngelDellaNotte]

When the creatures attacked them Miranda fell into the muscle memory of her training. She may have been a pilot aboard a large ship but the Lyran Navy ensured that all their forces were combat rated. They had reoccurring training all the time. She didn't freak out at being under attack. Instead she just moved when instructed and returned fire whenever she could. It wasn't until she was in the galley that she let down her guard. Looking around those that had survived were a sorry state. No one knew what was on the other side of the gate but they hadn't imagined anything like this. Quentin couldn't have known about this. Miranda paused thinking about how Quentin had sent her on the mission to get rid of her. “Son of a bitch.” Miranda said aloud punching a crate sitting next to her.

“I would advise against hurting yourself, supplies are dwindling.” Kromlyn said, stepping beside Miranda and looking at the dent in the crate. “If you broke your hand I could set it but pain medication and nano probes aren't available. Depending on how bad the break it could six to eight weeks before it heals. All quite painful. Not to mention surviving is going to be hard enough with both hands. So Miss Clarke I would advise against punching metal crates.”

“Excuse me?” Miranda said, turning quickly to the man who addressed her.

“Yes, Miss Clarke I know who you are. As one of the mission physicians I've helped reviewed the files of every member of the crew. Now if you are done punching things perhaps I could remove that IV?” Kromlyn said. Miranda nodded and sat down with Kromlyn as he opened his medical bag pulling out a couple of bandages. “You know I've met your sister and her wife.” Kromlyn said, meaning to make small talk as he recalled being honored by Queen Emylyna for his actions during and after the war. The queen had awarded him at a ceremony and then he had been asked to lunch. Both the Queen and President Sinclair were very nice and he had enjoyed himself. He hadn't of thought he would still having some hesitation about Quentin Sinclair knowing she was Lyran and had been involved in the attack on his planet. They barely were into the meal when he realized he had been wrong about Quentin. The lunch was one of the rare moments since he lost everything that he had a moment of happiness.

At hearing this Kel'cyre mention her sister, Miranda was reminded of why she had punched the crate in the first place. She glared at Kromlyn then reached down grabbing the IV and ripping it out. She then grabbed the bandage from him pressing it to her hand. “I can take care of myself.” Miranda said, holding the bandage to her hand as she walked away.

Kromlyn sat there a moment longer wondering what that was all about. Watching as Miranda stormed off. He was drawn out of his musings when he heard someone call out to him. “Ah Doctor Sayori good to see you. I am glad to see you have made it here safely. Can I help you with that IV?” He asked, readying another bandage.

[Enigma]

No response to any inquiries.

Not unexpected.

Disappointing, but she was a Gamma. Alphas and Betas gave orders to Gammas, they seldom listened to them unless there was a problem. Humans seem to think like that, too.

Iona removed the webbing and bandoleers she had carried out of the cryobay and deposited them on an available empty surface while she pondered her next actions.

*Learn more about the enemy

- What was its needs?
- What caused it injury?
- How to avoid the enemy?
- What kept it from entering this place?
*Isolate the enemy if they cannot be destroyed
*Separate the survivors from the enemy

Ordinarily,she would pull that information off the network, but that was isolated now. Dangerous.

She would have to ask the biologics until the Beta acknowledged her request.
Biologics had misgivings about Sentinax.
Would they be more open if she took Human form?

[dakkagor]

"Where should this unit put the supplies that this unit was tasked to carry?" Iona asked as they exited the decontamination chamber, ready to surrender the webbing, bandoleers, and assorted supplies it had taken from the robotic mules.

“In that area.” Nevarn pointed to a hazard taped area of deck, just past the security check point. “We'll need to sort it all and assign it to projects. A job for tomorrow.” The young Charabidian yawned. “Hit me up tomorrow. I've never seen one of the Sentinax's infilitrators up close.”

+++++

Hearing the news about Hekatonkles corrupted, like those biologics they had encountered in their run... Unimaginable.

"How long since the ship arrived in this system?" Iona asked, still in its form of a Gamma class maintenance unit. "How long before another ship arrives?"

“As I said, over two years.” The Doctor rubbed his temples. “As for another ship. . Help? I don't know all the protocols in place, but we were expected to send back a message drone within a week of arriving. And that would take a year to arrive back home. So its likley they have sent another ship through, looking for us, probably a military scout towing a civilian generator to re-power the gate on this end.” He shrugged. “Much will depend on what that scout finds, and if it survived to report back. They may already be assembling a task force on the other side of the gate to come save us, or they might be fortifying their end against attack. We have no idea.”

"Great, there goes our major defense in this hell hole." Winter sputtered out. "Without them, consider us a fish in a barrel."

Garrick smiled. “Don''t count us nerds out just yet, Marine. This foe, the Beserker, can't be defeated by brute force alone. We've had a lot more success out-thinking it, than out-fighting it. We are stuck in a barrel, but the enemy can't see us in that barrel.”

Then Vezarres's attention turned to the doctor. "Where are the other Dragonoids!" He said walking up close to the doctor. "Did they manage to escape or fight back?!" He asked once more, almost starting to appear desperate for an answer.

The Doctor backed up a step, a little intimidated by the elder Dragonoid. “You. . . you are one of the last on board, most likely. The security contingent was badly mauled in the initial fighting, and as far as we are aware, both the frigates and all the fighters are lost. Most of the Dragonoids served as marines, so . . . there is still hope a few might have made it to the bridge. If there are survivors there, they might have some of your kin. I can say, they did your race proud. Each one of them.”

Garrick rubbed at his face, exhaustion falling over him like a shroud. He flicked a look to Kolvar, who nodded.

"Kolvar tells me you all check out, which is excellent news. Take 12 hours, get a little sleep, stretch your legs, eat some food, and meet the people you'll be working with. After that, I'll be calling an all hands. I want to lay out our plans, and figure out our next steps. And finally, welcome to the team."

[MidKnight]

The Marine gives a slight nod and looked around the area they were in. So far everything she had seen was salvaged from scrap or whatever was left laying around. She was curious about the armory set up that was close by. She moved cautiously as she entered inside and looked around. Walls and shelves stocked with armor, weapons, ammo, mods and a large variety of accessories. She smiled once her eyes caught almost every weapon that was on display. But what caught her attention, was the standard issue shotgun by the Terran Federation Marine Corps. But it wasn't just any old standard, it was hers. She recognized the small emblem on the butt of the rifle. It was a pirate logo that most veteran's like her would use. This logo was simple. A skull with a little gold colored on one of the tooth's, a eye patch and two swords crossing each other.

At first, she thought this was a stupid thing among the Marine Corps, but once she served for as long she could remember. The logo was actually meant "Welcome to the family." Also it was her assigned squad.

She quickly rushed to the weapon laying on the shelf. She sets the one she carried and picked up the rifle and held it close. "Never thought I see you again." She muttered to herself. Then she gives the weapon a full examination and her hand crosses over the emblem. Memories filled her head of her old squad. She stayed there, holding the rifle as if it was an old relic.

"Its a nice piece. Found it in an armoury."

Davrry slumped into the room, hands in pockets. He was tall, rangy, his dark skin, long hair and preternatural stillness conspiring to make him almost a shadow on the wall. Even when he wanted you to notice him, he somehow conspired to be difficult to track with the eye.

"But for what we are hunting, it will need some modifications. You game?"

She looked over her shoulder and sees the person talking to her. Recognizing the man from before. The one who helped them, or more to put it more accurate, saved their lives. She chuckled softly and turned her gaze back to her weapon. "Seeing those things, modifying it is not a bad idea." She walked over to a table that looked more fitting to use.

"Hang on a sec. I need to get out of this suit." She unzipped the suit she kept one when she first awoke. There wasn't any time to change into her uniform and armor. Especially her action against the Lyran woman. Though she will remember that cheap shot she left. Winter was wearing a black compressor top and black compressor shorts. She sighs heavily and tossed the suit across the room. "Thing is useless in a up front battle." Her eyes turned to the other. "So, let's play." She begun checking her shotgun.

"Like your style." Davrry gave a lopsided grin. He wandered over to Winter, and pulled out a box of parts, then led her over to the machining bench.

"So, you saw Nevarns piece in action right? He re-chambered it for these custom shells, big bore and packed with explosives, mono-wire and electronic chaff. He got the idea from some old human science fiction novel, which is just crazy."

He placed out replacement barrels, magazines, and actions, with the care a surgeon had for laying out tools before an operation.

"With that metal arm of yours, you can handle the recoil. And we can piece together some Power Armour for you from supplies, give you some more protection and strength. Unless you like strutting around in your underwear, which will be amazing for morale." He smiled slyly.

"Yeah but with that kind of fire power your weapon is practically begging to be destroyed after firing over fifty round. Unless he had a barrel and a trigger to handle that kind of ammo." She started to take her weapon apart piece by piece until it looked like it ready to be put back together.

"Theoretically it was just a novel. Some parts of the story is true though. But seeing the kid in action? I thought I never seen it happen." She laughed after he mentioned about her walking around in only her underwear. "Hey, eyes up here." She pointed at her two eyes. But what caught her on her mind was the metal arm. She looked at and gently touched the surface. "This arm can handle any recoil and I can reload faster than anyone else. Thing is...it's somehow connected to how I feel." She admitted. "Like if I panicked in a fire fight?" She flexed the metal fingers. "It will not act right." She looked over her shoulder and outside the armory. "But if I was pissed off...than the thing acts like war machine." Than she laughed again. "No pun intended."

"Well, I'll be careful not to piss you off then." Davrry smirked. "Me, I went for a more subtle approach." He tapped his chest "Lung" his right cheek "eye" and then he waggled his fingers. "And trigger finger. Anything to make me a better shot." He picked up the pieces of the shotgun and started to deftly reassemble them. "You're right about the barrel. He has to replace it after every 30 shots or so, and that's with significant reinforcement." He slotted the final pieces into place. "Perfect."

"Consider yourself lucky. I could have ended up in prison instead of where I am now." She examined the pieces before placing each new part. Replacing several pieces which appeared to had a little rust. Her hand raised up as he said 'Perfect.' She wiggled her finger with a "Nah huh." She looked and finds a stronger gauge mag-coil. She tossed the old one and puts the final piece in. "Now it's perfect." She smirked. "Don't worry. I won't tell." Then she winked. Putting the weapon back together in seconds. Winter pointed the barrel up while cooking the shotgun. She listens for the perfect sound to ring every time she reloaded and pulled the trigger. Then she aimed at the wall and repeated the same process over and over. "My drill instructor can kiss my ass on this one." Chuckled over the comment while placing the shotgun on the bench.

"Now." She stretched out her arms and back with a yawn. She looked for her gear pack and picked it quickly. "Where can a girl get a shower?" She asked while putting her hand on her hip and her head tilted.

"Decon shower block is just over yonder." Davrry had an amused smirk. "Stay frosty, Winter."


+++++

Once the old lizard heard the news. His head lowered, eyes looking down at the floor and sighs in disappointment. "They did more than that." He added as he walked away. Putting a few distance away from the others, his nose filled with something that was very familiar. He chuckled as he recognized the scent coming from a nearby bar.

Heavy steps made it's way towards the bar. He stopped at the end of the table and continued sniffing around. "Where is it?" He asked himself. "I know it's here." He started digging through the items that was on top, making a rather clanking noise as he pushed each bottle and cups around.

"I stopped keeping it up there. Just in case it fell and burned a hole in the deck" Sanders shouted over his shoulder from the kitchen area. "Give me a minute."

Sanders ambled over and vaulted the bar with a grunt. He ducked down and rolled back a section of deck grip surface, revealing a recessed safe. Punching in a quick combination, he opened it and pulled out a large, green bottle.

"Alixer, right? I was saving this to treat wounds, but hey, if you want it, its one less biohazard for me to track."

He thumped the heavy bottle onto the bar, and put a tumbler next to it. He reached back into the safe, and pulled out a bottle of bourbon whiskey, along with another tumbler.

"Not a good idea to drink alone. Or so I'm told."

Vez bursted out laughing once he had seen the man grabbed a bottle to join. "Dragonoids always welcome drinking company." He reaches for the green bottle and untwisted the cap. The cap fell on the table and the bottle was lifted with one hand. Vez had taken a big guzzle from the bottle. The sounds of gulping was loud and there was a slight hiss after each guzzle.

He slammed the bottle on the table and sighs with delight. With a slight groan. He shudders and laughed once more. "Alixers are the best drinks to have. Too bad you small beings can't enjoy this wonderful beverage. If ya did...I would be cleaning up your guts with a mop."

"Alixers can be used for many things believe it or not." He looked at the bottle once more. "One, it can be used as fuel." Then he chuckled again. "Well, we tried it once....best experience ever."

[Azazeal849]

“Fair point.” Sayori admitted, and excused herself from the small group towards the two figures Garrick had indicated. One was an angular Sentinax beta unit in a blue and grey humanoid chassis, the other a tall, tan-skinned Kel’Cyre with greying hair and beard. He was the only person who looked more or less exactly as Sayori remembered him.

“Heya doc.” she greeted him tiredly.

Behind her, the maintenance bot was speaking up. That was odd. Sayori had thought that those things weren’t usually self-aware enough to think beyond their immediate tasks.

“And you must be Cicero.” she said to the android accompanying Dr Kolvar. One Sentinax beta unit looked almost identical to any other, but he was the only body-mobile Sentinax in the room. “Sorry in advance for the hack job I did on your Elemental suit.”

Kolvar was drawn out of his musings when he heard her call out to him. “Ah Doctor Sayori good to see you. I am glad to see you have made it here safely. Can I help you with that IV?” He asked, readying another bandage.

“Yeah, thanks.” Sayori said, offering her arm to the Kel’Cyre. She rubbed at her eyebrows with her other hand, trying to massage away the dull pain that had clearly settled in for the long haul. “And about a hundred excedrin, if you’ve got any.”

"I'm afraid we are rationing our medication for the most dire of cases." Kromlyn said.

Sayori groaned melodramatically, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Today isn’t a good day.”

Kromlyn carefully removed the IV. Pulling it out caused a little pain, mostly just a light pinch. He was quick to press a bandage to the site to soak up any bleeding.

"If you could hold just here for a moment."

He gestured for Sayori to place her other hand over the bandage, then moved to get a piece of tape. Once it was in place he reached into his bag, pulling out a water bottle that looked like it had been refilled many times, though it was clean.

"This should help a bit. The slurry they gave you was enough to keep your nanobots going for the last two years, but isn't much for when you are out of hibernation. Drink it slowly.”

“Gotcha.” Sayori nodded, taking the bottle. This time she took the doctor’s advice, and resisted the instinct to gulp it all down at once. After a couple of sips she felt marginally better, although the pulsing headache remained.

“When you are done, wait about twenty minutes and if your stomach isn't queasy get something to eat."

Sayori slumped down onto a canteen table that had been pushed away against the wall, and perched her feet on one of the circular stools attached to it. She didn’t feel like eating any time soon. Two-year fast or not, her stomach was cramped and sour-feeling.

“We ran into a...thing.” she said, taking another sip and then letting the half-empty bottle hang from her fingers as she rested her forearms over her knees. “One of the Berserkers. Nevarn killed it, but...it had people’s heads stuck all over it…”

"Dreadful creatures." Kromlyn said, thinking of the few times he had seen them. First when he had woken up from hibernation and fled with the others, allowing the little military component with them to attempt to fight them. Then later when the soldiers had brought a few corpses to him. He had conducted an autopsy of the berserkers given to him but was no closer to figuring out what they were. He had treated a number of races in his time but the Berserkers were still a mystery to him. A strange mixture of organic and machine. The engineers hadn't had much more luck figuring them out. "I haven't been able to figure much out about them except they aren't fully organic."

Sayori took a deep breath and sighed it out, still picturing the collector and the leaping, blade-armed hunters. “Or they aren’t fully robotic.” What kind of madman created machines like those?

(It kills us to learn about us...and then it recycles us to make more of itself.)

Maybe they hadn’t been created like that. Maybe this was all emergent behaviour of the most monstrous kind. (It’s constantly learning.) If Gaea was right and it really had killed everything in this galaxy...well, that probably had to rate as the biggest engineering fuck-up of all time.

Fuck-up didn’t quite cover what had happened to the skulls studded into the collector’s underside.

“The anti-AI campaigners back home would be loving this.” Sayori dug the heel of her hand into her eyebrow again and rubbed hard. “You got anything better than the decon chamber by the door? I need to clear my head and I really, really want a shower.”

"There’s another one at the back with water sprays that they rigged up for privacy. The decontamination gels will get you clean if you don't mind smelling like antiseptic. I do have this though." Kromlyn said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a purple colored bottle. He handed it over to Sayori. "A modified version of the soap we've been using. Sanders has a small hydroponics bay going. I made it from the flowers of a Kacoui plant. The roots make an excellent coffee substitute but the flowers aren't edible. They do smell nice kinda though, like earth's lilac."


Sayori took the bottle, unscrewed the top and gave it an experimental sniff.

“Doc,” she said, “You’re a genuine life-saver.”


+ + + + +

After showering and climbing into a clean jumpsuit, Sayori felt considerably more normal. She even found herself, despite her earlier stomach pains, very much craving the food that Dr Kolvar had recommended. The kitchen at the far end of the canteen hall was still operating per its original function, judging by the smell of cooking oil, and so Sayori made it her first port of call. The large eight-hob cooker unit was being manned by a single cook; a ruddy-faced Caucasian man with thin limbs and a thick waist.

“You still serving?” Sayori asked, tapping the inside of the open door with her knuckles.

The cook looked back at her with a distinct lack of humour. “Open all night.” His voice had a rolling drawl from somewhere in the former American states’ central belt. “You’re one of the new cryo-jobs, right?”

Sayori nodded. “Sayori Warrick.”

The cook didn’t bother to return the introduction. “As the guys out front might have told you, supplies are running a little low. So for the moment, I got chicken, chicken or chicken.”

Sayori had to grin. “In that case I’ll have the chicken, please.”

The cook cuffed at his shiny forehead with one arm, flicked a switch beneath the integrated fryer unit, and tossed two marble-skinned chicken thighs into a bowl of flour that was flecked through with brown spices and black peppercorns. He dropped the coated chicken into the pressure fryer and pulled the lid closed with a snap, muffling the sound of bubbling oil.

“Just be a minute.”

When it became apparent that he wasn’t going to say anything else, Sayori asked: “When you say running low, how bad are we talking?”

"Basics really." The man squinted at Sayori. "We have rationed protein blocks to last the entire crew at launch ten years. Considering who's left, we could last a hundred years on that. But, we can't get to a lot of it. Some genius decided that the blocks, and the water tankage, would be best stored in bays facing vacuum. A lot of those got opened by the Berserkers on their way in. So if you want to restock the stitcher out back, we need to go on a space walk. And no-one's come back from one of those yet."

The pressure fryer began to beep. Sanders popped the lid to release curls of steam and a waft of cooking oil, and fished out the now crispy and golden chicken thighs with a pair of tongs. He dropped them into a paper cone and thrust them towards Sayori. “There you go, unless you got more questions to bug me with.”

Sayori took the cone and tried a second time for an introduction. “Thank you, mister…?”

This time, the cook caved. “Sanders.” he grunted. “Jake Sanders.”

Sayori looked at the cook, and then down at the fried chicken in her paper cone. “You’re joking.”

“Ha fucking ha.” the cook stated levelly. “I thought that line had worn itself out three months ago, but thankfully they hauled you out of cryo to keep it going. Turns out they didn’t have much use for a biochemist after the Berserkers trashed the labs. What’s your speciality?”

“Robotics.” Sayori answered, blowing on her chicken. “I’m with the Phayder team.”

Sanders grunted in disappointment. “They might still have a job for you then. Nevarn’s got a few of you corporate techies working on some drones over in the engineering section.”

“You managed to salvage some drones?”

“Yeah, Davrry’s team pulled them out of storage from one of the labs we had crawlspace access to. They’re trying to configure ’em with the same codes Cissy wrote for the remote sensors. Berserker’s can’t hack ’em, or so he boasts.”

Now that was interesting. Sayori decided to pay Nevarn a visit, and shifted her paper cone to her left hand so she could tip two fingers to her forehead in salute. “Thanks, colonel.”

Sanders returned the salute with a single finger as she withdrew from the kitchen. “Fuck you.”

Weaving through the manned science benches of the canteen, Sayori took a bite out of the still-hot chicken. The oily coating and the slightly sticky texture of the meat between her teeth was a contender for the best thing she had ever tasted. She would have to thank colonel Sanders properly when she got back. She had eaten the first thigh down to the bone by the time she had crossed through the adjoining storage bay - now full of crewmen crashed out on sweat-stained cots, that had probably been looted from the marine barracks - and was sucking the grease off her fingers as she entered the engineering section.

The survivors had converted the bay into some kind of prototyping and reverse-engineering lab. Workbenches were strewn with mechanical parts, some of them looking very much like the clawed weapon-limbs of the Berserkers Gaea and Davrry had killed. A hunter’s blank-masked head eyed her from the nearest bench, and dead or not it made Sayori look away.

A blocky fabricator unit stood against the wall, its programmer panel levered open as a Kel’Cyre tech fiddled with something inside. Next to the fabber were several Phayder androids - an ES-6, several ES-7s and an ES-7V - ranked up like silent statues while Nevarn and three other techs worked at opened chest units and tapped away at PDAs cable-linked to the backs of the drones’ necks. Nevarn had divested himself of his weapons and armour, and now the young Charabidian was working in grim silence.

Sayori put the rest of her chicken down on a convenient bench-corner, and wiped her hands on her jumpsuit.

“How can I help?”

Nevarn sniffed and spun, snapping out with surprising speed to grab a chunk of fried chicken and jam it in his mouth.

"Sowry." he mumbled.

“No problem.” Sayori said dryly, as the rest of her breakfast disappeared.

"Ow, hot." Nevarn licked his fingers. "You want to get on Sanders’ good side, by the way. He can cook other stuff on request, but you've got to really get in his good books. I pulled a blender out of C deck and for that I got something close to an actual steak.” He gulped the last of the chicken down. “Heavenly, thanks. Brushes with death are good for the appetite."

He stepped back for a second and looked Sayori up and down, and smiled.

"Where were we, help? Yeah, we could use it. We want to get Cicero's code working on the droids transmission units. Harden them against subversion. Once we've done that, we can use them for exploration, combat, and hauling stuff around, all at reduced risk to us. But every time I've tried to get the code working, it borks. Stack overflow errors, system crashes, the works."

He gestured to the workbench, loaded down with tools. "They're your machines. Feel like giving it a go?"

Sayori was happy to have any kind of work in front of her that was both practically useful and served to keep images of the fucking (faces) Berserkers out of her head. And, as Nevarn had pointed out, the ES series were very much her machines.

“Hell yes.” she affirmed.

[Enigma]

Iona found a quiet corner in what appeared to be the human's recharging chamber, out of the view of the others and sat down.

*Run Diagnostics/t Surrogate /L5*

Internal routines examined the surrogate module, looking minutely for the slightest sign of corruption.

*Diagnostics/t Surrogate /L5 complete, 0% issues.*

It had been isolated, but what about...?

*Run Diagnostics/t Self /L5*

While she'd been in her dream-state, she experienced it invading, the screaming of a thousand voices....

*Diagnostics/t Self /L5 complete, 0% issues.*

Had she been human, Iona reflected, this would probably be seen as a relief. As it was, she had to wonder if the diagnostic routines had missed something? Whatever the invader was, it had overwhelmed an Alpha.

And the current Prime was off-network. Even if it was a Beta.

The maintenance frame shivered and collapsed in on itself, reforming into a young blonde-haired girl wearing the same uniform she had when boarding.

Glancing around the chamber, she decided it was safe, and went back in where the other biologics were. Perhaps they'd be more forthcoming...?

[AngelDellaNotte]

She wrapped the bandage around her hand struggling a little putting it on with only one hand but finally she managed to get it. Still storming off she found a cleared out area not at all sure what it was for but it wasn't occupied and honestly she wasn't in the mood to be around anyone making small talk or thinking they knew her. Miranda was warm, she didn't know if it was because the excitement of getting here, an after affect of the slurry or if the temperature controls were off because of the attack. She unbuckled the top of her flight suit and zipped it down. Leaving her in a black tank top, she tied the arms around her waist to keep them out of the way and the suit from sliding off. Sitting down on the ground her mind was still on her sister thinking of when Quentin came to see her after getting arrested.

Miranda was sitting at a table in a small room. There wasn't much in there just a table and two chairs, one on each side. No decorations were in the room, no windows and only a single door. In the corners of the ceiling were cameras. The wall to her left was a mirror that covered the whole wall. Miranda wore a bright neon green jumpsuit and her hands were cuffed to the table. She had been sitting here for what she thought was about half an hour. Time was hard to tell because there were no clocks. In the last week she hadn't been let out of her cell often and only ever to come here. Investigators had been grilling her about the bombing but she didn't have any information to give them. Still they didn't seem to believe her.

The door to the room opened with a couple guards both of them Lyran, entered standing directly across from her each of them with their rifles slung across the front at the ready. It struck Miranda as odd. Even when they moved her around the guards were only armed with a sidearm and a stun gun. They didn't usually pack a long gun. A second later the reason for all the fire power entered the room. The two guards moved to the side their attention still on Miranda as Secretary General Quentin Sinclair walked in stopping before Miranda.

She still wore her coat having come straight from the transport ship to the cell not really wasting any time on her way to her main task. “Guards you can wait outside.” Quentin said, taking her coat off draping it over the back of the empty chair. It was winter in the capital city though that wasn't usual, ten months out of thirteen on Lyre was spent in winter.

“Madam Secretary I must advise against it.” The guard said. Since being brought here Miranda had been kept in solitary after she got into a number of fights in the yard. No one bothered to find out the reasons for the fights as many didn't like Miranda whether it was because of family, beliefs or her mouth it didn't matter.

“I don't believe I am in any danger.” Quentin said, looking to the guards her eyes showing it wasn't up for debate. Reluctantly the guards exited the room. She sat down across from Miranda looking at her for a moment before reaching up to her left shoulder and rubbing it. The cold weather bothered her shoulder, where several years ago she had been shot by Franklin Pierce. There had been many who didn't believe she would survive the attack but thanks to Kel'cyre medicine she had. The wound was one reason she didn't spend much time on Lyre anymore the cold causing the pain. Though the main reason was her duties as Secretary General. She didn't speak for a while only staring at Miranda. “You really stepped in it this time.” Quentin finally said.

“Really? I hadn't noticed. I was just thinking that the Clarke's looked good in prison green. Makes me wonder if a Sinclair would look as good.” Miranda said, thinking of their brother Cedric who had spent the last ten years sitting in a concert prison. “Think they would be open housing us in the same prison? We could have a little family reunion.”

Quentin frowned at the thought of her brother. Cedric had done unspeakable things during the war but he still was her brother. It had taken everything she could to keep him from being executed for his crimes.“This is serious Miranda, fourteen people died in the attack.” Quentin said, frustrated at how Miranda could be sitting here cracking jokes. “Fourteen people...”

“People? No fourteen beasts died in the attack. There are far to many of them running around our homelands anyway.” Miranda said, the bigotry dripping from her words. “Public service if you ask me.”

Anger flared in Quentin and before she even realized it she had reached out and backhanded Miranda splitting her lip open. Miranda's head was forced to the side giving Quentin a clear view of the tattoo on her neck. She shook her head at the sight of it. During the war and in the years after she had gotten to know many Charabidian and respect them. The Lyre First Movement was misguided, it let old hatred and fear twist the minds of too many. It hurt that Miranda had fallen in with them though with their stepfather it wasn't hard to believe. “I won't warn you again to watch your mouth.”

“Oh was that what you are doing? Warning me? And here I thought the Concert frowned on beating prisoners. But don't worry I won't tell on you. If anyone asks I'll say I fell.” Miranda said, spitting on the floor some of the blood from her lip hitting Quentin's freshly shined shoes. “We are family after all.”

“Enough of this Miranda, as much as we both know you are a pain in the ass you don't belong here.” Quentin said, looking down at her shoes and ignoring the blood. She looked back at Miranda regretting that she had hit her. Miranda had still been a child during the war and didn't know how bad it had been. She had been shaped by Victor's bitterness and bleak views. She only hoped it wasn't too late for Miranda to turn her life around. “Why won't you work with the investigators? Tell them what they want to know.”

“You want me to lie?” Miranda said. “I mean it when I say I know nothing. I am being hung out to dry simply because of my beliefs.”

“No, I don't want you to lie but drop the attitude it might help them to believe you.” Quentin said, though it didn't really matter if she agreed to work with investigators or not, a deal had already been made. Once again Quentin had bailed Miranda out though it would go much smoother if Miranda spoke to the investigators without insulting them. They had been comprised of three Lyrans a Kel'cyre and a Charabidian. Miranda hadn't treated any of them well and they were ready to charge her along with those who had actually been connected to the bombing. “Here is the thing Miranda. You have been assigned Concert Exploration Ark. You will met with the investigators and answer all their questions without the snark. The mission is still several months away, in the meantime you will be transferred to the mission headquarters where you will be kept in custody and you will not cause any problems. Am I understood?”

“Oh I will now?” Miranda growled, she never liked people telling her what to do, especially Quentin. “What makes you so sure of that?”

“Because if you don't there is nothing else I can do for you.” Quentin said, shaking her head hoping Miranda didn't fight her on this because it was the truth. If Miranda didn't take this deal she would go down with the terrorists and the Charabidians were seeking the death penalty. This deal was the best she could do. Quentin was out of favors and wouldn't be able to save Miranda. “Miranda, please just this once don't push this.”

“You've finally found a way to get rid of me and keep your hands clean.” Miranda said, knowing it was her only option.

After a while of sitting there Miranda finally stood up the heat still in her but it wasn't the only thing, she felt wound up. This mission was screwed beyond belief, it frustrated her that she was only one here who actually didn't want to be here in the first place. Surely once the shit hit the fan everyone felt that way but she had from the start. Miranda closed her eyes breathing deeply as removed the holo-glasses dropping them in a pocket. Her left hand went to her sword. In a quick movement she drew it and began spinning it around. Her eyes were still closed and her movements fast as she began twirling just as fast as the sword was. She moved to a music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C4_PWKOCz0U) in her head and finally found herself chanting in an old forgotten language. She didn't speak it and honestly didn't know what it meant. The movements she did were a dance that her sword master had taught her to learn control of her weapon. The words used to keep pace with the dance. While learning it she had cut herself many times the sword master not allowing her to practice with a wooden sword, saying she would never learn to respect her weapon if she trained with a toy. She had been six when she first began training.

Her chanting grew faster as did her spinning and flipping of the sword as she tossed it from hand to hand. She reached the part in the dance where traditionally she would have a second sword but since she didn't have an extra she unhooked her scabbard in a fluid motion and used it as the second blade. When she had been young she hated doing these dances thinking that she much rather be sparring but over the years it had become relaxing to her and helped to center her. By the time she was done she was breathing hard and covered in a layer of sweat. She slid her sword back into the scabbard and hooked it back on her belt noticing that the dance had caused the bandage from the IV to come off and her hand was bleeding again but it didn't look that bad, she merely stood there staring at the blood as it clotted on her hand.

[Enigma]

Glancing around the chamber, she decided it was safe, and went back in where the other biologics were. Perhaps they'd be more forthcoming...?


"Well, aren't you a delight."


Iona turned to face Garrick, who was watching her intently, like a specimen. Not with malice, but with curiosity.


"I'd heard rumours, of course, that the Sentinax had beaten out the Terrans in JIT manufacturing. But being able to replicate a biological facade, on the fly, from just the materials around you and what you carry on your chassis? Remarkable.


He gestured to a chair next to him.


"Please sit. Iona, right? I'd love to chat. Any questions, anything I can help with, please ask. I'm so glad you survived. You and Warrick. . . between the two of you, we might stand a chance."


Iona tilted her head slightly, considering him.

"I pulled nothing from this room," she said, crossing over to the offered seat and sitting down. "In many ways, I am like the ship we are in. While I can change my shape and appearance, some of my internal volume is void or empty space. My prior form was to prevent confusion while I was in the charging chamber. This form is just more condensed. I can also shift some of my excess mass to my Surrogate module."

"This form allows me to mimic biologic forms, to project not only the appearance, but sensation so that I feel as the form I mimic should, smell as it should, even taste as it should," she said, raising a hand. At least to dull human senses, she diplomatically left out. Being able to broadcast sensation had other advantages, even if it was limited largely to touch.

"Hekatonkles has been consumed by this invader," Iona stated, looking down at the floor. "Cicero has become the new Prime. However, I am under instruction not to use my network, so there has been no contact between us. I find this... disturbing."

"You are able to keep the invader out," she added, looking up directly at Garrick. "I find it curious you have not expanded this outward, to drive the invader back?"

[MidKnight]

On the Dragonoid home world. Multiple ships orbited around the planet as it's defenses. Hundreds of shuttles flying from the planet to the ships and returned with cargo. On the surface of the planet in a large city. Thousands of Dragonoids roamed the streets. Shopping for armor, materials, weapons and heavily modifications. And others examined the meat that was on display. Hunters had to kill their new prey. A large beast that roamed the lands. There was no shortage on these beasts due to not finding the source location.

In the middle of the city was the largest building. The leader of the Dragonoids. Who serving term was not part of their culture like the Terrans or Lyrans. Their position was permanent unless challenged by another. Tharos however was never challenged after taking down Verath who wanted to destroy the Concert forces who stood on their last leg. Since his ruling, many respected Tharos and stood by his decisions ever since. Some frowned upon when he abandoned many traditions to get where they needed to be. Dangerous.

He stood by his desk looking out a large window bigger than him. He watched as the city progression of rebuilding. He chuckled as he could see young children flying in the sky and chased each other. It was quiet in his office. Until the doors hissed open and an old Dragonoid walked in. The elder kneels in the middle of the room with his head bowed. "Tharos..." The voice filled the room, "It...it is an honor to meet you."

Tharos finally turned around with his hands behind his back. Looking at the old Dragonoid kneeling on the floor. "No." He said walking over to the elder. His hand displayed for him to stand on his feet. "The honor is mine." Tharos kneels down and lowered his head. "Many had forgotten about how to treat our elders. Especially those who served as Chiefs for a long period of time." He looked up with a smile on his scaly lips.

"Haha! Indeed." Vezarres admitted.

Standing back on his feet he gestured towards a chair by his desk. "Drink?" He asked, picking up a green bottle and cup next to it.

"Please." Vezarres said gladly.

Tharos poured two cups of Alixar and set one by Vezarres whom takes the cup and drinks in one shot. Tharos poured him another. "I always wondered who is the oldest among our people and so far you are the only one who is." Tharos finally sits in his own chair. "I am glad to have this moment." The two chuckled softly.

Vezarres tapped on his glass cup with his talon and sighs softly. "Age is just a number." He looked at the liquid and sees his reflection. "I could have remained Chief among my clan, but I figured why not follow someone who is new to this age. Someone who can lead us far better than I." His eyes looked up to Tharos. "Sure my strength is almost gone, but I still got it in my blood."

The Clan Leader chuckled. "Good." He lifted the cup and drinks it in one shot and sighs heavily. "I figured you got one more adventure in you...despite your conditions I think I can have someone see pass that."

He raised an eyebrow and looked at Tharos with a curious look. "One more adventure?" He asked as he leans forward.

Tharos slowly nodded. "I have been asked to donate a large number of Dragonoids to serve as..." His face grew a little disgusted. "Marines." He leans up and scratched his neck. "The other leaders had said they are being used as security on their new expedition."

"I heard something about that." Vezarres looked at his glass cup again. "Something about finding a new world and means new aliens and such."

"Or a new home for the Dragonoids." Tharos cut in. "Since we are deploying a large number. I have enough Dragonoids to repopulate a empty world and claim it as ours." He refilled his cup and sets the bottle close. "I figured the Concert owes us since using my people as a brute force." He smiled.

"But why informing me about this?" Vezarres was curious about Tharos small statement about sending young warriors across the galaxy to repopulate. Something about that was odd since Vezarres couldn't reproduce himself due to his age and his children already grown and died on their own terms, save one.

"I want to add you on the expedition roster." Tharos admitted. "Many of the recruits are young and barely have the experience for a real fight. Unlike the battle over on the Lyran home world." He looked across the room and sees the sword sitting in a glass container as a display. "It would be wise to send a more experience soldiers, but I need them here." His gaze turned back to Vezarres. "And many young Dragonoids are now looking up to their elders for both wisdom and inspiration. If they see you on that ship...many will look up to you and you will feel as a Chief once more." He placed his arms on the desk and holds in his hands together. "What say you?"

Vezarres looked at the glass and took his time to think while listening to the empty room. His memories flowed through him of his time as a Chief and hears the roars and voices of his clan speaking to him. He looked up to the leader with a smile and raised his cup to him. "I'll do it...for the Dragonoids!"

"For our future." Tharos lifted up cup and clashed with Vez's. Some of the liquid spilled on the desk and the acid burns through. The two laughed as they see the smoke.

Vez looked around the bar and sighs heavily. "Though I wish I could see the warriors that are here." He admitted. Turning his worried expression to the bartender. "I heard many of the Dragonoids had vanished, but fought bravely again'st the demons. They did more than anyone could have ever done."


+++++

Once she was pointed in the right direction. Winter chuckled at Davrry's last statement. "Your not the first to say that." She walked past the soldier and walked out of the armory with her shotgun in her metal hand and the bag in the other. She didn't care to what the others would think of her about how she dressed to the nearest showers.

She could feel yet both cold and heat coming from the showers. Though she stopped curiously at the sounds of scurry feet moving. She looked around and noticed the Lyre woman dancing with the sword in her hand. She only frowned on the woman as she watched her.

She watched for a moment until she stopped and noticed about the blood on her hand. She scoffed and walked away. "Idiot." She muttered. Looking inside the shower room and stepped inside. She could feel the cold floor on her feet. Her skin felt the chill as she entered.

Winter was used to these kind of conditions since living on the streets and in foster home cares. Her blanket was donated by some family who didn't want it anymore. At first it smelled funny, but after washing it with her bare hands and a hand soap the odor was no longer recognizable. Many of the things she got was all hand me downs. Nothing new unless it was Christmas. Sometimes there would be charities and large donations.

She learned to steal once she got older. She would steal and sell them on the streets, pawn shops or dealers who would want it. She was pretty good at breaking down doors when nobody was home.

Her hand searches in the dark for a switch to turn on the lights. The room lit up brightly and there were many stalls to use. But most of it looked hand made. Winter set her bag on a bench nearby. Taking off the rest of her garments to cleanse herself better.

Taking her time to one of the stalls and pulled the curtain to conceal her body. She flipped the handle and water came pouring out. A cold pour. She gasped at first at the touch of cold water splashing on her body. Shivering for a moment until the water started to become a little warmer. She sighs heavily at the delicate water dripping from her wet hair.

But than she felt her stomach grumble. Her hands covered her belly. But her throat felt an urge and soon her mouth opened with a liquid vomiting out the ooze she had drank from earlier. A delay perhaps. The oozy vomit splashed on the ground and the shower washed it down to the drain. "Better out than in I guess." Winter said catching her breath from the sudden vomit.

[dakkagor]

"Hekatonkles has been consumed by this invader," Iona stated, looking down at the floor. "Cicero has become the new Prime. However, I am under instruction not to use my network, so there has been no contact between us. I find this... disturbing."

"You are able to keep the invader out," she added, looking up directly at Garrick. "I find it curious you have not expanded this outward, to drive the invader back?"

"That's right." Garrick nodded. "Cicero is the defacto leader for the Sentinax for now, atleast until we can get access to Julian again. The network. . .its a safety thing. We just can't risk losing more people. As for this safe space. . ." Garrick chuckled. "We're here more by luck than design. Expansion would draw more attention to ourselves. We've been hiding, not fighting, remember?"

+++++

Vez looked around the bar and sighs heavily. "Though I wish I could see the warriors that are here." He admitted. Turning his worried expression to the bartender. "I heard many of the Dragonoids had vanished, but fought bravely against the demons. They did more than anyone could have ever done."

"Demons." Sanders frowned. "Odd choice of words. Apt, maybe. As for your boys. . .I didn't see them fight. Glad of that, in all honesty. But I'll drink to their memory, because without them we'd all be dead for sure."

+++++ Mission Clock +1201 +++++

"Remember, we've lived this long by hiding, not fighting. So don't go picking a fight we can't win." Garrick looked over the assembled team. Gaea and Davrry, both in their familiar battle armours, stood nearby. Gaea's suit had been repaired, again, and looked more functional than before. But not by much.

"Your goal is the bridge. Its deeper into the ship than anything else except the reactors, and behind thick armour. The only way in, without using the main access way, is either following the data trunk that connects the bridge to the rest of the ship, or the main power feed. Both pierce the armour layer and have jefferies tubes big enough for all of you. Just."

Gaea chimed in. "We'll be using the data trunk. It will give us a chance to place monitoring and bypass systems in the trunk, which will help us suborn more systems back from the Berserker, especially sensors, navigation and propulsion."

"And we'll be using the main access to exfiltrate." Garrick continued. "Because, with the help of the Phayder drones, we'll be setting a distraction at the main power feed. The Beserkers have previously repaired damaged power systems, so we plan on using a few drones to slag the power feed on the way out, and that should draw in the locals long enough for you to make good your escape. We're also hoping that if the drones hide and shutdown, we might be able to recover them later. But if not, I'd rather lose a pair of phayder drones than a person."

"Once we get to the bridge." Gaea stepped in again. "We'll have three main objectives. One, to get a static copy of Julian from the main AI core. Two, get a full rundown on the ships current status. Three, salvage whatever we can."

"Three is always a given, around here, by the way." Davrry piped up. "You want to keep eatin' and a breathin', you learn to scav whatever is useful, light, and valuable. Fungible circuit blocks, power sources, modular components, E-rations, and guns."

"Once you make it back here, we can assess our next step. But without an update on the ships status, and the overrides that Julian has, we are stuck." Garrick looked over the survivors, freshly equipped with body armour, actual weapons, and as many tools and pieces of equipment they could carry.

"Any questions?"

[Azazeal849]

The robotics lab was a monument to invention and organised chaos. Two ES-7 androids, all tube-like cybermesh bundles and curved carbide over-plating, stood to attention on either side of a work bench that held a glass water jug, a mug, and a liberal collection of coffee-cup rings. Every other surface in the lab was occupied. Phayder-branded laptops balanced precariously alongside mechanical parts and sheaves of scribbled notes, and chargers and telemetry cables spaghettied across the floor. The lab smelled of pneumatic fluid and very strong coffee. Dr Sayori Warrick embodied the same spirit as her workspace, her voice high and excited as she talked at her colleague in machine-gun bursts.

"So most interfaces are console," she explained as she flitted between the two statue-like drones, unplugging feeds and closing access ports."Or haptic mo-cap. But those can only move as fast as your hands. This one is as fast as your mind. And your mind is 50%..." she suddenly snapped her fingers in her colleague's face, causing the other woman to flinch backward. Sayori grinned. "Instinct. When you tie your shoes, you don’t think about it - it’s subconscious. It's muscle memory. You could be thinking about something completely different...and that’s where this comes in."

She brushed her wispy fringe back behind her ear, and tapped a tiny silver stud that she had attached to her temple. The interface disc lit up at the touch, blinking a ring of blue LEDs. Sayori tugged on a pair of tactile gloves laced through with heat ad pressure transmitters, and picked up a small bushed-metal remote.

"I’ve been uploading my brain signals to them for a week. I just set one going and then switch over, which means..." The tip of her tongue found its way to her top lip as she clicked a button with her thumb, and a halo of LEDs lit up on the blank faceplate of one of the drones, matching Sayori's own interface disc. The drone's left hand reached forward with a soft humming noise. The fingers of Sayori's own left hand twitched just slightly, and the drone closed its hand around the water jug, lifting it up. Her face still scrunched in concentration, Sayori clicked a second button on the remote and the second drone lit up, scooping up the empty mug. She cursed under her breath as the first drone tipped the jug and a little water splashed down the side of the mug onto the table, until the second drone corrected its hold slightly. She clicked again as the ceramic mug filled, and the first drone brought the jug back to the vertical.

"Agh, that's what I get for trying it without a visual link." she chastised herself as she tapped the disc at her temple. The blue LEDs faded, and the two androids lapsed into stillness once more. Sayori turned to her colleague, dark eyes shining with excitement. "But you get the point. You can sleeve one drone full-time with incredible precision, or you could use the muscle memory system to do the work of two people at once! I’m still only comfortable with one for now, but if you trained someone up there’s no reason you couldn’t have them pilot two, three, four of these - especially if they were working on the same task."

Sayori's enthusiasm was infectious. "You got it working?" her colleague grinned.

"I did. But you’ll never guess the real dae-bak. I came across some really cool emergent behaviour; watch this."

Sayori tapped her interface stud again, and the first drone lit up in tandem. And then it executed what could only be described as a flinch, hunching its shoulders and drawing in its smooth head in a violent start that set water sloshing up the sides of the jug it was still gripping.

"See that?" Sayori asked triumphantly. "It flinched."

"Uh...yeah?" her colleague replied, her own enthusiasm cooling slightly out of confusion. "Why'd it do that?"

"Because I was thinking about something embarrassing. I didn’t think of any movement, just a memory. The receiver chip applied the closest match it could find. So it doesn’t just translate muscle memory - it can translate emotions too! Isn’t that fucking cool?"

Her colleague chewed on it for a moment. "It's pretty wild." she allowed. "But what's the point of that? Won't that just mess with the operators control?"

"Yeah, course." Sayori said, gesticulating with her hands even as she peeled off the interface gloves. "I'm going to debug it out of the drones before we meet the Elcano reps, and code a new implant from scratch. But like, if you could find some way to put that receiver chip in a human, I could think any thought and they would instantly know exactly how I was feeling."

"I'm not sure if I'd want everyone knowing that." her colleague joked. "So what, you're talking about techno-telepathy?"

"Why not?" Sayori grinned. "We've had function-perfect prosthetic limbs and artificial organs for decades now. It's about time someone started on the human brain. The Sentinax are so far ahead of us with cognitive integration it's ridiculous."

"Yeah," her colleague countered, "But the Sentinax are computer programs. And not the nicest computer programs either."

Sayori shrugged. "So they have a head start. But aren't you embarrassed by how limited we are? No way do I want to die a baseline human."


+ + + + +

It was the vibration against her wrist that woke her. The alarm she had set sent her palmtop PDA buzzing, nudging her arm insistently as it rattled against the workbench. Sayori groaned her way back to consciousness, feeling a painful dryness in her mouth and a dull, non-specific ache in her spine. It was still much better than when she had woken up in her cryo pod the day before. She cuffed an embarrassing slug-trail of drool from the edge of her mouth, and knuckled her eyes back into focus.

The lights in the engineering bay were still on, casting a dimmed white glow over Nevarn's PDA and the cable-splitter snaking out of it and into the neck sockets of the last droid kneeling in front of the work station. The last thing Sayori remembered was closing down the PDA and slumping her head into her arms as she finished uploading the last of the haptic codes. That was when she remembered that the interface disc was still stuck to her head, and she peeled it off before dropping it onto the table with a click.

With Cicero's help, they had eventually succeeded in getting the Setinax's (theoretically) uncrackable command link working, and Sayori had offered to stay up and re-synchronise with the drones - to make operating them easier before they activated Cicero's code and locked the androids' software against any external changes. Trying to re-map in a day what she could have taken a leisurely week over back in the lab. Sayori exhaled a dry laugh. Two years lying dead in the cryo bay, doing sweet fuck all, and now there was everything to do and scarcely any time. Scale One.

Sayori almost preferred the hectic schedule. Having a practical problem in front of her to solve kept her focused and made her feel useful; like she had a modicum of control in their new, hellish reality. Three hours of snatched sleep and a sore back seemed like a fair enough trade in the short term. (Even if there was a bed in the next room, you idiot.) Feeling her tongue peel like velcro across the inside of her mouth, she reached for the water mug that had been at her elbow, and ("Ah, fuck.") put it back down when she remembered that she had drank it all before falling asleep. Scraping her chair back across the floor, she paused to rub some feeling back into her limbs before traipsing through to the galley where Colonel Sanders was serving up breakfast.

Before long, Garrick had called them all together.

"Any questions?"

Sayori mhmm'd. The plan was light on detail, and that always made her nervous - even though she knew there was a lot about their route that couldn't easily be predicted. Never mind the Berserkers.

"You said the bridge is heavily armoured." she said, focusing on something that her fellow scientist could reasonably answer. "Like, thick enough to interfere with the drones' signal? Or would we still be able to link to them from outside?"

[AngelDellaNotte]

She slid her sword back into the scabbard and hooked it back on her belt noticing that the dance had caused the bandage from the IV to come off and her hand was bleeding again but it didn't look that bad, she merely stood there staring at the blood as it clotted on her hand.

"You're good." Said a familiar voice, causing Miranda to turn . "But you should get that properly seen too." Gaea was out of her armour, and had pointed to the bleeding hand. She was sitting on a crate nearby, bottle of water in one hand. She was, frankly, a mess. Wearing just stained leggings and a tank top, the clothes revealed the extent of cybernetic enhancement she had undergone. Her skin was studded with silver interface ports on every nerve cluster. Much of her remaining skin was heavily scarred or simply replaced with battlefield quality synth-skin, a mixture of different tones that made her look stitched together. Her nose had clearly been broken at some point, and chunks were missing from her ears and hair, evidence of more scarring. And she looked exhausted, drained of all energy, her eyes surrounded by deep black wells that spoke to profound exhaustion.

"I need to ask you some questions. If you have the time to spare."

It took a moment for Miranda to realize that Gaea had been speaking to her. She looked away from her hand to the elemental. "It's fine. And as for my skills as my grandfather would say after twelve years of lessons I better not be good, I better be great." She said, noticing the bandage on the floor a short distance from her. Reaching down she swiped it up pressing it to her hand. God she wished they hadn't woke up in this hell hole. If they weren't short on supplies she could use some med gel to stop the bleeding but she figured since Kromlyn was giving out bandages they either were out or conserving it. Miranda wasn't used to not having the best of everything, even while in the Navy they always had the best of supplies.

She recognized the voice as Gaea spoke but looked much different without her armor. The woman was heavily modified and Miranda figured it was her that was able to throw Winter and her around not the suit. Being modded wasn't unusual though Miranda wasn't that fond of it. In her mind Lyrans were already perfect and no need to improve on perfection. There was the odd occasion though when it was needed much like Quentin's bionic heart. The assassination attempt had left her heart badly damaged and it was the only thing they could do to save her. "What do you want to know? It doesn't look like I got much to do unless you have figured out a way to fly this heap from here." Miranda said.

"I need to know if I can trust you." Gaea said flatly. "After what happened in the cryo-bay. I can use you, up front. I know that the Lyrans don't skimp on training, you'll be able to handle the basics and I need every trigger finger I can get. But. . ."

She rolled her shoulders.

"If you can't work in a team, and I won't judge you for that, if you can't play nice with others, the science guys will have jobs for you. At the very least, having a trigger finger we can hold back here will do wonders for their confidence."

She sighed.

"So. Think you can hack it?"

"Look you do whatever you have to but trust me if you make it to the bridge you are going to need the best pilot you have to fly this fucked up ship. And believe me when I say that is me. No other pilot on this mission has logged as many flight hours as I have both on and off the flight simulator. Not to mention I was the first to complete the doomsday scenarios." Miranda said, recalling her time confined to the mission headquarters. She hadn't much to do during those months, her connection to the attacks had been all over the news feeds and quite a few people weren't pleased she was there. Miranda didn't make any friends before the mission. So she spent most of her spare time in the simulators, learning everything she could about the ships. She had even demoed some of Dr. Warrick's drones but hadn't liked them at all. A pilot without the guts to put themselves in danger wasn't worth a damn.

As she held the bandage to her hand she could feel the bleeding slow but didn't pull the bandage away yet. She sat down on the crate looking over at Gaea's mods, there were so many of them and quite a few looked jury-rigged. It made her wonder what the woman had been through in the last couple of years. "I can hold my own in a fire fight you can count on that." Miranda had never actually seen combat on the ground. The Lyrans didn't have any active campaigns going on, they mostly dealt with pirates. She had faced off with the pirates several times in space battle but never been part of the boarding teams. They had Marines for that. "I can play nice so long as you can keep that dog on a leash." Miranda said, thinking of Winter despite that fight being just as much her fault as it was the Teran's. If not more her own though Miranda would never admit that.

"She's a Terran Marine. TFMC training trumps instinct every time, she'll stay in line. However. . ."

Gaea stood, and cracked her knuckles.

"You call her a 'dog' one more time, and I'll put you down like one." She reached round to her back, and tossed Miranda a data slate.

"What we have on the bridge and its OS. Read up, flygirl."

Without another word, Gaea turned on her heel and left, throwing a casual wave as she stepped out of the room, leaving Miranda alone with her thoughts again.

She watched as Gaea walked away thinking that Terran Marines were nothing compared to just about anyone in the Lyran military. Despite her dislike of Marines she still had respect for them. They were elite soldiers and her dislike stemmed mostly from the fact Quentin was one. Miranda would play nice with Winter, for now at least. That still didn't mean they would end up the best of friends. Tucking the tablet under her arm she headed to where the mess had been set up, finally deciding that her stomach was settled enough to eat. Once there she noticed a small line of people waiting to get food.

Her head was also starting to hurt less so she decided to test her vision and see if it was getting back to normal. Slowly she pushed the holo-glasses down the bridge of her nose, squinting at first though carefully she opened her eyes. Everything was still a little bright but not enough to keep her from being able to see. She took the holo-glasses off and tucked them into a pocket in her flight suit. It was a couple more minutes before she reached Sanders and his chicken fryer. She glanced at the pile of raw chicken and crinkled her nose at it.

"What's wrong don't like the menu?" Sanders muttered.

"Do you have anything else?" Miranda said, she had been on a meatless diet since her last few years in school. She had been on the school speed skating team, several of her class mates had switched to a meatless diet saying it gave them more strength and endurance so Miranda had tried it as well.

"We got chicken and chicken." Sanders said making it clear that he wasn't taking requests.

"Uhm.... anything without meat?" Miranda asked, looking down the cooking station and not seeing much other than the chicken. She knew things were limited but hoped there were some other answers. She wasn't sure if they had set up some sort of garden or if the supplies to maintain one were available.

Sanders reached beneath the counter and dropped a brownish colored block on the counter. "Got protein ration. Though I can't comment on the taste." Sanders said, before pointing to a small room on the far side of the kitchen. "Hydroponics bay is over there you might be able to make a salad. So Miss picky eater what's your specialty?"

"Pilot." Miranda said, picking up the protein ration. It wasn't her first time with protein rations they tasted like cardboard and were dry as hell. The best thing was to eat them with a generous amount of water. When in the field they often would mix them into a pot of water with some hot sauce and heat it up over a fire making a sort of stew.

"Huh not much use for one of those, any idea where you are gonna be working? I could use a hand in the kitchen." Sanders said, leaning on the counter.

"No thanks I'm gonna be on Gaea's strike team." Miranda said, looking to where he had pointed out the hydroponics bay hoping she could find some herbs to mix into the protein rations. "I'm Lieutenant Miranda Clarke, by the way."

"Tough out there sure a pilot can keep up?" Saunders asked, drumming his fingers on the counter, "Clarke...hmm unless you are Lyran." He said, putting it together that she was Lyran just as Miranda started walking to the hydroponics bay without saying anything else. "Hey!" He shouted at her retreating back. "Fly us out of here, and I'll cook you anything you damn well want!"

[Enigma]

"How accurate are the maps?" Iona asked, still in Sarah mode, in the same uniform she was wearing when she boarded. "You say that these berserkers make repairs, do they close off passageways? Do they set monitors and traps? Do they all go when there's repair work to be done? Or does one stay behind? How do they communicate?"

She paused, waiting. From what little she'd seen or heard of them, it seemed they were opportunist swarmers. That they did repairs suggested some sort of intelligence. Intelligence that could start anticipating. Planning.

Or perhaps it was all instinctual. Protecting its food supply?

[dakkagor]

"Easy on the questions." Davrry drawled, before scratching at his beard. "Though they are good questions. They definitely talk to each other, and hell, they seem smart enough to hack wireless and whatever you spooky robots use to chat. I'm certain they use low frequency sound to communicate as well. They rattle bulkheads in specific patterns to get attention from anything local."

Gaea nodded. "We've never seen them set traps or monitoring. They've never sealed off a section, as far as we know, but they definitely engage in patrolling behavior"

"I still think they're territorial." Davrry cut in, and Gaea shushed him before continuing. "Generally, the closest to the damage will respond first, then transmit for as long as there is a problem, which will draw in more and more units. Once the problem is solved, they transmit an all clear and the units disperse. But they never return to exactly the same places."

[MidKnight]

Winter woke up from her nap and looked to see the others getting ready at the small food shaft. She gets up and brushed her uniform from any dirt. Walking over to the group she looked at the cook and asked for food. Noticing it was only chicken, Winter didn't mind eating it. She received a couple of legs and walked to the meeting group. Though her eyes noticed the Lyran woman. "Well well...if it isn't cheap shot." She smirked.

She placed her plate down and picked up her shotgun. Lifting it up and placed it on her back. Her eyes however didn't leave the Lyre. "Your gonna need a real gun to fight those things...and not some tooth pick you carry around."

While listening to the mission brief Miranda sat on a crate eating her protein ration stew. She had found a nice assortment of herbs to make it a bit more flavorable. It wasn't fine dining but it was the sort of field cooking that could earn quite a few favors and good trades. The Terran Marine walked up to her and made some sort of comment about her sword. "The enemy can't pull a trigger if you disable their hand or simply take it completely off." Miranda said, taking a bite of her soup. She hadn't been to the make shift armory yet and planned on grabbing a few guns before they left. Right now she wanted to get some food into her.

She briefly thought of setting the bowl down and demonstrating how useful a sword could be but she remembered Gaea's words about how easily she could be pulled from the mission and stuck in the safe zone. So instead she looked away from Winter and back to her soup taking another bite. As much as she would like to finish what they had started earlier it would be better not to. Babysitting a bunch of nerds wasn't what she had in mind.

Winter scoffed about her reply. "Making jokes are we?" Then her eyes turned to the soup. "Aw just cute...you made crap." Vezarress chuckled in the background. "You better get a gun. Don't wanna lose our...'best' pilot to some freaks."

Than she heard something about drones. Scoffing again she folded her arms. "If it makes ya feel better best keep your ass here in the nerd department." She said aloud. "But if you have confidence I'm sure quick and easy here can break that thing." She chuckled to herself.

Growling low in her throat Miranda tried not to look at Winter or the lizardman, instead doing her best to resist the urge to throw the bowl at the Terran and throttle the crap out of her. She said she would behave but didn't know how much she could take before she lost it. Sending a discreet look Gaea she hoped the other woman saw how much of an effort she was putting into this. "You're damn right I am the best pilot on this rust bucket and I promise you will be singing a different tune when I fly us the hell out of here." Miranda said, turning back her back to Miranda and resuming eating her lunch. The two of them would have it out, she was sure of that but it wasn't going to happen now.

"Well let me start singing." She quickly dabs her chicken in her soup and takes a big bite out of it. "Now that's good sauce." She smirked and then takes a few steps back. "I'll leave her be." And walked on the opposite end. Vezarress chuckled and looked at Miranda. "Why didn't you just punched her like last time?" He asked. "I could've had a dinner and a show." He takes a big bite out of his chicken and chomps.

Clinching her fist around the spoon and bowl Miranda slammed down them both before standing up and taking a step towards Winter ready to give her the beating she deserved. The lizardman's words made her freeze though thinking about the fight in the cyro-bay and Gaea breaking them up. Yet again it reminded her of the orders Gaea had given her or rather the threat she had made. The elemental had said she would keep Winter in check but she wasn't really doing a good job of it right now. "Would you believe in the last few hours I found god and decided to turn my life around?" Miranda sarcastically quipped.

The Dragonoid stood up and sighs heavily. "Finding a creator is difficult." He said while standing in between the two. "But believe me when the answers are actually within you. Waiting to be found." The old lizard chuckled again. "I spent my whole life looking for answers when really they were right in front of me." He looked at the piece of chicken in his hand. "As much as I admire both your attitudes and behavior...the two of you need to settle your differences for our mission to succeed." He looked over his shoulder and stared at Winter. Whom sighs as she takes a bite out of her chicken leg. "I'll stay in line." She didn't bother to look at Miranda as she continued examining the bone in her hand. "Whatever it takes to get out of here."

Vezzarress smiled. "What about you?" He turned his attention back to Miranda. "Still looking for answers?" He sits back on his chair and finished whatever was left of his chicken.

"Great the komodo dragon is a sage." Miranda said, she never was very religious then again most Lyrans weren't. They believed in their own power and not those of an imaginary beings or some sort of all guiding force. It was bullshit and stories parents told their kids to get them to behave. "Anymore words of wisdom oh mighty mystic?" Miranda said, feigning interest.

"As for surviving, I'm Lyran I will do whatever it takes. Stay out of my way and I will stay out of yours." Miranda said, pushing her bowl away. She wasn't morally against eating meat but didn't like the idea of eating something that had been defiled by someone else. Instead she picked up a water bottle she had grabbed from Saunders and took a swig of it. The water had a light minty taste to it thanks to the mint leaves she had broken up and dropped into it.

Winter scoffed as she watched Miranda returned back to her own little area. She looked around finally finished eating the chicken leg and tossed it to the empty bin nearby.

"Snotty rich bitch." she mumbled, and then looked at the other woman who asked about her drones. "So...you still planning to stay behind the line in your little safety box of chemicals and tech?" she asked childishly. She even leaned forward to flick her ear.

“Fuck off, jarhead.” Sayori replied, batting the younger woman’s hand away irritably. Other than waking up in the same cryo bay, she still knew next to nothing about the other woman, and she wasn’t in the mood for her hazing games. She knew her own value.

"I'm sure it's too dangerous for nerds to be in the field, I mean I haven't seen one fire a gun yet."

Sayori felt an ugly lurch in her stomach, remembering (faces) how she had simply frozen and dropped her gun as the (fucking faces) biomechanical horror reared up to slaughter them all. The memory made her angry, and want to lash out.

“I don’t think firing guns on its own did the crew much good so far.” she shot back, caustically. “Or hadn’t you noticed?”

"How about growing some balls and do something about it!?" Winter spat back after hearing her reply.

Sayori scrunched up her face. “What do you think we’re here for, idiot?”

"This is why grunts and nerds don't mix!!" Winter shouted out loud. She took several steps towards the smaller woman. Sayori flinched back a little in alarm and began to rise from her seat, but the soldier only reached out and grabbed her hand and by force shoved her sidearm into it.

"If I'm gonna be watching your back out there I need to know if you’re gonna watch mine instead of letting it get mauled by some ugly ass freak out there. Here!"

Cursing her own racing heartbeat, Sayori placed the gun down on the table beside her. Sure, she wanted to say. Maybe now I’ll let you use the drone as a shield instead of the other way round, idiot.

Instead, she simply crossed her arms and legs with a defensive scowl. “What’s your problem?” She circled her head to indicate everything around them. “Apart from the fucking obvious?”

"My problem is none of your damn business!" Winter reached out for the gun on the table with her metal arm. The arm flinched a little as she pulled back and holstered the gun. She took a step back and crossed her arms. "Fucking nerds."

She could hear her superior over her shoulder. It was obvious the officer was telling her to fall back in line. Winter was used to these kind of situations. Before she walked away she took another look at the doctor.

"You better make yourself useful out there. I’d hate to see you get dragged off by a freak."

Sayori made an elaborate charade of rolling her eyes. “As long as you find a way to do something useful too.”

After her last comment, Winter walked back to her own spot and leaned up against the wall. Sayori scraped her chair back around to face the table, pointedly looking away from the marine. She chewed her tongue as she felt the blood burning hot in her cheeks and ears.

'Fucking idiots. We're all gonna die out here...why did I even bothered to agree to come to this hell hole?' Speaking to her own mind, she figured she wasn't gonna get any more answers if she spoke them out loud. Winter sighs softly and leans her head back again'st the wall. 'I think I prefer to be at a gun range than here.'

[Enigma]

Iona frowned, staring at the squabbling team members and silently ran a risk assessment.

*Previous fight alerted berzerkers
*Continued fighting will alert berserkers
*Both were soldiers
*Both have defied orders against further contact
*Risk of discovery 65%
*Removal of one factor reduces discovery by 15%.
*Removal of two factors reduces discovery by 30%
*Removal of one factor reduces party effectiveness by 20%
*Removal of two factors reduces party effectiveness by 45%

*Recommended course of action - plan for discovery, use disruptive factors for distraction value.
*Recommended course of action - induce cooperation from disruptive factors.

"You were once enemies," Iona said, turning to address them. "A greater enemy is out there, who can do worse than just kill you. They can keep you alive as they consume you."

"If we do not succeed, this group will perish. If this group perishes, we will never be able to return. We will become part of them. For the success of this mission, you need to work together."

[dakkagor]

"WINTERS!"

Gaea slammed her fist into the table, making it jump, dragging everyone's attention back.

"For once, I agree with the Sentinax. If we don't work together, we all die. Get with the program! You think staying behind is some kind of privilege? You know how many techs we've lost to psych, to burnout? How many of the poor bastards might have survivors guilt, do you think? When they fuck up, we die, but they get to hear us die and they know THEY are responsible. And when you can think your way out of a fucking paper bag, you can stay behind with the brain trust and fix the million and one problems we have! You're a fucking jarhead, winters, you aren't paid to think, you're paid to be gods own killing machine until I say you can die! Until then, and this goes for all of you, sort your shit out!"

"Welp. This is going to be fun." Davrry drawled. "Come on. Lets get to the airlock."

+++++

Sayori was drawn aside by by Nikos as the group moved out of the room.

"You don't have to go." He held up a hand to forestall a response. "But we'd like you to. We should be able to thread a feed from here to the Drones we are deploying, but that feed will be passing through a chokepoint. If it gets cut, we'll lose the whole drone team. Call the risk 70/30 in our favour. If the team have to collapse a junction to cover a retreat, or seal a section, or vent a section, we will lose the drones. Its rare, but it does happen."

Davrry, watching the others file out, turned and smiled at Sayori. "Don't let what Winters said get under your skin, mind. We aren't expecting you to be some action hero, and you are way more useful back here making new toys for me." He smiled. "But come on, you know you want to see the brains of this beast, right?"

[Azazeal849]

Sayori was shoving her PDA and interface discs irritably back into the zip pockets of her overalls when Garrick gently plucked at her elbow and pulled her aside.

"You don't have to go." He held up a hand to forestall a response. "But we'd like you to. We should be able to thread a feed from here to the drones we are deploying, but that feed will be passing through a chokepoint. If it gets cut, we'll lose the whole drone team."

Sayori pursed her lips. She had never been a fan of single points of failure, and she could see the sense behind it. But she was scared too. Going out there, even with the others, was to walk back into the Berserkers' territory. There were a hundred things that could go wrong; a hundred ways to get separated or ambushed or trapped. And then it would be her skinless face socketed into a Berserker's underside, shrieking at the next poor soul to cross its path.

She didn't want to admit it in front of Garrick - not when he had already been facing down these things for two years, and not when he had already gambled his own life once to rewrite his cryo-pod's nanobots, on what had probably been worse than a 70:30 chance in his favour.

"But come on." Davrry put in with a smile. He was friendly, by Lyran standards; this rifleman who had shot down two of the Hunters attacking them in their headlong flight back to the safe-house. "You know you want to see the brains of this beast, right?"

If there's anything left of them. Sayori thought. She wanted to be able to say it was duty that made her nod, but really it was just pride. "I'm coming with you."

[dakkagor]

"I'm coming with you."

"Good. Good." Nikos nodded, then turned away. For a second, he seemed almost about to change his mind, then he flicked his gaze to Davrry.

"Look after them, Dav. Bring them back."

"You know me doc." Davrry slapped the professor on the back.

"I don't make promises I can't keep."

+++++

The party slipped out into the guts of the Elcano. Gaea was on point, with Sayori's drones pushed out and behind the party, ready to provide an early warning. Trailing behind Gaea were Sinclair and Sayori, who were the 'principals' for this run. In the middle, Iona and Vezzarres shepherded a pair of the mule drones, which paused every 100 meters to lay a small, discreet transmitter into the deck. On the way back, hopefully, they would be laden with supplies to feed the autofac and the kitchen. Bringing up the rear, Davrry was barely visible to even to Sayori's drones, which had been modified with extended sensor arrays and powerful electronic camouflage systems.

"Its like he's stalking us." Sayori muttered over the comms.

"He is." Gaea responded, turning back to look at Sayori, her helmet blank and impassive, much like her voice. "We're the stalking horse. If he spots something, he can deal with it."

+++++

"This is tight." grumbled Vezzarres. The Jefferies tubes seemed to extend throughout the whole mass of the ship, but unlike the rest of the vessel, they had not suffered as much battle damage and aggressive recycling. Gaea had commented that they made a good way to get somewhere, but they didn't like using them to escape from a Berserker. Fighting in corridors was bad enough, but fighting in a tight, confined tunnel would be worse. The bulky Dragonoid had to fold his wings tight against his back to stop them snagging and catching on every protruding panel and pipe. The mules had transitioned from a four legged mode, to a eight legged one, each pair of legs braced against a different wall. It was disturbing, but an effective way of moving.

The drones detected them through heat before they could see them. Sayori brought both the drones to a halt, idling their functions down so they produced minimal emissions, before sending the information to Gaea.

+We've come too far to abort.+ Gaea whispered into the comms as the group paused, drank electrolytes and checked equipment. It had taken five hours to get this close to the bridge, and as they approached the core of the ship the temperature had risen. A bad sign: it meant the reactor was operating without proper shielding. +Its only two of them. I can eliminate them both before they can call for help.+

+There aren't many others about out here." Davrry agreed. He was half a kilometer back now from the junction above the bridge they were. "Two recyclers picking over an equipment bay, maybe half a dozen other auto's.+

+Right. Winter, Sinclair, move the group up, regardless, weapons up, in 180 seconds on my go signal+

Gaea picked up her rifle, a heavy THARsis Armouries Mattock99 (http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120317175046/masseffect/images/6/65/ME3_Saber_Assault_Rifle.png) DMR, and slipped ahead. Sayori had the strange sensation of watching the elemental leave, then seeing her arrive as she reached the forward drones.

+Go.+

Gaea dropped onto the bridge (https://i.pinimg.com/736x/46/5c/cd/465ccdfdf87dd842152812af5880b5b1--scifi-bridges.jpg), her fall slowed so it was as soundless as a whisper. The two hunters snapped into life anyway, and lunged for her. Gaea focused, her suit roaring into life and slamming both of the beserkers to the deck. Two loud gunshots followed, drilling neat, precise holes into each drones heart. The elemental stood, and drew a heavy shotgun pistol, pumping a round of armour shredding flechettes into each twitching robot to smash any back up transmitters.

Winter and Sinclair dropped in behind her, weapons tight to shoulders.

+No transmissions or movement Gaea. You've got time+ Davrry sounded as calm as ever. Gaea nodded and pulled her helmet clear, revealing hair slicked to her skull by sweat.

"Alright people. Vez, Iona, dig in. Fungibles first. Sinclair, use the the codes we gave you to check our position and the ships status. Winter, perimeter with me. Doc, get your drones into place for extraction."

Gaea stalked to a console, wiping old, dried blood from its screen. She pulled a compact memory block from her belt, loaded with a pre-built, automated retrieval program, which she plugged into the reader.

"Cicero?"

+We're in. 30 minutes Uni. . .Gaea.+

"Make it faster please."

[Azazeal849]

They moved as fast as they could, but as fast as they could still felt agonisingly slow. Their little column moved in leapfrog: Sayori walking the scouting drone forward, the group advancing behind it, and then the backstop drone moving up behind them. It was methodical, and it was much easier on herself to move the drones in sequence instead of juggle them together, but it was nerve-wracking to crawl through the exposed corridors, and then through the Jefferies tubes that wormed further and further away from the safe haven of the hideout.

She didn’t regret volunteering (don’t be stupid), but all the same she felt vulnerable. This wasn’t their ship any more. She was stealing through alien corridors like some kind of fugitive, with no protection but her companions and the stun-gun strapped to her hip, no provisions except what she carried on her scrounged, frayed webbing, and not even any bathroom comforts except the absorbent spacewalker’s undersuit she wore beneath her overalls.

Focusing on the immediate, practical demands of her role helped. Advance. Stop. Scan. Nod to Gaea. Creep forward. Switch link. Scan. Advance. Stop. And so it went, the squad stretching and bunching like a caterpillar.

The crawling pace of their advance began to fray on Sayori's nerves, along with the unwelcome list of bugs that became apparent as she walked the drones through their paces. The pre-mapped muscle memory of the drones kept trying to advance at a normal walking speed, sometimes causing them to lurch forward with what felt like spine-jarringly loud steps until Sayori reined them back in with another command pulse. And even those slow, pistoning footfalls sounded too loud in the silent corridors.

That was what got to her the most, Sayori realised. The quiet. The interdeck sections between the hideout and the bridge seemed to have been untouched by the Berserkers, but all of the sounds that had assaulted Sayori's ears in the days before the jump were gone. The steady hubbub of voices competing to be heard over each other, the blaring of Julian's tannoy announcements, the tramp of crewmen rushing to and fro. Even the thrum and rattle of the air circulators. It wasn't peaceful quiet. It was graveyard quiet.

Sayori had muted her drones' audio feed so she wouldn't miss any comms bursts from Gaea or Davvry, but she still found herself straining her ears, as if she could turn the dancing waveforms and directional tags on the edges of her vision into real sound. All she heard was her own heartbeat, and the steady click-click, click-click of the robot mules stalking along behind her. The translucent strip-visor perched across her eyes was murky blue, with lines of yellow showing the subdued heat-glow of light panels and cable flats. Cicero had advised her that infrared was the fastest way to detect the Berserkers. Their biomechanical bodies dumped large amounts of heat from their reactors and servos, the Sentinax had said. Ten minutes ago her drones' sensors had detected two of them slithering through the deck 12 bio-lab, scratching and snuffling among the equipment. But there were three layers of walls between them and the squad, and the ugly red heat-traces had faded into nothing without looking up as the fugitive organics crept by.

Sayori chewed the inside of her cheek, and tapped her haptic-gloved thumb against her pinkie to clear the overlay from her visor, bringing Gaea and the others back into view in front of her. She resisted the urge to clear her dry throat as she nodded the twenty third all clear to their Elemental leader, and they advanced through another winding section of interdeck tunnel. She squeezed her thumb to her middle fingertip to link to her backstop drone, and her visor blued over again, this time splotched with the heat signatures of herself and her fellow humans up ahead. Turning her head and allowing her interface disc to pulse the same movement through to the backstop drone, her view lit up as the sensor feed tagged the breadcrumb trail of transmitters stretching away behind them. Further back, a good five hundred metres behind them now, was Davvry. The Lyran's sinuous, panther-like movements barely rippled the audio waveform at the bottom of Sayori's vision, and even his heat signal was blurred, faded by whatever insulating armour he had chosen to wear. He was like a ghost lurking at the edge of perception; insubstantial and full of silent, almost menacing grace.

"It's like he's stalking us." Sayori muttered over the comms.

"He is." Gaea responded, turning back to look at Sayori. Her helmet was blank and impassive, much like her voice. "We're the stalking horse. If he spots something, he can deal with it."

Sayori had seen Davvry blow two of the sickle-clawed Hunters apart with her own eyes, but unease still coiled inside her stomach; like a slimy, restless worm. It's constantly learning.

Their hopes that there might still be other survivors holed up in the bridge were dashed when they finally reached it. The vast round chamber was devoid of life and energy signatures. Sayori could pick out the dull heat-smudges of wall screens and dead computer banks, and the raised command dais with its tripod of ladders, and the forlorn, empty interface chair where captain Severt had once sat. But there was no living thing left.

Or at least, nothing fully organic.

Sayori saw them at once: two murder-red shapes against her drone’s heat vision - hunched, skeletal, nosing among the consoles like jackals on the prowl.

"Stop." she whispered, reaching out to touch Gaea's armoured shoulder. "There's two of them down in the bridge. Hunters."

Sayori belatedly realised that the drone round the corner had extended its own arm, mirroring her gesture. She was suddenly very aware of the interface disc tick tick tick-ing against her temple. They can't hack the signal. she repeated to herself, biting her tongue. Cicero's self-policing codes were impervious, that's what he said.

It's hostile, invasive, and constantly learning. That's what Gaea said.

She tapped a sequence with her fingertips to power the drones down to idle and kill the control link. Just because the Berserkers couldn't hack them, that didn't mean they couldn't detect them - or her own control signals beaming through like a beacon against the dead metal around her.

She looked at Gaea. The last Berserkers had been several corridors away, but their current path took them right over the bridge, and they would have to drop down to access Julian's core through the command mainframe. "What do we do?"

"We've come too far to abort." Gaea whispered.


+ + + + +

"Doc, get your drones into place for extraction."

Sayori was shaking with adrenaline, even though she hadn't been part of the brief firefight. She worked some moisture back into her sand-dry mouth, and swallowed.

"On it." she answered Gaea, and tapped her drone link back into active mode. The backstop nearly surged forward again and she slowed its walk with a bitten-back curse. She couldn’t even re-map the thought pulses the drones responded to - that was the entire point of Cicero’s new failsafe. She had tried to fit a week’s worth of programming into one hectic night, and the cracks were showing. Sayori had done as well as anyone could have - probably better - but she still hated with a passion anything that reminded her she was less than foolproof.

Later. She settled down next to the ingress point and tried to remotely recalibrate the sensor feeds beaming through to her visor. The background had shifted from blues and purples to a murky yellow, and she could feel the warmer temperature of the ambient air prickling her skin.

“Why’s it so warm in here?” she radioed as she narrowed the gradient of the sensor feed, fuzzing her vision back into sharply delineated blues and amber-reds.

[MidKnight]

"Because of the reactor." Vezzarres slightly growled as he walked past Dr. Sayori. He looked up to the reactor to examine it cautiously. "Without a proper shielding and cooling system...this thing is practically a heater but if it gets any hotter it will melt down and cause all other functions to cease." He slowly growled and looked around the area to find any parts to scavenge. "Plus I becareful of what you breathe in...reactors are still radiated...I can handle it but you will need a radiation suit if you want to survive." He walked around and noticed several lockers nearby. He walked slowly to them to take a closer look and see whats inside. He pulled the door and noticed the locker wasn't completely emptied. He finds a large weapon most likely used by a Dragonoid. But not only that he finds marks.

Vezzarres finds in one of the equipment lockers, a series of 'claw speak' marks. Its not an experts hand. (claw speak is like modern day calligraphy, its an old art dying off) but its easy to read the following words.

Planet

Safe

History

Ruin

Hope.

Only a Dragonoid would know to leave these marks. His large hand covered over the marks and gives a slight brush over the words. He lowered his head and sighs softly. "My warriors were here." He muttered softly. He takes the rifle and placed it on his back and looked over his shoulder. "They left their heavy weapons here." He searched another locker and finds a handgun laying there with a few thermal clips. He picked up the weapon and the ammo and looked at Dr. Sayori. He noticed she was still carrying the stun gun from before. He growled softly and walked over to the human female.

"Here." He said gently and hands the gun over. "You will need this and it will be a lot better than that thing." He pointed at the stun gun. He returned to his duty to find more things to scavenge especially what Gaea wanted him to find first. Parts and pieces that didn't look to damaged or erupted. He packed the mules with certain items they could use and replace back at home base. "Hey kid." He looked around for the Sentinax. "Find anything?" He asked curiously.


+++++

Once she witnessed her commanding officer take out the two targets she smiled at her work and followed suit behind her. With her finger on the trigger she waited for new orders to be given.

"Winter, perimeter with me."

She kept the butt on her shoulder and followed Gaea. "Aye aye." She said and looked around the room. Checking other areas to secure the perimeter. She finds empty boxes laying around and continued moving quietly as the barrel of her gun aimed in front of her. Some parts of the room was dark and Winter had forgotten to attach a light to her gun. She looked around using her bad feeling senses. Though she really did had a bad feeling about it.

"Area clear." She said softly on the comm. link. "I have a bad feeling about this Sarge." She said softly once more.

[Enigma]

Iona nodded, heading towards the lockers. Unlike the others, she didn't have a weapon - or rather, she was the weapon, able to reshape her limbs into blades, whips, or hammers. Or she could throw herself at them and devour them whole. Raised on a diet of minerals, humans were disgusting fare

But this enemy would eat back at her. Really, her only choice at the moment was to throw something and hope to do damage. She needed to incorporate alien.... biologic-created projectile or energy beam weapons with herself, or carry their weapons as they did. Perhaps she could claim something within these lockers?

Assuming they were still there. And working.

[AngelDellaNotte]

Before leaving the safety of their home base Miranda had gone through the make shift armory looking for suitable weapons. She had managed to somehow find her pistol, identifying it by her initials being embossed on the grip of it. Though she hadn’t such luck on finding her rifle, she did manage to find one that was the same model however it lacked some of the modifications that hers did. Name the ability to preprogram her calibrations. The rifle did however have the ability to calibrate it while dry firing. For most people this was enough however living as the daughter of a gunsmith it wasn’t enough for Miranda. She preferred calibrating with live ammo. It only made a slight difference that hardly anyone would notice. They didn’t really have access to the ship’s range and that sort of activity would draw the berserkers right toward them so she made due with the dry fire calibration.

Traveling as they did may have unnerved Sayori but Miranda was used to it. Having people ‘stall’ a patrol was a common practice in the Lyran military and actually made her feel safer. She knew that Darvvy’s position was far more dangerous than their own as he was by himself cut off from the others. Usually it was a detail performed by a Marine though there had been times Miranda had done it though it was only in controlled exercises. In the hours it took them to get to the bridge Miranda fell into a familiar routine, though she kept her head on a swivel knowing if they were attacked she wouldn’t be hit with a stun round which while quite painful wasn’t fatal. Each time Sayori’s drones made an unnatural noise she growled low in her throat most of the time resisting on sending the scientist a glare. Another reason she hated the things. They didn’t know how to move stealthy. All it would take is for the berserkers to pick up on their noise and they would be in a firefight in tight quarters. It would no doubt end in a blood bath and who knew how many would make it out alive.

When they entered the bridge Gaea went after the two berserkers, Miranda raised her gun up to shoot one of them but the elemental was moving too fast and she couldn’t without risking hitting her. Though it seemed that Miranda’s assistance wasn’t needed as Gaea quickly dispatched them. As the other set about their own tasks Miranda started at first to move to the helmsmen console, muscle memory taking over. It had been two years since she last piloted this ship technically but it felt like only days. She had to stop herself and redirect to the Captain’s chair. There were several streaks of blood on it along with a few hand prints. It could have been Captain Severt’s blood or any other member of the command staff. Miranda wondered what happened to the Captain she hadn’t seen her in the safe zone and no one had mentioned where she was or what happened to her. If Kromlyn was here he could take a sample of the blood and know for sure. Miranda pulled a knife from her pocket that she had found in the armory and scrapped a bit of the dried blood into an empty wrapper of some rations. She would take it back and let the doctor check it out. Captain Severt was a fellow Lyran and she had to respect that. Plus the woman seemed good at her job.

Miranda stood before the chair staring at it for a few moments not sure if she should sit down on it both due to the respect she had for the position the chair represented and the fact that the Captain’s blood could be on it. The fact of the matter is someone’s blood was there. Navigating the panel wasn’t really possible standing next to the chair so after a few seconds of hesitation she sat down. The blood was long dried and the ship nearly destroy. The blood extended to the panel and she had to soak a towel to clean it off. Once the blood was cleared she typed in the access codes given her unlocking the panel. She looked around trying to find out anything but the files were either encrypted or damaged. After several minutes of frustratingly searching she slammed her hand down the panel streaking away some more of the blood.

There was something etched into the panel with the looks of it being done with a laser. To most people it would just be some random marks looking sort of like runes. Which was exactly on the mark. When the Lyrans had broken away from the Terrains they had used the runes to encode their transmissions since they used the same systems as the Terrains. With them they had been able to keep their movements secret. It wasn’t used much anymore except among the elite of the military and taught mostly as a status symbol. Miranda had learned it while at the military academy and though she was a little rusty she was able to make out a series of gird references as well as a random string of numbers. Taking a chance she typed the numbers into the panel earning a couple beeps as it unlocked a layer of security. Great a hacker she was not. With the new access code she was able to look up the gird references up on the panel noticing they pointed to a section of the planet covered in jungle. Judging by the readings that went with it the area was habitable and they were in orbit around it. She zoomed out looking around the space near them she observed a large mass near them. It was big enough to be considered a moon, bigger than any ship or station she knew of. This had to be how the berserkers got on the ship. “Oh wow, Gaea you are gonna want to see this.” Miranda said, pulling the images of the jungle and the mass on the main screen.

[dakkagor]

Iona

One of the lockers revealed a small arsenal of weapons. One was a mazer, a microwave pulse gun perfect for shipboard combat, alongside a small stash of pistols and shotguns. The others had been stripped bare, leaving only a few maintenance supplies. Even the ration packs had been picked over by someone else, leaving slim pickings.

The Team

Gaea walked over and looked over the terminal.

"You getting this Cicero?"

+I am. I also have a stable line to the ships systems in that region. That mass alongside us is four times the biggest military super-capital I have on record, and twice ours. A unit that big and mobile should be impossible+

"Ten years ago mobile shielded units where impossible." Gaea growled. "I hate that word. Vez, what did those scratches say again? Planet and safety?" She jabbed her finger at the spinning green orb. "the command crew left these clues for someone. They are down there."

+Yeah, thats all great and all. But you have incoming.+

"How many Davrry?" Gaea's helmet snapped shut and she hefted her rifle.

+Half dozen pushing up from the local medical bay. Three closing on the drones at the power junction.+

The emotionless helmet swung to fix Sayori in its gaze.

"We're out of time. Pull the plug. Winter, Miranda, with me. Where there's a pack there's more. We punch through then let our distraction cover our retreat."

Gaea pulled the hard drive from the terminal, and tossed it to Sayori.

"Lets go."

[Enigma]

Iona took the maser, checking its charge, and slipping one of the shotguns over its shoulder. Spare shells and charge magazines it could not find, but the weapons would be useful back at base.

It gathered everything it could find, including the maintenance supplies. It was amazing what one could do with so simple a source. Now at least it had something to fend off these... distorted biologic seekers that could devour them.

Iona turned to see how the others were fairing at their tasks.

[Azazeal849]

"Half dozen pushing up from the local medical bay." Davvry reported clinically over the comm, "Three closing on the drones at the power junction."

"Well don't we just keep discovering bold new frontiers of suck." Sayori muttered, feeling her cheek muscles pulling her face into a nervous grin.

She had clambered two of her drones down into the bridge with them, ready to run van- and rearguard as they had on their slithering journey to the command centre. The other two were still up in the Jefferies tubes, standing sentinel in the maintenance switchroom. As a critical hub for comms and propulsion control, the bridge had two 100%-sized LV feeders in a duty / standby arrangement, and a third redundant feeder for emergencies. Tripping all three would surely bring any nearby Berserkers swarming to investigate the problem - which was exactly Gaea's plan for covering their escape through the medical bay and then back into the interdeck maintenance tunnels. They could have simply shut down the power from one of the bridge control consoles, but with Berserkers infesting the ship's systems, there was no guarantee that they couldn't simply undo the team's efforts with a counter-command. That left the manual circuit breakers, located in the interdeck switchroom.

Three closing on the power junction.

Sayori snapped her forefinger and thumb together to sync her visor with the first drone, powering up its sensor feeds with the haptic command. She saw one of the switchgear cabinets hovering in front of her eyes, the idling drone's hands already curled around the breaker levers. She blinked at the corner of her visor and a curtain of warm yellows and cool blues descended over her view. She turned her head left, the visor view shifting as her drone mimicked the movement. The breadcrumb trail of Nevarn's sensors tagged themselves onto her overlay, forming a crooked line back through the tunnels, but the heat-map itself swam with murky orange as the distortion of heat-bleeding cables and coolant pipes muddied the picture. But in the distance were flickers of red.

Even through the drone's eyes, Sayori felt her heartbeat beginning to tick in her throat. The thermal pistol Vezarres had found was a lead weight in her off-hand. There were two hunters, long-limbed shadows with skittering movements, and behind them the undulating centipede form of a collector. (Fucking faces!) The three Berserkers blinked and fractured, melting in and out of the orange background like ghosts. The reticules on Sayori's visor boxed in around one only to leap away onto another, trying to isolate the nearest threat against a sea of cloaking heat-wash. Her vision tunnelled, like looking through the wrong end of a kaleidoscope.

"I see them." Sayori confirmed, finger-clicking away the view. She realised that her voice had risen, constricting alongside her dry throat.

Gaea's emotionless helmet swung to fix Sayori in its gaze. "We're out of time. Pull the plug. Winter, Miranda, with me."

She pulled the compact hard drive with its precious copy of the ship's besieged AI and tossed it to Sayori, who caught it in both hands.

"Let's go."

Sayori pocketed the memory block and clicked back to her drone's vid-feed, knowing what she was about to see and dreading it. In the time it had taken her and Gaea to speak, the Berserkers had moved closer; still ghosting in and out of view as they passed background hot-spots, but always growing larger - single minded, relentless. What had given them away, Sayori wondered. Hijacked internal sensors? Distress calls from the two hunters they had killed? The hack into the Elcano's mainframe? The answer didn't even matter.

Sayori curled her right hand, ready to transmit the pulse that would make the drone haul down on the two circuit breakers and plunge the bridge into blackout. And then she hesitated, suddenly aware of the potential flaw in Gaea's plan. If she triggered the bait now and brought the Berserkers swarming before they had broken through the perimeter, then they would be trapped by far more than the six Davvry had spotted up ahead. She finger-clicked away to her third and fourth drones, powering them up and running them to join Iona and Vezarres by the doors that Gaea was levering open. As the drones’ heat-vision sight overlaid her own, Sayori caught glimpses of the other six Berserkers crabbing through the maze of corridors towards them. Their blade limbs twitched as they moved, almost as if they were swimming through the amber soup of the heat-bleed around them.

"Doc." the Elemental soldier crackled warningly. "What are you waiting for? Kill the lights."

Sayori knew she was supposed to obey, not question. That was how the command structure needed to work. But she was sure (knew!) that she had the right of it here. The delay would cost her time to extract the two drones up in the interdeck switchroom - and for all their solid construction, their carbide plates and cybermesh muscle bundles were not designed to resist the slashing fury of Berserker weapon-constructs. If the hunters caught and killed them, they wouldn't be easily replaced. Worse, if they picked through the wreckage (it's constantly learning...it kills us to learn about us) they might find Cicero's latest hack-proof codes and study them until they found a workaround. But the alternative was to potentially lose the whole team. Once again, Sayori imagined herself reduced to a howling skull, plugged into the belly of one of those monstrous collectors. Would it use her voice, she wondered, to scream at the next human it caught in its red laser-sights? Her stomach turned to water at the thought. She didn't wish that fate on anybody - not even the irascible Winter, or that Lyran neo-nazi Miranda.

"You need to clear our path first." Sayori countered Gaea's order, stubbornly swallowing her fear. "Or we could all get trapped when the reinforcements come."

[MidKnight]

Vezzares looked at the scratches one more time before giving a confirm answer. He had to ponder for a moment before he could give an answer. 'Planet...safe.' It couldn't have been that obvious, but what did the remaining scratches mean? 'History...Ruin...Hope.' He remembered old calligraphy to use a code. He didn't think the young warriors now days would use it since technology has advanced among his people. He growled softly as his talon clawed at his neck. Deciphering old words had left since the time as Chief left him.

"History..." He finally said. "Ruin and Hope." He pressed his arm band and repeated the same words as a recording. "Sometimes when we use calligraphy...we use as a code to alert others of the situation that occurred. Or a warning." He stood up and continued talking to the recording. "Once we used the word 'ruin' as a sign of destroyed or destruction. History..." He growled one more time. "Once referred to a past reference should we found anything like data logs or information." He takes another look at the last word. "Hope." He tapped his chin. "Hope is new to me...we have never used it since we finally banned together under one flag...and that flag was Verath's." He stopped talking when he heard Gaea talk about a incoming pack. "Demons." He muttered. He picked up the heavy weapon and placed it on the mule near him. "I can smell them now." He sniffed several times.

Winter looked over her shoulder and listened to Gaea talk on her headset. She looked to the Doctor who seemed more worried about the pack that was on it's way. She walked over to the woman and placed her normal hand on her shoulder. "Get your shit together." She said softly to her ear. "We got this." She put a tight grip on her shotgun and cocked it. The sound a of shotgun filled her ear with joy as she smiled to walk behind Gaea and prepared for a fight. She lowered her weapon pointing at the ground. "Ma'am...ready when you are."

[Enigma]

Iona frowned, hefting the maser when she heard about the incoming invaders. Did they set some sort of alarm in here? They didn't seem to be that advanced.

But then, what did they really know about these creatures?

They were patient, apparently.

[MidKnight]

She quickly rushed to the corner and waited for what was coming to them. The monsters that lurked in the hallways seeking their presence. Leaving the area quietly was out of the question itself. She looked to the frightened woman Sayori and to the other's who both seemed terrified and dumbstruck at the same time. Vezzarres and Iona were unfazed of the situation though she thinks Vezzarres had done something like this before.

She ready's herself and looked to the other woman. The Lyran Pilot. She gives a slight smirk before making her own move and pushed herself off the wall and side stepped to the hallway. The monsters had detected her and yet looked not surprised at her ambush tactic. Aiming the shotgun at her first target was standing in the open. Her eyes caught the attention at the first creature that charged at her. It was a horrible sight to see and yet she moved quickly to aim the gun in it's direction. Pulling the trigger the shotgun made a rather loud noise as it burst's out a slug round into it's mark. The creature falls back but get's back up again.

"Shit!" She cursed out loud. Her flesh hand cocks the slide back and forth reloading another shell in the chamber. She aimed one more time and fired again. She repeated it over and over until it stopped moving. "Just fucking die!" She yelled at the monster. "Hey Mira!!!" She called out to the Lyran woman. "Are you gonna just stand there and fucking shoot or what?!" Then she laughed as she placed a shell in her mouth and reloaded her weapon. Her metal hand slide each shell quickly like it knows the pattern all too well. Finally takes the shell out of her mouth and loads the last round inside.

She quickly rushed to the Lyran woman. "Or you can stay behind me so your pretty face won't get fucked up!" She aimed at the monsters and pulled the trigger. Each shot was loud and drowned out the sounds of the machines scream. Moving forward and out of cover she continued popping rounds taking down each target that tried to get near her. She even kicked one that ran up to her like a dog off a leash. "You like that?!" She began taunting. "You want a little more?!" She fired another round into a machine laying on the ground.

She punched one that got too close with her metal arm and apparently felt a hard tug pulled on her. She pulled back and growled as she closed her fist. Her other arm was free but was holding with shotgun. "Dammit!" She yelled. Struggling to get the machine off while holding her gun was a challenge. She managed to get the shotgun barrel into whatever was clamped onto her arm and pulled the trigger. Taking a few steps back and looked at the marks on her metal arm. She growled again and fired quite a few rounds into the machine. "That shits expensive!!!" Then kicks the back with her foot.

[AngelDellaNotte]

Typical marine, rushing head first into danger without thinking. Some would call it courage but Miranda took it as stupidity. Rushing into danger while brave was moronic without tactics. This was why Marines usually traveled in large groups so they could outnumber the enemy with their large numbers. Using them as fodder to wear their opponent down. They had it drilled into their brains that they were invincible even though that was far from the truth. Stupid if you asked Miranda, Quentin had tried to explain several times that there was more to it than that but she never listened to her sister. Normally when Quentin started talking she tuned her out as it always turned into a lecture.

She rushed forward ignoring Winter's taunts and took a position behind one of the control stations near the corridor bracing her rifle on her shoulder. She reached into her pocket pulling out her hologlasses putting them on and activating the heat seeking mode. She could see Winter's form 'courageously' rushing in. She noticed the beserker reach out and grab Winter. Setting her sights on the monster she tried to find a target but Winter kept getting in the way of it her shot. She took a deep breath and held watching as Winter shifted pulling away from the beserker. Miranda took that moment to pull the trigger causing a bullet to whiz past Winter's head hitting the beserker square in it's head. She let the breath out taking aim again as the creature just staggered back. With another held breath she unleashed four more rounds into the beserker's head all but one hitting its mark. Another thing she didn't understand about Marines was just blindly shooting and hoping you hit something. Ammo like all their supplies wasn't something they had a lot of.

[Azazeal849]

Sayori's hands were clammy inside her interface gloves. She could hear it now; the same cockroach-skittering that had hissed towards them in the cryo-bay full of rotting corpses. They're here. The dry, overheated air of the command deck felt thick, pressing down like a physical force.

And then the tension exploded, like a split pane of glass hit by a bullet.

Gaea wheeled at a corner, and the Elemental's shout of "Contact left!" was lost against the sharp bark of her rifle. The sound of the gunshots ricocheted back down the corridor towards Sayori, along with the jarring static scream of the Berserkers. Somewhere out of sight, a voice that she knew wasn't really human screamed at Gaea to hold her fire. Stratford pushed away from the wall, and the Lyran Sinclair-Clarke surged after her.

We got this. Stratford had boasted, but it was difficult to tell from the shouting and gunfire up ahead. Sayori took a brief moment to wonder just where the hell Davrry was, as her body clicked into action and she broke into an adrenaline-powered run. Running towards the gunfire instead of away from it - it felt unreal, but the heavy claw-thumps of Vezarres on her left and the lighter footfalls of Iona on her right drove her on. The robot mules click clicked along obliviously, and her two point-drones whirred behind as they executed a simple, automated Follow command. Their carbide footsteps echoed without her direct control, but the time for stealth was long gone.

The corridor ahead was bullet-holed, the ground strewn with scrap metal and swarf. Stratford was kicking some unholy fusion of a deck-plate and an industrial press off her bionic arm. Traps, Sayori thought feverishly, They're smart enough to set traps. She couldn't see any of the Berserkers - they seemed to have melted away further up the corridor. She could hear metal-on-metal clicks through the ceiling vents, and she couldn't tell if the air ducts were amplifying distant sounds or if the machines were stalking through the inter-deck crawlways, watching and (constantly learning) reassessing their prey. One thing was for sure: they hadn't given up the hunt.

Pull the plug. Sayori brought up her visor's video feed with a tap of her fingers, linking to one of the two drones still standing inert in the command-deck switchroom. Orange and yellow heatscape changed back to ordinary camera with a blink, and she could see the drone's carbide-plated arms extended before her with its fingers wrapped around the circuit-breaker levers. She could actually see the arms vibrating, the link transmitting the misfiring stress-responses from her brain as if they were commands. Isn't that fucking cool? she remembered telling her colleague at Phayder. Not right now it wasn't. Again, she found herself cursing the lack of time she had had to fully debug the factory-model drones.

Still holding the thermal pistol in her off hand, she wrenched both arms down. A thought visualising the gesture would have been enough, but she couldn't take any more chances. Scale One.

She saw the drone's hands move as if they were her own, and from somewhere behind her a loud ca-chuk signalled the bridge electronics going dark. The sound of the air-fan motors above her head ceased, the thrumming becoming a soft whir of sliced air as the fan blades spun down. Sayori tapped her middle fingertip to her thumb and the second drone's vision sprang up in front of her own, its hand also ready on a circuit-breaker marked LV-3. She pulled her right hand down again, cutting off any opportunity to re-route power through the redundant cable. She didn't wait, and immediately set the drone into a sprint - fleeing back towards the junction where they had dropped into the bridge.

As she climbed the drone down, something silver-grey slammed silently down in front of her vision. It was hunched and skeletal, with a smooth eyeless head. Hunter! Even though the image was remote, Sayori almost yelped aloud. The three stalking Berserkers had found the right Jefferies tube and were bearing down on them, not half a minute behind. If she had switched back to the drone's heat vision she might have seen them. Hell, if she hadn't muted her audio feed she might have heard them coming.

The silence was surreal as the Hunter tilted its blank face, almost curiously. Then there was a flash of silver blade-limb, and Sayori's visor exploded with static and blinking error messages.

Sayori's startled horror exploded out of her as a string of expletives, jumbling together English with Korean and Japanese loan-words in broad, unfiltered Pan Pacific.

"They've reached the bridge." she warned her comrades as soon as she had the wit to speak coherently. The power outage might draw in more Berserkers to clear their path, but now they had found her drones would they be smart enough to work out that she had been using them to trip the nearby circuit-breakers? Would they simply drop into the bridge and follow the sound of the guns to their real targets? Her heart was thumping in her neck, and the data drive with the ship's precious AI on it was burning a hole in her jumpsuit pocket.

She had to distract them.

Crabbing sideways along the corridor wall, Sayori switched drones with a press of her fingertips. In the interdeck switchroom, the second drone released the breaker levers and sprinted for the breaching point. Through its eye-cameras, Sayori saw two Hunters clinging to the ceiling like spiders, while the Collector extended its segmented body to haul her other drone back up into the Jefferies tube. The drone was still active, she realised as an overlay marker boxed in and tagged itself around the machine. Not disabled, just blinded by the Hunter that had opened up a ragged metal slash across its head cameras.

Sayori switched back, click, static, ERROR ERROR and imagined swinging her right fist with all her strength.

Tapping back to the second drone revealed chaos, and the Collector recoiling with a gaping hole smashed through the cluster of mandibles that passed for its face. Its spearing red laser-light had gone dark. Sayori almost thought she could hear it shrieking with her own ears, several corridors away - but with the team's gunshots still ringing in her head she couldn't be sure.

One Hunter dropped onto her first drone, and the two vanished through the hole into the darkened bridge. The second skittered along the ceiling towards her camera view, clinging with razor claws. It was humanoid, but its joints were all wrong, twisting and swivelling like a broken marionette. And it was fast.

Sayori threw the drone forward, underneath it, aiming straight for the writhing Collector. The larger construct reared, plates shifting, dark-eyed skulls leering from its underbelly as wires and panels slithered over them. It shifted into its combat form, a mechanical centipede unfurling iron claws.

Sayori hated it so much that fear became reckless rage. She put all of the drone's quarter-tonne weight behind the charge, and smashed its fists into the Collector's underside.

[dakkagor]

"You need to clear our path first." Sayori countered Gaea's order, stubbornly swallowing her fear. "Or we could all get trapped when the reinforcements come."

Gaea paused, then nodded.

“I'm glad we pulled you along.” The Elemental turned to Miranda and Winters. “You heard her! Move like you have a purpose!”

+++++

“Contact left!”

It scuttled out of the darkness shrieking, and this time Gaea was ready. A grenade pumped out from the underslung tube launcher on her rifle, and covered the horror in white phosphorus. It shrieked again and collapsed as Gaea let it have a sawing burst, carving it in half, the arc light flames casting monstrous shadows as the team advanced.

Winter had dashed forwards into the darkness, firing like mad and then stumbling over a trap. Gaea reached out at the same time as Miranda plugged the horror clamped to Winters bionic arm. She felt its unique mass, and swung her rifle down to face a nearby panel as it began to lunge towards her. She plugged a neat seam of shots into the gap between its armour plates, and it clattered in half .

“Winter! Get back here!” She slammed a grenade into the tube. “Davrry, where the hell are you?!”

Only mocking static.

+++++

Sayori's desperate fist strike with the drone flopped the collector onto its back, where it began to beg with an all too human voice. She watched, as in a trance, she set her drones on it, adrenaline pushing her hard as they tore limbs out, ripped out cortical stacks and processors, and sank metal fists into giving, too organic linkages. One of the drones turned at a contact marker, only for the berserker flanking it to come apart in a flurry of parts and a spray of hydraulic fluid.

She hoped it was Hydraulic Fluid, anyway. Davrry dropped down next to the drone, and fired again, killing another berserker, then a third. He worked his massive rifle with inhuman precision and speed, slamming power packs home and ejecting them between shots, each shot perfectly placed as half a dozen contact markers, then a dozen, then two dozen, began to swarm her drones motion detectors. The whole deck was infested.

“Jobs done Sayori, get the drones out!”

She didn't need to be told twice. The drones limped clear, covered in berserker gore, and after a moment Davrry joined them.

+FIRE IN THE HOLE!+

+++++

The ship shook and groaned. Gaea winced as she fired off another burst.

“What the hell was that?!”

+Fusion mine. Found one rigged above the bridge. Seemed like it had been left for a berserker to scuttle the bridge. I re-purposed it.+

The lights died, and the corridor was filled with a sudden roaring.

“Breach!” Someone yelled, and Gaea realised that the panicked voice was hers. “BREACH!”

+++++

The fusion mine had punched clean through two layers of advanced armour, by infernal chance finding an elevator shaft and breaching into a voided deck space. The air around the team, previously stifling hot, suddenly turned into a roaring tornado as it exploded past them into the emptiness of space.

That was when Iona was hit.

The drone lurched out of a door way, and immediately tumbled as the team hunkered down in their sealed suits and prayed to whatever gods they held dear that the breach wouldn't expand. It slammed into Iona, and for a moment the horror flashed past them all: a withered, decayed Charabidian, shot through with crude cybernetics, vomiting a hot stream of grey sludge over Iona, who fought back with a rippling mass of stabbing silver tendrils. Vez shot out an arm and grabbed Iona's leg, only to be rewarded with the berserker drone turning on him, puncturing his suit through his neck and back. The huge, ancient lizard roared in pain and punched the horrors head clean off, but reflexively let go of Iona to do so. Both Sentinax and drone tumbled away down the corridor.

Iona just managed to catch a bulkhead door, and pulled her self in as slammed shut, neatly snipping off the bottom of her left leg. As the roar subsided, gravity and light kicked back in from some secondary power source and the team thumped to the deck.

+I'm ok.+ Davrry drawled over the radio. +And you won't believe how many berserker's we just spaced.+

+++++

Sayori looked around through her active drones. They where in a different section to the rest of the team, an ammo dump for one of the missile launchers by the look of things. Davrry was resting against a wall, and had popped his helmet to screw a cigarette into his mouth.

“Hey, Sayori” He nodded to the drones. “Good job.”

In truth, Sayori wasn't sure how she had got the drones to follow the Lyran sniper. The last few minutes had passed in an adrenalin driven blur. Davrry lurched to his feet, and looked up the missile feed.

“Gaea, I'm going to lead the drones to homebase, my own route. Get the rest of them home”

+++++

Gaea nodded, her wiped a gauntlet over her mouth. They were battered, but alive.

“You heard the man, lets move out.”

+++++

“That was reckless! Stupid and reckless!” Garrick yelled, stomping back and forth.

“Worked though.” Davrry responded. “We cleared out two whole decks of the fuckers, more perhaps. And we rolled the ship, broke the umbilical connecting us to that super-cap. Can't be bad. Hell, we even vented off a lot of heat build up, and took back about a dozen key systems when their nodes rebooted.”

“And the drones were a success.” Nevarn piped up. He had taken a full download from the drones on their return and was busily crunching the data “And we got Julian back, right?”

“Not quite.” Garrick sighed. “The IT crew tell me we didn't get an instance. We got a static copy. Codes and data and full architecture, but not a working AI. That slows us down.”

“Then maybe we should investigate the planet next.” Gaea leaned forwards. “The coordinates Miranda pulled, and the message left in claw-speak, indicate it could be the place the command staff is hiding.”

“I'm all for a trip dirtside.” Davrry put in. “But that super-cap is still out there.”

“I think we have a solution for that. The pioneer corp packed an infiltration shuttle into the main hold, and it was never deployed. Its designed to slip past even modern sensors, gliding into atmosphere and making transfer at sub sonic speeds with a gravity effect field.”

“You'd need an insane pilot to fly an unpowered brick into an alien atmosphere.” Garrick countered. Gaea glanced to Miranda, sitting nearby.

“Or a supremely confident one.”

[MidKnight]

She falls back once her arm was free. But still caught the feeling about the bullet that whizzed by her head and hitting her enemy in front of her. Looking over her shoulder she could see the Lyran using her scope. With a smirk on her face and eyes glaring at they Lyre woman she spoke softly while flexing her metal hand. "Nice shot."

The sounds of her hand sounded odd and twitched from a simple malfunction. She growls softly at her hand as she tried moving it around but the parts that operated the system were broken by shards of metal teeth. "Crap...not now." She muttered to herself holding her shotgun with one hand while following the others. When she heard a loud sudden sound and her body lifted up she quickly grabbed onto a latch nearby and held tightly with her metal hand. She groaned as she felt the muscle restraining with the machine.

Vez however quickly grabbed something for his hand to hold. His eyes caught the small one flying towards the ripped hull. He reached out quickly to grab her and held tight. "Hold on!!!" His deep voice shouted. His attention was distracted when he felt a sudden pain through his neck and pierced through. His roar was loud which forced him to let go of Iona. He growled as he looked at the Berserker and his fist swing fast and hard at it's head.

Once the hall was sealed and everybody fell to the ground. Vez was on his knee and body leaning again'st the wall. Winters rushed over to his side and checked his wound. "Your gonna be okay big guy." She said while checking her bag. "Anybody got a kit?" She asked around. She ripped a piece of her arm sleeve and make a small gauze pad. She puts it on Vez's wound and gives it a gentle push. Vez growled softly as he felt the pressure. She used her body as a support weight for the big Dragonoid to make it back to their base.


+++++

The Dragonoid was standing in the medical room while Winter was on a stool trying her best to stitch the wound on his back while the one through his neck was already finished. She grunted each time she had to pierce through his thick skin to get the needle through. By the time she was done the old Dragonoid flexed his wings and stretched. "I've been standing for hours." He said

"Yea well...you got thick skin." She snapped.

"Could have used the staple gun." He mentioned as he looked at the equipment laying on the table.

"Your skin would have broke it into pieces." She countered again. "Speaking of broken things." She looked at the metal hand on the table.

"I'll take a look." Vez picked up the metal arm and examined it closely. "A little out dated but I'm sure I could find something around here to make it more dangerous." He softly hissed.

"Thanks." Winters smiled as she sat on a chair nearby. "So um...quick question." She asked while picking up a random tool.

Vez hummed as he placed the metal arm back on the table and picked up some tools to use.

"How do you know if your attracted to somebody and they don't know?" She asked as she looked through the door while playing with a flat head.

"First you display strength and raw power." Vez replied.

Winters stopped for a moment and slowly looked at Vez with a odd look.

"If you want them to know you have to show them." He spreads his wings and stood in front of Winters. Taking in a deep breath and roared fiercely at her. The roar was long and loud as Winters leans back with her eyes closed and her hair flies behind her. Once Vez had stopped he chuckled "And that is how a Dragonoid calls for a mate."

Winters was stunned for a moment and did not say another word. "Um."

[Enigma]

Iona had to shift around nanites to regrow her leg, fortunately that didn't take more than a few moments. Normally, she would just devour something to grow more, but she didn't know what she could trust.


The news about Julian was disappointing. A failed rescue, a handful of supplies, but the command staff had apparently made it to the planet's surface. Could it be safe down there? How could it be safe down there? But more importantly, was Julian down there?

"Have we located them on the surface?" she asked. "Are there cameras that can see them?"

[Azazeal849]

Davrry was resting against a wall, and had popped his helmet to screw a cigarette into his mouth.

“Hey, Sayori.” He nodded to the drones. “Good job.”

In truth, Sayori wasn't sure how she had got the drones to follow the Lyran sniper, any more than she was sure how she had managed to hold onto her thermal pistol, or to thwack the emergency anchor button beneath her overalls and lock her boots to the deck as the air boomed past them. It must have been a big breach. If the bulkhead doors hadn’t still been working...then mag-clamps or not they would have all been in hard vacuum, and the last thing she would have ever felt would have been the moisture fizzing into steam on her tongue as she blacked out.

The corridor was still now, and empty - the Berserker wreckage (corpses?) sucked down the corridor like so much debris. Everyone was panting, though perhaps that was just from the thin air. A quiet hiss filled the corridor as slashing air jets began to repressurise the space. And there, projected onto her visor through her third drone’s eye-cameras, was Davrry, smoking calmly as he rested his shoulders against a wall.

“You nearly voided half the deck.” Sayori panted into her radio earpiece.

Davrry executed a shrug, perhaps knowing that she could see him. His Lyran drawl - half colony-cant, half old-Earth south african - was all easy confidence once again. “I also saved your ungrateful ass.”

Sayori was just far enough down from her adrenaline panic to find that funny. The laugh clawed its way out of her throat and doubled her up, so that she nearly lost her balance with her feet still magnetically locked to the deck.

“Gaea, I'm going to lead the drones to homebase, my own route. Get the rest of them home.”


+ + + + + +

They must have made a sorry sight as they filed back into the hideout; drawn and sweat-stained and - in Vezarres’ case - streaked red with blood. The two drones that Sayori had sent to go toe-to-toe with the Berserkers were possibly the most scarred of all, despite their heavy carbide skins. The sensor-blinded one was shuffling absurdly behind the other, guided by a hand on its shoulder. When she looked at the damage, Sayori could see the mechanical precision of the Hunters’ work. A slash across the cranial cameras first, to blind the operator, then three surgically precise stabs at the joints to disable its left arm, and it had begun working on the right just as Davrry blew its head off.

The rangy hunter had met them outside the hideout, offering them all a crescent knife of a smile as he pushed his tangled dreadlocks back off his shoulders. He clasped forearms with Gaea as she passed, and even clapped a hand on Sayori’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. To think that he was a Lyran, who had been at war with Earth and Charibidia as little as a decade ago - and like as not fighting on the front lines.

To think that he was from the same stock as Sinclair-Clarke. Sayori had glanced at her once, and tried to look past the Lyre First symbol tattooed on her neck, but when their eyes met it had been the same as every other time; a silent repulsion, like two same-pole magnets refusing to bond.

As the bone-tired survivors entered the converted mess hall, Sayori found herself accosted by Nevarn and Cicero.

“Did you get it?” Nevarn asked, the young Charabidian’s ears flicking forward as he spoke.

Sayori didn’t answer, but she did raise a tired smile, and squeeze the thumb of her interface glove against the finger that connected to the drone behind her. The automaton whirred into life and answered for her by adopting what was unmistakably a squee pose - knees together, fists tucked under its chin and fanned outward.

Nevarn chuckled quietly as Sayori fished the data drive out of her pocket and passed it to Cicero. “Perfect.” He glanced from the celebrating drone to its two rather more battered counterparts. “What happened to those two?”

Two Hunters and a jon-na Collector.

Sayori hooked the interface visor off her head, and scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of one hand. Tiredness, hunger, and discomfort at the state of her spacewalker’s undersuit were all vying for her attention, but the fatigue was definitely winning out so far. With the stress of the battle and the return journey now passed, her brain was winding down and turning to jelly.

“I’ll sort the repairs out in a bit.” she murmured. “If I try it now I’ll spend another three hours fixing all the mistakes I’ll make.”

Nevarn nodded. “Go rest. I’ll take care of it.”

Sayori nodded back gratefully and slumped through to the adjoining storage bay, fumbling to remove her interface gloves. Her overalls and undersuit, dirty though they were, could fucking wait. She flopped down onto an unattended bunk that smelled of stale sweat (hey, a bed, that was a step up from last night crashing at the desk) and allowed herself to spiral down into unconsciousness.

When she rose a couple of hours later, and after she had showered herself back to humanity with Doctor Kolvar’s gods-own lilac soap, she found Garrick and Nevarn engaged in an animated discussion about their findings on the bridge. Davrry was there too; along with Gaea and Sinclair-Clarke, who were lounging on a couple of cargo containers; and the Sentinax speaker Iona.

"Have we located them on the surface?" the speaker was asking. "Are there cameras that can see them?"

[dakkagor]

"Have we located them on the surface?" The speaker was asking. "Are there cameras that can see them?"

"Not yet." Garrick responded. He tapped a few symbols on the briefing table, bringing up a holographic projection of the planet below. It was patchy, a partial sphere of topography. "This is what our passive sensors, cameras mainly, have been able to stitch together." He pointed to an unmapped section. "Using the coordinates provided by Winters, they should be in this region, about the size of Old Boston and its satellite cities"

"Jungle and mountains." Davrry muttered. "Reminds me of Peru. Hey Sayori."

Garrick looked up and smiled as the engineer entered the room, and gestured for her to sit.

"Peru, if some of the mountains were the size of Olympus Mons" Davrry snorted and waved a hand derisively in response. "Ain't nothing. I can handle it."

"We also have some good news." Garrick responded, scowling. "We have a spectrographic analysis of our local star, and its records match with the star the gateway orbited. So barring massive coincidence, we are still in the same star system. That makes escape considerably easier."

"As in, possible." Gaea rubbed at her chin. "Getting down there is going to be a bear. We'll need to secure a route to the main bay, launch that shuttle, and then hold then hold the main bay for when it returns."

[Enigma]

+Covert Insertion+

*Find a suitable asteroid body on a general trajectory towards planet.
*Hollow out core of asteroid to fit body in transition state
*Alter trajectory of asteroid to impact near target area

#Conflict#

*Solo transport method only, unsuitable for bringing team members
*No option for recovery
...
...
+Drop Pod+

*Consume sufficient mass to create "Bucky Ball" containment pod for team members.
*Use expendable thruster packs to maneuver for de-orbital insertion.
*Shed surviving excess mass on arrival.
#Conflict#
*No option for recovery
*Excess mass could be recovered and consumed by hostile life forms
*Exposure to attack by hostile life forms during de-orbital maneuver
*Hostile life forms drawn to landing site to consume pod.
...
...
+Drop Pod - Berserker Variant+

*Consume sufficient mass to create "Bucky Ball" containment pod for team members
*Assume appearance of hostile life form
*Use expendable thruster packs to maneuver for de-orbital insertion
*Shed surviving excess mass on arrival
#Conflict#
*No option for recovery
*Excess mass could be recovered and consumed by hostile life forms
*Exposure to attack by hostile life forms during de-orbital maneuver
*Hostile life form may converge on landing site to assist the fallen disguised pod
*Hostile life form may converge on landing site to consume fallen disguised pod

"I cannot think of a better plan," Iona admitted, stung to her Gamma pride, glancing at Cicero.

[AngelDellaNotte]

She felt the rumble of the deck when the explosion rocked the ship and her training kicked in. Muscle memory guided her hand to the magnetic switch on her suit. Her boots locked to the deck, the pull of the breach hit her the boots holding her in place. It was strong enough that she slide a couple of inches across the deck until the boots adjusted the strength of the magnet. This was something Miranda had been through many times but always in a training environment. She had never experienced an actual hull breach. Looking around she watched the dragonoid and Iona before the breach was sealed. Switching off the boots she followed the others to safety pausing to look at Iona and wondering what the hell she was.

Back in the living area she broke away from the others not wanting to socialize with anyone after what they just went through. Mostly Winters because right now all she wanted to do was to punch the Terrain. Gaea's warning was still fresh in her mind though she figured the elemental might let it slide after the stunt Winters pulled. Still she didn't want to chance it. Miranda headed to the bar not finding Saunders there, not surprisingly it wasn't a meal time. She didn't expect him to spent every moment of the day there. Stepping behind the bar she rummaged around until she found a case marked K. Severt on the side. Opening it there were five bottles of Lyran whiskey securely packed in the case. It looked like one was missing but the others hadn't been touched. Miranda pulled one of the bottles out then closed the case pushing it back as she grabbed a tumbler then walking over to some cargo containers and lounging on them.

She cracked the seal on the bottle taking a moment to admire the label, 'Dalmore'. The Captain didn't skimp on her liquor, this bottle being aged twenty-three years. The Dalmores were another of the founding families though unlike her own they specialized in spirits instead of weapons. They made some of the finest drinks in the universe. Miranda had often gotten in trouble as a youth with the heirs to the family, a pair of twins Phineas and Fiona. They all attended the same boarding school and had been good friends until each of the twins found out that Miranda had been fooling around with the other. The blow up from that had nearly gotten all of them kicked out of school. It had taken several sizable donations from both families to make the incident go away.

She poured a glass then swirled it around catching a whiff of the smell, it tingling her senses as she took a sip. The drink had a sweet taste to it with just a hint of a bite. For a while she lounged on the crates enjoying the whiskey and decompressing from the mission. After a while she pulled out a data tablet which she had transferred a scan on the system. The original pilot must have set it but not gotten a chance to fully review it before everything went to shit. Miranda figured at some point they would make the journey to the ground and someone would need to pilot the ship so she began studying the scans. There was much debris floating in orbit around the planet. Getting to the surface would not be easy with just that alone but Miranda had no idea what sort of defenses the beserkers had.

After quite some time of studying the scans Miranda had ended up with half the bottle gone and her suit half removed. The whiskey had given her a light buzz but not enough to impair her, Miranda was no stranger to fine whiskeys often getting into her father's collection. She had programmed her halo-glasses with the scans and was wearing them as she practiced piloting down to the planet. Without a simulation console it wasn't quite the same but it did allow her to at least navigate the debris. She didn't really notice the other gather around until Garrick mentioned an insane pilot and Gaea replied a confident one. Miranda was in truth both, all good pilots were a little crazy you had to be to look past the danger and fear. “I've been looking at the system it's more like a junkyard than open space. Most pilots would call it impossible but it can be done.” Miranda said, flipping up her halo-glasses and taking another drink before looking over to Sayori catching the look of disgust. “It won't be an easy ride. Might be a good idea to use sedation for some of our civilians. Last thing we need is someone freaking out on the way down.”

[Azazeal849]

"Jungle and mountains." Davrry muttered. "Reminds me of Peru. Hey Sayori."

Garrick looked up and smiled as the engineer entered the room, and gestured for her to sit. Sayori winked at her former boss before settling herself onto another overturned storage box, pressing her hands into the edge either side of her. Like Peru, huh? She wondered how long they would need to be down there. Safe, after all, whatever the etchings on the bridge had claimed, didn't necessarily mean sustainable.

"Peru," Garrick went on, answering Davrry's assertion with his usual wry humour. "If some of the mountains were the size of Olympus Mons."

Davrry snorted and waved a hand derisively. "Ain't nothing. I can handle it."

Garrick scowled, momentarily re-trenching the lines his face had borne before his self-administered rejuvenation procedure. But he let the Lyran's easy bravado pass without further comment.

"We also have some good news. We have a spectrographic analysis of our local star, and its records match with the star the gateway orbited. So barring massive coincidence, we are still in the same star system. That makes escape considerably easier."

"As in, possible." Gaea rubbed at her chin. "Getting down there is going to be a bear. We'll need to secure a route to the main bay, launch that shuttle, and then hold the main bay for when it returns."

There was a moment of silence as all assembled chewed over the implications of the soldier's words.

"I cannot think of a better plan." Iona intoned, and Sayori thought that the Sentinax almost sounded embarrassed as it darted its simulacrum eyes over to where Cicero stood. It made her wonder if some inaudible data stream was pulsing between them, like the Sentinax equivalent of a meaningful look. Always strange; to see something so recognisable in something that thought so differently - for all its multi-spectral senses and the lightspeed mind housed within its nanite frame. That's probably why it's embarrassed. It should be more than equal to a rag-tag remnant of tired (can Sentinax feel fatigue?), ground-down humans.

Did the Berserkers feel the same way, after the stunt they had pulled at the bridge? The thought almost made Sayori smile. That was another question, she realised: were the Berserkers truly conscious at all? They reacted; they adapted. They were clearly deadly. Deadly enough to lay fucking traps. But could they anticipate?

"Hold up." Sayori looked away from Iona back towards Gaea, and pressed her steepled fingers to her lips. "Are the Berserkers smart enough to wonder why we're suddenly gunning for the shuttle bay? I mean, would we need some other distraction to keep them from trying to hunt down the shuttle, stealth or not? I dunno how long it'll take to de-orbit..."

"I've been looking at the system." Miranda said, flipping up her halo-glasses. She had shrugged half out of her overalls and tied the sleeves around her waist, and she had procured a bottle of Lyran grain liquor from somewhere. Sayori could faintly smell the woody aroma coming off her. We'd better not be flying any time soon.

"It's more like a junkyard than open space. Most pilots would call it impossible but it can be done." Miranda took another drink before looking over to Sayori, catching the look of disgust. "It won't be an easy ride. Might be a good idea to use sedation for some of our civilians. Last thing we need is someone freaking out on the way down."

Sayori knew she shouldn't rise to the bait, but the lingering fatigue made her irritable, and she had never been someone who could take slights to their competence gracefully.

"Last thing we need is a drunk fucking pilot." she shot back. "If there's any help I can be down there, I'm going."

Pride again. Stupid, stupid pride.

"Do we know how long this is gonna take?" She turned away from the Lyran to address the group, speaking rapidly. "I mean wouldn't it be better to launch the shuttle, run away and then retake the hanger bay on some kind of signal? If you try and hold there you'll just attract more and more Berserkers."

[Enigma]

"If the command crew did not return, perhaps they will assume we're just trying to escape?" Iona offered. "They may not stay in the hanger deck after we depart. Or perhaps consider it a distraction and check other areas?"

Or perhaps if there were survivors on the surface, there's a reason why they couldn't return that had little to do with the berserkers? Damaged craft, possible. Imprisoned, possible.

"We could try to communicate with the survivors," Iona suggested. "But our re-entry position will not be optimal for that."

[MidKnight]

Walking to the medical area Kromlyn let out a yawn as he stretched. He had been sleeping when news of the party coming back came in. He wasn't sure what the level of injuries was so he was on his way to take a look at them. He saw Winter standing next to Vez the later having a stitch job on his neck and back. Stitches wasn't something he used with Dragoniods unless he had a automated unit. His lab had a couple of them but they currently didn't, it hadn't been among the supplies they had savaged. Winter had a small tube in her hands seeming to fiddle around with it. Judging the roar he had just heard and the shocked look on her face they had been talking about something private. When he was close he cleared his throat to let them know he was there.

Taking the device from Winter he said, "Careful with that. It is a laser scalpel, you can easily take off another limb." He walked around to Vez looking at the wound seeing that Winter had managed to do a fair job. "How long did that take to do? You know I do have some elasta-skin that would have been alot easier."

"If I was a medic sure I would use it. But I was trained old school so I have no idea what kind of tool your talking about." Winters said with a smile and returned to her seat and waited for Vez to finish with her arm.

Vez smirked as he looked at the Doctor. "She did fine for a human." He commented. "I preferred a stitching job than that piece of junk." He tossed a few items around while searching parts for the arm. "You'll need to have a few items replaced. Seeing how that Demon took a bite out of your arm I am surprised it managed to stay operational."

Winters gives a slight tilt of her head with a smirk. "So whatcha think Doc? Did I do a alright job?" She asked curiously about the stitching. "This is my third time stitching up someone and my first time wasn't what you would call a....success." She remembered and shyly looked around.

"Elasta-skin is hardly junk, actually it is quite a marvel of modern medicine. An artificial skin that can be used to seal the most serious of wounds. We managed to find a couple of cases of it though I have been saving it for the worst of cases. With a Dragoniods' thick skin I could justify using it. I even have a few sheets of Dragoniod skin tones." Kromlyn said, watching Vez rummage around with his equipment. He had a very limited medical bay but the stuff Vez was looking at wasn't anything very important. If he needed it to repair Winter's arm it wouldn't be missed. The damaged limb was laying on the table and looked like it had taken quite a beating.

He walked around the other side getting a better look at the wound. It wasn't that bad of a wound and should heal nicely. Reaching across the table Kromlyn picked small jar of cream handing it to Vez. "An herbal antibiotic I concocted from the hydroponics bay. Apply this to the wound twice a day and it will prevent an infection." He said, looking over to Winter. "You did fine job, a continuous stitch, it will hold up better than single stitches. Perhaps next time use a lock stitch, basically you will tie a small knot with each stitch. This cord is titanium based it will have to be removed once the wound is healed. Really the best choice though for Dragoniods, it is durable."

Vez takes the small jar and placed it carefully on a table next to him. "Curious how you managed through this." He said as he still held Winters arm. "But like I said before. I'm old school. Back home when we fight other tribes and get hurt. You don't think about modern technology that is left around. We would use what we had and most of the time it's a needle and a thread." He chuckled slightly. "And probably a staple gun if there was one laying around." He stood up slowly towering over the Kel'Cyre. "Shamans did their best to keep us in better health. But if your body is use to living in a radiated world you'll live long as I have." Vez snorted after taking another look at the metal arm.

Winters nodded. "I can agree on that." Then chuckled. "Streets of New York isn't very nice... including winter season." And sighs softly trying her best not to remember such a season.

"I can't say I really know about the hardships of living somewhere like the two of you. I lived most of my life on Kel'cyre and it was a very nice area before....." Kromlyn said, trailing off and looking in the distance at really nothing as he thought about the destruction of his home. He didn't like thinking about losing his family but they always seemed to end up on his mind. Each time it hurt all the same. He stood their for several moments then looked back over to Vez and Winter. "Though I suppose we are all shaped by our experiences. Vez, feel free to use whatever you need to repair her arm."

Vez lowered his head a little when the Kel'Cyre doctor had stopped talking about his old home world. He looked slowly to the doctor as he seemed to have trailed off or distant himself from reality. He remembered such a feeling on his world. His first battle again'st another tribe was a thrill but it was his first time putting his own life on the line. The thought of the one bullet could have been his first to end his life. Though each bullet that hit only made him stronger and more fierce. But he also felt sorry for the doctor as an entire nation had lost it's home. Once his mind had returned and gestured Vez to use whatever to use he only nodded as he looked over the arm. "This will take a while." He looked to Winters. "I'll only be needing these." He took a few items which were laying around and appeared to have not been used in quite some time. "If anything else needs to be fixed let me know and I'll do my best to help." He looked to the doctor and nodded before walking over to the armory for better tools to utilize.

"I better see what's up with the others." Winters added as she left to the find the others. She walked in a room where the others had their meeting. She wore a black shirt with black pants and black boots. She left her armor and weapons as her little spot she picked out. Listening to the others talking about heading to a planet nearby, she scoffed at the thought. "Great another chicken chase run." She smirked and looked around. "A drunk pilot is better than sober to be honest..." She looked to Sayori. "But at least she can shoot than stand there like a chicken shit." Smirking as she leaned on a wall. "If we do attract more of this freaks can we space them again?" She asked looking around curiously. "I mean taking the ship is very important...can we do it while taking off and get the engines going while floating around like a balloon?"

[dakkagor]

"Do we know how long this is gonna take?" She turned away from the Lyran to address the group, speaking rapidly. "I mean wouldn't it be better to launch the shuttle, run away and then retake the hanger bay on some kind of signal? If you try and hold there you'll just attract more and more Berserkers."

Gaea looked to Sayori and her eyes flared in anger for a second.

"Thats. . what I said. Weren't you listening?"

A hand slapped down on the womans shoulder, causing her to flinch. Davrry was suddenly behind her.

"You weren't exactly clear, boss. Sayori raised a good point, we don't want to attract attention."

Gaea visibly deflated, before slumping back into a chair. Davrry caught Sayori's look and shrugged.

"If the command crew did not return, perhaps they will assume we're just trying to escape?" Iona offered. "They may not stay in the hanger deck after we depart. Or perhaps consider it a distraction and check other areas?"

"They might." Davrry watched as Gaea, shaking her head, stood and left the room. "But I wouldn't bet on it being that simple. they'll probably stash at least a couple of drones on the deck, they aren't short on numbers."

"We could try to communicate with the survivors," Iona suggested. "But our re-entry position will not be optimal for that."

"That's putting it lightly" Garrick sighed. "Only direct line communications would be secure, and currently, we are in the wrong orbital position. The shuttle doesn't carry a laser powerful enough to cut through atmospherics"

"If we do attract more of this freaks can we space them again?" She asked looking around curiously. "I mean taking the ship is very important...can we do it while taking off and get the engines going while floating around like a balloon?"


"We'll need to vent the hanger to launch." Davrry sat in Gaea's vacated chair and put his boots up on the table, ignoring Garricks scowl. "We should be able to dock the damn thing anywhere to get back aboard. What we need to do. . . we need a beater."

Davrry's boots came down of the table and back to the deck. "Initial orbit will just be float and wait, if handled correctly, a pocket calculator could handle that. But. . .Sayori, could we hook a drone up to Sinclair here, and have her remote pilot a shuttle as a decoy? Launch it at the same time as the stealth lander, and use it to draw out any Beserker drones floatin' around out there. And hell, that shuttle gets to die, eject some corpses, convince the bastards they got us. . ."

Garrick nodded. "Based on our observations, it should work. Dr Sayori, if you could work with Cicero, our pilot Sinclair, and Iona, I'd appreciate it. Davrry, I think Gaea would appreciate sitting this one out. Can you lead a groundside mission?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Davrry chuckled. "Be good to shoot something that dies properly for a change."

[Enigma]

Iona's child eyes grew huge as she realized she was finally being paired with Cicero, the only other Sentinax who'd survived. The acting Alpha.

Better processor. More extensive databases. Huge storage capacity! As a Beta, understood management. How would Cicero interact with her?

Would it be... critical of her appearance? Would it accept as a speaker, assuming a form pleasing to the Biologics allowed her greater acceptance among them? Or was it aware she did it for her own... pleasure?

Perhaps not - they were forbidden to interact directly with the network.

Iona blinked. Was she actually contemplating trying to deceive a superior, supervisory unit?

[Azazeal849]

Davrry’s boots came down off the table and back to the deck. “Initial orbit will just be float and wait; if handled correctly, a pocket calculator could handle that. But...Sayori,”

Sayori, who had been staring at the door Gaea had just disappeared through, jerked around at the sound of her name.

“Could we hook a drone up to Sinclair here, and have her remote pilot a shuttle as a decoy?”

Sayori nodded along quietly as he explained the plan, and then pushed her hair behind her ear. “I’ll need to re-map an interface disc, but we could do it.”

Garrick nodded. “Based on our observations, it should work. Dr Sayori, if you could work with Cicero, our pilot Sinclair, and Iona, I’d appreciate it.”

Sayori returned the nod and pushed her palms into the storage box to lever herself up. “Okay. Give me twenty minutes to get set up.”


+ + + + +

Sayori was on her way back to the engineering bay, chewing on another cone of Sanders’ patented fried chicken, when a glance to one side caused her to slow and stop. Gaea was slumped down against the wall, beside one of the unoccupied bunks rather than on it. Sayori guessed that the bunk wouldn’t have taken the weight of her Elemental armour.

Why doesn’t she just take it off? was the first question to ticker-tape through Sayori’s head, followed rapidly by the realisation that she hadn’t actually seen Gaea out of her armour - not in the last two days she had been with them, at least. The Elemental marine was sitting with her forearms hooked over her bent knees, head slumped back against the wall and eyes closed. Her sandy skin looked waxy.

Sayori vacillated for a moment (Let her sleep, she won’t thank you for waking her up), but Gaea made the decision for her by opening one eye and fixing it on her. “Doc?” she questioned neutrally.

“Umm…” Sayori said, feeling her cheeks prickle. She maintaining her awkward distance for a moment before taking a couple of steps forward to move into a more normal conversational space. “Look, I’m...sorry about earlier. I’m pretty bad for just blurting out what I’m thinking.”

There was a long pause. "I get it. Thanks."

For a second Gaea didn't look like she would say anything else, but then she fixed Sayori with a thousand yard stare.

"I don't envy you, you know. I thought I would, when we woke you up. All the shit you missed. But I watch you freak out at the things I find ordinary now, I watch Winters and Sinclair claw at each other like two cats in a sack...and I realize I don't. Because we're all in this shit together."

She leaned her head back against the wall, and closed her eyes.

"Watch out for your decisions. Make them, by all means. But...you're gonna carry that weight."

Sayori wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. She never particularly liked it when conversations took deep, emotional turns. She lowered herself onto the edge of the cot and held out the cone of chicken, tilting it towards Gaea. “With all due respect, you look like microwaved shit. When was the last time you slept?”

"I get snatches. Here and there." The marine leaned forwards and took a piece of the chicken, chewed on it. "Never thought I'd get sick of fried chicken. I could strangle Sanders."

She sighed.

"I don't sleep well anymore. No one does. We all have nightmares, except Davrry. And I'm...in pain. Constant, low level pain, like my bones are grinding against each other without lubrication." She stretched her arms and wiggled her fingers in front of Sayori. "It’s the suit. It was never meant to spend this long active, this long integrated into a person. Or be jerry rigged half a dozen times to keep me alive, to keep it working...I couldn't tell you where the suit ends and I begin. Sometimes I look at the monsters out there and wonder if I'm all that different."

“Well,” Sayori said, taking refuge in humour. “Unless you’re going to go all destroy all humans on us, you’re different in all the ways that count.”

The smile flickering at the corners of her mouth died away.

“I’ll talk to Kolvar, you can’t keep going on like this.”

Gaea waved her hand. "Don't bother him, he's busy with people that are actually sick."

Sayori pouted stubbornly.

Gaea relented. "Tell you what, help get me home, and you'll have done more than anyone to help."

Get them home. Sayori looked down at her chicken. Home had never felt further away.

The remnants of the Elcano’s crew were worn down to the bones. After two years (two years!) of this hell, this message from the bridge might be the first real hope they had seen. Maybe the command crew were down on the surface, working on a plan. Maybe they were like their comrades in space, being slowly flensed away and clinging to life out of sheer bloody-mindedness. Maybe they were long dead, and there was no real hope at all.

“I’m gonna fucking try.” Sayori said grimly. She laid a hand on Gaea’s armoured forearm, squeezing her fingers into the unyielding metal, and stood up to take her leave.

If this plan with the drone works. And if Sinclair can get us down. And if Davrry can find the survivors. And if we can find a way to power up the Elcano without getting blasted by that super-cap Nikos mentioned.

It felt as if they were scaling a mountain of ifs, and she could think of at least one more to add to the peak.

If we can even make it to the shuttle bay.

She felt something like humour curdling in her stomach, remembering some flippant words that another woman had spoken before climbing into her cryo pod.

Being famous for dying on the Elcano mission is still famous, right?


+ + + + +

After the meeting Miranda stowed her bottle of whiskey over near the crates she had been using as her makeshift home away from home. Stowed was being generous; she merely had wedged it between the crates. A low Lyran cursed escaped her lips as she thought about why she was even here. Jail would have been preferable, least then she would have an actual bed and wouldn't be hunted by those horrifying creatures. Damn Quentin for doing her a favor. From there she headed to Sayori's lab, not liking the idea of this part of the plan. Drones were for cowards and children's toys, not a seasoned pilot. On the way she noticed Gaea propped up in her suit, another reason she was glad to not be a Marine. Being cramped on a ship was better than the crap they went through.

Sayori was digging around beneath an android’s backplate when they found her, attaching telemetry cables that looped round to the battered laptop propped on a nearby table. The table also held a visor, a pair of interface gloves, and a crushed paper cup that was spotted with grease. Sayori removed her tongue from her top lip and un-scrunched her face when she registered the three entering.

“Hey guys.” she greeted them, and nodded towards the laptop. “Cicero, Iona, the drone’s still sync’d to my disc so I’ll need you to wipe it and write your failsafes back in.”

"My failsafes?" Iona frowned, glancing at Cicero for permission.

The disc was wiped ten times as she held it, then Iona created the partition, inserting her certified source for the first layer protection. Rechecking her work, she then passed the disk to Cicero for the Beta to envelope her failsafe or to insert their own partition into an envelope to be inserted into hers. Dual-layer protection would help protect the drone. But then, Cicero was a Beta, and could do better.

“Sinclair,” Sayori said, in a voice that was civil if not particularly friendly. She gestured with a hand that was still holding a flat-head screwdriver towards the visor and gloves. “Suit up.”

"Brought my own." Miranda said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her own visor. "It is already calibrated to me and should interface with your system." She slid the glasses on then donned the gloves. "Let's get this shit done so I can do some real flying."

“Okay, that might make things a bit easier.” Sayori nodded as she unpopped the cuff buttons on her overalls and rolled the sleeves up to her elbows. “Everyone’s brain sends basically the same signals but we still need to fine-tune it.”

She took the electrode interface disc from Iona and handed it to Miranda for her to stick to her temple. Behind her the silvered drone thrummed as it booted up, still tethered to the laptop by its umbilical cables.

“There’s a suite of haptic shortcuts programmed in,” Sayori said briskly as she bent over the laptop long enough to mash a couple of keys. “But for this I think we’ll only need direct interface...okay that should be linked to read from your disc now, I’ll just need you to make a few simple hand movements. First off, can you feel this?”

She tapped the blade of her screwdriver against one of the drone’s sensor-coated fingertips. A vibration pad in Miranda’s gloves buzzed gently in response.

“Yes.” Miranda said, the feeling an odd one.

“Jjang.” Sayori nodded, tossing and catching the screwdriver. “Okay, I need you to think about closing your left forefinger - you can actually move it if it helps…”

It was the start of a simple but exhaustive tuning exercise - close this finger, close that finger, move your thumb to the side, turn your wrist left and right. Sayori was clearly in her element, alternately leaning over the laptop and digging around in the drone’s innards. Once or twice though Miranda caught her glancing at the Lyre First tattoo on her neck.

"What are you looking at doc? Hate to break it to you but you're not my type. I prefer somebody with a spine." Miranda said placing the disks on her temple, knowing that wasn't what Sayori was looking at. The doctor's eyes were drawn to the tattoo on her neck. Miranda was used to people looking at it. That was the purpose of the tattoo, to let people know where she stood. There were two types of people who got it, those like her who wanted to make a statement and those who got it somewhere discreet, not wanting to be open about it.

She heard Sayori sigh. The engineer shot her a look, but kept working. “I’d hate to think what you call a spine.” she replied tartly, and paused to wave the point of her screwdriver towards Miranda’s neck. “I just don’t understand why you’re running around flaunting that.”

“I am entitled to free speech aren't I? Don't you Terrains pride yourself on that?”

“Free speech, yes.” Sayori allowed. “Hate symbols, not so much.”

“I suppose you're wondering how someone like me ended up on this mission. You see doc, whether I'm a freedom fighter or a terrorist all depends on who's looking.”

Sayori scrunched her nose, pretending to think. “Nah.” she said after a moment. “You’re more like ISIL or the UltraNats; pretty much everyone who isn’t you agrees that you’re assholes. Let’s just get this done. Right hand, open and close.”

“But I suppose what you really want to know is did I set any bombs?" Miranda said, moving her fingers as instructed and looked over at the drone mimicking her movements. "The answer's no, I had nothing to do with that. I'm here because I'm being persecuted for my beliefs in Lyran independence."

Sayori shook her head, abandoning the laptop to press her fists squarely into the work bench. “There’s plenty of good Lyrans out there whose idea of independence has nothing to do with Lyre First. Quentin Sinclair, Kalyn Severt...hell, even Davrry. He’s been through all the same shit as you and he doesn’t seem keen on bombing offices and lynching aliens. Every other Lyran can work with us all just fine, so who the fuck let you aboard?”

"Oh you don't have a clue who Quentin is, just who she wants you to think she is." Miranda moved her hand around, watching as the drone did the same. "I'm here because the damn Cats wanted me before a firing squad, and this is the best that the great and wonderful Quentin Sinclair could do to keep her image from being damaged from yet another misguided sibling. Seems all she was able to do was prolong my execution."

“Oh, poor you.” Sayori said with caustic sarcasm, but was cut off when Miranda made a fist and punched out at the air, watching as the drone punched a dent into the wall. The echoing clang made Sayori grimace, and spit out a burst of Pan-Pacific expletives.

“You know what?” Sayori said after she had taken a breath. “I think you don’t believe in Lyre first so much as you believe in fuck everything. Maybe you’re a crazy racist, or maybe you’re just a lost little girl who latched onto the only people with persecution complexes bigger than yours. Better to have an identity that everyone hates than no identity at all, right?”

She snapped the laptop closed, and killed the power to the drone before it could do more damage to itself and the surroundings.

“I’ve got everything I need. You can go.”

"Perhaps it would be best if you left, Pilot Sinclair." Cicero's tone was surprisingly inflected for a Sentinax. It was clear he considered that an order, rather than a request. "Rest so you can perform optimally for the mission ahead. A great deal will ride on its successful execution."

Taking the gloves off Miranda slammed them down on the table and took a step towards Sayori, looking for a moment like she was going to slam her down just as she did the gloves.

"You don't know anything about me, so back the fuck off." Miranda said, then pulled away from Sayori and walked out of the room.

[MidKnight]

The sounds of heavy breathing and loud punches caught Vez attention after he had finally finished repairing the white hair girls' arm. He followed the sound thinking it would have been the Lyre woman. But he had seen her with the others and continued following the sound. He walked behind some crates and such and finds the girl punching an old bag. She kicked it several times while taking certain breathes and hits it hard from one side to the next.

Vex grunt a little and smirked as he watched her training with just one arm. "Impressive." He broke the sounds of exhaust breathing and leather smacking. The girl stopped and looked at Vez as he stood there. His eyes wasn't torn away from her. "You remind me of my youngest." He admitted as he placed the arm on a nearby table. "He too had anger and passion." He looked over the arm for final inspections. "And he used it again'st our enemies." He looked over his shoulder. "He would have been a great chief."

Winters stopped when she heard the Dragonoid. Standing there with sweat dripping down on her chest and arm. She was breathing heavy and did her best to slow it down. "Yeah?" She nodded back and starts her training again. "I'm always angry and I don't give a damn about other's opinions!" She grunted as her fist hit the bag. Then she turned around in a 360 spin with her foot hitting the bag. She stopped when she heard him say about his song would have been. Her head lowered and slightly looked to the old Dragonoid. "I....sorry to hear that." She sympathized for him. Then she returned to her training and continued kicking and hitting the bag.

Vez nodded and faces completely to the woman. "Try controlling your breathing when you hit. Otherwise you'll be knocked out on your first bout."

"I know!" She snapped back and hits it again. "My instructor back on Earth. Taught me how to fight!" She continued hitting for a while until she stopped and looked at the Dragonoid. "It took me a long time how to fight with one hand." She chuckled for a bit. "The other trainees wouldn't spar with me so the instructor ordered them to." she smiled as she placed her hand on the bag. "The look on their faces when they see a cripple fighting with one arm." Then laughed. "I never seen so many long faces since...." Her mind trailed back to her tragic accident. "Well...since before I was drafted into the military."

Vez looked at the young woman when she paused and finds a chair to rest on. "Long history?" He asked. He wanted to know more about the woman, but also didn't want to prod old history out of her.

She looked at the ground and wiped her sweat from her forehead. "Yeah...long history." She replied and gives the a bag a gentle punch. "But it taught me of how to choose my friends." Her eyes looked at her missing arm. Where the scar line had ended. "So...I don't have friends."

Vez wanted to ask her about not having any friends but his head perked when he heard a sudden slam and shouting from the others. He stood up to check only to see the Lyre woman storming out of the room where the others were setting up. "She has more anger than you I'm afraid." He said softly. Feeling the white hair woman had trailed behind him and yet he was right.

Winter scoffed and spit on the ground as she sees the Lyre. "A bitch like that can go fuck herself." She said aloud. "She doesn't under stand the meaning of working together!" She turned around to walk back to her training area. "Selfish bitches like her are gonna get us killed." She stopped and looked at her missing arm. "I know that feeling." And continued walking. "Thanks for fixing my arm! Your the best." She waved with her hand and Vez chuckled.

"Any time....young warrior."

[Enigma]

Speaker Iona watched dispassionately as the Lyran left, then glanced up at Cicero. It was... strange, to be so near another Sentinax in silence without network. It was like being on the ground during the war, trying to avoid detection. Now they were trying to avoid infection.

Her human form was perfect, mimicking her cover, a Lyran child. After extraction, the base was attacked. All attempts to learn if the child survived were met with confusion by the units she inquired with - what does it matter if one biologic survived?

She knew her preference for biological forms, especially this one, drew her censure from other supervisory units. Her designation as "Speaker" gave her the excuse of putting the biologics at ease.

Iona cleared her throat. Not that she needed to, it was just... mimicry. "Your instructions, Beta?"

Now she was talking, like the biologics, to a Beta. What a weird day.

[AngelDellaNotte]

Leaving the lab Miranda was full of rage, she wanted to punch something but knew that wouldn't do anything to help. She needed to burn some of this energy, walking back into the main room she walked passed Saunder's cook station to the empty space she had been staying in. Her hand feel to the hilt of her sword as she thought about performing another sword dance. It would help to calm her down however she needed to be rested for the mission. Flying down would be a challenge and she needed to be on her best not letting anything get to her or be tried. She sat down on one of the crates and looked down at the sword. It was an interesting an interesting design and not Lyran in origin. As strange as it would sound for someone of Miranda's beliefs the sword hilt was Kel'cyre. Still looking at it Miranda thought about how she came in possession of the hilt.

The ship observation deck was quiet. The only lights were dimmed to see a better view. The stars glittered across the vast empty space. She stood there, quietly as the table was bare but with a few items wrapped perfectly.

The Queen of the Kel'Cyre continued gazing at the stars while the door behind her opened. Hearing the ruffle sounds was something she was use to. She remained quiet until she could hear the voice of a young woman. To her, it sounded like Quentin, her love. But she knows it was her sibling. A younger sibling with a troubled past. Taionna knew this too well for she was the one who helped placed most of the Lyran prisoners into a life of solitude behind bars.

"I've heard Quentin had a young brother and sister." She finally spoke and slowly turned around to reveal herself. "But they didn't tell me how tough they are." She smiled. "Emylyna, Angelic of Faith, Queen of the Kel'Cyre." She walked over to another table nearby covered with refreshments of sweets, tea and coffee. "Also this is my sister...Marianna." She pointed at the dark. A figure walked out of the shadows and looked almost like Taionna, but only wearing armor and holding a rifle with both hands.

"Sister...do you really need be armed?" Taionna asked softly with a wary expression.

"Tai...you know this woman's history?" Marianna looked over her shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "Her background came back with a lot of questions."

Taionna raised her hand and slightly waved. "Go and see your nephew...maybe he will teach you a thing or two about politeness."

Marianna scoffed and looked at Miranda before taking her leave. "Yes ma'am."

The Queen chuckled. "Sorry about that my sister likes to be protective of me since we had a...uninvited guest that stole a pod of ours...anyways." She claps her hands together. "Tea?...Coffee?" She offered. "I'm guessing with lots of sugar?" She quirked a smile.

Walking into the room Miranda wore her dress uniform with the rank of ensign pinned on her collar, a fresh tattoo barely poking out of the collar. It was easy to tell that the uniform was new, less than a year old. On her hip she wore a ceremonial sword and an empty holster. The Kel'cyre guards had instructed them they weren't allowed to carry firearms aboard the ship. She had been assigned to be the personal pilot of a Lyran delegate as they traveled in Kel'cyre space. Taxi service mostly. She had been on a number of Kel'cyre ships and ports as the delegate conducted their business.

Usually she kept to her herself while docked not leaving their ship except for meal times preferring not to be stuck eating rations but other than that she didn't venture around much. Least until she had been summoned by a Kel'cyre guard saying a member of the royal family wanted to meet with her. Miranda had figured it was Quentin as since leaving the Presidency Quentin spent much of her time on Kel'cyre first as the Lyran representative to the Concert and then as Secretary General. Quentin's marriage to Taionna had granted her the title of Princess Consort thus making her part of royal family. Miranda had been invited to the wedding but had refused, not liking the idea of her half sister marrying outside her race.

The deck was dark, no doubt to allow for better viewing on the observation deck. It surprised her a bit when she heard the voice call out to her. Soft and melodic. It wasn't Quentin voice with it's distinctly aristocratic Lyran accent which Miranda shared. A figure turned around confirming it wasn't Quentin, the little light on the deck showing it was the Queen of Kel'cyre. Miranda had seen enough news feeds to know who she was. Whenever Quentin was in the feeds it seemed they always found some way to mention her Kel'cyre lover. Taionna chided another woman in the room then dismissed her after introducing her as her sister. Then she was offered a drink. "I'll take coffee with nothing in it." Miranda said, picking up that Taionna guessed that she took her drinks like Quentin did loaded with so much sugar you could hardly taste anything else. "And I know who you are Taionna." Miranda said, knowing that very few people knew her given name and even fewer were allowed to use it.

She poured the pot of coffee into a clean cup. Then she picked up another pitcher of tea and poured herself a cup. She picked up the cups and walked over to the table standing next to Miranda. She offered the cup with a smile on her face. "Normally I would only allow friends and family to call me that...but your an exception." She turned her gaze to the stars. "I've heard you joined the military life." She takes a sip of her tea and takes a deep breath. "It's a good life to have. Especially with your skills." She smiled once more before walking over to the table to set her cup down.

"When Quentin had mentioned about you and your brother...I did not realize." She looked to the ground and held her hands behind her back. "If I had known that he was your brother...I would have given him a lesser sentence than what was recommended...but the Charabidians aren't known to be merciful on certain occasions." She walked to a wall and leans again'st it. "So I wanted to meet you personally while I still had the chance." Taionna remembered that day of when it happened. It was her and several others who judged the lives of those who committed the crimes again'st the Concert Powers. Most have received quite a few years which also included the Ouroboros forces that had betrayed the Concert. Though the betrayal of the Dragonoids was waved as it was led by a new Clan Master. Taionna remembered his face when he learned the news of his sentence, but luckily Taionna had reminded the Charabidians a death sentence was far too harsh for another man's deed.

Taking a sip of the drink Miranda sat down on the edge of the table. "And here I thought we were pretty much family." Miranda said, taking another drink and letting the bitter liquid rest on her tongue a moment before swallowing. Technically with Quentin and Taionna being married they were sister-in-laws though Miranda didn't know if the Kel'cyre had similar traditions. "Military service is still a requirement in the Lyran Alliance. I'm merely full filling my duty."

She tensed at the mention of her brother, growing up Miranda had always been closer to her brother than her half sister. Not to say they were the best of friends, Cedric and Miranda had very little in common. She had always been more rebellious while Cedric always had his nose in a book or he was in his lab. Still she saw him far more than Quentin who never really seemed wanted by her father. Directly after the war she knew he had been arrested but didn't really know the reasons why other than for war crimes. She had been angry thinking the Concert was rounding people up and punishing them. Then as more information hit the news feeds she learned more about his crimes. She had a general dislike for other races but didn't necessarily want them dead. "Cedric served his country though his methods may not have been the best." Miranda said.

She finished her cup then headed over to the window looking out at the stars. "Chance before what?" Miranda asked wondering what the meaning was. It seemed a little odd that Quentin wasn't here though she knew her sister was on the ship. Several of the Kel'cyre guards had made sure to mention it saying they could arrange a meeting if she want but Miranda had declined.

"And a duty that is honorable to have." Taionna smiled gently and gazed back at the stars. "Your brother did his duty as everyone has...but when I read the reports of his crimes...well...let's just say I had a duty to fill out as well." She stood up straight and pulled on her dress a little after hearing Miranda had mentioned about the chance she wanted to meet her.

"A chance to meet you before I become too busy with my own duties. My people have been looking up to me since I was given the crown. And so far rebuilding is still underway which also includes our home planet. The radiation is still a problem since most of it had become too impossible to remove. Clean waters polluted...mutated animals running amok. And the weather is more frequent than ever though it is not normal water....more like acid rain drops."

She takes a deep breath and finished her tea. "Another cup?" She asked curiously before returning to the table. "Plus with the delegates on board, no doubt I will be busy with meetings and more meetings..." She sighs harshly. "Apparently that is all we do is talk and no action has been taken although I preferred action than words." She poured her tea slowly and placed the pitcher down. She took a step aside and offered Miranda to pour her own. "Just like when I used to chase off bandits that tried to sabotage our merchants. Destroying them one at time was so much fun." She giggled softly. "And yet...that's how I met Quentin. Wanted more action pack weaponry to use on those bastards." Her eyes slowly turned to the Lyran woman. "Sorry I get drifted off every time I think about the past."

"Lyre used to a nation of action." Miranda said, walking back to the table and pouring another cup of coffee for herself. Since the end of the war Quentin pressed for the Lyran people to become more involved in the Concert. As the years went it felt like they were moving further away from a nation of warriors to that of politicians. When she got her assignment to ferry the delegate around her fellow pilots had been jealous telling it was a prime assignment allowing her to see much of the universe but Miranda was bored out of her mind. So far she had just been in Kel'cyre space, the delegate was slated to go into Terran space next then Charabidian space after that. She didn't want to continue and was hoping she would get another assignment soon but she wasn't sure it was going to happen.

Listening to Taionna go on about the destruction on her planet Miranda didn't know what she was supposed to be feeling. It was widely believed on Lyre that MacIntyre and Sharplen's plan to attack the Concert was a bad choice. Taking on so much at once was more than they could handle and had brought down the entire force of the Concert on them. There were many that believed smaller more targeted attacks would have been more successful. Miranda wasn't sure, she wasn't more than a child at the time and had been swept up in the patriotism of the propaganda videos. "Now we are a defeated nation groveling for scraps from our conquerors."

As she drank her coffee Taionna moved the conversation back to her sister. They hadn't known about Quentin's relationship with Taionna it had come to a surprise to the family when it was discovered after the war. Miranda figured Taionna was one of the reasons Quentin never came home. She looked over to the queen seeing why Quentin was interested in her. She was pretty and as much as Miranda wanted to hate Taionna having met her now it was hard to. "Ah yes Quentin's secret love affair."

"My people are barely getting by with scraps as well." She added. "Though one of the planets we are currently using has a large land we could use to farm frequently." She wondered back to the window to look outside once more. "Once the farms are able to hold a steady income, we could start transporting food to both our colonize worlds and of course Lyre. I heard about the economy on Lyre." She looked to Miranda, "I am sorry about how it's condition is going, but please believe me...I am doing the best I can to get things on track." She sighs softly and rubbed her own neck. "I just wish things were a little more simple than complicated."

She chuckled when she spoke about the love discretion. "Indeed, both of ours actually." She looked at her hand and sees the crystal wedding ring on her finger. "I could have been demoted about it quite several times, but we managed to make it work somehow. Still if my parents were alive they would probably be furious about it...thankfully my sister approved but still keeps an eye on my back."

She clinched the side of her cup hearing about how Taionna was offering to help Lyre once the Kel'cyre got back on their feet. There were many losses in the war and while Lyran's were no where near those of the Concert they were struggling to find a place in the new universe. Aid was often given to them from the Concert members not heavily affected or those able to bounce back quickly. This was one of the sort of things the Lyre First movement was against, relying on the Concert. Miranda set the cup down on the table a little harder than she intended causing liquid inside to slosh out. "Lyre stood for hundreds of years without hand outs from cats and fairies. If left to our own we will stand on our own without being indebted." Miranda said, walking away from Taionna back to the viewing window.

The door to the observation deck open up briefly filling the room with light before the door closed again. "Ah there you are. Marianna told me you were here before she took our son down to the cafeteria for some dessert." Quentin said, walking up behind Taionna and wrapping her hands around her waist and pressing a kiss to her cheek before she realized there was someone else in the room. "She however didn't mention that you weren't alone. Miranda we weren't expecting the delegation until tomorrow though with you at the helm it doesn't surprise me that you are early." She glanced between the two of them noticing the scowl on Miranda's face. "Am I interrupting something?"


"Just getting acquainted with my new sibling." Taionna smiled as she looked over her shoulder. Her hands over hers. "Hmm, it seems Marianna knows when to take our son to get his sweet tooth taken care of." Then she giggled, "She really does spoil him." She takes a step away from Quentin before walking over to the table and picked up the small item that was wrapped neatly.

Walking back over to Miranda she presented the small item. "A gift." She said softly. "It's a piece of the royal family heirloom...I thought it would be best to give it to the brightest pilot Lyre has to offer..." She sighs softly. "It goes to the hilt by the way." She pointed at her sword. Her eyes looked to her wife and gives a small but gentle smile. "I must be going now...do take care of yourself...please." Her eyes looked to Quentin and gives a gentle look but hurt at the same time.

Taking the box Miranda held it as she watched Taionna leave the room, then she opened it revealing a beautifully designed sword hilt. (https://acc-cdn.azureedge.net/mrl-live-media-file/0003372_brandenburg-rapier_550.jpeg) "We can have our blacksmith's fix it onto your blade." Quentin said, resting her hand on Miranda's shoulder. "Most officers carry a custom sword. It will be a good status symbol should you choose to stay in the service." Quentin knew that Miranda wouldn't have a place in the family business, none of them would after everything that had happened during the war and after. A military life could suit Miranda and be the structure she needed. Nodding Miranda removed her sword, handing it and the box to a servant who seemed to appear out of no where."Come on, let's get something to eat. Taionna's chef is getting pretty good at making Lyran dishes. His beef wellington is almost as good as moms."

[dakkagor]

"Your instructions, Beta?"

Now she was talking, like the biologics, to a Beta. What a weird day.

Cicero turned to Iona, and gestured to the remote controlled drone waiting nearby.

"We've done as much as we can to get this unit ready. Analyse the schematics on the shuttles aboard, and assist Dr Sayori with getting this unit ready to pilot. Then prepare for a trip to the planet. Take whatever precautions required."

Cicero clapped a hand on the smaller units shoulder, a surprising gesture.

"You will be alone on the surface with the others. They may rely on you, in your role as a speaker. Be careful."

+++++

"Come on, let's get something to eat. Taionna's chef is getting pretty good at making Lyran dishes. His beef wellington is almost as good as moms."

"Jackpot, Lyran MRE's. Beef Wellington Miranda, or you more a 'christmas turkey' girl?"

Davrry flopped down into the copilots seat of the dropship, holding up a pair of plastic wrapped pre-prepared meals. The trip to the hanger bay had been oddly quiet, with few detours needed. They had managed to use an air vent to drop directly into the ready bay for the stealth dropship, which had still been wrapped in cellophane. From the cockpit both Davrry and Miranda could hear the others getting settled into the troop bay behind them. It had been shipped with everything you needed to launch a planetary exploration mission, including, apparently, MRE's. They knew a few beserkers were prowling around in the bay, so the next phase was reliant on Sayori getting her drone past them and into a utility shuttle.

+The drone is in position+ Sayori breathed over the radio.

"Confirmed." Davrry drawled into the mic. "Everyone strap in nice and tight back there."

He killed the radio and looked over to Miranda with a sly, conspiratorial smile. "Lets see if miss clever clogs has done her job" He flicked the radio back on and selected the channel to mission control back in the lab. "This is the landing party. Plugged in and ready to go."

+Alright landing party, this is control+ Gaea's voice was a solid, confident rock over the feed, not just to the cockpit but the bay with the rest of the party. +Miranda, get that shuttle moving. As soon as you do and you scoot it to the door, we'll pop the main hanger bay and kill the gravity remotely. The autopilot and Davrry should be enough to get your ship out, so you just worry about the decoy and making as much of a mess as possible.+

"You heard the lady" Davrry ripped of the top of turkey MRE and sucked down a mouthful before wrapping his hands around the co-pilots flight column. "Lets get this show on the road."

[MidKnight]

Winter moved cautiously as she attempted to board the other shuttle. Thinking about the MRE Davvry had offered. "I don't know if it's Christmas or not but apparently this turkey isn't that special." She said softly on the intercom. "Plus it taste like ass." She stopped and looked around for any movement other than her own. She quietly boards the shuttle and finds her way to the pilot seat. She placed a device on the dash and pressed a few buttons for it to install. "Device is set and ready." She said on her link.

"You heard the lady" Davrry ripped of the top of turkey MRE and sucked down a mouthful before wrapping his hands around the co-pilots flight column. "Lets get this show on the road."


"Dav, I'm gonna punch you after this is over...and I'm hungry." She looked over her shoulder and see several bodies aboard. She managed to find some bodies laying around inside as through they were forced to starve to death. "I got bodies on board to act as decoys....poor bastards." She moves towards the exit door to quickly leave the shuttle. She kept her eyes around and checked her surroundings as she approached the other shuttle. "This place is starting to get on my nerves." She muttered softly.



+++++

Vez was relaxing himself in one of the seats as he felt the wound on his back starting to tingle a bit. He used the ointment earlier before he left and felt odd. He checked the heavy weapon he found as well. The rounds were slug and wanted to put a hole in one of the demons. He growled softly as he looked to the others. "MRE's taste like garbage...I think I rather eat the garbage."

[Enigma]

Iona strapped herself into her seat, then laid her hand upon her shoulder where Cicero had touched her. She noted the ids of the nanites that were touched, and her shoulder rippled as they shifted inwards, around her core as others took their place.

Cicero said they may rely on her as a Speaker - and said it in some seriousness. What did the Beta mean by that?

"Ready for flight," she said. Ready for a planet that might be overrun by the things that were on board the ship. This could be very... brief.

[Azazeal849]

It was quiet in the twisting flight decks. Sayori did not usually think of herself as a superstitious person, but she refused to jinx it by adding the thought, too quiet.

The hanger bay was quiet too. Unlike the ruined science and cryo decks, the Berserkers seemed not to have done too much damage to this area - though here and there bullet dents and raking gouges in the walls showed where the crew had fought and lost the battle to keep them out. The heat-shielded deck was brushed with wide streaks of rust-brown. Dry blood, Sayori thought, and felt an ugly shiver tingle down her back as she imagined the Collectors skittering across the floor to envelop the dead bodies and drag them away.

“What do the Berserkers need?” she asked Davrry in a whisper.

“Huh?” the Lyran replied, without drawing his eyes away from their constant danger-scan.

“To replicate. I know they need…” Sayori twitched a muscle in her cheek. “Bodies...but they must need metals, plastics, oils...this place looks like it hasn’t been touched.”


+ + + + +

The walls were sweating, slowly flaking away some of the blood-spatter. Like on the bridge, and everywhere else in the mid decks, it was warm and getting warmer. It made a twisted kind of sense, Sayori realised. If the Berserkers wanted to flush them out, they could simply run the reactor hot. With the radiator wings retracted and a few heat-sink interlocks judiciously bypassed, they could bake every surviving sapient on board long before they had to worry about a meltdown. And if her drones could operate inside a fission reactor, then the heat probably wouldn’t bother the cyborg Berserkers much.

It meant that their friends back in the hidden mess hall were on borrowed time.

Getting the drone to the shuttle was an uncomfortable game of stop and go. With the machine keyed to Miranda’s synapses, Sayori had to rely on its simple follow commands. Dialling down the servos in its legs had made the quarter-tonne beast a little lighter on its feet, but she still had to guide it. With Stratford in tow, Sayori made the final dash to a utility shuttle that stood untouched in one of the magnetic cradles, side ramp still down awaiting cargo.

The interior was grimy and dust-filmed from over a year of neglect, but the control consoles flickered into life at the touch of the main power switch, and with a couple of standard haptic gestures Sayori directed the drone to sit down in the pilot’s chair.

“The drone is in position.” Sayori breathed over the radio. “Control’s all yours, Sinclair.”

"Confirmed." Davrry drawled into the mic. "Everyone strap in nice and tight back there."

“MRE's taste like garbage…” Vezarres was complaining as Sayori and Winter climbed back aboard the second shuttle. Even with wings furled, the Dragonoid took up two seats. “I think I’d rather eat the garbage.”

“Oh I dunno, last meals could be worse.” Sayori attempted to joke as they sat down. Davrry’s upbeat response to the find compared to Stratford’s and the Dragonoid’s was probably a fairly neat indication of who had been stuck on chicken rations for the last year and who hadn’t.

Sayori pulled over one of the MRE’s, tore the foil, and teased out the cold, slightly greasy beef wellington with her fingers. She chewed on it quietly - not because she was hungry, but as a distraction from the fact that she was about to be spinning through a debris-strewn vacuum with no influence on what happened to her. They might make it down to the planet, or they might smash into some space junk and void the cabin, or they might fail to deceive the Berserkers and all die in screaming red chaos as one of them forced its way into the shuttle.

She was almost tempted not to secure her suit helmet - that way if she was sucked out into the vacuum she would only have to panic for ten seconds or so before she blacked out with the fizz of evaporating saliva on her tongue.

“The pastry’s a bit soggy,” she remarked, casually, “And yeah, it’d be better hot. But the flavour’s alright.”

[dakkagor]

“To replicate. I know they need…” Sayori twitched a muscle in her cheek. “Bodies...but they must need metals, plastics, oils...this place looks like it hasn’t been touched.”

Davrry paused, and scratched at his stubble. Sayori noted that he didn't take his eyes of the corridor, but his furrowed brow told her her question had hit home on something.

"The others laugh at this." Davrry sniffed, then gestured for the party to move forwards again. "But I've been out in the corridors more than them. Seen them without them seeing me. Sometimes, I swear, its like they fight over territory. Resources. There is a hierarchy a. . .an ecosystem for want of a better word. They don't fight hard. More like the threat displays of buck deer. But if this area is untouched. . . "

He ran a hand over an undamaged fuse box.

"Means something really bad is down here. An alpha."

+++++

Winters finished dumping decoy bodies, some only kept together by their suits, into the shuttle. It was difficult to tell if they had been Lyran, Human or Kel'cyre. Two were Charabidian, in pilot suits. They had never even made it to a ship.

As she finished up dumping half a dozen bodies in the decoy, she felt something watching her. She put it down to the silent drone sitting waiting for its last kamikaze run, and double timed it back to the mission team and the waiting stealth shuttle.

+++++

Winters clambered aboard and the ramp swung up. There was a dull thump as the interior of the ship equalised its pressure.

+Alright. . .I think we are good to. . . oh, holy shit+

The hangerbay was a cavernous, dark space, and something had unfolded from the upper bays. Something massive, and silent (https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/intermediary/f/8f9ea801-1fa6-4848-b21f-c04eb398a84a/d9nlu07-e5219575-c9d7-42a9-ab81-a36573aa899b.jpg/v1/fill/w_1600,h_938,q_70,strp/blame__by_dimaderzhavin_d9nlu07-fullview.jpg).

It padded, on pulsing, reshaping hands formed from masses of cable, across the hangerbay. It seemed torn. Swinging its vast, shuttle sized head between the decoy and the mission teams own ship.

+Go go go go go!+ Davrry urged.

[MidKnight]

Winters reached for her shotgun and loaded several slug rounds as a precaution. Whatever was floating around out there, she wanted to make sure it didn't try and take her so easily. "I would suggest use the decoy and see if it follows." She thought as her eyes looked up towards the ceiling following the sounds of a moan or the creaks of the ship. "This is just getting too fucking intense."

She looked to the pilot. "I hope you can outrun this big ass freak." Then rolled her eyes as she slowly moved with her gun at the ready.

[Enigma]

"Predators are usually drawn to movement," Iona offered. "If we launch the decoy, it should follow."

Iona paused. There might be another way to use the decoy. "How hot is the engine exhaust?"

"If we could position it behind the exhaust, we could try firing it up while keeping it in the docking clamps"

[Azazeal849]

“Oh, holy shit.”

“What?” Sayori scrunched away her Lyran meal, dusting crumbs of pastry across the floor as she leaned against her restraints towards the cockpit. “What’s wrong?”

Davrry was too focussed on whatever the hell he could see through the cockpit canopy to answer. Instead, he seized the shoulder of Sinclair’s flight suit and urged, “Go go go go go!”

And then it dropped, far too silent for something so massive - a seething mass of cables, with a pale dome suggestive of a head that came nosing and slithering across the hanger towards them.

Means something really bad is down here. An alpha. Sayori wondered if Davrry was regretting being right.

“Oh shit.” she echoed the Lyran hunter’s sentiment.

The polarised glass of the cockpit was no barrier at all, and even Vez’s bulky thermal pistol strapped to her leg felt worse than useless.

“Predators are usually drawn to movement.” Iona offered. “If we launch the decoy, it should follow.”

Sayori snapped her fingers. “Yes! But we need to decompress the hanger, so we go spinning out with the other junk while it chases the other shuttle!”

[AngelDellaNotte]

The others around her were getting nervous and rushing her along. Miranda wasn't just stalling out of fear it took time to start up a ship. It wasn't just pushing the on button and going. There were systems that had be launched before you could go. It didn't help that she was hooked up to the drones and it was mimicking her movements. The feeling was a strange one she could feel the controls in front of her as she piloted their own ship and the haptic feedback from the drone. This would take a moment to get used. Not to mention having to pilot two crafts at once. She had programmed the drone's ship to move the opposite direction of their ship. The star charts she had been studying showed that she would be able to do this for the most part with the exception of any debris out there.

The drone ship also was moving several seconds ahead of their ship to give it a bit of a lead hoping it would draw the attention of anything out there. It took off moving out of the hanger. Miranda ignored Iona's comment about burning it out in the docking clamps she could do that but it would damage the clamps and if they planned on coming back that wouldn't be wise. If when they came back they had company they would need those clamps to lock the shuttle down and flush out the deck like they had done on the bridge with the explosion.

Dr. Sayori hit her shoulder urging her own as their own ship hadn't moved yet. Miranda batted her hand away causing the drone shuttle to rock and hit into the side of the ship, the screech of metal on metal was very loud. “If you don't want to die today keep your fucking hands off me.” Miranda snapped, adjusting the drone shuttle before taking their shuttle out of the hanger. As the drone shuttle moved right their shuttle moved left both moving on the same trajectory but mirrored of each other. She focused mostly on their shuttle it being a little more important that they didn't hit anything than the drone shuttle. The debris field was more than she was expecting and she was having to dodge more than she thought. It didn't help she was constantly switching between the drone shuttle and theirs. She hoped she would be able to get clear of the debris field and let the drone shuttle go without her guidance.

A warning went off in her visor, for the drone shuttle and she switched over seeing it was heading straight toward a large chunk of a destroyed ship. “Damnit.” She growled letting go of their shuttle's controls and pulling the drone shuttle up barely managing to miss the debris. She had just barely finished the move before another warning went off for their shuttle. Miranda switched back just in time to miss a large space rock though they did scrape it as they past causing their shuttle to shake violently. The damage wasn't bad but she didn't know how long she could keep both shuttle intact. “I'm going to have to cut the drone shuttle loose soon and we'll have to take our chances.” Miranda said, giving the others a warning.

[dakkagor]

The horror swung its head around and followed the drone shuttle as it roared out of the bay on a tail of fire. It silently padded after it, constantly reforming, constantly shifting, like a mass of sea anemone tentacles, or a ball of worms, bound together. Tentacles grasped for the shuttle, thrown out into space as the hanger deck vented, blasting debris into the alpha berserker.

Taking her moment, Miranda got the shuttle out its bay door. In her rear view cameras, she saw, for just a second, the vast domed head, and red eyes flare brightly as it regarded the fleeing stealth ship.

Then they were away.

For a few seconds she kept the decoy running as the stealth lander completed its near powerless tumble through the debris field, until something heavy, fast, and near black slammed into the decoy ship. For a second Miranda had the awful feeling of being crushed, then the drones safeties cut off, and she lost control.

"Decoys down." Davrry grunted. "Hit something. Damned if I can tell what."

With gentle nudges of its rockets, Miranda guided the shuttle through the debris field. Through the viewers, they caught their first non-telemetry view of the ship (https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/intermediary/f/581d5151-8430-4368-9442-be8c7eb0c3e9/d3jrf7a-38b25e98-9f34-4433-96dc-c1356a9d004b.png/v1/fill/w_1280,h_1192,strp/ricinus_class_by_hyrotrioskjan_d3jrf7a-fullview.png) that had snared the Elcano

"Holy hell, look at that thing." Davrry breathed. "It looks alive."

Then the shuttle rolled, and the rest was a rattling, screaming fall.

+++++

They entered the atmosphere and were overwhelmed with noise.

Below the cloud cover, vast mountains covered in jungle dominated the landscape from horizon to horizon. As Miranda flew, Davrry worked sensors from the co-pilots chair. Every radio channel was washed out with chatter, random trills and shrieks that rose and fell like ocean waves.

"This is crazy." Davrry shook his head. "Either this things sensors are busted, or that jungle is transmitting radio. Not the mountains, or any structures, but the jungle itself. I'm getting EM readings like we're flying over New Dehli. And the mountains. . .I don't think they are mountains at all. I think they are hollow."

They flew on, looking for a landing zone, or a sign, or. . .

"There! Tightbeam scatter! And only a few kilometers from the coordinates we got from the bridge."

With direction from Davrry, Miranda banked between a pair of the mountains, before coming up on the landing zone. A burned back section of jungle on the side of one of the mountains waited.

"Atmosphere is breathable, but there is a lot of industrial waste shit in the atmosphere. Put on your re-breathers boys and girls."

As they descended, the ships Geiger counters began to click. The landing patch was blackened glass.

+++++

The shuttle hissed and creaked as the oppressive clouds rolled overhead. The air, even through the rebreathers, tasted like copper and ozone.

"Well, this is what laid out the welcome mat." Davrry held up a standard emergency beacon, before dropping it back onto the floor and smashing it under foot. "Lets close the door for any of the bastards up top."

The coordinates from the bridge pointed upwards, a kilometer away, through thick jungle. Once equipment was disembarked, and the shuttle sealed, it was time to climb.

[Enigma]

As she stepped out of the shuttle and saw the blackened glass underfoot, Iona found herself frowning. Glancing around, this didn't look like a place you would expect to find a lot of sand...

"How do you want to proceed?" she asked. "We have radio transmissions in the jungle, possibly more creatures like the ones aboard our ship. We should do what we can to avoid contact and preserve our vision."

[Azazeal849]

The shuttle lights flickered once again, then settled stable.

“Atmosphere is breathable,” Davrry’s voice came from the cockpit. “But there is a lot of industrial waste shit in the air. Put on your re-breathers boys and girls.”

Sayori realised that during the entire descent, she had somehow kept a hold of the half-eaten beef wellington. She tossed the foil-wrapped meal aside carelessly and snapped down her helmet visor. The click of the seal was followed by the gentle hiss of her suit’s internal rebreather, as it set to work injecting oxygen and scrubbing CO2. A projected timer of five hours blinked into life, splashing across the HUD on the inside of her helmet.

Five hours.

Her suit’s Geiger reading pulsed amber along side the oxygen reader, ticking between fifteen and twenty microsieverts per hour.

The signs were adding up to make Sayori nervous of their chances of finding their shipmates alive. Unless they brought prefab shelters with built-in scrubber units, they wouldn’t have had much longer than five hours themselves before they were forced to start breathing the toxin-laced air. And unless they stayed in their suits 24/7, they would soon start racking up radiation doses as well. Twenty micro per hour is something like one-seven-five milli per year. That’s almost double what a fission core worker is supposed to see in five.

The secret marks on the bridge had promised safety - but safe, after all, didn't necessarily mean sustainable. Sayori kept her doubts to herself as she filed out of the shuttle after the others.

The world outside almost drove the worries completely from her head. The ground beneath her feet was vitrified black glass, but ten metres away it gave way to dark, mulchy soil and spires of alien vegetation. The trees were spaced apart, but between them shrubs and creepers clustered so thick that even by eye it was difficult to pick a way through. And the trees glittered.

Sayori paced closer, hearing her boots crunch oddly as they sank into the topsoil. She reached up and bent a slender alien branch towards her to examine it. Black leaves sprouted from the dark wood, but although they were wafer thin they were solid and inflexible. They almost looked like…

“Solar panels?” Sayori mused aloud, stroking a gloved thumb along the glittering silver wire that ran through the tiny cells, exactly like the veins of a real leaf.

As she eased her grip on the branch and let it spring back to its original position, she saw a copper-bright insect the size of her thumbnail zig-zagging down towards the branch. It alighted on one of the photovoltaic leaves, and as the blur of its wings slowed, Sayori saw that they too were metal - linked together into a tiny helicopter rotor that split and disappeared beneath its brass carapace. Suddenly a long tongue squirted out through the leaves and struck the insect with a spark of blue light, before clamping onto it and dragging it back along the branch. Sayori only saw a shimmer against the leaves, until the creature waddled a short distance along the branch and settled. It looked a little like a gecko, with splayed legs, a whip-like tail and shiny black eyes. It lay there, chewing rhythmically, a ripple dancing along its back as it changed colour to perfectly mimic the pattern of solar leaves beside it.

“Ya-bai.” Sayori whispered under her breath as she watched the creature. Its eyes and mouthparts were undoubtedly organic, but there was no way that the perfect chameleonic skin was natural, any more than the helicopter insect it was still chewing.

Machine and organic. Her mind drew an inevitable comparison to the Berserkers that had butchered her crewmates, but there seemed to be a world of difference between the slashing nightmares on the Elcano and these delicate, seemingly benign life-forms.

Sayori swept her foot gently across the topsoil, belatedly realising that the crunching noise came from tiny shards of solar-panel leaves that had fallen from the tree. Near the base of the tree the soil had been blown back - possibly by whatever had glassed the ground where their shuttle now rested - and the sweep of her foot revealed a root that was sprouting with dozens of glassy-thin fibreoptic wires.

Sayori tapped the radio control on her suit’s forearm panel, and her ears were immediately inundated with a roar of static, undercut by hundreds of rapid clicks and blurts. After a few seconds the static seemed to settle, almost finding a rhythm - a gentle rise and fall through which the clicks and whistles surged. Sayori shook her head, unable to keep the grin from her face.

“Guys, are you seeing this?” she said, turning. “I work with human-machine interfaces but this is…” She half raised her arms, trying and failing to find a better word. “This is nuts! How could someone build an entire ecosystem like this?”

[Enigma]

“Guys, are you seeing this?” Sayori said, turning. “I work with human-machine interfaces but this is…” She half raised her arms, trying and failing to find a better word. “This is nuts! How could someone build an entire ecosystem like this?”

"Assimulation," Iona said, squatting down to examine the blacken glass at levels of magnification no human eye could manage. "Adaptation and time. All life here has been compromised, integrated, down to the bacteria level. This threatens all bio-organic life."

"This mission is at risk," Iona announced. "Do not remove your suits for any reason. You should all go to the shuttle immediately and return to the ship. Do not take it into the shuttle bay, abandon it outside and go to the nearest airlock and undergo a complete decontamination - your suits must be sterilized."

[AngelDellaNotte]

Landing the shuttle at the correct landing zone was difficult as the moment they hit the atmosphere There was interference that got worse the closer they got to the ground. Miranda was relatively sure she had got the right spot. She heard Davrry's readings of the planet and watched Sayori put on one of the environmental suits. “Hey doc you ever wore one of those for more than a couple hours?” Miranda said, having spent many hours if not days in environmental suits both in training and with her time in the fleet. “Whatever you do don't throw up in that thing.”

She didn't bother with the suits stocked in the shuttle, her flight suit was a environmental suit and was fitted to her. She took her helmet off and clipped it onto her belt. She wasn't just messing with Sayori about the suits they could get stuffy and a little claustrophobic. The air and atmosphere was survivable so she didn't feel like wearing the full suit longer than necessary. Digging through the supplies stocked in the ship she found a case of anti-radiation medication. With these they could counter the effects of the radiation for a while. It wasn't a permanent fix but hopefully it would get them through to wherever the others were. If they weren't dead already, if they were then they were screwed but that didn't seem new. They had been screwed since waking up. Miranda injected herself with one, stowed the others in her pack and, put on her re-breather (https://cdn.trendhunterstatic.com/thumbs/cas-from-malin-grummas.jpeg) then stepped out of the shuttle, ignoring both Sayori and Iona as she looked around. She still had her glasses on and was scanning around the clearing for any clues as to where the others had gone.

Something caught her eyes running out of the bushes, it wasn't one of the lizards that interested Sayori. The critter ran straight toward her jumping from the ground to her shoulder in one leap. It bounced from shoulder to shoulder focusing on her face. The critter was small standing only about six inches tall and resembling a squirrel, however it's back legs were metallic looking much like a spring, no doubt how it was able to jump from the ground to her shoulder without any problems. Its front paws were mechanical as well and it's eyes were glowing red. The creature reached out and pawed at her glasses seeming to be interested in them. “Hey leave those alone.” Miranda said, pulling the glasses off and tucking them into her pack. The creature still jumped around her face this time focusing on the control disk for the drones, Miranda had forgotten she was wearing it. She pulled it off her temple handing it to the squirrel like creature who let out a gleeful chortle before tucking it into a pouch on its belly much like a kangaroo had. Sayori probably would not but happy about her giving the disk away but Miranda didn't care.

She thought the creature would leave after getting its prize however it stayed on her shoulder seeming to enjoy the view from there. Miranda resumed her search of the clearing and noticed some scratches on a tree. She walked over to the tree looking closer at the markings noticing they were runes just like on the bridge, directing them to head that way. Below it were some other markings that Miranda couldn't make out though they looked just like nothing more than scratches. Around the tree Miranda could see branches that had been cut and then covered with new growth. Someone had hacked their way through here. She drew her sword intending to do the same, “I believe they went this way. These markings on the tree are a guide. Least the top ones are, I don't know about the others.” Miranda said.

[dakkagor]

Davrry knelt to examine the marks on the tree's that Miranda had pointed out.

"Good spot. These were deliberately cut. These more recent ones, with a laser." Davrry frowned, and looked up at the canopy.

"We should keep moving. In respect to the tin can, we can't just abandon it on this rock with no guaranteed way of. So lets be quick, and careful."

The march up the slope was uneventful. Davrry allowed a few short pauses to collect samples and data at Sayori's insistence, but increasingly chaffed at each one. When asked why he was agitated, in a jungle that seemed empty of any animals larger than them, he would look back at the canopy again, and insist they kept moving.

The jungle began to thin out as they climbed, and the air did as well, imperceptibly, with jungle giving way to mats of clinging vines that shared a heritage with high density power cable and clumps of gorse that looked like barbed wire.

"Halt!" Someone yelled. From the mouth of the cave ahead, a pair of humanoid figures emerged in heavy armour, rifles levelled. "Identify yourselves!"

"We're the only bloody people who haven't been minced and turned into murder cyborgs in this whole shitty galaxy!" Davrry yelled back.

There was a flap of wings, and Davrry flinched and pulled his rifle up. A heavy black shape dropped on him from above, slamming him to the ground and sending his heavy weapon skidding away.

Crouched on the Lyrans gasping form was a Dragonoid. It wrenched its helmet clear, and took a huge lungful of the toxic air into its lungs.

"They are clean." The young Dragonoid (https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=90974&p=2971996&viewfull=1#post2971996) nodded at each of them, before his eyes alighted on Vezarres.

"Elder."

Vezarres started. The young warriors eyes were silvery flints, and it was difficult to tell where the warriors scales ended and his flight armour began.

+++++

The party continued up the path, and into the mouth of the cave. The two guards, both charabidian females, let the group past, and then led them deeper into the cave. Vezarres and the young warrior stayed outside.

The cave wasn't a cave at all. It had a regular, hexagonal shape, and was finished in a metal coloured much like copper, or perhaps worn brass. It sloped downwards, and branched often. Eventually it opened into a large chamber, easily the size of the shuttle bay of the Elcano. It had clearly been designed for people that could fly, or climb well. Tunnels opened at seemingly random heights and distances, and odd echoed sounds carried from the openings like a mournful wind instrument.

Set up in the middle of the chamber was a command post, clearly built from pre-fabbed components and salvaged together parts stripped from errant mechs and military drop ships. Other chambers linked nearby echoed with work and the sounds of talking people, and even a few loud snorers. There was clearly about twenty to thirty people here, Terrans, Lyrans, Charabidians and Kel'Cyre, all members of the security detachment and command staff.

Standing at a holographic command table, was Captain Severt and Security Chief Ella Salk (https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=90324&page=7&p=2960917&viewfull=1#post2960917). Both women looked tired, but both looked up and smiled as the rag-tag group approached.

"So." Captain Severt smiled. "There are survivors after all. Welcome to Base Camp."

[Enigma]

The party was ignoring her warning, proceeding further into potential contamination, following the trail that someone or something had left.

From what she could see, most of the forms they viewed were all symbionts, a meld of organic life and inorganic machine.

Symbiotes were everywhere. If the organics in the party became contaminated, the defenses the survivors on board the ship might repel them as well.

And then contact - a challenge. A dragonoid, one of the missing crew.


Assimilation.

Organic blended with machine; symbiosis without surgery, merging with its own armor.


How, Iona wondered, did it keep from merging with its own helmet?


Control.



The cave proved to be carved. Constructed. Finished. Not, certainly, with anything that the castaways may have brought with them. Which meant other high-structured organics, 'natives'. Were they symbionts too?

As they came into the larger central area, she examined Severt and Salk for traces of symbiotes like the Dragonoid.

"We brought a shuttle from the ship," Iona said, stating the obvious. "We left it in the burn area. Should we be concerned?"

[Azazeal849]

“Hey Sayori.” Davrry warned, tilting his head up to sweep the canopy and following suit with his rifle muzzle. “We don’t have time for this.”

Sayori straightened, still holding the solar-panel leaf she had just pulled from a climbing vine, and pushed it into a velcro pocket of her suit.

“I’m not just doing this for a science project.” she snapped back. “If Iona’s right and something’s integrating all the life here, we need to know what it could do to our people.”

As they had proceeded, her sense of wonder at the planet - at the musical buzz of its organic radio traffic, at the sheer elegant genius of all its biomechanical life forms - had begun to fade. It began to nag at her. The life forms down here were small, unaggressive towards them. What separated these creatures from the Berserkers in orbit, who melded flesh and metal in a far more ugly and lethal manner?

There was a connection, she was sure of it, and it made her shiver beneath her thin pressure suit.

It was everything she had ever dreamed of creating: true mechanical symbiosis, creatures talking to machines and to each other via thought and via radio and via fibre-optic. Next to all this, Gaea’s painful integration with her Elemental suit seemed little better than the butcher’s horror of the Berserkers.

It’s about time someone started on the human brain. Aren’t you embarrassed by how limited we are?

It had all been realised, on this alien planet, in a galaxy three million light years from her own.

And it had spawned the Berserkers.

Watch out for your decisions. she remembered Gaea warning her, back on the ship. Make them, by all means. But...you’re gonna carry that weight. Sayori wasn’t sure how to feel.

Assimilation. Iona’s words ran quietly through her head, like an icy stream winding through her thoughts and eroding away her ease. All life here has been compromised - integrated, down to the bacteria level.

She remembered the little mirror-skinned gecko, tasering the helicopter bug with its biomechanical tongue. These creatures still fed like any other, building and replenishing themselves from other life. Biological imperatives; cybernetic means. Were the Berserkers what happened when the machines were bonded to something predatory, something intelligent?

Assimilation.

No way do I want to die a baseline human.

A Collector’s inhuman shriek ghosted across her memory, accompanied by the flash of silver claws and her own scream as she smashed it to pieces with her drone’s symbiotic fists. The Hunter, tilting its head, as if looking through the drone’s remote eyes at the human behind before slashing her vision into static.

Assimilation.

How did it work, and how fast? What might it have done to any crewmen stranded down here for all this time? She needed to know. They all needed to know.


+ + + + +

"So." captain Severt smiled. "There are survivors after all. Welcome to Base Camp."

It was like laying eyes on Garrick for the first time after his self-administered rejuvenation experiment. It was captain Severt and it was not captain Severt, changed by more than the simple passage of time. Kalyn Severt had been polite but brisk when the Phayder science contingent had first boarded; a feline woman with a clipped accent, the right side of her head shaved back to accommodate a distinctively Lyran comms implant: blocky and functional. The hair had since grown in and was now almost hiding the implant, but it was the captain’s eyes that had changed. Sayori remembered them being hard and shrewd and amber-brown - now they were glossy and red, like two reflective pools of blood.

The woman at her side was - or had been - the Elcano’s security chief, who Sayori knew by sight if not by name. She too had eyes like murder-red targeting sensors, and lines of silver traced the veins of her hands beneath her rolled-up sleeves. She was manning a holograph of what was clearly the Elcano, still half-entangled with the spined shape of the Berserker super cap.

How did they get a feed? Sayori wondered. She looked up, hunting for wires or cables that might trace up to a surface sensor dish, but all she saw was the hexagonal shaft of the cave, irregularly studded with branching tunnels like some kind of colossal termite mound. The air moaning through them rose and fell, sounding like a ghostly echo of the planet’s radio song.

"We brought a shuttle from the ship," Iona said, stating the obvious. "We left it in the burn area. Should we be concerned?"

“Wait.” Sayori cautioned, raising a hand across Iona’s chest as she took a step forward. She wanted to blurt out everything - that there were other survivors up there, Garrick and Kolvar and Cicero and the rest; that they were on borrowed time now the Berserkers had begun to overheat the power generators; that they had managed to recover a static print of the ship’s AI that might allow them to seize back control long enough to get to the Gate. But first they needed to know.

They were infiltrators you see… Garrick had said, solemnly. The Sentinax...many of them turned on us after Hekatonkles was taken, corrupted…

“Are you all still...you?” Sayori asked, as calmly as she could. “You’re not…?”

[dakkagor]

"We brought a shuttle from the ship," Iona said, stating the obvious. "We left it in the burn area. Should we be concerned?"

Ella shook her head. “We burn that back periodically, you should. . .”

“Wait.” Sayori cautioned, raising a hand across Iona’s chest as she took a step forward. She wanted to blurt out everything - that there were other survivors up there, Garrick and Kolvar and Cicero and the rest; that they were on borrowed time now the Berserkers had begun to overheat the power generators; that they had managed to recover a static print of the ship’s AI that might allow them to seize back control long enough to get to the Gate. But first they needed to know.

They were infiltrators you see… Garrick had said, solemnly. The Sentinax...many of them turned on us after Hekatonkles was taken, corrupted…

“Are you all still...you?” Sayori asked, as calmly as she could. “You’re not…?”

Ella raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. The Captain looked the party over, before her shoulders slumped into a sigh. She shook her head and chuckled darkly.

“Well, Doctor. . .Warrick, right? I suppose that depends on the limits of your philosophy. There's a charming little pre-space flight myth, that over seven years or so, every cell in our bodies is replaced, one for one. A biological Ship of Theseus. And while its not true, the only cells in our bodies that aren't being constantly renewed are the neurons of the brain. Lets take that wooden ship in the museum, replaced piece by piece. But instead of assembling the replaced planks and building a second ship, you tossed them onto a fire and scattered the ashes. Is the ship you have at the end, the same ship, or did it burn in the fire, and you are left with an imposter in its place?”

Severt stepped around the holo tank, and peeled off her right hand glove, holding up the hand.

“During the war, shrapnel took three fingers from this hand, and damaged my nerves and tendons. Most of that was replaced, charabidian tech while I was a POW. And now. . .”

Under the light, the hand glinted. Metal traceries spread under the skin. Nails had hardened and had the colour of brushed steel.

“The nanites here, in the water, the air, the dirt, fuse and replace technology and biology like nothing I've ever heard of. If you had pre-existing cybernetics, that's how they find their way in, and they get to work, replacing cell by cell damaged and failing systems. Everyone in this compliment had radiation sickness after a month, when our anti-rad medicines ran out. A few days later, the nanomachines had started to synthesise those medications in our livers and kidneys, or equivalents. Then they started to soak up the rads, like the local fauna and flora, and turn it directly into energy for our cells and the wetware they began to implant. Others have begun to fuse with their technology. Powered armour becoming like biological exosekletons.”

She smiled, and brushed aside the hair around her scalp. Around the implant, rather than a thin fuzz of hair, was growing short, translucent fiberoptic cable.

“Am I the same woman who landed on this world almost two years ago? Honestly, I don't know any more. But if you are wondering if there is another version of me, rotting somewhere or fused into a screaming biomech horror, then, the answer is definitely no.”

[Azazeal849]

“Is the ship you have at the end, the same ship, or did it burn in the fire, and you are left with an imposter in its place?”

Sayori knew the answer to that one. It’s not the boards of the ship that matter. The body changes, the mind is continuous. It was the main reason she had never been squeamish about cybernetics.

The captain stood there smiling, seemingly just as at peace with the mechanical dysmorphia of her new body. Even to Sayori it had begun to seem like something wonderful - nanomachines that were not just regenerative but adaptive, upgrading their hosts. (If Garrick could see this...) What did the captain and the security chief see with those glinting scarlet eyes? What did they hear in the waves of radio signals washing through the air?

Oh yes, what did they hear.

The mind is continuous. Or was it? She imagined the alien nanites, spinning their silver webs through the jelly of her crewmates’ brains. The Berserkers whispered to each other too. Davrry had talked of threat displays. Gaea and Garrick had told of how they had invaded the Elcano’s systems and turned the sentient programs of the Sentinax into their puppets.

“Am I the same woman who landed on this world almost two years ago?” Severt looked resigned. “Honestly, I don't know any more.”

Sayori’s cheek twitched as she thought again of Gaea. (“I couldn’t tell you where the suit ends and I begin…sometimes I look at the monsters out there and wonder if I’m all that different...”) She remembered her own words as well.

Different in all the ways that count.

She wanted to believe (“As long as you’re not going to go all destroy all humans on us…”), she really did. But now they had climbed the mountain of ifs and seemed to have a real chance of pooling their resources to get home, that hope almost felt like a trap.

Severt dropped her hand and let her mix of natural and fibre-optic hair fall back into place. “But if you are wondering if there is another version of me, rotting somewhere or fused into a screaming biomech horror, then the answer is definitely no.”

“What I was actually wondering,” Sayori confessed honestly. She seldom had success being anything else, and was equally bad at sugercoating things. “Was if your nanites had connected themselves to the rest of this…”

She spread her arms and half-turned to encompass the world beyond the hexagonal termite mound, and the jungle whose static song was still twittering across her helmet radio.

“...or to those things in orbit.” She let her arms fall and gestured towards the holograph command terminal. “Like how do you have eyes on the Elcano without bringing the Berserkers down on you? Captain.”

She added the last word almost apologetically.

[AngelDellaNotte]

As they hiked Miranda kept her rifle in her hands and her head on a swivel. Each time they stopped to let Sayori collect samples Miranda's grumbling got louder and she was almost sure that by the last stop Davrry was about to agree with her in leaving the stupid scientist to fend for herself. When they reached the cave and the figure charged at Davrry, Miranda managed to get a shot off but missed the fast moving creature. Before she could take aim again a furry arm wrapped around her neck and a couple claws pressed to her throat. The mechanical squirrel jumped from her shoulder to a tree above them and hissed. She was disarmed as those claws pressed into her but they let up when the Dragonoid called them clean. However she felt one of them be dragged across her tattoo cutting it. Reaching up she pressed her hand to the shallow cut then turned to see a Charabidian standing behind her and another to the side holding her rifle and pistol. “Great damn cats probably going to get infected.” She said, then held her hand out to get her weapons back but the Charabidian shook his head and gestured for her to walk with the others. The mechanical squirrel jumped down now that Miranda was free, it seemed curious about the blood coming from her neck but only looked at it.

"So." Captain Severt smiled. "There are survivors after all. Welcome to Base Camp."

Those words circled in Miranda's head as Sayori and the Captain seemed to debate philosophies. Everything else they said she just seemed to tune out. Enraged at her attitude of ease, as if they had just come from a luxury resort and not a death trap. “Survivors? Yeah, no thanks to you fucking lot leaving us up there to die on that slaughter house!” Miranda said, knowing her tone wasn't anywhere near mildly irritable but rather out right insubordinate. Captain Severt wasn't just a superior officer but her commanding officer, to speak to her in this manor wasn't just rude it was against military law. Right now Miranda didn't care, everything she had been through since waking up was in the front of her mind. From her shoulder the mechanical squirrel let out a series of chortles that echoed Miranda and it even waved it's paws at Captain Severt in a manor that looked strangely like an obscene gesture. If Miranda wasn't so pissed off it would have been comical.

“Two god damn years! In the last two fucking years did you even think about coming back for those left up there or was it every man for themselves?” Miranda continued her voice raising, “All the awhile letting yourselves slowly turn into gods know what creatures? While you played house down here on the planet.”

She looked over to the doctor catching her last question about having eyes on the Elcano, then scanned the room noticing the holographic command table. Sayori was skirting around the real question she wanted to ask. “Perhaps because they are working with the berserkers. So tell us Captain, are you gonna assimilate us too? Because frankly you can just kill me now, I'm not becoming a cybernetic freak.”

[Enigma]

"Your words imply choice," Iona said, looking up at Miranda. "Choice is not a right, it is a gift."

"So you keep the area where we landed burned clear?" Iona turned towards Ella, giving her a brusk nod. "That is helpful to know. Are you able to leave this world? Is it safe if you leave this world?"

Were the natives of this world the beserkers they fought up there? Was that their normal appearance, or did leaving this world cause a change? Something they needed to survive? Was that why these things tried to assimilate the crew and the ship?

[MidKnight]

Soon as the ship has landed, Winters and Vez took it upon themselves to wonder around. Winters wore a rather tight suit with a specialized helmet like most of her infantry had used. Vez was wearing a large suit and a helmet that was able to fit his head. Then they heard the voices of somebody ordering them to stop and identify themselves. Vez chuckled when Davvry had replied back. "They can try." He said but his attention immediately looked up as he heard a sudden wind howl. He back away from the black winged creature and realized it was a Dragonoid. He growled softly but the Dragonoid had seem to recognized him. And finally realized it was the young warrior who spoke to him before the deep sleep.

He stopped and looked to the young Dragonoid as though he had gone a great deal to change into something far more dangerous than he was. "I had feared you had perished with the rest." He said as he took a few steps closer to examine him. He hummed to himself as he circled around the young Dragonoid. "This world has changed you." He said softly and followed the others.

Winters was caught off guard when the Dragonoid had ambushed them. Her shotgun was aimed at the beast but when Vez had recognized him she lowered her guard. After being escorted and her attention was once more caught off guard. "I thought you died?" She asked. But when Miranda started her out burst. Winters took action by stepping in front of her and positioned herself between the Captain and Miranda.

"Hey calm down!" She said through her helmet. The helmet only revealed her eyes. "Slow steady breathes now, your gonna burn through your tank with that heat so...calm...your...breathing...down." She kept her body facing towards Miranda. "If you die here ain't no way in hell I'm gonna pilot that shuttle because I got a hell of record of destroyed shuttles okay?" She looked at her shoulders and sighs softly. "Where's your squirrel?" She asked curiously.

[dakkagor]

“What I was actually wondering,” Sayori confessed honestly. She seldom had success being anything else, and was equally bad at sugercoating things. “Was if your nanites had connected themselves to the rest of this…”

"No, they haven't." Ella broke in. "We can hear the lifeforms outside, how they communicate via radio. I think some of us, can transmit on the same frequencies." She shrugged. "But you'd have as much luck talking to a tree on earth and expecting it to talk back. Its not a network, its an eco-system. As for our orbital tap. . ."

“Perhaps because they are working with the berserkers. So tell us Captain, are you gonna assimilate us too? Because frankly you can just kill me now, I'm not becoming a cybernetic freak.”

"Stand down, pilot." Severt barked. Ella bristled next to her, a hand hovering over a holstered handgun. "We don't appreciate that kind of talk." Around the chamber, other survivors moved from watchful curiosity to wary alertness.

"Your words imply choice," Iona said, looking up at Miranda. "Choice is not a right, it is a gift."

"So you keep the area where we landed burned clear?" Iona turned towards Ella, giving her a brusk nod. "That is helpful to know. Are you able to leave this world? Is it safe if you leave this world?"

"Hey calm down!" She said through her helmet. The helmet only revealed her eyes. "Slow steady breathes now, your gonna burn through your tank with that heat so...calm...your...breathing...down." She kept her body facing towards Miranda. "If you die here ain't no way in hell I'm gonna pilot that shuttle because I got a hell of record of destroyed shuttles okay?"

"Iona has hit the nail on the head." Ella said. "If we could have chosen to return, we would have tried by now. When we left the Elcano, we thought we were the last survivors. We staged a fighting retreat to the surface, and only survived because as soon as we hit atmosphere, the berserkers own ships broke off pursuit. We can't approach the ship with our current equipment, we'd be spotted and shot down."

"And we've hardly been playing house, either." Severt responded, a little Lyran arrogant lilt creeping into her voice. "We've been picking over the surface looking for any intel or materiel we can use against the berserkers. This base camp isn't randomly placed. Its how we get our orbital tap."

The two women looked at each other, some unspoken understanding moving between them.

"Ella" Severt finally said, returning her attention to the holotank. "Why don't you introduce our fellows to the prisoner downstairs. And give them a briefing on what we've found."

+++++

'Downstairs' proved to be a winding corridor, sloping sharply down and descending into near abyssal darkness. Davrry had chosen to stay behind and brief Severt on occurrences aboard the Elcano, and what the science team survivors had discovered so far, leaving the others to follow Ella down into the darkness.

"A very long time ago, this planet was inhabited by a race of insect-like sentients. Not a hive mind, but highly social and cooperative, and very inquisitive and peaceful. We called them the Collectors, from the ship that crash landed on Kel'cyre. This world, and their biology, was shaped by the large amounts of free metals and heavy radiation in the atmosphere."

She paused and directed a stablight beam into a side chamber. Midden piles of glittering carapace plates reflected the light back, seemingly stretching for forever.

"Organic iron alloys laced into their exoskeletons. From the start, their technological advancement diverged from what the races of the milky way would consider standard. For them, there was no clear line between augmentation, tool use and medicine right from the start."

They kept walking on. The stablight swept over glyphs, pictograms, etched into the once smooth walls. They were reminiscent of the ancient cave paintings from Earths pre-history, showing strange, bipedal insects worshipping the sun and hunting great beasts.

"Eventually, they mastered space travel and met their neighbours. We have records of two, another insect race that was an aggressive, expansionist hive mind, and something more humanoid and mammalian. While they formed an alliance with the mammals to hold of the enemy hive, they realised that, eventually they would be overwhelmed."

The pictograms had become stylised scenes of space combat. Vast fleets battled across the chamber walls. Cities burned under stylised orbital strikes. The collectors wept and prostrated themselves, only to be slaughtered.

"So, distasteful of warfare, they decided to build a weapon that could operate itself. A construction platform, designed to design, build and coordinate fleets of ships, then prosecute the necessary wars. Something designed to learn, evolve and grow. And it won. It slaughtered the enemy hive. But then, it didn't stop. It turned on their allies. Then it turned on them."

Finally, the group came to a sealed door, a metallic iris. Ella moved to a jury rigged keypad and punched in a code, before looking back to the group.

"That first thinking machine made six more, six generals. Those generals turned on it as they turned on their primogenitors. They slaughtered the Collectors even as their first creation sacrificed itself to keep them away from the gates to our galaxy, so that the berserker's couldn't wipe out thousands of primitive species. And it succeeded. And for that crime. . .well."

The door hissed open , and Ella stepped through.

"For that crime, they tore it from the heavens, and buried it here."

At the centre of the chamber, sprawled across the metal floor, was a vast, scarab beetle like automata, easily the size of a small space ship. A forest of cables sprouted from its back, punching through armour plates and vanishing across the floor and into inky black vaults of the ceiling. The creature was clearly broken, eye lenses shattered, mandibles cracked, armour rent. Six spears of a silvery metal had punched into its hide, pinning it to the floor like a monstrous specimen.

And somehow, it was still alive.

Its vast head, the size of a battleship turret, turned to regard the small party.

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+Ě̸͉̝̺͎̜̼̲̙̈́̐̈̌̓͘L̙̤̣̜̣̜̊̀͐̀͆̕͜͞L̶̖̻̮̮̆͗̏̈̈́̎͐͢A͑̔ ̶̡̧̟̗̹̉̉͒͒̉̚ S̝̝̹̻̹̘̩̘̼̅̅̐͒̆̓͠A̖̠̱̥̓̏̊͌̎́͘ͅĻ̸̟͚̻̼͎̘̼̖̳̊̄̿́̆̑K̈ ̣͇̠̱̙̅̑̀̾̅,̴̡̛͇̼̥̼̱̿̎͑̎̚͢ Ţ̴̬̬̞͎̣̀̌̎̄͠E̷̢̛̲̠̼̣͓͙͇̿̈̄̂̐͜͠͡Ṙ̸̡̛͕̠͎̞̮̣̃̓̿̉̇͢ͅ R̹̻̺̪̗̝̙̓̀͑͘͘͡Ä̡̛͕͙̱̤̭͖̭́͒͌͋N̸̢̛̬͈̣͈͚̞̖͂͆͌͠ O̷̬͖̳͉̤̲̹͓͗͂͊͌͡ͅF̧̝̹͇͕͕͔̝͕͛́̆̋̆ T̵̛͎̖͎̗̩̮̳̣̓͐̑̽̌̎͟͠͠Ḣ̸̛͕̠̹͛̂͆̑̄͊͊̐ͅͅE̢̢̮̜͇̳͆̓́̉͘͢ ̭̝̪ Ç̵̙̼̗̤͍͔̼͈̄͆͌͑̉͌̚̚͢O̧̜̣̥̗̙͔͛̂̒̌͜͞Ņ͉͓̲̼̺͍̓̑̿̅̉̈̚͜ ̴̨̨C͙̭͙̣̹̦͍̰͚̋͑͗͋̔̕͢͡E͉̹͎̙̐̔̃̊̄̍̉̎̽͟͜R̴̨̨̼͕͎͎̂̊͐͌̒ Ṱ̵̢̢̧͙̱̹͎͕̰̏̓̓͒̓͒̕.̭̦̮͈̺͓͉͈̙͚́̿̔̃̕̕̕͞͝+
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.+

The voice was broadcast across every imaginable band, a whisper of server fans, the screech of code, the unmistakable voices of those killed by the berserkers, blended and dopplering and echoing.

"Cronus."

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+̢̰͙̻͍͉̃̍͆̄̔̕Y̸̨̧̺̙̻̝̳̯̜̽͊͌̀̑͢Ó̶̡̨̼̤̫̩̬͋̾̎̕͟ͅÛ̀̄ ̷̢̨̳͔̗͓̹̓͌͟ H̛̘͉̤̥̫̖̓̐͋̎͆͡A̶̡̪̯̲͍̼͇̳͗͊̈́̀͜͝͡V͈̪͍̬̲̬͗̐̓͛̌̂È͋̂͊͆ ̬͎̝̥̳̲͟ B͇̜̳̦͈̩̤̤̹́͐̀͐̃̚͡͡R̤͉͔̩͔̲͙̽̐̃̾̒͊Ö̷̦̞̥͖̫̈̍̌̆͡Û̆̂̅ ̡͇̙̹̲͕͔̤̪̾̑̍͛Ģ̜̹̲͗̋͐̑͐͂͊̕͟͜H̶̛̤̲̼͍̮̫̗̿̾͒̾̾͛̆T̏̀͗̏ ̴̹̹̲͖̻̲̹̄̍ T̵͈̪̹̫̞̤̗̆̈́̚͟͟͝͞H͓͉͍̝̙̜̥̀͛͐̏̿E̵̪̰͓̖̝̥͛̾̑́̽̈́̈͟͞͞ Ò̷̧̢͔̜̲̣͕̩̜̇͂̌̑͒̽̕͞͞T̹̜͍̘̤̮̈́̓͋̓̃̌̅̚H̢̲̜̱̫̋͊̐̋̓E̓̈́ ̶̹̞͎̥͇̯͉͒̓̀͢R͚̖̤̟̪̱͕̱̾̑͊͊͗̿͌̓͘S̨̘̠̪̖̖͔̺̅̇̉̅̚.́̃̌͡͡ ̛̠̫͉͈̺͙̖̍͌́ͅ G̨̰̖͖̮̓̆̌͑̐͐̌͞O̷̧̫͈̳͕̝̞͎̻̬̍̎͛͌͒́̄͘͝O̳̳̱͔͑̏́́͗͑̀͆͘͠ ̶͖͎̩͎D̷̰͖̬͈̳̰̤̯̻͚̾̒̉̃́̄̅͞.̸̧̠̪̥͎̱̪̠̊̀͑̐̒͝ W̨̠̳̩̦͈͒̌͂̄̎̚͜Ę̛͍̮̥̙̓͐̄͐͡ Ḫ̜̠̗̩̑̊̀̿͋̊͗A̶̡̫̣̞̼̙̗̥̔̓̽̄̈́̀̅͛̊̊͜V͉͎̺̺̜͎̝̝̟̉̌̐̏̂͡ ̷E̢͇̲̟̗̪̭̘͐̍̾̃̑̊͗͂̃̑ M̪̭̦̰̟̹̠̪̀͑́̒̒̆̂͠͞U̴̡̨̫͙̰̿̐̾͗͘͜͠C̶̢̪̮̺̭͉̉͊̾̀͑̕H̊̐̎ ̶̛̦̤̱̤̘̖̮̲̄́͌̏͟ Ṯ̷̡̰̤̥̯͚͑̀̌̏͜͠͝͠ͅƠ͎̦̺͚̬̟̙͍̓̔̆̎͠ͅ D̴̨̟̼̹̲͍̟̳͆̑̚͝͠I̸̢̛̖͖̫̙̐͒̐̀̔͋̑͠͡S̵͙̣̞̯͓̜̭͓͑͊̏̎̕͞ͅC ̷̧̭̠̹̮̳̤͛̓̅͊̑͒̀̏Ų̷̭͕̘͍̗͉͖͇̍̄͗͌͜͡S̸̝̰͈̦̥̿̃͒̆͆̏̐̀͂S ̶͓̹͕̗͎̣̯͒̂̅͋̿͝ͅ,̣̗͔͈̤̜̖̌͐̒͐͆́͒͂͐͜͜͞ T̬̟̼̫̞̫̼͑̉͒̓͑̓̒͢͠H̵̡̫͉͔̽̿͛̋̉̑̅̍͘͜Ĕ̴̪͓͍̱̑̍̌̕͢ S̶̬̲̜̱̳̯̅͆̅̈́̃̌̽͝Ư̸̧̯͉̫̟̮̐̒͛̓̆͗͌͑̃ͅR̛̬̪͙̯̺̀̄̿̅͛̅̑͟ ̴V̶̗̝̟͈͇͔̣̗̦̑̈̽̚͘I̵̡̦͖͍̙̠͚͎͍̘͋̈́͒̊͗̆̚̚V̻͊̓̃̂̈́̀̒̾͌̇͟ ̷̹̫͔̥O̳̞̼̫͎̬͑́̊̐͘͜͢͞͝Ŗ̷̦̭̺̰̯̬̉̇̓͐̈̍͜͜͡ͅS͈̭̪̯̐̉̓̒̅ ̠͖̩̬͎ Ą̢͚͍͇̼̂̾́͒̋͆Ň̵̛̛̙͔̙̱̗̺͗̀͊͆͡D̘̠̱̂̆̎͛̒͋̄̄͋͢͢͠ M̨̻̼̥̬̀̈͐͋̅̑̾̅̀͞E̡̹̙͖̲̹̓̒͑͘͜͞.̶̡̝̖̼̦̟̦̩̩̆̄͂͐͒̕͡ͅ+̕ ̵̟̞͚̻͕͎̀̃̽̊̀̚͜͞͡
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Shattered lenses focused on small party.
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+͉̲̤͖̺͆̑͐̂̕͢Ą̷̡̢͕̫͎̪̤͓̝͒̐̋͒̀̕̚S̢̤̰̻̙̃̿̎̉͋̕͟͝K͛̑͘͠ ̵̻̯͖̜̫̏̒̈̀̇ Ÿ̜̳͍̟̦͈̙̹̠́̀͒͆͆͢Ò̵̮̣̩͇̺͇̲͚̂͒̒̑͜͠U̱̟̲͕̱̠̩̠͖̎́̔͂̍͞͠ R̷̡̛̲̻͕͚͎̮̱͗̽̽̆́̈́͡͞ Q͓̲̹̙̦̈́̂̋̀̃̑͛̎͆̚͟ͅͅŲ̶̡̧̫̹̗̀̂̀̏̃̀̔̕E̡̹̫͍͉̯̲̓̈̓̃͢͠͞ ̸ͅS̶̛̻̙̤͍̹͂͗̽̋̃̚T̘͚͙͉͖̽̿͛̈̅̿͡͡I̷̢͈̥̼̟̮͎͇͕̱̎̄́̍͆̚͡͝ Ô̲̳̺͉͓͕̼̐͌̈́̚N̵̨͚͈̗̱̰͓̘̍̀̊̽̊͢S̶̨̠͈̩̳̳̝͙̟̾̐͐̍̇͢.̓͌͋ ̸̯̥̭͇̝̟̘͕̖̬̑͝+̵̧̡̙̼͎̘͍͚̖̃̿̽͑͂͜
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[Enigma]

It was an Alpha Prime.

Betrayed by its own Alphas, if its account was to be believed.

One incapable of self repair. One without Gammas to tend to it.

Iona glanced up at Ella. Why had she not freed the Alpha? Why did she not repair the Alpha?


What was the human not telling us?

Turning back to the Alpha Prime, she stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "My designation is Speaker Iona. I am a member of the Sentinax, a Gamma-class Seeker Scout. What is your designation?"

[dakkagor]

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Ć̨̢͎̩̹̻̟͙̭̹́̂͗̈́͘R̵̥̥͕̱͕̊̓̍̇͘O̼͎̜͈̝̊̂̈́͌̽̚̚͜N̯̽̂̏̄̌ ̷̨̠̬̭̤͓̣̩͍U̶͚͉̖͔̝͂̃̉̌̄̈́̒̍S̥͇̝͖̗͈̤͌̊͆̂̎̒̄͘͝ͅ
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. (https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/8d2e4e56-e827-4187-ba1d-f48abf2f599c/dcksir1-e5dac2c5-a236-45fe-8bf7-a9d53b6ae943.jpg/v1/fill/w_1024,h_678,q_70,strp/trilobite_beetle_mech_by_x_rad_dcksir1-fullview.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI 1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNh NWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMT g4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7 ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9Njc4IiwicGF0aCI6IlwvZlwvOGQyZTRlNT YtZTgyNy00MTg3LWJhMWQtZjQ4YWJmMmY1OTljXC9kY2tzaXIx LWU1ZGFjMmM1LWEyMzYtNDVmZS04YmY3LWE5ZDUzYjZhZTk0My 5qcGciLCJ3aWR0aCI6Ijw9MTAyNCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46 c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.1SZgTOdL5JEKt CUSE8y4xO7te5pj7t-rNOyFd7jWzuY)

Ella looked at the Speaker, but said nothing.

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Í̶̭̙̥͈̪̣̻̮̣̃̈́̅͐̒͜ T̛͙̦͓̭̭̿͂͋̓̓̑͘͟͞ͅŌ̵̲̲͍͇͚̖̽̑̑̓̾̇̚̚̚O̢͚̫̻͕̠͛̊̅͛̍̚͞K ̷̨̡͕̟̫̫̑́͜͡͝͠ T̷̰̗̣͈̪̟̖̘̼͐̈̋́̓͌̂̋̕̕H̢̪̟͓̫͙̜͖̼̅̈́͑̐̌̉͠Ȃ̮̹̊́̄́͑̇̚͡ ͙̮͈̹͉T̡͉̼̖͌͑̒̾́̒̕͟͠͠͡ N̷̛̦̠͓̲̰͒͗̆̇̒͡A̶̡̧̳̰̺̼̒͋̓̌͗̎͗̏͟Ṃ̢̛̛̖͉̼͈͙́͗̂̈́̀̆͡͠E ̨̨͙̹̙̂̒͛̇͊̊ͅ,̷̢̥͕͕̩̘̹̪̓̀̏̀͝ F̸̨̨̼̪̳͛̓̏̓͌́͘͡͝͠Ŗ̢̛̠̞̳̤̞̏̍́̏̆̈́̐͛͟͢͝Ò̡̹͓̟̜̞̱̍̆̈͌ ͅM̢̘̞̳̬͂̐̆̅͡ T̴̡̮̠͆̏̍̊̆͜͞ͅH̷͕̖͚̻̦̗͎̾̿̓̎̕͟E͖̥͇̟̥͔̙͆̐̇̀̽̄̐͡͝͡ͅ ̸ M̷̧̞̭͖͕̓̀̃̓̀̃̕͠͞ͅY̢̰͇̯̤̹̗̦̐͐̋̅̍̆Ṭ̬̠̺̯̓̒̇̀̒̇̄͐̆͢͜͝ ̘H̨͙̫̞͚̏̿̆̀͋̾̋̽͐Ṡ̷̨̟͎͖͐̾̏̏̓̿͟͝ O̩͚͍̙̮̥̓͑͊̃́̅̃̍͘F̶͙̙̩͙̍́͘̚͞ͅ Ŏ̶̡͔̠̭̬͋̿̎̾́̋̚L̷̨̳̻̹̰͇͕̪͓͈̓͑̒̊̎̀̿̆́̈D̛̩̪͓̩̓͂̂̓̋̒͛ ̭̰͢ͅͅ T̡̳̙͈͚̈́̌̔̕͘͟͞͡Ẹ̡̘̰͈͑̑̉̽́͗̀̾͑͟͟͜͝Ř̢̦̤̳̦̮̭̾̏͂͌͟͞͡ͅ R̡̙̮̭͎̝͐̅͑̌͑͌̕͠Ă̧̢͉̹̹̱͍̒̋̐̊̌͢͜ͅ.̡̱̰̹̫̰̣̗̊̿̄̑̓̚ ̶̧͢ Ȁ̹͍̳̦͙̼̌̎͗͋̍́͐͝͞ Ģ̵͚͚̏͛͆̾̈́͛̓̿͢͢Ỏ̫͙̩̻͓̀̎̔͊̚͡͞ͅD̨̧͔̠͖̣̗͓̳͛̇͒̅̎͘͡ ̷̼ Ṭ̶̡͓̮͈̦̼̼͗́̓͋̀͟͢͠Ḣ͚͎̹̥̲̜̞̲̫̋̍̑̑ͅA̶̛̲̘͉͉̲͓̾̆͑͗̈́͝T ̶̠͔̝͇̻̼͉̙̆̏͛̋͐̑͊̋̆̈͢ͅ S̷̹̳͙̗̗̗̤̥͆̈̒̒̒̾Ȯ̷̝̮̟͓͙͍͖̉͒̐̔͢͢Ṷ̤͇̜͍̾͛͋̽̑̐̿̔̈́̅ͅG ̴̧̡̗̼̬̖̣̙̤́̀́͌̕͠͝H̷̨̛̲̲͉͎̯͊̋͑̍͐͊͟͞Ṫ̨̥̜̩̺̝͎̌͂͂̿̏͝͝ ̦̲̜ T̡̖͍̥̰̙͈̝̠́̆̑̒̍̇̈͘͜O͙̻͖̠̳̰͕̔́́͐͑͋͝ C̴͉̬̺͕̮̱̈̈́͆͂͗̐̔̕͟͝Ớ̸̧̞̭̠̦̜͈̌̊̃̒͂̂̚͡Ņ̡̡̭̤̲͐̈́͒̿̈́͠ ̷̲̝S̷̝̼͔̬̯̆̃̋̕͢͢͞͞Ų̸̧̻̞̳̝̃̇̈̑̿͛̑̃̏͝M̜͍̼̣̹͓͉̺͋̔̂̈́̀ ̝Ȅ̵̝̠̲̣̠̬̀̈̒̿̔̈̅̑

H̶̖̜̳̮̻̜̦̣͓͊̔͌͋̾̋̔Í̛̳̲̲̗̠͎̤́̚̕͞S̞͉̬̹̜̝̆̏̃͗͑̈͘͞ ̸ C̪͔̪͕̞̲̭͔̥̬̆̍̀̓́̀́͆̂Ḫ̶̤̥̞̜̑̅́̀̿̓I͓̤͉̗͍̤͗̉̽́̈́̿̀̈͠ͅ ̶L̶̨̙̬̯͙̱̙͑͐̒͆͗̚͘Ḓ̶̢̢̗̻͚̫̖̙̟̊̌̓̆͋R̝̥̻̗̆̎̉̐͒̈́̎̕͢͢ ̧̼̠̮Ȅ̴̯̺̞̼̳̟̫̟̤͂̓̈̒̓̉̀͛͜͡Ņ͖̺̲̩̦̟͋͊͊̈̉͑ͅ T͈̳̝̙̻͍̱̲̀͋̽͋̔̊̇̓͞ͅƠ̼͖̯͍̬̽͐̌̿͡ P̧͕̣̪͍̺̦̓͋͆̿̀͆͐͘͟R̸̘̯̪̥̰̰̺̠͊̑̄̆̇̈́͐̚͞E̡̥̱̫̊̓̿̕̕͜͡ͅV ̷̻͖̣̦̰̗̯̻̹̈́̊͂̉̏Ẽ̵͔̘̩͓̫̀̽̂͒̓̀ͅN̸̛̙̩͔͔̥̤̹̜̞͆̑̒̑̆͢T̕ ̧̻̲̤̱͖͈̈́̓̃̊̒̐͡͡͞ C̶̼̖͚͉̲̼̦̠̫͙̄͒̓̽͒̒̕A̸̩̭̙̹̦̭͍̅̓̏̾̏̕̚͝͞͞ͅL͐̎̈̓̄́́͂̕͠ ̶͙̘͇̥̺A̘̝͕̝̲̞̜͚͐͊̈̍͌͒́̋͢ͅM̶̛͓̥̮̖̈́́̽̾̀̂͡ͅI̛̪͈̥͌̊̕͘ͅ ͕͖T̷̢͕͖̳͓̤͓̉́̋̑͐͜Y̵̛̜̻͓̗̯̳̳̦̓̑̓̈́͗͐͑́͘.̹̯̮̐̑̑̎͑́́͊̕ ̵̱͎͢͟ F̴̬̦͔̯̯̀̌̆̒͘I͕͇̞̓͑̀͒͑̊̈́̀͆͟͢T̴̢̪̫̠̹͇̝̟͗͋͊̽̈́̈́͑̐T͒̀̀͘ ̨̨̡̙̘͉̹̣͎̓Í̶͚̮͍̖̟̜̼̬̱͎̂́̓̈́̓͡͠͠Ň̢͎̲̭̭̱̗̦̙̑̃̀̃̋͒̿G ̶̧̩̰͍͔̰̌̓̿̆͛̑͂͌.̴̡̡̛͙̺͕̞̓͋̐̌͘͞͝ Į̶̡̙͈͖͆̿́̌͐̚͟ Ą͎̝͔̱̦̼̙̆͗̓̈̽̆̈́̔̕͝ͅM̛̩̘̙̮̪̫̬͚̮͛̿̊͊͝ C̶̡̖̮̹̖̖̏̒̑͛́̋̉͗͗͠R̷̢̛͉̤̤̰̜͉̈́͆̈̃͑͟O͎̹͙̖͎͖̓̾͌͌̍̿͡͡͝ ̧̖̬Ṇ͔̮̮̀͆̋͊͊͢͞͠ͅŰ̵̢̪̮̱̩̯̭̱̼̅͒͐̈̽́S̨̛̲͈̹̲̼̾̆̒̊̈́.̑ ̴̢̘̬̖̦̓̅͐͒͑̊
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Its shattered eye lenses refocused with a grind of broken gears. Its head lowered.

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Y̶̨̡̛̻̖͕̫̼͙͓̜̎̈͛̓Ö̷̧̞͈̮͓̞̣̬́͐̑̉̀̆̇͒̔͢U̫̥̺̜̤̅̎̌̈́͗̅͘ ̷ Á̡̘̮̘̬̼̭̹͛̏͊̍͂̀͟͢R̰͕͖̭̞̙̆̉̂̃͗͊͂̌͘͠Ȅ͈̻̞͉̬̳̆̓̈̿̿̒ͅ ̵͇͇ Ť̷͎̯̝̗͕̞̲̘̻͗͛̾́̒̇̕͜͞H̸̩̺͙͉̠͚̞̙͋́͊̑̓͛̓́̿̋Ȇ͗̀̎͋̑̊͡ ̵̡̛̮͈̝̱͍̣̈ S̼̖͚̦̖̩̠̉̇̈̿͆͐͜ͅP̷̛̞̥͉̞̗͉̟̩̙̓́̓͒̒͘̕Ę̭̬͎̺͍̠̾̔̎́̐͠ͅ ̵͉̫A̷̟̹̮͔̙̺̯̭̞͋̀̀̀̀̓̏͌K̡̙̙̫͂̏̄͋̋͆͑̿̚͜͠E͎̽̊̀̿̓́͒͜͝͡ ̼͈̩̞̟̼̬ͅR̴̡̯̣͇̯͍͋͒͆̆̔̌̽̐̅̚ͅ.̷̢͔̰̫̰͇̤͓̫͚̉̀̅̇́͛͠ Z̡̳̱̳͑́͋͌́͛̅̕̕͟͢͞ͅȨ̠͉͈̼̝̠́̾̈́̀̋̋̆͌̚ͅU̴̦͎̫̼͍̇́̋̋͠S̎ ̴̣͙̭̰̟͓̺̫̩̗͐͆͌͊́̃̄͡͠ Ẁ̨̹̺̦̦̦̥̑̀͋̅̒̚͜͝A̴̱̙̠̝̲̥̅̍̇̓̆̎Ş̷̛͕̻̥͙̽͌̎̽̕͟ I̩̦̭͕̥͛̃̋̈́̄̈͆̚͝͡ͅN̷̺͙̩̦̜̿͋͛̓̽̀̕͞͠͡T͓̖̜͈̘͆̿́͊̔̔͌͐̑͂ ̷͓͎͔̟É̸̡̞͙̻͚͈̝̦̣̑́̈́̒̃͛̀̐͠R̴̡̦̳͈̬̣͂̑̀͆̑͡É̿̇̃͋̅͑̅͘ ̡̨̠͕̜̱̤͖S̶̳̥̯̹̔̔͑́̓͋́̌͘͟͠T̴̖͇͕͇̥̟̔͗̐̉͑̏̋͘͟͢E͐̇̌̿͛̈́ ͈̙̗̳̯̔͌͌̎͜D̨̡̢̪̞̼͔͉̼̀̓͑̆̍̎̀̓͠͝ Į̴̨̢̲̠̤̲̩̞̙͂͛͗̌̈̾Ň̛̗͍̣̙̲̗͉̀̓͑͐̚͢͟͜͝͠͠ Y̷̧̛̻̮͈̪̑̿̇͆̌̈͋̉̋Ỡ̗̦͓͙̪̳͖͋́͆̏̔͘͠͠Ů̜͔̗̳̗̻͛̅̀͘͟.̛ ̵̧̟͕͚͖̰̂͂̈́̐͢͞ H̸̢̻͕͍̙͇̹́̏̂̄̓̆͌͋͜ͅE̢̨̢̛̱̪̖̪̯͐̇̾̈́͛͛̚͜ L̛̤̼̯̟̐͛̌̈̾͗͢͞E̵̫̳̯͙̤̓͊̒̐̆̊̈̑̇͡T̜̰̙̭͈̫͍̝̒́͑́͒͆̃ ̸͈̱ Y͈̭͇̲̗̺̊̀̒̅̌̋ͅȮ̪͍͙̗̣̬̆̈̔̃̉̆͞U̖̮̦͔̠͔̺̦̐͐̽̎̚̕͞ͅ S͚̣̟̩̘͐̎͗̓́̏͗ͅL̷̡̛͔̬͕̟̬̈̒̀̐̔̀̔̓͟͝E̷͙̞͓͇̍͂͂̍̚͢͟͟͜͢͝ Ę̵̧̛̺̬̹͙̲̬̼̭̂́̎̕͝͞P̸̢̳͉͎͕̝̿̌̾̾́̿͘̕͠,̧͖̱̾̾̽̆̇̕̚͢͝͠ ̵̡̫͚͎̖͜ S̴̨̧̛̛̠͓̯̩̿͐̏̏̊̅̅͒E̴͈̬͖͓̳͍̎̈́̓̅̈́͜͜͞ͅĘ̡̗͚̜̒̓̇̏̔͑͛̆͢ ͇Ḱ̶͚̰̯̩̠́̒̉̂Į̸̡̪͎͎̫̥̤͑̈̎͒̄̈́͗̄̎͘N̳̟̥͖̱͕̋̉͆̅̄̀͒̐̉͞ G̝͓̪̥͂̌̔͗̍̅̕͜͝

C̴̢̭͉̻͈͇̠̰̽͐̾͆̒͗̃̄ͅƠ̪̻̙͚̤̽̐̃͘͡ͅN̡̰̼̦̜̻̺͍̔͆̉̿̉̀̕͝ͅ S̘͍͚̗͎̲̓̀͛̀̔̂̈̚̕͢ͅÚ̷̡̙̦̥̺̳̥̙̔̆̓̊̇͑͞Ḿ̧̞̳̘̭̖̍̆͊͜͞͝ ̸̨̪͉A̢̯̮͉͍͕̰͍̹͗̈́́̋̓͊́͘T̶̥̪̪̙̂̅̓̔̈́̽̓͟͡ͅI̧͇̔̓̓̂̉̎̎̅̓ ̸̧̻̟̤̩̻̝͢Ơ̢͔̖̰͍͚̦̟͗̈̍̓͛͊̇̐̃ͅN̸̨͎͚͖̲̟̲̾̒̀̇͘͟.̇̆͛̐̇ ͔͉̫͓̙͎̙̲͎̲̌͐̂
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[Enigma]

Iona straightened, staring unblinkingly at the alien machine life.

"Cronus, what is your purpose here? What do you strive to do?"

Was it in its nature not to give up, even crippled like this? Or did it have a purpose? And what part would they have in this purpose?

[dakkagor]

Ṽ̯̬͓̠̈̀E̶͙͇͍̣̖ͭ͗̊͊N̪ͤG͇̖̙̫̥̳̚ͅE̠̥̬̮̱ͭͭ̊̆͒͋̚A͂͌̐̏ͩ ̸̩̭N͚͔ͫ̑͒ͨͩ̄̚͟C̽̉҉E͔̖̝ͫ͟
̮͙̱ͬ
̺̝̙̬ͯͧ̋̽̔
̴͚͉̲̟̫̥̙ͥ̃̎V̵͕̙̽̄̋͂̇̋̿E̡̞̻̲̫̺N̩̺̖̰ͩ̓͒̎̀̋͐́Ğ̦̏̓̋͌̉ ̳̙E̦͍̖͎̲̬͊̔̉ͫ̐͠A͖̫͓͔ͩͥ̌ͫͩ͒̌͢N̬͙Č̗̿ͤ͒͆̇E͚̼̪̦̙̭ ̥̮͕͙̪͙̄̉ͣ̽̐͛̋́F̷̖͂ͧͅO̱̲̻̓̓̽͒R̫̋͟ ̭͒̅̈ͦT̮̮͐̾͒ͬ̋ͭ̎H̸̘̝̹͔͉͖͐͛ͯ́̐ͭȄͦ̃ ͓̈́ͯ͊͡D̠̖̥̥̪͎̤ͥ̊Ẹ̡̭ͮ͌A̩̻͔ͫ̇͗͢D̝̭̿.̝̗̤͕͕̓̈́̇̐ͣͤ̃ ̜ ̱ͣ̏̓̇͑̌͝ ̭̞͖͈̀̄͟F̴̞̭̖̲̜ͮ͌ͫͦ̐̓O̩̤ͤ̈ͦ̒͢R̟̦͓̲̓͐ͅ ̖̰̮̪̤͎̣ͣ̊͝M̘̲̘̞͇̑̏̀̀Y ̘̙̫̙ͯͣ͗̓ͤ̀̚M͙̘̱͚̹̳̾̈́ͥ̓̔̄A̯̟͕̫͚̟̤ͣ͊̇́S̸̺̬ͮ̋T̛̓̾͌̂ͫ̚ ͕̻̟͎ĘR̟̔ͣͬ̔S͖̭͕͖̮̓.͖̮̽̚͞ ͉͈̫̫̃ͣ͋ ̷̠̙̙͗̈́̑ͨͅF̰̬̦̥̤̳͚̈́̊̎̅͂́O̟̩̩͖͔̲̎͒ͩ̔ͪͣR̫̩̟̪̮̺͗͛̋̈́ͧ̾̚ ̦ ̷͍͉͊̽̅͒̍T̖̺ͬ̎͝Ḧ͓͇̖̫́͆̄̈Ȅ̓̋́̍ͭ̕ ̜̘̅͂̄L̆̇ͫͩ͏̤̜I̴̬̮̫̲̞͖̟ͮͮ̑̔͋ͪF̎͋ͪ̾ͦ̚E̢̤̣̣̼͕̭̾̏̋ ̳ ͕͌̋͌͌ͣ́͌Tͣ̂͗͋H̠͎̬̣̃̃̽̀͡Ể͇ͦͫ̆̊͟Y̘͑ͣͩ ̦̭̙̜̹̤̀ͫͨ͋͜HͬḀ̙̖V͚̫É̱̰͔̈̿̓̂͛ ̙̮͟E̶X̿̓͛҉̝̰͈͚͍̭ͅT͕̫͔̪̫̰̭̍͆͌̍̋Î̺̝͔̥ͤ̋̊͑̚Ñ̢̰̲G͍̻̀ ̖Ȕ̫̦̙̳̘̟ͪ̀I̺̟͙͇̪̐̈́̒͢S̵͍̞̪͖͑ͯH̸̝̘̪̫̻͔͍̐̓̄ͩE͈͈͔̣̯̐͛ D͕͈̪̹͓͊ ̤̺̫̘̜͇̬ͣ̊̓ͩ̅̊͋A̜̬̥̙̹͙ͣ̈́ͯN͗̎̎́̚Ḍ̢̜̠͖̬̬̹͗ͬ ̰̽͊̎͌̌C͔̜Oͭͨͯ̉̽ͨ̚҉̮̲̤͙R̝̙͉͇͈̎̽̈R̯͔͕͚͉̫͙̒͋͠U̯̔̐̅̾̑́ P͓͓̮ͯͣ͡T̗̗̺̖̲͛͂̽͗̊͝È͇̤̘̰̖̈́̏̔D̢̥̮̟̞.͍̻̭͈̲͑ͦ͒ͯ̀ͅ ̗ͭ̎͛̽ͩ͌ͥ ̫̜̼̯̩͒͋͑ͬ̎͒͟Ṿ̤͓̚E̱̰̝̞̅ͫͤ̎̂̿̾N̝̟͇̗̞̄̐̾̇ͥͮͧ́G̓́̿̑̓͑ ̷̫͕̄Ȩ͇͙ͦA͚̺̮͚͚̣̞͌͗̂ͭ̂ͤN̨̳̝̟̠͉C͖̯̘͍̆ͫ̐̉͝Ȩͫ̽͒͆̃̒̚ͅ ̫̜̦ ̎̔F̱̰̫̤͕͊̎Ô̬͉ͤ̌ͫͥ̈́̓Rͣͪ̌ͯ͢ ̰̯̳͆̊͛͟M͕̟̥̹͕ͅY̭̼̪̰̹ͣ̂̉̓͜ͅ ̤͎̳͖̹ͦ̐ͬ̓C̮̟̑ͥR͓͆̊̒̓Ị̊̂͋ͧ̌̊ͮP͒́ͨ̊҉̼̣͍̥̟̖ͅP̶̅̈͑̾̚L ̺͕͎̞̲̘̓̀I̴̺̪̰͉̘̰̩͛͗̉N͕̋ͪͯ͋͋̆̾͝Ǵ̄.̳͉͐̿ͭ͑ ̡͓̣̪́̽̂̔͒̉ ̲̠̳̯̫͝V̴̇̅̒Ḛ̦̯̳̾̌̉̈́N̡̮̈́̽Ģ͖͚̫̺̳̤E̡ͪͦ͗́̆Ā̻͔ͩ̀ͣͬͯ͢ ̜N̥͋ͧ̃ͧ̅͆ͮC̟̻̪͚̒ͧ̋͌͑̚E̳̯͒ ͇͍̼ͮͣ̋͗́F͈̳ͫͪ̓͝Ő̴̯̘ͦ̌ͅR̺̹̘̂ͩ̍͒ ̛̦͓̎̈̊ͧM̀Y͔͆ͫ̊͜ ̡̺͇̮̺̿ͥ̊ͦ̅I͎̼̩ͦͧ͌̂̀M̧̙P̟̰̝͉̘͢R̹̳̓̈́ͤ͢Ĩ̟̥̹̰͔̯̰S̄͒ͮͧ ͇̘̞̀ͧͫ͟O͚͙̻͑́͑̃̄ͮ͢N̷̮͇͉͖̬͖̓͛͒ͬ̽ͣ̂M̸̺̼̜̩̓E̼̽ͅN̮̻ͨ͂ͦ ̜̰ͅT̲.͓͜
͇̜̠͍͝
̱̻̱̟̝̂͌ͣͤ̑͋͠V̷͇̰̣̗̳̫ͣ̀̉͒̈E̪̤̟̗͗͢Ń͖̞̔ͭ̌́G̖͉͖͂̔͌̽̈E ͬ̐A͗͏̪N̴̰͕̟̤̽̅ͦ̇̊ͅC̥̫͌̎̿E̩̳͈̟̻̭̿́̌̂́̐͢.̬̤͈̇͌ͮ ̳̟̟ ͇̬̥̲ͭ̐ͩͦV̵̝͕͇̭̮͕̋E̖̫̽͋͗̍̋͝ͅN͍ͧG̩̗ͬͣ͋͒̔̀ͬ̕Ë̬̤͎̟̑́A ͎͕͉̱̗̦͓̇͌̔̔̉̄̚N̲̰͙̖̓C͕̺È̷͓͓̤͉̎.̣͉̘̻͎ͫ̉͘ͅ ̸͉͉̲͎̻̱̆̈̽̃̃̂̉ ͎̦̭͉͛͘V̙̤̪͚̍̆͂̄̐͞E͉̱̣̘͐͟N̤̱͚̗̖̟̺ͮͣ̽̆ͪ̀G̛̼̪̥̑ͬͣ̆̀ͨ̃ E͉̳͓̣͍ͬͯ̆̚A̠Ṇ͎̮͈̣̋ͦ̍ͣ̌̕Ç͔̃ͪ͑Ę̿͗̌ͣ.̨̖͙͉͉̝̩͖͗

The noise was almost punishing, as the crippled machine strained against the spears that had punched into its carapace. Artificial liquids poured from the wounds and spilled across the floor.

M̗̤̯̻̲̐̃̐̌͑͛̄Y̙̟̫̞ͨͦ̆̅̆̀ ̧̯ͬ͑ͪS̰͚͈̠̺̆͢Ȍ̡͍̘̹ͨ̓N̗̟̞ͤ̏S̼̮̻̰̓ͅ ̴̦̙̼͈̤̭̜͊̋͑̎͑Ạ̋̂̆ͮ̔N͙͉̦ͪͭ̿̒͟D̛̪͈͗̾ͧ ͕̘͚͚̖͜D͓͔͉̭̱̺͒͒͠A͌͜Ṷ͇̟̟͛ͬ̈ͭͥĢ͈̜͖͑ͨ̒H͖͈̩̲̩̓T̡̞̾ͅE ͍̳̙̙̭͈̻ͪ̅̉͞R͑͐̈̔͒Ș̨͔̦ͩ̓͂ͤͮͩͯ ̩̬̖̈ͪ̒̽̆W̬͐̄͐I̠̟͓L͙̤̝̑͌͞L̢̰͐̌ͮ͛̑ͪ ̭̇͋̉͛͂S̛͑͛U̙̇ͣ̍̈́͗͑͡F̯̳̹͙̤͉ͫ̃͗FͣE͉̜̲̞̥̙̫ͦ̃͑͝R͕̒ͭ͗̈́͝ ̜̰̝͇̞ͅ ̪̐̆ͩ͂ͧ̽ͣF̵ͦ͊ͥȮ͜R͖̙ͬ̀̔̿ ̗̠̤͚̥̺͆̎͑T̫̜̖͍̦̟̟͌ͤ̓́ͩ̐ͭH̱̖̫̹͊̈́̎Ë̢͎̔̋͛̆́͆Ị̰̒͊ͫͅR ̣̋̐̇ͦ͟ ͉̳̘̣͙͓S̵̹͓̤͐ͪ͌̓̓̓ͥI̳̙͎̣̗̻N̼̩S̠̥̫̺ͯ̐͊͡

[Azazeal849]

'Downstairs' proved to be a winding corridor, sloping sharply down and descending into near abyssal darkness. Davrry had chosen to stay behind and brief Severt on occurrences aboard the Elcano, and what the science team survivors had discovered so far, leaving the others to follow Ella down into the darkness.

“We came down in one of the experimental stealth shuttles.” Sayori said to Ella, explaining as they descended through the hollow, silent tunnel network. “There’s still forty or fifty of us alive up there, but unless we seize back control of the ship they don’t have long. After we salvaged an image of Julian’s AI state from the bridge, the Berserkers shut down the reactor heat dissipators.”

She walked on, gesturing as she talked, the boots of her enviro-suit echoing against the metallic floor of the tunnel.

“We could take you back. There’s room for twenty in the shuttle, at a push. We’d have to break orbit out of sight of that Berserker ship - even a stealth shuttle’s going to look like a roman candle on its way up. But we still need a way to warn the others that we’re coming. And the hanger we launched from is guarded by some kind of huge Berserker, Davvry called it an Alpha…”

Sayori felt a shiver run down her spine at the memory. She felt like she was constructing a second mountain of ifs for them to surmount, potentially even deadlier than the first.

“You said the Berserkers broke off before they entered the atmosphere. Is it something about this place? Something we can use against them?”

Sayori chewed the inside of her cheek as she listened to Ella’s response. She swallowed as another thought occurred to her, as she looked into the security chief’s reflective red eyes: the command crew might still be themselves, but their new forms had as yet had no contact with the Berserkers and their brutal infiltrator programs.

“Your new augments,” she began, not knowing what else to call them. “You said you can hear the ecosystem - can you turn them off? What if the Berserkers try and attack you the same way they did to the Sentinax on the Elcano?”


* * * * * *

"A very long time ago, this planet was inhabited by a race of insect-like sentients. Not a hive mind, but highly social and cooperative, and very inquisitive and peaceful. We called them the Collectors, from the ship that crash landed on Kel'cyre. This world, and their biology, was shaped by the large amounts of free metals and heavy radiation in the atmosphere."

Sayori nodded inside her helmet. She had of course heard of the Collectors, the species whose dead ship had crash-landed on Kel’Cyre and precipitated the Concert War and, ultimately, the Elcano’s own mission through the long-dormant Gate. Scientists and conspiracy theorists alike had obsessed over why they had crossed from their own dwarf galaxy only to die out before contact. Perhaps now they had their answer. If any of us make it home to tell the story.

She looked up, directing her LED torch across the warren of hexiform tunnels overhead, and tried to picture the strange creatures from the cave paintings spidering through them on swift cybernetic limbs. Inevitably, her imagination conjured something less like the creatures on the surface and more like the blade-clawed Hunters.


* * * * * *

M̗̤̯̻̲̐̃̐̌͑͛̄Y̙̟̫̞ͨͦ̆̅̆̀ ̧̯ͬ͑ͪS̰͚͈̠̺̆͢Ȍ̡͍̘̹ͨ̓N̗̟̞ͤ̏S̼̮̻̰̓ͅ ̴̦̙̼͈̤̭̜͊̋͑̎͑Ạ̋̂̆ͮ̔N͙͉̦ͪͭ̿̒͟D̛̪͈͗̾ͧ ͕̘͚͚̖͜D͓͔͉̭̱̺͒͒͠A͌͜Ṷ͇̟̟͛ͬ̈ͭͥĢ͈̜͖͑ͨ̒H͖͈̩̲̩̓T̡̞̾ͅE ͍̳̙̙̭͈̻ͪ̅̉͞R͑͐̈̔͒Ș̨͔̦ͩ̓͂ͤͮͩͯ ̩̬̖̈ͪ̒̽̆W̬͐̄͐I̠̟͓L͙̤̝̑͌͞L̢̰͐̌ͮ͛̑ͪ ̭̇͋̉͛͂S̛͑͛U̙̇ͣ̍̈́͗͑͡F̯̳̹͙̤͉ͫ̃͗FͣE͉̜̲̞̥̙̫ͦ̃͑͝R͕̒ͭ͗̈́͝ ̜̰̝͇̞ͅ ̪̐̆ͩ͂ͧ̽ͣF̵ͦ͊ͥȮ͜R͖̙ͬ̀̔̿ ̗̠̤͚̥̺͆̎͑T̫̜̖͍̦̟̟͌ͤ̓́ͩ̐ͭH̱̖̫̹͊̈́̎Ë̢͎̔̋͛̆́͆Ị̰̒͊ͫͅR ̣̋̐̇ͦ͟ ͉̳̘̣͙͓S̵̹͓̤͐ͪ͌̓̓̓ͥI̳̙͎̣̗̻N̼̩S̠̥̫̺ͯ̐͊͡

Sayori had to resist the urge to take a step backward as the leviathan creature rattled against its restraining stakes. The venom of the creature was palpable, screamed at them in the voices of a thousand dead crewmates.

It almost sounded like a Collector.

Sayori stood her ground as Cronus’ heaving struggles subsided. The enemy of my enemy... But vengeance was not why they were here.

“Ask it if it can help us take back the ship.” Sayori whispered in Iona’s direction, urging the Sentinax speaker. “Ask it if it can help us get home.”

[Enigma]

Iona glanced back at Sayori and nodded.

"I understand," she told Cronus. "We have suffered much from them. Can you help us return to our ship?"

"Can you.. tell us how to fight them?"

[AngelDellaNotte]

Throughout the walk down Miranda was mostly quiet and even when she saw the creature she didn't so much of a reaction. She was still a little sour at being scolded by the Captain. It had finally clicked with her as to who she was talking to. It would seem that she hadn't been paying attention to the conversation with Chronos but that wasn't true. Miranda had been taking everything in. “What makes you think we can trust anything this.... this whatever the hell it is says?” Miranda said, finally making her presence known. She stepped forward toward Chronos her hand on the hilt of her sword. It wouldn't do much against Chronos and she really wished she still had her guns. Still holding the hilt of the sword made her feel a little more confident.

“The enemy of my enemy my ass. It is probably playing the long game. Say just enough to get us to trust them then destroy us. I say it would be better to cut this thing up and see how it ticks.” She said, then turned to Sayori, “Hey guess we did need you on this mission. You can figure out biologicals can't you?”

[dakkagor]

“Your new augments,” she began, not knowing what else to call them. “You said you can hear the ecosystem - can you turn them off? What if the Berserkers try and attack you the same way they did to the Sentinax on the Elcano?”

"No, we can't turn them off." Ella admitted. "But, we've run some tests. Our brains, their 'operating system' doesn't seem to have been heavily modified to make use of that new sense. We think its piggy backed onto our normal hearing. So, we could hear a command from the Berserkers, but it would have as much effect on us as someone shouting instructions at us. At least in theory. After all, if you can program sophonts into soldiers who will follow orders from a superior without thinking about it, there is a risk that the Berserkers could find some kind of backdoor, maybe by imitating an officer or a loved one."

The elemental shrugged in her armour. "Not exactly comforting, I know. But we think that the reason the berserkers don't come down here is because of all the background noise, maybe it drowns out whatever command signal they use, and the big monsters don't want to lose control of the little monsters. We can still function at full effectiveness, so maybe that's an advantage we can use. As for going back. . ." Ella tailed off.

"You'll need to talk to the captain about that."


+++++

"Can you.. tell us how to fight them?"

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F̡̯͕̳̩̘̥̺̝̍́̈́͋̅̕͜͞Ĭ̶͚̜͔̗̞͖̗͋̋̀̑̂G̵͔̝̳̻͆̉̄͆̚͜H̄̍͐̕ ̸̪̟̩̤͚̰̉̾͢͡Ṱ̨̟̟͎̈́͒̆͛̓͒̚.̶̧͔̘̻͈̝̼͔̔͛́̔͛͌͋͂͘ͅ Y̨̰̟͙̬̯͙̝̼̋̋͑̐̽̚̕͞͝Ę̛̺̠̣̘̤̙̑́̄̇͜S̢̲͕̼̟̄̄̒̊̋.͗̀̂̂͞ ̨̝̥̹̹͒͒̐̆͟ Ḇ̢̢̲͚̼̳̫̙̔̐̿̑̒͂̒́͘͜͡Ű̼͈̦̙̙̠̀̈́̿̋͒͑͟͢Ṫ̢̰̝̫̰͖̭̀̓̈́̔ ̴͜ I̵̼̳̩̳̠̼̩̲͉͒́̅͑̓͂̉̒̅T̫̟̞͓̼̞͖͚̟͒̓̓̎͘͜͠ Ẃ̡͍̯̥̼͎̖̺̺̗͒̄̄̓̚͝͝͞Ȉ̴͕͇̲̬͎̖͗͗̾̓̋L̶͎̞͎̹̤͂̿͂͌̅̿͜L̐ ̨̢̗͖̦͚̏͗̑͝͞͠ B̧͚̟͙̹̮̮̲̗̯̃̆̆̀̂̇́̚È̸̟͖͈̜͚̜͕̻̅͑̎̇̃͟͡ H̢̢͖̩̝͕̪́̽̋̆̃̀͢͞ͅA̧̧̯͈̼͉̝̭͊́̓̂̆̋̈̇͆͟͞R̩̜̯̊̉̏́̿̓̽̇̇ ̷̢̜̮D̶̯̩̼̬̮͍͆͒̔̈́̋̏̎̀̊̋͟.̟̠̼͚̲̪̓̋̆̑̈́͋̊̍͘ͅ Y̶͓͙̘̥͇͚̮̱̥͐̒̍̆͑͡ͅƠ̸̧͇͎̗̘̟̙̪̝͛̓̅̽ͅŪ̥̻͎̞͖͆̂͋̇̐ ̵̧͈ M̴̧͈͇͖̲̼͛̃́̆́̒̃͜͡U̬̜̻̞͙̘͍͌̌́̆̈́̇́͜͡͡S̴̠̜̻̭̲̄̊͒͛̈́T͆̂ ̨̙̮̭̺͈̮̫̱̮̿͗̀͒̓̕ Ȩ̸͇͔͓̱̅͑͌͐̅̋̚͢͢ͅS̴̡̡̢̛̺͇̱͙̤̋̆̄̃̐̏̏̄͟͝C̮̽́͗̋́͒͗͑̌͞ ̢̰̲̪̹A̷̭̥̪͎̪̎̈́́͗͋̚͟P̷̬̮͍͚̟̰̝̑̋͊͗̇̎͛̿͋͛͟ͅE̢͇͙̓̂͞͡͝͝ ̵̡̝͍̪͓͔ T̵͇̪̣̮̰̱͎̩̫͔̀̊̑͐̽̿͒͐͋͝H̦̦̲̺́͂̋͒͐̏̾̒͢͜I̹̲͑̂̾̇͒̍̒͒̎̓ ̴͉̪̪̝͓S̼͇͈̗̤̦̪̏̌͑͂̊̕͟ P̩̳͍̬͈͈̭̈̌̔͒̉͒̉̍͘͝L̛̙̭͈̭̭͕̦̅̋̚͡Ă̶̛̗͍̤̼̩̝͆̀̀C͆͊̊̂̂ ̨̼̪̮͖̐͞Ẹ̴̛̩̣͈̹̭̙͙̐͌̈́,̦͓̝̜͆͆͒͆̈́̀̒͊̕͢͝ Â̡̘̞̖̻̻̾̋̂̑͛̑͟͡N̷̼̭̜̳̼̐͒͂͆͛͋̂̊̚͝D͉̰͖̤̯͖̰́͗̓̄͢͠ Ŵ͇̥̥͎͚͓̠̉̒̓̓̇̚͢͠͡A̸̛͈̼͙̞͎̭̳̲͚̾̅̅̿̾́̚̚R̼̭̖̣͇̓̑̄̒̕̚ ̷̲̟͎̭̳N̡̢͍͇̗͔̙͓̲̠͆̎͐̑̃̉̂͌̕͝ Y̶̢͍͙̭̣̱̪̾̄͛̏̀̏̈́̈̕͠O̢̡̮̰͚̭̍̀̂̀͊́̽U̧̥̙̫̭̜̙͂̒̔̉̑̓͋͘R ̦̩̮͍͇̰͉͔̼̪̇̅̈̒̇̀̓͘ P̡͎̮̹̗̒̇̊́̄̃͊̕E̶̮̙̻̫̰̰̐͂͌̈̀̀̉͌̚O̶̬̭̯̙͙͉͖̘̤̓͌̓̀͊̎̔̕ P̛͙͉̝̙͎̘̹͑̉̓͒̀͂̉̈̈́Ļ̷̼̰̜͇̖̖̻̱̭͋̋̋̔̀̒͋E͙͔̭̪͉̲̣̋̉̇̅͠ ̪.̶̨̠͉͇̦̓̓̈́͑̈̈̚͘͟ T̷̰̼̳̗͙̗̯͎́́͑̚͢͜͡H̸̡̪̜͔͙̹̬̰̥̀̃̓͑̈̎͌̚͞E̪̿͌͌̓̀̐̏̽̔͌͟ ̶̪̘̺̻͙̗͕͢


Ẇ̵̡̺̩͎̬̮̠̩̣͗̎̈́͆̊͝Ȁ̧͔̤̜̲͍̌̀͑̒̈́̅ͅÝ̧͍̳͖͓̃̏̓̚͜͞ Í̸̧̥̠͔̞͔̻̝́̈̒̄̀͌̈́͗̿ͅS̸͓̣͎͕̃̓͒̏̔͢͝͞ Ǒ̸̹̠̫͎̜̦̙͌̑͆̑̿̇̚͠P̸͕̲̭̱̏̅͗̿͐͑͟ͅË̶̫̪̠̝̌͊͘͠͞ͅN͂̀͛͘ ̸͕̥̥̤̜̣̺̋ͅÌ̸̗̤̦̺͆̾̄̑͐̄͛̕͜N̡̗͕͓̟̍̂͗̎́̀͡Ģ͔͂̉́̓̃̐̈͝ ̸͉͍͖͉͓͉.̷̢̜̤͇͕̱̹͍̝̈̈́̍̔̉́͋̄ T̲̜͖̦̪͕͖̅̋͛̋̿H̛̙͎̻̰͔̀̈́̈̾̕͘Ḛ̶͖̭̱̪̑̋̾̾͘͜Y̡̳͚͔̾̉̿̀̚͠ ̺ W̨̟̺̭̳̹̼̽̆̊̄̉̓͡Į̷̛̥͇͎̫̞̱͇́̍̌̀̚L̷̘͎̫̹̙͕̎̅͗̓̌͐́̓ͅL̽ ̨̖̲̬̭̳͖͍̍̍͗̆͗̅̍͘͝ Ć̵̡̡͈̟̠̔͂́͑͑͜͡͡͞O̵̡̝̩͈̩̰̖̾̑͋̒͐͂̓̃̀̕͢ͅM̧̖̪̥̐͌̓̇̽̕͘ ̸̮͍E̗̭̲̪͔̣͈̩̊̃̏̃͠ F̳̱̦̠̭̞̫͉̀̍̄́͗̃̑͘̕͟͡Õ̵̻̠̝͉̪̔͐̅̆̅̈́͘̚͘R͈̼̝͇̪̤̹̐̔́̊͘ ͍ Ỷ̧̞͙͙͙̙̲͋̓̽͞Ö̴̜͓̺̙̬́̿͋͑̓U̴͍͓̦̘͙̤̗̥̣̤͑͒̑̉̋̕͘͝ N̡̨̛̬͙͍̮̳̮̓͌̊͊͑̒͟͜͞Ơ̢̧̺̟̩͈̙̈́̇̇̆͌͋͂̕Ẁ͔̜̞͇̰̦̰̓̒͐̀͐ ̸̨̲ͅ.̶̬͈̞̮̥̟̙͙̠͉̑̑̏͛͗̓̓͆͝͠
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“The enemy of my enemy my ass. It is probably playing the long game. Say just enough to get us to trust them then destroy us. I say it would be better to cut this thing up and see how it ticks.” She said, then turned to Sayori, “Hey guess we did need you on this mission. You can figure out biologicals can't you?”

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Y̵̢̢̢̱͇͎͈͐́͑̏̒́͢͟͡͝Ǒ̮͙̞̤͍͖͍̱͆́̈̂͛̕͜Ư̧̡̟͖̳̮̞̌̽̋̈͂ ͅ D͖̜̝̟̩̖̔̒͋̂͡Ȁ̢̨̦̣̫̥̝̖̄͑̈̂̚R̴̝̖͚̦̼͔͑̋̋͑̃̎͘͠Ë̓́̓̋̕ ̶̨̞̞͔͔͌͟͡͠ C̴̢̮̯͖̹̳̙̉́͂̾̀̽Ǎ̧͕̗͉̺̻̰̀̆͋̌̿̏̆̚L̖̝͕̟̝͍̥̿̂̀́̊́͌̐̕͘ ̵̜̠̮L̠̰̰̩̥̒̅́̇̋͒̊̄͜͟͝ M̸̢̯̱͙̘̻͐̐̆͋̄̊́Ḛ̛͉̬͔̭̦͑̒̅̽͗͋͘͟ A̸̠̻̭͇͎͇͗̿̒̉̎ L̢͔͚̣͖͓͙̭̽̒̆̇̄͆͞Í̭̟͙͓̩͇̋̇͘̚ͅA̡̨̡̮̲̻͔̒͂̉͑͂͆́͢ͅR̛̓͆ ̮͔̝̬̩̞̘̼̭̂̑͢,̷̮̭̦͔̖̙̀̀̀͊̾̋̏͠ Y̩̙̺͉̓̅́̔͟͟͢͡ͅO͕̲̫̣̗͗̓́̽͟͞͝Ų̵̡͔̜͎̦̙͉̰́̈̊̾̚͞ W̧̨̗͕̺͖̣͛̂̒̑͡Ë̛̲̗̙̺̤̯̻͖͍̳̈̌͞A̰͕̭̯̼͙̮͚̅͊̄͐̚͢K̑̈́̉̊͛ ̴͍̙̮͇̲Ļ̗̝̥͔̖̠̭̿́̉͂̐́̓̚̕͠ͅḬ̡̛̱͚̖̠̦̽͋͛̓͠N̳̅̓͒̏̄͌̃̌ ̣̫̼͕̙̻͜G̶̨͙̭̤̯͇̭͈̊́̾̑͐̎͟ S̷̨̬̯̲͓͙̺̞͊̃͒̚͘͞͞Â̶̤͉̠̞̮͕͙̽̒͂̓̐͋̌́͜͜͢͝C̯̮͉̣̗̊́̍̉̚ ̸͢K͇̯̻͔͍̻̏͋̊̕͢͝ͅ Ö̵̢̢̫̰͇̪̘͛̑̀͆̊̒̕͘F̵̨̟̙̜̳̐̃̇͋̿͡͡͞ͅ M̷̡̨̫̯͍͚͐̂͛́͆̚͢E̶̠͈̟̮͔̒͛̄͆͗͗̌͂̊͡A̷̠͇̜͉̭̒̒̏͊̋͌̚͜T̛̔ ̷̡̟̗̪͌̈́̾̽̅ͅͅ Ạ̢̡̪̲͕͖̼̈̅̏̊͜͝N̷̮̟̭̞͍̟̣̽̒̾̔̄̋̎D͙̭͖̖͇́̆͗͗̄͌ T̶̡͈̝͚͕̤̦̜̍̈̅̊̏̆̅͟A̶̡̢̨̭̘̣͋̋̇̾̔͠Î͔̹̭̲̮̣͈̬͈̀̋͌̌͘̕͡ N̢͔͙͖̤͕̤͌̐̎͊͡ͅṬ̶̡̧͇̯̗̅̅͆̓͆͝E̢͙̙̭̱̳̠̙̗͌͋̏͊̋̏͘͠D̂̐́ ̸̠̟̭̮͈̫̺̪̤̉̇͋͒͊ͅ F̸̨̝̭͓͕̫̔́̔̐͐͞ͅL̝̘̙͓̞͇͚̃̓̐̎̔̿̓̑̔͟Ü̖͚͓͙͓͕̘͙̮͋̔̓̿̑͐ ̦Ĩ̢̞͍̦͔̹͓̲̥̂͂͊̈̋͛͘͠Ḑ̸̪̳̬͔̄̌̾̚̕S̷̨̗̱̗̫͛͑̎̄̎͟.͛͛̋̎ ̸̢̺̠̱̣̹͔̘͔̽͊̓͂͊͜͝ Į̷͖͈̙͉̄͑̌͛͒͘͡ Ḩ̷̛̛͚̝̗̭̽͋́̚̚ͅA̢̨̙̜̖̮͙̞͆̿̎̑̈́̆͢V̛̛̦̞͍̰͔͛̍̊̎E̊͐͐̏̓͂ ̵̮͓͇̮͜ S̴̨̛̹͇͍̻̣̤̀͗̀̀̓̐͘Ū̷̧͍̫̟͕͖̹͎͈̾̿̈̿̽F͓̠͙̘̘͛̆̀̅̀͌̃̃̒͞ ̸F̡̧̞̳̯͇̒̃̑́̎̊͡E̮̰͚̭̪͂́͆̇͒͌͡R̸̨̢̧͍̮̳̟͈͔͆́͌̓̓̾͆͠͝Ê ̡̲̺̘̣̮͆̄͊̓͌͆Ḑ̘̱͖͇̐̀̑̓͊͡


Ạ̡̱͖̞̳̺͔͒̑̀̾̚͜͡Ê̵̟̞̮̼̫͈̣̔͋͛̄͛̊͘ͅO̯̟͚̟͈̔̎̇͗͗́̕͜͢͝ ̴̞̫N̯͎̜̜͇̩͚͒̋̓̒́̄͟͠͡S̡̨̨̰̝̦̖̺̏͋͌͌͗͐̄ F̵̨̖͚̟̥̼̱̰̀̌̔̍̿͊̐̚O̼͕͍̮̭̫͛͛͊̏̅̔͘R̙̥̺͕̟̥̥͛̍͊͛̒͘͢ ̬ͅ S̛͖͈̟̞̄̓̈̍͋̑̕ͅP̸̙̣̥̲̅̀͌̃͒͢A̶̡̪̰̟̱̠̬͑́̍̾́͗̔͛̋͟R͑̿̍̕ ͇̼̬͔͍͑̔͢I̷̛̛͎̺̱̻͓̊̒́̽́́͘͡N̶̪̭̱̞̟̥̘͕͑̍́̔́́̌̕͢͠Ğ͊̾͡ ̸̜̮̤̩̺͇̙͉̻͈͌̓̀͘͡ Y͈̬̤̭͉̩̯̲̱̌̑̿̅̏̋͘͢Õ̶̡̢̘͇̲̘͛͂͒͂́͘͢͝U̪̫͇̞͊̏̆͆̀̎̂̕͡͞ ̩̣R̡̡̜̤̠̹̿̀̀́̕ S̴̡̲͙̯͍̻͒̾̎̐͘P̷̧̛͈̭̮̭̭̱̩̣͍̀͛̄̊E̴̹͍͔̻̰͗́̎̅̉͂͂̏̍͘C͗̔ ̵̢̢̳͖̪̮̤̙̽̇͒I̷̢̬̟̦̠̙͑̓̔̏̽͒̆̂͟͞͠E͍̖͓͓̓̎̀̇̾͋̑̔̍̕͟͜ͅS ͕̪̻̝̬͔̘̆̂͊͗̍͟ͅ T̨̜̜̞̱̽́̐̾͒̐̃͊͜͜͞O̢̢̯̮̪̞̲̔͊̀͊̄̂̂̚͢͠Ȓ͈͙͇͎̝̲̘̆̓͗͊͟͠ ̶̜T̷̠͉̳̬͍͕͍̼̒̀̊̓̈́͛͜͠͡͞ͅǓ̱͍̱̗̳̔̒͆̓̉͐̂̕R̲̖̻͉̱̬̽̉͌̏͝ ̯Ę̶͎̱̠̫̂̆̽̀̓̾͋̚̕͢͞ Ạ̵̝̖̘͕͇͚̦̺̓̓̃̏̕͟N̸̢̛̪̱̩͚̭̤̱̝̞̆̋̾̏̿̓̏̽̕D̄̔̒̏̑̈́̅͡͝͡ ̢̨͓̖̯͜ D̴̡̜͔͈̘͒̍̓͆̄͘Ě̷̢̤̙͇̦̦̪̖͚̣̒̏̇̇́̎̅̕A̛͖̳̞̹̖̜̋͂͗͋̋̑͜ͅ Ţ̮̞̙͔̯͑̔̈́͆̀̾͑̆Ḫ̫̙̩̹̝̼̻͆͐͂̊͊̿͟͡͡ͅ.̨̨͉͎̤̌͂̈́̾̎́͊̃̔͠ ̶̣̪ Y̸̡̡̛̫̭͓̟͕̝͎͌̀̇̏̌͋̃̉͘ͅO̵̟̬̖̳̩̯̗̥͊͊̂́̐͘U̖̲̱̯̥͙͗̍̃̏͞ ̧̣ D̷̨̺͇̯̖̫͂́̈͛͋̔Â̵͔̭̹͙͉̯͙̙̌̔̽̈́̐̏̚͘͢Ȓ̦̻͍͎͛̉̅̌̏̏͌̚͢͠ ͅE̷̞̼̻͔̹̠̐͒͂̔͛͊̏̕.̢̢͖͔͓̮̝̌̾̉̓͛́͒̚͟ Y͓͍̫̦̬̙͆̐̋̐͛͂̆̇̐͗Ǒ̶̞̱͎͈̪̠̒͗̍̇̅͘͡͝U̬͈͕̝͆̎̿͋͒̉̔̄͆͡ͅ ̜̦ Ḑ̸̛̛͈͇̜̫͈͈͔̍͛̀̒͊Á̴̡̦̙̟̼͒͛̽͑͆̏̒̀̋R̡̘̖̩̠̗̙͂̓̾̒͗̀̚E ̶̡͔̳̝̤̽͆̃͌̚͞.̵̛̲̼̥̣̣́̑̿̉̏̀͘̚ͅ
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The crippled machine lurched forwards, revealing mandibles and a mouth like the maw of an industrial boring machine as it loomed over the party, and focused an array of eyes on Miranda.

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U̧̨̹̙͈̖͉̍̊̾͆͌̄͠Ň̨̡̛̳̠̩͓͚̔̈̓͐̇̽G̷̠͕͍̟̫̥̓̄͐̏̾͜Ȓ͋̋́ ̯̺͍̲̩̗̜̦̮̱̓͌͘Ȧ̻̲̪̰̳̓̋̃͛̈́̕͘̚͝ͅṪ̫̠͖͔̀͋̐̐͟E͆͂̊̑̇̏̕̕ ̛̘̖̬͔̥̟͜F̩͕̞̟͇͐̋̎̏̽̕͘͝Ų̴̛̹̺͕̬͉͍̂̓̋̿͐́̆͂͘͟͟L͂̉̈̇̒̕ ͎̩̼̘̺̱͉̻̊͢͢.̶̬̗͚̬̘͎̲͍͔͖́̆͂̚͠͡͡͠ Y̸̡̰̘̞͕̞̰̳̝̏̆̉̂̊̒̾͢͝O̴̧̠̜̗̜̺̤̊̄̋̍̉̊̂͒̊͛Ü͉̃͊͆͂̌͆͊̊ ̸̨̹̪̲̮͖̻̼̬ A̸̘̳͕̥̰̠̗͊͌̇̌̃̾̈́͟͡͡R̻̲̺̲̮̹͓̔͊͂̃͊́̔̂̓͢͜E̹͂̈́̌́̽͋̒̀̓̿ ̺̜̘͢ U̧̡̞̱̟͛́̑̀͢͠N̻̪̰̪̝̳̹̻̜̋́͒̽́͑̐͆͆̚G̨̧̛̺͎̩͕̯̩̞͑͑̒̎̏͞R ̨̲͖͉̭̻͎̻̞̽́̋̈́́̎̑̕͟͞A̢̛̱̹̬̝̎̑̌͛̿̈̽͂Ţ̘̯̹͎̦̯͎̪̘̂̇̓̑̚ ̵E̸͉̤̭̮̼͓͊̾̆̂̈͋̏͊̕F͉̩̬̩͉̙̀̇̿̔̂̑̕͡ͅƯ̳̬̤͕͂͒͊̿͗̎̑̇̚͜ ͉͓̻̘ͅL̵̡̹̞͚̝̥̅͛̈́́̉͌̌̀̂̽ͅ.͔̱͚̭͖̦̇̽̽̔͛̈͞ Ą̴̜̖̜̦̩̈̐͋̏̌͟ C̸̡̛̟͕̤̣̹̥͚̫͌̂̽̇̿̚͟͞͝͞Ụ̢̡̩̲̠̱̭̭͋͒̿͒͗̀͒͐̂R̥̰̲̎̾͒̄͞ ͔̰͔S͖͕͈̺̯͒̓̊̑̂͛͐͠͠O̷̦̞̜͉̗̞̠͎͋͗̑͂̐̾͟R̶͕͓̼͚̼͖̦̆̽͑̎̚Y ̵̱̙͓̜̹̼̂̓͆̆̚ Ë̸̼̲̝͖̞́̈́͑͛̈́͘͞X̮͍̲̦̪̅͒͂͂͗͛̉̏̐͡A̷̡̨͉̺̲̱̤̯̻̽̏̐̿̍͆͞M̿ ̶̡̢̧͓͙̳̭̱̯̣̂͑̽̊̋͘̕Ȋ̡̨̢͍̩̽̂͊͛Ṉ̡̧̰̫̭͇̺̖̿͐́̄̐̏͝͝A͒̋ ̶̢͖͍̱̗̲̻͍̌͌̓͑̋͞͞T̶̠̤̪̱̪̱͆̐́͢͠͠͡ͅI̤̻̘̙̘̩̹̔̍͐̽̏͂͟Ô͗ ̧͕͙͓͚̓̀͑̑̂̊͝N̡̢͔̮̯̜̮͙̖̦̐̊́͒̚͝ O͍̞̱̺̺̜͙͍͖͗̓̆͘͠F̫̥̠̥͈̝̱̘̦̋́͛͛̃̏͒̕ Y̵̨̻̳̤̫͉̮̥̬̏͂͋̋̋̕Ó̪̻͔̪̺̺͖̘̄͛̓͘U̡̗̠̥̰̩̣̟̼̥͂̍̈́̑̍̽̚͞ ̶Ŗ̲̯̗̗̑́̽̃̌̑ F̸̱̱͍̓̿̏͆̋̍̉́͟͜͟͟͞Ỉ̟̗̟̫̜͈͋̾̆́͛͠͡͞L̛̳̼͚̤̠̂̒̆̄̉̓͂͠͝ ̴̩̭̮̹͟E̡̛͈͕̞͈̒̑͋̚ R̸͔̙̘̹͑̅͗̉̒͛̏͢͜Ë̟͚̜̮̳̙̟͇͕͉̏̎̄̓͑͝͠V͕̰͔̯̱̠͑͑͆̂̔͝ͅE͊ ̶̝̜̟̲͓̙̗̣̙̫̔͂̐̀̚Ą̷̢͇͙̹̥́͑̂̎̉͛̾ͅL̛̖̘̘͍̘̬̮̼͕͑̀̾͊͛̕͜ ̸Ș͔͙̪̙̟̌̉̈̊͡,̛̟͙̖̬̓͊̔͐͋͟͝͠ T̶̨̗͙̹͖̰̋̎̓̆̓̉͗̕͟͞͡Ḫ̸̨̯̘̝͙̃̓̊͋̕̚͟ͅÁ͉̱͇̯͓̰̓͋̇̚͜͝T ̢̨̳͖̜͖͈̾͐͛̽̌́͑̑̀ Ã̸͍̯͍̺̎̓̉͜͠͞͝͞L̨̨͔͔̲̉̋̿̄̒̎̕͟Ľ͈͙̰̙͚̭̜͕̀̑͋̇͗̾


Ȳ̢̨̭͕̠̯͚̒̂̊̄́͊͟͞O̸̰̠̟̹̘͇̲̤̐́̊͐̑͟Ừ̧̢͙̩̯̬̀͋̔̾̂͂̉͟ R̶͕̖̼̝̼̻̺͂͒̌̀̊̅͜͞ L̵̨̡̙̫̞̼̫̆̊́̈͂̏̇̕͘̚Ǐ̴̡̡̢͉̰͓̼̜͗͘̚͡F̢͔̦̪̰̱̋̇͒͌̕͜͡Ė ̭̻̻͎̯̇͋̀̑͗̚̕,̛͉̥̩̩͓̃̏̾̂̐̓ Ŷ̶̰̟̠͙̓̀̅̃̓́̓͢Ȍ̢͙̣̪̝͔̗͑̾̉͌͘̚Ư̘̹̝̗͕̈́̽̂̓̄͜͞ͅ Ḩ̷̛̫͈̤͈̻͔̭̰͔̎̓̏̽̓͛̅͡A̷̳͙̣͎̰͍̎̾̐͆́̒͒͘͟͢͡͡ͅV̏͆͂̾̓̀͌ ̨̡̡͇̭̳̼͙͍͆̊͟͡Ē̡̲̰̜̭̃̂̑͜͟͞ͅ B̸̹̯̙̟͖̙͖̯̃̋̚͟͠͝Ḛ̛̟̩̪̳͇͙͐́̓͐̄̈́̕͟͠ͅE̢̱͍̜̱̙̪͋͌̈͘̚N͒ ̴̛̱̪̮̖̪͊̌̅̐͗ Ư̢̼̺̤͔͉͚͕̔̀̃̌̈͗͋͑͘N̷̩̤͔͖͈̓́͛̽͊̉̏̀͟͝G̖̩͈̙̬̘̍̑̃̓̚͞ͅ ͔R̞̹͎̯̙̮͚͎̉̿̒̒̋͂͘͠Ą̶̪̟͈̬̀͆̽̓̔̌͛͘͝T̵̙̣͉̪̯̩̱̭͆̿̋̋͞͝ E̡̤̰͚̜̝̣͆̎̉̏̀͘F̢̗͕̘͍̤̘̪͇͙̽̾̇͛͋̊̊̔̐̕U̧̫͍̯͆̌̍̈͊͐͘͜ͅͅ ̸̲̞Ļ̸̛̙̰͓̟͉͙͈̿̔́͋͛̈ T̢̧̢̖̮̞̟͇̏̽̎̊̐͋̆̅Ö̡̼̣͖̺́́̃̓̈́͠ T̘̪̟̼̰̦̅̀͂̾̎̓̏͊̍́Ḩ̫̻̯̖̳̓̓͐̑̀̋̎̀̒̌Ó̵̼̱̲͙̬̥͊͒͛̀͢͜ͅ Ṡ̡̥̗̮̯̞̩̹̎̎̔̎̍͆͂̇͋E̷͇͇̞̳̦̩̦͂̐̊͊̀́͑̕͡ Ţ̬̤͉̳̦̪̓͐͋̓̾͢H̴̬̗͈̞͇̤̹̮͐̇̀̎̎͟À̢̦̞̩̝̳̏̓̀̓̿̕͟͟T̔͒̅ ̢͚̲̖͚̖̯̇̒̒̐͠ W͇̻̰͎̋̌͌͋͝͠ͅǑ̩̯͉̲̄͑̑̃́͌͘͘͟Ú̸̧̫̤͇̱̳̒̌͊͜͡Ḻ̛̛̇̀͐͒̎ ̷̢̠͕̣̤̝̖̖ͅD̡̝̺̥͎̜̘̒̇́͆̀͊͋͘͢ H̵̡̪̞̟̤̜̓͋̽͆͋̕͟͢Ē̛̲̫̖̣̫̂̓̾̓͌͟L̠͖̻̝͙̓̓̌̀̔͛͗̚͡͝P̛̏̄ ̨̢̪̰̤̙̉͌͜͝ Ÿ̶̛̺̥͔͇̠̻̤̩̞́̌̾͗͌̓͟͡Ǫ̡̠̙̜̫̺͖̝̰̅̈́̿̆̋̽Ų̪̙͒̅͆̊̍͋̄͢͜ ̵͖̺͇̼̝.̵̨͓̙̝̮̰̖͕͆̿̍̇̾̃̌̀̑͢ͅ Ţ̦̦̔̃́̓̀͂͑̀͋͢͢H̝̻͔̤̓̀̈́͂͗͆̋ͅỎ̷̢͇̰̫͕̈́̔̀̿̊̈́S͌̎͗̏̐̈́͐ ͉̠̯̪̻Ȩ̖̗͂͑͋̈́̏͗̊̎͜͜͟ Ţ̵̼͈̭̩̌̊̅͆̔̒Ḧ̷̼̜̣̼̭̖́͌̿̈̓͢ͅA̷̞̞̩͇̲͇̅́̒͋͌͛͋͝͡ͅT͛̒́ ̸̧̤͉̳̬̿̎ H̴̼͍͔̩̳̋͌͋̃̕À̱͎̼͎͕͆̊͒̉͜ͅV̸̧͎̼̜̭͔̥͈̓̃̒̒͢͠͝È̢̃̏͋̽̂ ̶̘̤̬̗͇̤


S̞̝̼̼͎̞͇̭̗̾͒͊̕̕͟A̧̙̰͎̯̪̿̆̉̽́͋̏̆V̙͈̩͕̗̮̤̥͑̀̑͂͗͆́É̅ ̶̳̯͓̪̲̞̑̍͠D̖̳̮̯͔̗̘͎̣͌̌̿̑̊ Y̵̭̞̠̱͂̀̒͐͑̚̕͠ͅỜ̵͖͔̮̪͕͙͍͎̰̳͐̚͡Ů̧̯̜̯̖͙̑̑̑͂̓͗͞.̐̾ ̧̢͕̻̳̽͛̀̚ A̶̱̯̯̘̭̺̒̅͋͌́̃͒͘͜͟͞ͅR̶̨̨͙͔̗̙̺̆͒̒͑̐̚R̖͇̬̪͍̲̬̠̾̔͐͛̉͡ ̩͙Ǒ̷͇͈̝̣͇͇̻͋̇̈̔͞͠Ĝ̸̡̖͖̹͎̻̍͋͠͡Ȧ̘͈̗̣͈̠͖̋̄͒̃̍̓̽̓͢͠ ̸Ǹ̹̩̝̘͍̜̤͖̒͆̊͑͘͝Ţ̶̪̺͙̮̫͙͛̋̄͑̀͒͢͞.̡̛͙̟̈́͋̌̔͘͟͡ ̼ U̷̞̲͙̥͉͙̐̂͆͐̇̐̿̔̉N͕͙̰̦̻̙̈́͆̍̋̈̃̽͟͠G̴̢̖͚͉̝͉͛͑͂͂͘̚̕͠R ̨̟̺͕͉̈̿̀̔͊̓̏͑͆͝Ä̹̬̖̗̻̂̐͘͠T̵͕͇̗͇̼͊̀̔͛̾͢͟ͅͅE͌̎̏̓͗͝͡ ̴̫̗̯̪̦̬̈̿̚͟F̶̧̧̫̙̟̫̗̼̤̀̄̑̆̕͢U̘̯̰̟͈̯̦͌̒̀̋̽L̃̿͌̉̊̑̄̚ ̶̤̦̥̥̯͉͍̳̜͌͘.̷̛̲̻̞̯̣̹͛̍̈̽͛͋̚͘ C̷̢͇̘͔͎̳̱̈̂͑̎̎̊̽͢͜Ở̷̢͙͎͙͈͇̰́̽̆̚N͙̺̺̬͈͇̽͂̿̀̆͌̚͘͡͠ ̟̙͍C͍̘͔̻̯͚̞̮̓̄̃̀̒́̍͋̕͠E̡̧̛͉̼͎̬̩͚͗̑͆̆̽͘͝͡I̜͕͗͗͗̈́͂̔̾ ̼̤̩̙͈͉̜͔Ţ̴͕͔͍̦̪͎͂͒̏̉̓̓̊͢Ě͉͔̘͚̖͇̯͊̀͆͘͝D̺̩͚́͂̀̇̂͊̕ ̧̰.̡̫͕͎̮̻̹̘̬̌̀̓̋͘͘͞ͅ
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"Miranda" Ella put a pair of hands on the Lyrans shoulders and pulled her back. "Don't fuck off the ancient eldritch warmachine please. . ."


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Y̴̪͍̤͍̯̼̲̼̐̐̃͗͢͜͡͠͝Ǭ̸͇̝̜͉̆͒̇̄̆͡Ư͔̠̟̣̍̾̽́̌͆͌͒ ̺͕͍ M̲̱͔̙̯̰̮̓̑͂̓͆̐̓̈̈͒Ȋ̷̬͈͈̫̟̽̐̋̌̅̓̏́͠Ŕ̢̛̠̰̳̙̱̘̭̠͒͊͂ ̯A̷͙̖̯̼̠̘̯͆̈́͋̐͊͑͘N̷̢̧̙̰̦͕͍͓̦̣͗͛̌͑̆̅̿̉̚D̜͇̜̞͉͂̀̿͒͟͡ ̴̨̗̞̗Ä̶̫͎̻͖̽͘͜͜͠͡͞ͅ S̸̩͚̜̻̹͚̠͚̒̈́͌̈̃͢ͅĮ̤͍͎̭͒͋́͑̄͒̕͢N̷̜̪̖̙͑͒͆̀͑͜ͅC̏̃͘͞͠ ̢̯͙̪͔͌Ḽ̸̢̨̡̬̿̎̏̀̊͊͞͠Ã̵̳̙̞͉̰̝̐͆̑͋̌̚͘͜͟Ĭ̙͕͈̜͆̀͌͘̚ ̧̜̩̱̱Ŗ̙̺̞͌̎̂͑̿̃̂͋̚͢ C̡̨̧̧̗̩̣̘̝̎̏̿̈͘Ĺ̫̣̫̱͍̃̄̂̚̕͢A̴̦̝̗̳̰͕͍͈̻̅̃́̅̐͒̍̓̂͡R ̡̗̫̻̯̩̘̾͊̆͑̉͌̒́͒͠K͈͉̘̭͇̳͚̠̞͙͆̿̑͊̃͌͊͝E̙͉̾͑̑̎͋̄̓̽̕͜͠ ̴̱͖̤̝̺ W̴̡̛͈͍̮̘̐̽̾̄̇̈͒̕͠I̢̯̩̯̒̆́̉̏̾͊̔̑͘ͅL̢̲̭̩̖͉͈̐̾̇͘͜͡L̀̚ ̸̢̦͖̣̺͐́͋͘͞ B̛͓͙̺̗͔̫̽̔̔́̌̉͑̕͝E̷̡̛͖̦͙͈͓̼͉̗͗̾̍̄͒͛̇͑͂ M̸̤̹̦̟͖̑͌̒̃͛̀̕͘̕̚͜͢͜Y̨̖͖̱̰̖̜̼͋͛̈́̀͑̽͌ V̴̢̗̪̣̠͖̩̺̑̆͒̍̀̆̊́͗͡E̸̖̰͕̘͓͇̲͒̔̎̒̿͗͠S̭͉̓̋̔̓̽͑͆̇̌̾͟ ̴̟͖S̰̗̳̱̘̬̬̎͗̑͆̅͗̃͘͡͡ͅE̶͇̦̳̯͖̖͖̥͔̾̆̒̃̍͐̽͑͂̚͟Ĺ̋̒̎͘ ̸̢̯̹̫͕̞̮̮̾̈́͒̏͜͟͡ Ǫ̖͈̖̟̳͍̫͆̅̂̊̒̓̂͑̋͋͢F̞̣̳̲̯̀͛̒́͆̕ K̴̙̟̞̺͉͌́́̀̀͗̇̉̅Ǹ̸̻͔̜̞́͗̄̚͢͞͞Ớ̟̫̝̙͕̙̂͗̅̿̐͢ͅW͛̒͘ ̭̼̭̩̥̞͉͋͌̊͋̀̿͝L̸̛̙͎͖̬̱̦̹̻͍̒̌̈͗̍̌͢͠E̢̛̝̱̲̱͆͊͂͊̄̌̚͘͠ ̝D̷͙̺͉̹̱͌͌͆̽̕̕͢ͅG̷̨̡̛̭͕̼͕͈̙̈́̀̃̍͗͝ͅE̸͓͍̫̥̰͐͗̓͗̒.̌̅̍ ̶̦̳͎͉̟̼͑͌̃̄̕͢ Į̝͕̮̥̲̝͍̟́̀͛͗̂̇̌̐͘͝ W̸̨̛͖̫͖̖̥̱̐͊̓̆̀̆͌͢͡͞Į͖̗̰̪͈̐̎̎͊̓̌̚͡L̡̠̦̱̜͎̓͒͒̾̏̑͜L ̨̟̺̳̪̱̜̌́̇̂̉ R͚͉͇̪̤̤̬̓̓̑̈́̐̎͂͟͢͡͠͠E̵̢͍̻͔͂͗͑̄͒͌̆̈́̀͟͞M̞̩̺̞̫̄͒̈̊̑̎̕ ̺͔A̯̬̯̱͉̟̋̿̅̀̉̆̀̇ͅĶ̭͇͙͚͉̜̻̻̘̈́͒̊͌̇͂͐̚E̢͕̰̱̣̓͑̎̔̉͐̚ ͉ Ȳ̴̛̱͔̹͚͎̂̈̋͌͛̑͝ͅỜ̧̹̫͍͕͍͔́̎̇̉̌͘͢Ṵ̡̼̱̈́̐͋̽̉̑́̿̈̚͜ ̴ Ţ̶̡̜͔̯̥͔̪̇̒́͊́̇̌̋̏͢͢O̡̡̞̖̹͈̭̟̹͎̓́̿̄̾͐̋ C̹͚̦̹̔̈́̅̇̀̚͟A̛̠̘͎̳̜͇͓̩̩̐̽̒͛̿R̢̡̨̦͈̯͍̮̰̉̅̎̈̈ͅR̈́̇̀͂̈ ̷̧̢̰͖̤͖̭Y̖͈͎̜͗͋̿̑̑̿̒̓̕̕͟


M̡̛̘̙͍̆͆̋͗ͅȲ̡̦͔̮͙̃̌̽́͐̉͝ V̛͕̱̹̮̳͎̠̦̜͌͛͑͂̎̄̕͢Ḙ̢͓̞̙̼̺̻̘͋͐͛͛̂̓͝Ṋ̛̯̻̾̑͆͋̑̔͆͠͝ ̱̮̬̖̦G͉͚̜̫̞͙̺̀͗̅̏͑̉̉͜Ê̬͎̻̹͈̍̈́̇̽A̧͈̙̬̞̰̬͊́̋̓͑͂̎̽̍͝ ̵̤͓ͅṆ̯̟̯̟͉̅̽̓̿́̈́͘͞Ç̸̙̩̭̞͉̬̉̀͋̈́̄̌̂È̡̠̝̤̠͈̪̤̍̎̾́͝ ̴̞ T̢̻͍̯͈͕̥̱̆̈́̌̐̀O̡̢̩̻͖͈̖͑͆̒̎̔̄͂̕͠ T̻̹͖̤͈̞͕̈͋́̀͐͋̕͜͢͟͝H̶̥̝̰̭͕̩̎̇͗̏̉̂̽̃̚Ȩ̥̯̩̰̜̾̎̍̈́́̕͠ ̗ G̨̺͈̳̙̭̺͔̓̀̄̓̄̕ͅͅR̢̥̣̟̜͇̀̾̃̀͠Ę̯̫͔̏̐̓͂̔̉͢Ä͖͗̎͛̍͞͡ ̺͍̥̱̩̱̘͇͜T̶̡̡̥̟̫̮̥̜̎͆̾͑̊̓̂̉̏͛ S̷̢͉̘̳̻͎̪͛̄͌̓̽͑̾̏̕͡P̻̯̿͛̉́͌̎̌̚͜͜͟Î̡̮̜͓̔̍̐͐͐͊̓̕͜͢͟ ̸Ṟ̸̛͖̭̫͖͎̜̃̑̈́̆͢͝Ą̝̪͖̪̲̯̟́̋̏̈̀̑̐L̢̞̜̰̥̳̘̹͔̉̀̍̌͌͟͠ .̶͕̭̟͈͔̂̒̿̿̌̏̌̕͢͝ Y͎̞̮̤̫̻̅̾̒̓̓̐͌O͖̲̬̙̫̮̲̱͍̍̏͊̓͗̇̏Ų̱̞͖̣̌̆̈́̊͘͞ W̷̥̲̳̪̗͚̝̪͒́̀͊̅͘̕̕I̵͓͍̣̲͙̪͕͙͔̲͗̈́̔͆̋̅͠L̝̫̹̹̰͊́͊̍͊͂͡ ̴̜͔̮͟͜L̵̬̬͖̱͌͂̈̓͡ͅ K̤̬̼̖̻̦̞̥͓̃̓̌̕͞Î̡̩͕͈̤͙͓̋͌̊̓̎̊͢Ḷ̡̫̹̟̱̱͉̋́̊̓̏̉̚͢͢L ̘͓̼̻̦̬̲̱͈̘̀̈̎̌̌͆͘ Z̞̙̹̤̺̱̙̀̇́̋͝͝Ê̹̠̱͇̣̻̲͔͙̍̉́̕̚Ų̢̦͇̩̙̆̀̔͋̋̆̾̐S̔̅̃͠ ̦͉̫̪̗̒̊͑ Ä̧͎͕̲̲͔̎͐̍͊̓̐͡͝͡ͅN̶̢͓͕͎̯̝̞̰̐́̋̓̓͗̚͟D̳̻̃̔̍̇͋̀̐͂͗͜͟ ͔̬ Ş̭̭̰̻̭̪͌́̃̊̓Ȇ̶̡̖̣͓̰̑͗́̐̈̚T͔̘͉͍̘͙͙̞̑͒̈͆̉̽̈͘̚ Ṁ̸̛̥̲͓̲̲͎͔͓̙̌̓̔̏E̛̼̝̳̪̪͚̘̲̯̼̐̓̐̍̄̊͑̑ Ǫ͎̰̪̭͖̔̌̓̇́̑̕͜N̵͈̝̼̮̲̰̻̣̎͑̑̏̍̎̅̍́̄ͅ Ţ̢͎͈͖̮̰̐̉͊́̐́̔͛͘͜͟͝H̵̙̖͔̞͚̻̰̫̝̉̇́́̀͆̓͘Ḛ̖̝͇̞̆̋͊̀̚ ͚ P͚̦̰͇̰̮͌͒̃͂̿̄̂͟ͅͅĄ̜͓͕̠̦̫͗͋͋̉̀͟͞͡T̬̮̰͎͚̺̰̓͋̆͐̔̐̀̚H ̡̨̙͓̲͉̺̜̯̹̅̏͆͐̊͑̚͠ T̸̨̨̫̺̻̹͆̍̂̈́͌̚͟O̵̮̮̺͔͎̔̀̅͛̂͗̚̕


W̶̧̹̺͈͕͍͍̟̻̑͗͛̂̆̋̊̍͘͞A͓̲̼̞̦̙̪̫͋̏̈̈̌͗̎̂͞N̥̒̄͌͐̀̑̎͊͝ ͕̰̪͔Ḑ̷͚̲̩͈̗̫͇̑̉̅̂͛͜Ē̵̡̲̤̦̪͙̻͕̿̾͌̚̕͝ͅR̛̬̬̞͔̐̽̐̈̇͂ ̵͙̦Í̷̝̪͚̮̞̹̫̹̥̲̆̌͛͗͐̑̚N̢̠̖͉̯̙͇͂̈́͗̆̅͠Ḡ̨͕̰̰̝͍̈́̓̇̀̋ ̵ T̨̢͈̞̰͇̘̗̾̽̂͐̑͘Ḩ̸͔̞͙̰̻͙́͛̑̂̎̒̒̉͟E̹̞̺̻͖̳͆̅͛̒̏́͞ ̫̠̭ Ș̴̛͖̜͇̻̫͗͑͋̊Ţ̸̡̗͓͎͓̱̄̈͒̀͆̾̂A̷̬̺̱̘̖̹̭̓͆́̑̚R͛͐͊̓́͘ ̴̢̪̗̖͔̫̟̯͚̱Ş̵͈̘͍̘̍̇̅̌͞ O̲͎̠̣̖̎̐̀̀͠N̴͈͇͕͙̎͑̔̄̍̐̓̅̔̈͟Ć̨̢̯̞͍͇̭́͊́̕̚͠E̛̍̏͋̓̕ ̖͇̰͙̝̤̆ M̧̤̯͇̪̞̙̗̼͈͐͐̑̍̐́̊͡O̟̲̤̮͎͓̪̺͋́͌̾̑̀͞Ŗ̭̞̬̹̲̲̙̈́̊͗͐̎͡ Ȩ̪̳̲̭̏̿̾͌̓͗̓͒͢͜͞͝.̵̢̤̮̫̝̻̝̤̰͌̋͊̌̾̒̄̀͟ Y̧̛͈̼̠̟̭̦̾̔̔͗̇̋͑̕O̡̥̖͎͇̠̱͉͔̐̆̉̋̑̇̔͢͞Ữ̟̰̫̣͑̿́͋̀͘͞ ̵͈̗̟̖.̴̛̱͙̺͉̟͔̖̓̋͊̿̀̐͠͞͡ Y̟̱͉̻͖͇̭̬͈̼̎̍͑͒̊Ỡ̡̢̥͈͙͖̖͚͊̕͘͜͢͝U̷̟̘͙̟̦͍̮̒̑̉͌͋.͂͗ ̢̛̙̞̲͔̝̗̼̅̔͜͝ͅ Y̸̖̺̼̣̳̑̀͒̅̃̌̇͞Ò̧̲͔͙͚̑̆͂͆̀͆̕͢͡Ų̷̛͙̖̪̰̯̞͕̹́͂̅̇̚.͊ ̸̢͍̦̹̤̿͋̽͠ I̧̬̣̬͙͋̅̃̍̀͟ D͇͇͎̖͖͖̜͓̗̲̈͐́̔͑͛͒̕͞Ḙ̘̲̥̇͒͊̽̋͟M̷̧͎͓̘̜͈̤̓͛͆͆͛̀̂͟A̐ ͎̺͎̹̰̼͎̘̏̓̍̽̉̉̓͜͞Ṋ̶̨̝͎̖͔̣̲̤̒̍̀̑͠D̷͕̻̣̖̄̿̓̏͛̋͟ Ĩ̥̬̝̟͔̗̘̀̌̈̆̑̓̔T̡̧̺̼͕̲̳͈̠̊͐͛̊̿̐͡͝!̬̭̩̬̝̾̎̽͗͊͡͞ ̸̺͖
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"Shit!" Ella yelled and yanked Miranda back hard, at the same time snapping a force field up between the group and Cronus. Lashing metallic tentacles emerged from its hull and slammed against the field with whipcrack force. "Cronus! No!"

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Í̴̧̪̮̹̤̩͖̮̬͑̽̌̇͟͞ W̴̼͉̺̥̱͛̄́͂͑̂̍̕͟͢͠I̸̧͚̩̘̯͙̳̟͂̿̀̅́͟L̞͇̙̥͙̤͇̜̼̥̑̐͑̃͠ ̴L̸̨̢̧̫̫͖̇́̀͐̀̏̃̎͢͟ Ṡ̷̨̱͖̱͍̲̩͉̃͊̽̐̆ͅH̷͎̪͖̹̦͇̰͕͗̒́̿͒̄̋͘͝O̖̖̯͙̦̹͐̍̏̈̔͜͝ ̸͎͇Ẅ̵̢͕̟̘͒͐̔͆͜͜͡ Ỷ̸̢͔̭͎̟͓̱̈́̒̄͛̊́̔͘͢͡O̧̯̭͕̬̗̥̰̐́̆̏͞͝Ṷ̡̯̫̟̆͛͊͗̔͞͝͞͡ ̸ T̛̯͈̖̦͉̈̃͊͋̓͘͘͟͡H̷̺̫͔͚̺̲̻͋̈́̃̽̽̚̕͠E̛͉̰̬̞̖̎̍̂̾̊͝ͅ ͍̜̣ P̸̛̖̦̠̟̰̬͚̉͊͌̐̌͗À͎͔̳̤̟͈̖̋͆͑̌̀͞T̸̪͙̥̺͛̄̓̔̿ͅH̿̅́̒̑͠ ̷̡̪̰̭̹̗͔̞͟ͅ H̖͇̯͕̏̃͂̀̈̏̆̈͜͟͞Ơ̴̮̪͚̝͔̗͓̼̄͒͒̋̃̿͜ͅM̧̛̲̮̲͍̤̬̮̅̾̏̅͗ Ȩ̶̗̺̲̫̺̔͌͋͒̕͢ͅ.̨̢̡̗͓͈͓̞͙̃̊̄͗̈̏͆̚͜͞ T̨̮̻̺̠͉̭͍̝̞̍́̀̊͒͒̅͡H̢̦̫͇̙̄̑́̂͝Ẹ̵̗̩̯̙̬̩͍̼͋̿͗͗̂̈ W͇͇̺̥͍̐̊̿̅̕͜͟ͅÁ̸̛͖͈̣̣̹̖̦̮̈́̾̂̍͡Y̛̫̯̺͇͈̿̔̌̓̈ T̴̨̗̥͚͓̪͈̮̬̆͌͗̀̃̓̽͘O̴̝͚̬̗̠͆̋̌̇͆̄̽̂͡ V̨̗̖̜̩̞̰̯̆̓̀̋̌̋̚I̡̲̳̝̟̣̩̠̊̌͒͊̔͑̅͐͘͟͟C̨̫̹̝̠̝̱̦̄́̿͘͞ ̸͚͚T̵̢̧͇̲̘̰͙̑̂̅͠͝ͅͅO̷͉̥͕̭̯̞̺̤̬̎̀͋̀͢͞Ŗ̬̲̻́͋̀̾̽̂͛͘͠ ̵̥̝Ý̸̝̮̮͚̞̭̆̋̿̂͢͞.̥͍̠̜̯̼͊̓̈̌̚͢͝ Ī̬̯͕̟̮̤̮̣͌͌̄͌̑̕͘͠ W̸̞̣̥̳̘͍̥̉̈́͊̄́̃͟͞ͅĮ̶̛̛̯̞̖̪́̋̄͂̍̇͢͡͞Ļ̧̪̆̓̌̀͊͛̅̂͢͝ ͈͔L̛͔̠̺̹̦̺͐̑́͑̎̌͌̇͟͢͝ G̵͕͖̳̲͇̞͚̱̋̀̓́͒́Ì͍̙̳̫͔̎̑̓͋͌͘F̶̙͙͕͍̩̝̲̒̀̒̊͞T̰̃́̃̈́͠ ̳̫̟̱͕ Y̸̡̮͕͇̟̺͓̳̣̽̈̃̔̅́̊̌́ͅO̡̭̟͎̮̘̗̠͗̌̀͛́͘͠Ṷ̢̟̗̘̑͐̄́̈̀̌ ̴ T̵̨̡̛̰̭͈̆͐̑͗̅̾͂̕͝H̴̭̟͈̮̍͒̍̓̀̌̉̄͜͜͡͠ͅĒ̮͖͕͐̒͗͛̈͋͟͞͞ ̠̙̰͇͍̩ Ķ̶̣̜̟̥̣͛̋͒͒̄̈͘͝Ņ̛̹̝̜̳̙̯͕͐̂̍͑̿́̓͞O̧̲̠͈̳̝͔̜̞͆̏̂͒͘ͅ ̴W̵̡̩͉͍͕͉͐̃̃̊̄̚͟͟͠͡͝L̨̫̳̱͎̩͎̆̊̍͂̕͟Ȩ̞̯̝̰͉͚͐͗̓̃̏̍̏͘ ̵D̛̰̲̲̝̟͚̯̞̈̔̏͋̽̅͆͘͜͟͠G̵̡̛̙̤͙͕̝̖̈́͒͘̕͜E̠̻͔̥͉͔͌͑͑͗͊͘ ̡̼̞ O̷̢̤̠̞̮̳̮̞͋́̐̇͘͟͠F̸̨̜̫̱̣̜̙͛̌͑͘̕̚͢


D͖̫͓͕̘̬͛̽̂͛́͑̇͝E̵̺̹͓̤̫͂͊͆̾̓͆̇͝͠ͅS̨̩͕̗̖̾͗̾͆̑̾̂̕T́̐̇ ̢͎̳̗̙̹̐͒͘͢͢ͅȒ̨̬̖̥͇͈̩͌̃̃͛͊̑̀̈́͝Ỏ̵͔̞͔̰̞̗̼̐͗̐̋͑̎̊̒͠Y ̖͕̞͓̹̣͂̒͌̍͘͟Ï̧̨̡͎̞̞͎̳̳̓̊̋͊Ñ̶̡̫̙̯̠̝̠̩̹̊̈́̅̅͊̕͠G͂̎̔ ̧̪̝̜̤̽̌̇ M̸͓̪̥̣̫͗̓̏͂̽̄Y̠̬͕͓͍͊͌̌͐̏̄̚͠͞ C̶͍͓̪̯̭̩̝̈́̑͆̔̐͝H̢̲̦͙̦͂̔͋̑̆̉̂̀̔͐͜Ï̛͖̯͈̳͈̂͗͛̑̽͆͐͢͞ ͍̳̹͔Ļ̸̟̬͖̩͊̃̌̅͐̕͜D̜͚̖̺͉̭͂͌̌͌̿̏̕͘R̶̲̰̪̪͛̉͂͌͂̊̈́͘̕͜ E̶͓̤͎̙̤͓̪͇͇͚̽͐̒̋̒́̀̂N̗̣͚̥͕̟̖̫̎̏͒͆͌͜͢ A͚̤͓̤͇̽̓͐̀͋̒̑͘N̢̯̙͓̮͍̰̞̬̊̓̀̐̅͝D̢͎͎̪̫̥̰̿̉̉̐̃̔͢ S̡̛̲̠̻͎̔̑́͟͠À̷̢̰̰̙̲̫͚̇̂̍̍̈͋̈́̃V͇͈͔̱̭̀́̿̄̌̚̕͜͟Í̃̂̚ ̡̡̺̩̈͜N̢̧̪̹̠̦̾͊̽͐̕͢G̴̢̤͇̰͈̫̪̞̓̎̏͒́ Y̰̦̠̝̱͈̥̎̍̔̿͗̔́͂͡O̶̱̖̺̜̲͒͐̈̌̑̇̿̃̈́͢͟U̘̫͈̻̦͎̦̤͗̉̓͛̾̾ Ṟ̵̨̥̭̩̦̱̩̣̓̐̏͌͌͛̄̚ͅ S̤̺̭̦̙͚̳̫͗̓̉̀̀͢͢͞͝͡P̗̙͓͒͒̿̿̓͗̄̾̕͢͜Ẹ̢̢̨̯̫̉̄́̅̇̅͜͟͜ Ç̙̤̜͔͎̻͖̫̯̃͑̈́̾̃I̧̧̪̱͔̥̻̅̾̓̌̄͋̽̓͘̚͜͜͢E̥͆̆̉̔͂͛̅̓̕͡ͅ ̶̧̗̠̟̝͢S̙̺̦̟̪̯͍̈̊̾͟͠͡͡.̴̯͓͖̙͓̳̤̒̈͑̃̍͛̀̄̌̕͢ B̷̼͓̲̬͍̣̩̦̃̇̏̅̚͢Ủ̶̪̲̲͉̜̣̉̔͋͂̚͡͞Ť̟̖̳̳͂̈̊̈͊͂̆̎͞ ̶̫̝ I̶̡̟͍̯̙͐͋͑͑̐͒̅̚͠N̡̤͓͇͍̖͉̬̂̄̀̐̕͟ R̨̢̻̞̟̲̭̺̟͉̋̒̋̐̓̎̉̋̿͝Ę̵̘̟̞̼͈̑̓́̓͗́̔͗͘ͅT͊̀̊̏̾́̌̀́͠ ̸͔͓̫͖̱̪̟̝̮Ư̢͓͉̫̼̺̞̝̓͑̎͘͜ͅŖ̡̲̹̭͍͔͖̙̌̄̈̾͑̀͜͡N͆̓̀̈̈ ͕̭̰̲̳͒,̶͔̯̱͎͓̃͆̄̃̀͗̄͋̆͊͢ I͎̠̳͎̹̣̞͉̝̪͋͑͆͊̽ D̻̙̤͓̜̒̔̂̎̊͡͞Ė̢̹̱̝̻̗̗̖͆͐͒͛̌́̒͡͞M̭̙̘̱̣̞̔̏̃̏̎̓̊Ả͒̚ ̢̱̫͎̺̙̞̀̏̍̅̃̍͋N̡͎͎̯͔͚̼̯͇̈́͌̂̉̍͗͘̕̕D̘̜̅͊̐̂͒́̀̿͌͞ ̴̯̙̖ Ć͓̱̦̜̪͉̭͎̣̜͐̈̉̋͞O̰̜̮̼͇͕̤̤̥͗͒͂̾̃̀͆͌Ṃ͍̟̄͌̐̍͋͛́̎̏̚͟ ͕M̫̩̺̝̬̳̮͇̃̆̑́͂͜͜Ú̶̢͈͚̠̤̲̞͈̒̈́̃͂̍͡N̛̩̞̜̱̯͕͉̰̭͑́͑̄̃ ̵Į͎̱͖̼̻́̇̚͠͠͠Ö̵͍̠̤̘̰͔͍͇͚̉̉̓̃̀͛̾͘͜͡N̢̛͖̗̞̑͑̾̃͌̈́͞͞ ̼̝̭̙̭̣.̡̡̣̠͔̰̺̫̂͆̄̋͌͆͆͐
.
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[AngelDellaNotte]

Miranda pushed Ella off of her and stepped toward the shield. “You think you scare me?” Miranda shouted. “You can't scare someone who is already dead. That's what we all fucking all. We're just too fucking stupid to admit it. And you know what it's this damn things fault. By it's own damn admission. It called those things it children, it created them. It is this damn freak's fault the universe is fucked.” Miranda turned away from the shield putting her back to Chronos to look at the others. “You think feels remorse and that is why it wants to help us? Are these things even capable of feeling remorse? Because I know for damn sure the things up there that are trying to kill us didn't feel sorry about it. They are killing machines and nothing more. You are all crazy to trust this Chronos without any reason or proof. Excuse me for not having blind faith in this false god. News flash gods don't exist.”

[Enigma]

"What is this... 'communion'?" Iona asked, unmoved by the alien alpha's attack.


They're connected.
Hive mind.
It already knows their capabilities.


If the noise keeps it from being visited, did it mean it could not connect to the forest outside?


Can the berserkers?

[MidKnight]

Winters stood there both in awe and shock. Witnessing something that was far more superior than herself and any other life. She listened to the words that sound scratched but was able to understand each meaning. She listened carefully to both the machine and her allies who questioned it. Their answers only asked for more questions. Though Miranda's outburst made her lose focus on what the machine was trying to explain or so she thought. She took a step back when the machine 'attacked' Miranda and Ella created a shield around them. She walked behind Miranda quickly and placed her metal arm around her shoulder and felt a strap. She tugged hard and pulled Miranda away from the machine as she spewed more hatred. Dragging her back to the others, her expression was dull and no longer feared the machine.

"Enough." Winters finally said. She knows Miranda out ranked her by her statues. But Winters couldn't help it but finally step in and square her off. Once more she had a feeling to challenge her to end her conflict with the others. "I suggest you stand down. I don't care if you outrank me, rank is not an issue here no more." She looked over her shoulder. "Our priority is survival now." Her eyes turned towards the machine. "This...thing can play us all it wants." She looked away and back at Miranda. "But if you don't shut the fuck up...then I'll kick your ass like last time." Then smirked still thinking about the cheap shot Miranda had made.


+++++

Vezzarress looked around and examined the machine like a toy. It was brand new to him. Something he had never seen before and yet he had seen a lot of things. Back home, the old warships that still roamed around their planet was not their technology. It was something far superior that it advanced their tech by a few thousand years. But it also destroyed their world and forced the Clans to wage war again'st each other.

"Your strength." He stepped forward. "Your...minion's strength." He blinked several times. "How is it they are stronger and faster than the Dragonoids?" He asked while looking at the machine from head to tail. "This is something our world can use." He muttered softly. His mind raced through the advancement that young warrior he met outside was amazing.

"How can we obtain it?" He asked softly to himself. He looked to the ground and looked to his hands, his claws, his scales. "And here I thought the Dragonoids were something to fear." He clenched his fists. "But with this...we can be that nightmare once more." His throat gutter with amusement. "Can we convert this to our own?" He asked aloud and looked up to the machine.

[Azazeal849]

THE WAY IS OPENING. THEY WILL COME FOR YOU NOW.

“The gate…” Sayori looked sharply at Ella. “Is this news to you too?”

Until now her concerns had remained bounded by the ferrocarbide hull of the Elcano, with survival the primary goal and escape now a tantalising second. The transfigured bridge crew had made no mention of the Berserkers reactivating the Collector Gate since the explorer fleet had appeared, and so she had simply assumed that they were either uninterested or incapable of doing so. Now though…

Cronos could be blowing smoke to get them to go along with its plan, that was true...but what if the Berserkers did eventually overrun the Elcano? What if they absorbed Julian’s knowledge, and took control of the vacuum particle batteries that could be used to charge up the Gate…?

But before she could take the line of thought any further, Miranda stepped forward, hand on sword.

And everything went to hell.

Miranda turned away from the shield putting her back to Chronos to look at the others. “You think it feels remorse and that is why it wants to help us? Are these things even capable of feeling remorse? Because I know for damn sure the things up there that are trying to kill us didn't feel sorry about it. They are killing machines and nothing more. You are all crazy to trust this Chronos without any reason or proof. Excuse me for not having blind faith in this false god. News flash, gods don't exist.”

“Have you got a single productive answer?” Sayori snapped, her heart racing from shock at Cronos' attack and anger at the pathologically combative Lyran. Her hands crushed into fists inside her suit. “If not, then for once in your life, shut your fucking mouth!”

Stratford walked behind Miranda quickly and placed her metal arm around her shoulder. "Enough." she finally said.

Vezarres was muttering to himself in the guttural Dragonoid tongue. When he spoke, he almost sounded amused. "Can we convert this to our own?" He asked aloud and looked up to the machine.

Sayori shook her head, as wary of provoking the alien construct further as she was of its demand to commune with Sinclair.

“First priority, we need to get home.” she said. The answer was for Vez, for Miranda, and perhaps even for Cronos itself. “And nothing else.”

"What is this... 'communion'?" Iona asked, unmoved by the alien alpha's attack.

[dakkagor]

“The gate…” Sayori looked sharply at Ella. “Is this news to you too?”

"We'd suspected." Ella nodded. "It would make sense for the virulent bastards to try and find new hunting grounds now this galaxy is exhausted of prey."

"Can we convert this to our own?" He asked aloud and looked up to the machine.

Ĩ̿ ̱̭̼̺W̫̠ͫ͝A̙̲͍̍͝Ŝ͔̜̙͚̆ͤ̄̀ ͇̯̦̭̯̬́ͯ̂̏C̟̙̘͎̣̯̾̀̐R̡̹̟̳̭ͨE͆́ͫA͍̎̄́̓͐͂T̯̝̿͊ͪ͂ͯ̅Ë́ ͇͚̰͖̞ͫͧD̻ͬͤ̋ͨ̏ͫͪͅ ̟̝̝̬ͯ̈́̔̒͆ͤ̕ͅT̎͆̌͗O̴̭̝̓ͭ̊̐͛̇ͬ ̖̺̱͓̳͉̰S͍͈̦̣̓ͬ́ͧE̶̝̙̼̲͕̐̚Ř̻̗̼̠͓͓̤͗͠V̺̭̈́͐ͭ̄͋̚Ěͮ͛ͬ ̵̜̇̑ͪ ̟͈͓̫ͤ̎͟M͏̙̬͈͉̞ͅͅY̻̘͇̼̪̌́ͩ͑ͣ͗ͨ͘ ̳͉͓͝M͋ͨͨ͐ͪͮ̈Aͩ͌ͦ҉̠̩̗̖͙͙S͙̼͇ͅT͚͉͙̽Ē̒͏̼͓̬̜R͎̗͔ͭ̊̉͊̅ S͙̮̠̖̍ͮ̒ͦ̕.̱̳͔̔̈́̊ͯ̎ ͓͕̖̲͍̓̈́̈́ͨ̚ ̧͈̲̭̘̠ͩ̌̽I̬͇̰̫̬̪̝ ͍͇̺̥̻͑̏̏̏̂̚͠S̬͍ͪͨ́ͫ̎E̩̖̒͂̓̕R̠͖̘̹ͅV̛̬̲̩̰̩̝̱̾ͨE̥̜͇͑͑ D̳̹̪̓̾͐ͣ͌ ̜͈̪͙̝̱͖ͭT̟͎̟̲͍̔ͫ̊ͪH̴͕̣̜̰̳͒̏̏̑̋ͪË̖̤͔̠̠͛̑M̩̻̯͚̅̓̔̊̀ ̳ ̸ͫͤͩͨ̂͊̅G̛̳̙̜̼̈́̉͂ͦL̠̬̩̾͒ͧͯͮͫA̪̝̤̞̝̯̗͗͑̾̉̆ͯ͊Ḓ̮͙͓̓̄ L̅͑ͤ̃ͪ͌͗͠Y̳ͦͥͮͤͯ̿̾,̲͚̹ ̯̩̟̞͖̓͊̔̈́͌͗͂R̺̦̺̺͚̯͝ͅE͉̻̪̘̣͎ͮÅ̞̰̪̻̤͛͋̊͛V̖̲̲̰̻̹̎̋ͫ ͇Ĭ͙̪̈Ň̘̹͕̪ͧ̚Ğ̻̹͔̮͈͇̃ ͇͓̞͚̲̫͗͋̑͑͗ͮA̬̦̻̭̦̗̝̋̆̿ͬC̯̓ͨ̅R͛ͮ̿͒ͩ̀Ǒ̦̪͇͖͔ͤ̓ͮ͛ͭͤS ̙̂ͣ̀͑̉Ŝ͈͓̣̺͌́͂̂ͩͤ͜ ̨͍̲͈͖͈̭̣ͫ͋̀T̵͕͓̣̺̰ͤͪ̌̎H͈͙̳̉̓̈̃̐̓E͖̅́ ̷̲̹̳͔̭̏͋ͧŚ̸̤̞̦̙̤ͪͪ̄̎̅ͅT̥͈̟̣̼̼̹̆͆̐ͮͣA̡͇ͣ̿́ͧ͒̏ͅRͫͮͯ ̐ͪ͏̞̰̙S҉.̱̣̙̳̲̜̑̂̈́ͦ͆ͤ ̧͙̜͈̀ ̗̹Î̠̱͓̫̭̹̩̔̃ͩ̈ͮ̚ ̢͛ͅ

W̼͎̰̟͙̺͢I̹L̫̞̜ͣ̿͌̑͛͛̚Lͧ̂͋̂͡ ͔̱ͮ̑N̡͉͉̟̯̆̈́ͨ̉̚̚ͅO̵T̢̬̘͍̱̽̆̂̈́̀̊ ͖̰̙̠̦̉ͤ̑̑̂ͪŚ̳͕͇E͈̮̣͕̗̦̝̍̇͐R̖ͫ̎̔̄̉̂ͫV̑ͣ̽̈́̃E̹͇ͩ̇͆̌͞ ̗͇ ̃ͫ̈͜Ā͙N̨̤̙̬͉̘̈́O̰Ț͙͙̩̹Ḫ̀̎͛ͮ͡ͅE̟͌ͦ̆̍ͯ̌̚R͔̦͕̬͇ͩ.̓̚ ͣͬ̌̚


B̍̕U̴͔̣̫̯̯̺̺ͤͯT̢̐ ҉̻̺Ǐ̠̘͔͌ͩ͒͋̋̌ͅ ̭̬͇̘̱͎W̶̖͈͓͈̹̟̓I͔ͯ͆̾Ḷ̘̬̯̟͊͝L̮̗͇̫̞͔̲ ̜̦͖̭͌̌ͫ̓ͮȦ̙͎̙̼͕̙ͥ̍̅L͖̦̼̞̞͛̿ͮL̡̺̦̣͕͍̈̽̎Y̰̠̝͎̯͡ ̳ ̷̝͉̭̪̍͐̂W̗͕̦̲̱̫͒̽ͯ̄I̓̓͒͘T͚̫͖̬̚͞H̆ͩ̈ ̸̭͉̹̥̯̺̤̍Y̢̐ͯ͗͆ͦỎ̝͈̖̹̝̖͑́̆̉͢Ǘ̖̝̫̳̼͙͕ͫͮ̌.͒̃ͯ̄ ͔ͨ


"What is this... 'communion'?" Iona asked, unmoved by the alien alpha's attack.

Ĩ̶̿̎̿̓T̰̱͕͔͈̰͝.̖̘͙̳̲̟ͧ͑͛͑͠ ̪̯̭ͨ̆ͨ.̪̩ͯͯ̃̾̔ͨ ̓͆̉̍҉̱̹ͅ.͖̬̲ͅI̠ͩT̶͔͛͐̏́ͯ́ͥ ̷̱̮̊IŚ̰͎̮̝ͩ̐ͤ͡ ̰͎̙̙̩̎̎ͣ̚P͛̔ͪ̆ͯ̚͏Ṙ͎̦͖̘͍͑̓͒͒̍͢O̠̙̣͕̭͚̝O̯͉͛̅̀F̙̬̟̬̊ ͔̬̳.͉̣̺̞̩͖ͣ̇̓ͧ͑ ̨̥̪̰͚̠̯͚̈ͨ̓̌̐͑ͥ ̛͉͉̣̼͓͉̄́ͫ͋̀͑̽A̫̜̙̜̗̼͕̔͛N̘̟̗̘̜͊ͣ̓ͩ̂D̞̠̗͍̖̞̰ ̨̩͚͕͇̱̭͓̏̏̎ͫ͌ͭ͗K͖͈̻̙ͨ̏̉̀N͓̙̯̬ͩ̉̇Ȯ͂̊͞Ẇ͕̌̌̆̃̊̃Lͤ̍ͧ ̨̟͎͙͈̈ͬE̞͍̐̉̓͌̈́D̟̫ͫͤ̉̚̚G͚̩͙̜̕E̷̗͉̖͇ͅ.̤̫͓̂̋̑̍̎͘ ̝̤ͅ ͓̘̫͍̥̱̼̒̈́ͫ̒̏͂ ̶͔̩̲̄̔ͨͪͧ̎͒I͙̫̲̹̲̭̲͛̽͆̏̂ ̀͛ͧͨW̞̤̳̝̞͒ͦ͋̀I͔͙̠̤̻̅̉ͮ̅L̺̔ͨ̎͞L͚̥̆̀͝ ̩ͦI̶̜̒͂̿ͪͬ̌̚N̙̗͙̱̪͋ͯͣ̕ͅT̫̺̱̱͇̫͂̉̉̿͋̽͂E̱͔̤̤̖ͬ̆̊̔̈́R͆ ̠̲̽͗͑ͦͨ͞F̘̥̰̭͓̑͒ͯ̒ͅḀ̺̤̭̜̮͑̔̓̚͜C̙ͪ̉̕E ̛̘̲̗̬̣͐͗ͥͥ̓ͫͅW̠̠̝̼̩ͥ͒͑ͅI̿̅ͮT̪̯̠ͩ̿H̻͆ͨ ̖͖̤͎͖͎̏̍́͊ͤ̒͠Y̻͔͔̏̇̉̒O̷̼͕͕ͫͤͯ̎U̜͔͔̱͖ͮ̇ͬ̃̄,ͫͣ̋̾ ̥̜͓͟ ̝̜̺̗͓̗ͯ̓̔̂ͧẠ̫̘̤͇͎̳̍ͭͩͪ̑̍̃́S̹͚̣͕͓̞̞ͮ̊ͣ̆ ̎͋ͧ҉͓͕̬I̪̺̩͑̈̏ ͬ͗̃͟Ő̘̻̪̠̤̬̞̃N̲̤͔ͤ̆̐C̗̱͋̾͠E͖̩̞̗͈̻̅ͨͫͧͥͨ̈ ̯̱̖͡Ḋ̫͓̞̣I̱̤̙̻̤̦̣͊̉ͣD͚͈͙͖͐̑͒ͧ̄ ͥ̎ͦ͒̆̉ͯ҉̩͕̻W͇͉͔͕̣̭I̗̬̳͎̖͒̾̏́T̪͇ͯ͛ͦ̔̔̅̌H͙̳̞͇͚͒͒ ͖͍ ̳̰̹͇̚͡ͅM͖̄ͮ̌̆Y̲̞͆̏ ̷̖̱͛M͎̻̣Åͫ̍͂҉͚̙̣S̹̺̙͔̗̄̍ͫͦ͑͢T̵͎̖̲̗̻̦͕ͫ̊͋Ẹ̽̐̿͌͡Rͭ ͦ͊͞Sͤ͒̃̓̂͂.̏ ̹̭̄ ̤̬̥ͦͅ
Y̨̩͑ͣ̾͌ͩ́̾ͅO̼̫͓̐Ȕ̪̲̟̺̻͝ ̦͓̟̹̰ͪͮ͆̾ͬẈ͖̫I̭̼͓͇̣L̖̥̬ͪ̏͋̾ͥL̬̹ͪ͌ ͈̲͈ͣ͡R̫̒͛͗̒͌͛E͖͓ͫ̿͋̅ͥ̇̒̀C̤͓͇͇ͯ̍E̗͇̣͇̫̝̘͋͆͢İ̡͔̱ͅV͋ ̸̠ͧ̐̏̾Ė̸͕͍̣͇̺̙̑̓̾̚ ̞͖̣͓ͬ̀̄̿̚͟T̮͈̦̫̭̩ͣͥͤͮͩ̈͘H̤ͅE̐̓͐ͬ ͖̪̹̟̜ͣ͗̂ͣK̉N̈ͭ̌́̔́̑͏̙̼̥O̴̻̦̰̘̹̔́ͦ̚W͕̹̗̩͇̮̽̄ͧ̋̃͟Ľ͐ ̦̻̞ͧ̍ͪ̍͞E͙̰̻̹̙D̰͖͚̪̱̊ͪ̾̉̾G͔͖̗̹͐̽ͮ̌̌͋ͅḘ̮̟̫͑̄͂ͫ ͖̊̊̍ͫT̥̥́O̚͏͉͍̝̠̩ ͓̂ͫͬͥB̳ͧ̋͌̂͂̑̀ͅÙ̢͎̗I̜̥͓̥̻̥̞̅ͩͤ͜L̖͇̺̳D͍̱͖͔̼̻́ ͫ̓ͯ̉ͯ͛̚͏̘̹̯̟͉T̤͉̝̤͊̚H̼̞̝̱͋͋E̢̘̜̱̹̖͕͆ͣ̓ ̲̭͙͕̺̤͕ͣ̎̓͗ͩ̈ͭT͎̲̣̽O̥͈̩̭̪Ȯ̩̜̜͇̹L͇̙̪̱̭͇̱̅͛͑̽̂͒͢S͒͒ ̳̻̹̥̜̿ͭ̑͑͝ ͇̟̝͓͎͛ͫ̌͐ỴO̥͋̋̇ͫ͜U͉̩̟̽͐ ͔̺̖͓̝͓̱͑̚̕N͕͇̤̗̣̜͂Ẹ̦͔͈̯̦̗̓̾E̳͎͉̜͉̟͉ͨ̓́̈̓͐D͔̮͚̭ͅͅ. ͎̮͖̭̈́̅̒́͆̂


The voice sounded almost pleading as it continued.


T͌҉H͎͎ͪͫ͂̈́E̸͎͉̞̙̪͙ ̪͖̤ͨͬ̓ͫ͗͐͒͝S͙̣̫̼̤̳̫͋͐̎ͨṔ͍̘͚̩͈̙͗ͥA̵ͧ̏W͉͎̗̙̲̬͌̃́̆͠ͅ N̙͎̹͡ ͚̫̦̜͇̙͓̿͑͛̚̚Ơ̱̿F̩͔̌ ̵͇̞̪̣̎ͫ͑ͦͪM͍̩͐ͭ͊̅̍Y̞̟̟̦ͨ̓̎̐ ̴ͮͯͪ̅͐́C̈́͡H̻͎͋̾̌̊̿̚Iͨ̋͐ͩ̄͢L̓͆̉̊҉̮D̟̠̱̜̪̖̲ͣ́R͕͈͖̰ͣͬ ̬̙E̙̮̎͟N̮͈͐͝ ͚̩̖̹̠̉͑ͦ̚͢Ų͕̮̭̹S̹͓̙̟̖̤̉̊̑͐͗ͮ̏͝ͅE̦̝̣̹̦͇͕͗ͪͯ̀̃̃ ͐̀Ṱ͖͎̤͔̉ͣ̅̈́̇ͅẈ̠̠̫̰͛Oͩ͐ͭ̅ͤ̓͆ ͙̝̤̱͌͌M̱̲͢Ḙ͕́̍ͣ̈́͌͗̽T͍̤͖̟̤̰̃̅͒ͩ̽͂̿H͍̣͖̥̅̓̾͂͝O̅D̓ͮͪ ͙̮͛̒S̟̏̂̈́ ̱̥̠̟̼ͩ̓̀͐T̸̹̠͉̎ͨ͑O͐̉̋ͣ͏̞͙̯̘͚ ̉ͦ̊̔ͯͣ̿͏̳̲͈̪̯̱͉C̝̑̾ͤ̓͝Ỏ̭͚̻̘̭ͫͤ̐̆̈M̘͈̻͕͙M̝̯̾ͫ̍́̽̓U ͔̂ͫ̅N̩̬̭̊ͫ̂ͪI͈͎͔̺̒̔̇̿ͯ͗́C͕̰̻̼̼̲ͥͫ̎̆̓ͣA̸͓͎̙̣͙̜̦ͮ͑ͫT ͤ̓͝E̱ͪ ̠ͫͯ̾̅̿W͐͆̽͑͗͋̔I̷͕̭̱̘̬̽ͪ͂̄ͥ̇̾T̬̻ͬ́H̶͕̹̾̄ ̷͔̞͛T̨̗̺̬̪̠̦H̸͈̼̥̥̥ͨ͂̉̐E̠̙͍̜̱ͦ͠Ĭ̥̟̼̫͈̓̐ͣͮ͊ͅR̎ͧ͋̓̂ ̹̼̩̥̈͌ ̺̲̤ͬͬ̋͐ͩ͊̕M̫̝̠ͧͬ̋̾́̈Ä̟̹̳̼͖́͆ͯͣ͝S҉̘T̞̩͍̩͒Ḙ͙́̎ͯ͐̓ͨͩ ̭R̲̖͚̆͡S̱̼͕̝̺̼͘.̙̳̞͇ͤ̅ ̦̳͈̲̺͉̌̒̓ͨͧ̽͑ ̦̘̊͛̽́ͅT͇̖͈̹ͥͭͣ͛ͭ̎̚Ḧ̬͕͖̖́̋͊̌́͐̏Ẻ̫̩̳̬̰̞͔̊ͩ̋͆ ̡̻̣ͥͣ̋͑

F̺̹͕͜Ĩ̞̩̞̯̙͋Ř̠̲̝̜̗̎̎̔͢S̻̫͔̩̬̯̿ͬ̇̓̇͑̈́̀T͚̫̫ͭ͐̄̃ ̖̻ ̲͚͙̟̘̞ͧ̾I͔͍͕̫̍͜S͎͑̔̕ ̺̣͖̳̌́ͮͪͤR̭̞̮̟͚̽̽̓̉ͨA̩̬̪͙̻̻D͓͎͔̙I͊O̝̊̐ͤ͋͡ ̘̪̖̱̞̞̮̓̍͌W͎̫̖̬̪͈͔̋̓ͮ̚̚Ăͨ͐̂҉̫̥V̺̈Ę̖̻͔͔̙̗͈ͧͭ̎Ṡ́̓ ͍͑̌̈́,̢͕͖̻̯͓̀ͦͥͨͧ̚ ̖̤̲̮̮̰̾̃W͕̱̰͎̍Ḧ̵͍̹̦̳͇́ͥ͛̓̅Ÿ͔̤̮̕ ͇̀̄̍͌T̥͊ͬ͐͗H̻͚̹̓ͨ͠Eͥ̊̊̏ͨͪ͡Ỵ͙̫͇̬͊̌͂ͦͧͮ͞ ͤ͒͂̒ͯ͢H͙̯͊ͧ̊̋̾͆̐̀A͔̲̿ͩͧ̏͛͐̀̕V̴͕͍̰̲̻͍̰̆̂ͩͫ̈É̷̈́ ̦͚̣ ̧͓̐͒͒ͮ̃N̺̥̭̝̬̆͋ͩ̀ͥͪO̶̭̪͚T̥̟ͅ ̵̙̻̿ͨͩ̓͊͆V҉̘E̠͓̘̥̣͎̍ͬN̴̲͍̩̳̠ͥṪ͚̻̓̈̓̓͗Û̽R͔͍̰ͣ͆̅̽̕ ̱̱̫E͔͙͉̱̹͋̈́ͮ͒D͍̥͖͚̫̞ͧͥ̄ ̡̙̌̍͛ͩͣͫTỎ̸̹̜̫ͦ̐̏ ̞̳̖T̯͈̪̄͗̾͡H͔̤̞̝͎͊̽́̅̍̚I͚̳̿͘S̵̙͎̝̙͈͇ͫ͑ ̱̰͆͜W͓̩̩͉̤͙͇͛O̹̳͌͑ͪͥ͛̽R̓L͇̠̫͙͙̮͈̽ͩ̚Dͮ̓͐̿͊҉̺̤͎.͌ͩ̿̍ ̙ͦ̇̕ ̺́̑̌ͮ̇̋̃̕ ̝͊̎̂ͪ̏͑̀T̯̘̰̅̈ͭ̅̉̍ͭH̩ͯ͒ͩͨͯ͛E͕̯ͭ̿ͦ͂̽ͨ̓ ̦̦̣͔S̺͗̑Ê͉͈͙̗ͤ̆ͫ͠C̘͐͋̂̋͗̈́̚O̟͍̝̣͓ͪ̅ͣ͛ͯ̓͢N̛̫͒̉Dͬͦ̏ ̤̠̱̫͎̜̹͠,̘̯̤̜ͯ̌ͯ̐̄ͭ͡ ͒͐̇Í̖̻̼͉̬̩̄͆͢Ṣ͈̗͈̤ͧ̍ͭͭͣ ̙͈͇̣͓͉͊ͣ̃̋̆ͣA̗̪̪̥ͫ̏̽̿ͮ̐̒N̡̲͍̠̞͎̰̓ͣͬ̋̇ ̧̻̜̆ͩ̎

Ê̡̯̺̩̮Ñ̆̐̏̏͐͒C̩͆́̏ͭ̈̉͐Rͣ͌ͤ͏͉̥Y̫̾P̞͎̙̝̍ͤ͘T̄͝Eͤͪ̑͋ ̬̳̍̓̓D̳͎̭͂̆ͅ ̠́ͨ̋ͭQ͙̞͢Ù̜̟̻͎͙͈͉̄̌̐͌̚̚͝A͑͒̃̑͏̝̻̘͔̲N͔̰͋͛̐͋T͛̓͋͑̆ͪ ͙͓͖̯͍͕̳̅U̺͓͕̼̫̮ͥͩ̌M͇̝̰̟̹̖̲̒ͭͩ͊ͬ̅ͭ ͉̝̫̜ͅĘ̖̳̫Nͬ̓̋ͧ̌̆ͩT̰̟̗̦̑ͭͬ͌A̗̖̳̍̃̌Ṇ̘̙̯̓͌̋̀̌̆̅́G̤̞ ̬̠̙L̰̝͍̬̲̭̭ͬ͠Ḛ͐͝M̞͖͆̾Eͦͭͧ͞N͈̟̺̬ͩ̒ͪͮ̈́T̠̪͝ ̱̖͍̯D̨̖̼EV̴̳͔͔̥̭ͬͣ͌ͅỊ̜̲͙̰͔̅ͩͤĆ̡͆͒͗Ĕ͉͎͖ͨ͌̐ͪ.͑͒ͧ̚ ͉͒̒ͪ ̨̻͓̱͒̃̍ͦ ̴̮͈͇̣̦̮̓ͦṪ̫ͩͭͯ͌͜H̵̟͔̹̱̗̑̇ͮ̿ͤ̎I͏̻͎̱͖̰͙S̖̖̈̒ͫ́ ̶̼͊ͥ̔̔͑͑S̮̜͚͓̜̝̗̈̑Ẻ̞ͤ̈́̀͂͂̋̀C̜̺ͧͯ̾̿̓ͩ͡ͅOͥ̌͑Nͬͣ͗͂̀̽ ̤͇̼̜͖̪D͔͎̝͕̾ ̢̗͉̤̹͐M̛̬͓͉ͬE̺̘ͣ̂̂̇T̨̿ͪ͒͐H̸̝̠͋̅̈͗̍Ö̮͕͍̪͈̘̟́D̙̺͉ͯ̀ͭ ̥̣̪̹ ͔̙̞͙͊́Ș̗̯̏̃ͭ͐Eͮ͋ͫ̽ͣ͘R̬̠̯̘̤̳ͦ̄̌̄͊̿ͯV̠̜̙͙̝̰͉̇̐ͩ͆̇̂̚ E̱̹̻̹̻̮͘S̖̪͔̻̠͂̃ͨ͞ ̦̻̥̮̤͒̉A͈̦̬͈̻̮ͭ͑̽̿͊S̨͚̦̱̥̰ͤͬ̅̐̾ͬ ͎̥̭̩̝͇̫͊̂̍ͫ͋̀ͤT̝̬ͮ̒̈́͒͐Ḩ͔͓̘̺͔̲̀E̖͍̱ͯ̋̚ ͙̋͒͌͑̚͟W̵͎͈̱̋ͪ̓A̠̝͇̠̮͍Y̹̝̩̬̳̻̘̍ͯ͡ ͖̬͙̱̭̥̯̄̃T̩̩̒́̃̂̌H̠̉́̌̓ͅE͓͋̏ͦͨ̃ͯͭY̲̪̗̼̩̺̌͂̅ ̠͓ͭ̇͒͊̕

I̬͍̠͡D̺̀E͕̙̱͎̞̱͂̈ͣ̏̌͆N͍̲̠̩̩̳͋ͧͬT̮̮͈̭ͮ̓̒̿͂̉͝I̸F̌ͥ̆̊ ̷̘͖̯̫̏Ý̲͉̽͊ͪ͢ ̍ͨ͆̏͏̱̥̳̱͎̙̯A͔͖Lͥ͋́ͥ͊L̗͎̫̺͚̤̳̎ͣ̅ͭͥI̩͇͙̐̎E͕̬̭̥̙̗̙͋S ̜̭͕̂ͣ͗ ̉̈͡A̡͍̱̫͉̗̟͛̽ͭ͆͌͐N͈̣̳̠̺ͪ͂͗ͥ͂̚D͚̹͚͍͓ͫ̊ ̘̺͈͚̮̭̘ͫ̀̚E̹̩̤̺̊ͤ̄̈̕ͅNͤͩE̝͙̼͐̓M̼͉̙̿͊̔͟I̗͕̪̞̗̗̼͞E̙̰ ̟͇̗S̲̗̠͙̞̱͔̋͐̃͑͂.̽̏̑ͧ ̛̼͎͚̞͓͔̱̆̓ ̵̹̙͈̲͍͉̠̅̓̿̌͆͂ͨM̝̙͉̻̹ͮ͒̈́͛ͅY̬̠ͨ͛͞ ̢̘̪̭̣̻͗ͣ̽̽͐̉͐S͊̾̎̑̾ͯP͇͖͇̜̃̇ͯ̂A̝̮̪͊ͬ͌ͫ̚W̶̪̤̜̘͌N̰̈́̆͠ ̗ ͍͉̱̪B̼̘̟̱̤͔̪̊Ĕ̗͇L̝̩͇̰̪̂̓̄ͪ̍I̫͉̫ͧ̈́̈ͮͫ̀ͭÉ̦̯̘V̢͓̇ͫ̐ ̘̳̟E͚̔̋̎́ͭ̑ ͌̐̽̍̀̎̇͏̞̙̠͔̪͈̪Ĩ͙̟̺̊̆̐ͤͪ͜Ṱ̩̭̬͚̣ ̔͌̄̎I̜͉̟̩͎̟̿͌Ş̬̫͎̹̼̳̌͂ͭ ̙̳͍̮͚̼̐U̹̝̜̟̇̅ͣ̄Ņ̫͇ͪ̍ͪͥḆ̺̼̘̦̤̇̃̓͂͌R͔̮͚͒ͣ́E͍̬̝̪̘̤ ͙Ḁ̗͗ͨ̏ͅKͤͯA͖̮̟͛ͧ͑̌ͥ͠B̲͚̈́ͩ̎̄Lͭͩͩ́Ê̦̼̼͕̱͍.̯̄̏͛ ͕ ̿͌ͫͨ͘ ͖̝̞͚̳̳̥̂͟A͍͔̣̬̣̲͠N̝̜͗̓ͦͫ͐D̼̣̮͚̱̟͖͆͊̎̋̈́͞ ̺̉ͬͮͬI҉̣͇͙̮T̘͈̥ ͐̇ͤ͛͛I͇̫͚͇̭̬ͫ̈S̪͉͎ͭͫ̆͋̄ͩ.̞̗̣͚̟͑̂̿ͯ͌̉ͅ ͎̮̅ ̜͙͍̥̠̅Ḟ̰̥̦̘̉̅͂́͌̀O̡̼̯̿̇Ȑͣͨ ͉̬̖ͪ̐͒̉Ỹ̳̘̩̭̊ͭO̯̤̼̣̻̳ͩ̔͂ͩͮ̈́̅͠U͖̘̝ͯ͗ͨͥ̈͞.̣̫̌̄ͤ ̟̣



H̦̪̣̯̥̗ͫ̎̌ͅO̶̪ͨͯͬ̀W̿̅ͬ͛̕E̝̳̭͖̩̱̹ͫ̌̄ͫ͑V̸́ͥ̎̊ͥͣ̈È̓ͫ ̹͇̩̩̣̞̤̐ͣR̪̦ͨ̅̍ ̉̑͛̽͌͏͖͖̠̫̰͍̬Ḭ̦̘̙̭́̾͒̅̾̋̓͟ ̗̠̹͎ͩ̐̄H̦̪͇̤A͙̯̪͜V̷̞̩̓̿̒̓ͭE̛̩̼̪͉̙͐̎ ͖̻̥͖͚̦̬̂̈́̓ͧ̽ͬ͋͜D̤̥̥̙̃͆E̹̤̝͉̹͠S̡̻̯̩͚͖̗ͦ̄͒̈̆ͨ̚I̴̩̥ͮ̔ ̤̲̬̪G̯̦̭ͦ̇ͬ̑̂̍͊N̸̹̫̦͍̳ͮ̋̽̃̿̋Ē̪̼̞̒̆̈́͐D̼̟̤͚͎̆͜ ͔̩͕̙̘̲͇̽͜A͇̜̘ͭ̊ͪ͒̽̇ͬ ͒̄̍Dͪ̆ͫ͌͗̂ͮḚ̮̰̟̝̟̺ͥ̓ͪ̓ͤ̃̃V̵̓ͥ̀̉̐ͮ̚I͇̖̪͚̻̎̔̄ͧͥ͊ͩ͢C ͈̜͙̪̂͌́͊E̡̳̙͚̭͎̩̻͆ͯ ̩͋̐͆ͭY̅̌̉ͫ҉͈̭̹̪̤Ȯ̐͗͠U̗̣͇ͦ̒͌̔ͥ̈́͘ ͇̝͕̤̠͙̍ͬ̊ͨ̿̈́̀C̫̝̥ͧ́ͩ̾͂̅̔͜Ả͈͉̔ͨ̚N̐ͪ͒̔ͭ̌̐҉̭͍̮̝ ̶̻͚̿ͧBŪ͕̾͆̓I͑̊ͬ͞Ļ͗̓̄D̵̖̺̪̃ͭ͐̌ ͓ͥ̄̎̑̏̍͡A̧̩͖̹̞̠̙N͚͓̜͓̦͓̺̅̈͛͒̍ͫ̽D̡̜̯̜́ͥ ͈͓̻̰͎͕͕̽Ḍ̱͕̫̙͛̅́̃ͩͯ̃̀E͏͕P̱͖̖̦͕̥̄͂͗̑ͅL̬͇̪̦͙͐̿Ô͗ͣ̔ ͙Y̳̰͕̜͕̯̓̑.̷̟̰͈͈̐ ̭̬̝̤̥̀ͧ̏ͅ ͎̜̣̪̖̙̹̔͊̀̓N̲̦̭̠͓̥O̹̦̯̝͇̭̒̿ ͚̼̕B̟̞͐̈́Ĭ̞̊̈́́G͈̥ͯ̈̊ͤͤ̌͐G̘͚͚̦̹̦̤̀̄͒ͤ̔̃͢È̹̝̓͛ͣ̃ͣ̀͜ ̥Ȑ̰̤̼̟̱͖̓̅́ͮ͠ ͓̿̑ͦ͌T͌́̅́ͥ͋̂͏̩H͖̙̝͓̣͋A̵̹͒̈́ͤͩ̑N͎͇̹̻͆̄ͤͅ ̭̩͐̒A̷̳̫̥̟͙̐͌̂͂̊̽ ͉̦̐͛ͧ̆̿ͦR͓̺̯̣̈͢ͅI͓̘̟̔ͬͧͣF̳͋̉̈́ͥͨ͂̐L̢͖̟͇̗̱̪ͬͥͮ̃Ë́̽̓͂ ͈̟͇̙̤.̖͓̲̩̱̲ͮ͛͋̊ͨ̽̔ ̪̜͕ͪ͢ ̝̜̳ͩ̔̋́ͅ

E̶̐̃͑Qͯ͒̅̐͑̄͜U͕̘̪͙̖̤͊̃̇̆ͅI̳͔̖͂̇͗͐̒P̦̩͉͉͇̗ͦͦ͊ͬͅP̾͒̆ ͈̪̖̅͒Ḙ̖̥̟̕ͅD̪̲̝̣͉͌ͣ̇̈ͬͬ͂ͅ ͉̬͇̗̳̱͐ͮ̈́̅̒̑̀W̒ͧ͏͚̫̪̮̗̺I̫ͣ̇ͦͤ̍͝T̴̓̏H͎͍̲̱́ ̒̒̑ͭ̂A͕̔͋͑ ̩̘̏͑͑ͣͬ̒̾͡S̠̱͔̗̠ͪ̓͋̌̓͟M̥̉ͯ̌ͩ̈́̍A̒͑̚҉͎̘L͎̺̲ͮͣ̃ͫͣ͐ͅͅͅ ̳L̰̜̣͉̻̮̠͂̉ ̛͖̌̏͌͂Ḁ̡̮̹̣ͯ͗̇ͨM̈̃Ọ͕̠̮̖͎U̐͂͞N̟̍̋͂̆̈͝ͅT̕ ̡̬͓̂̃̓̇ͥ̓O̠̦ͦ̓̎͊̇ͅF̥̠̲̳̮ ̶̼͇̝̥̲̬͓̾Q͉͈̅͂̈̅Ų̖͑͋ͨ͐͑͌ͧẢ͖̠ͯ̚͞N̛̘̣͓̭̙ͯT̮̫̗̥ͧU̇̆ ̟͉̲̗̇͌͆ͮ͞M̰̪̆̒ͪͪ ̺̲̠͙͇̃͢M̰̗̟̭̞̺̓͌ͪ̾ͫA̩̪̓ͩͬ̇̏T̛̿̿̓ͪ̚T͇̂͒͒Ẽ̝͉̈́Rͣ͌̅̕ ̱̜̟̖ ̵̀̅ͪ̇͐H̭͇̟ͅA͖̜̭ͥ̽̊̓͊Rͮͥ̅̊V̺̩̥̗̤̖̄̔̋̒͒E̻͎̥̦͕ͬ͆ͫ͟ͅS̓ ͓̗̹͈͇̺̈ͪ̇͆͐͂T̩͓͒Ȩ̲̻͔͎͉͂̑̿͋͊͋̚D̠̺ͦ̐ ͋ͮ̎͛̌́̍͠F̨̤̫͈͆̓ͅR̷̬͙̹̤ͤ͆ͤ̍̃ͤO̞̍̋ͮͪͨ̀̎M͓ͤ̊ͩ̏͜ ͙̖̮͎͓͙̰̅̔ͨA̴̯͚͛ͭ̆ͩ̊̈́ͅ ̻̌̾D̝̞͕̭͔͓̓ͨ̇ͨ̾͂Ẽ̢͉̘̽ͯͤA͓̬̼̚͟Ḋ͉͙͍͔̫͆̌̓ ̹͙̃'̓͊̂̑̇͐̚҉̖̘̞̙C̞̫͌ͣ̉ͤ͐͗͠O̢͓̽͌L̛̫̮̾̅̇͑ͅL̗͓ͣ͗̊̑̈̈́̆ E̹̗̹͇̱̝̔Ć͈̰̥͚̞̀T͑͛̚̕O̙̞͔̞͔ͪ̐ͪͥR̢̰̙͒ͤͧ̎ͭ'̧̰̐ͨ̃̃ͯ̋̚ ̰̞̗͈̗̪,̨͍̦͖̦̪̝̒̄̑͋̓ͨ̈́ ̫̱̥Ḯ͛ͭ̑̀̅̾T̢̪̳̙̋͊̽ ͕̰̞͎̰̻͉ͪͬ͐̿̌͋͡

W̷̲I͓̙̬͍͖̮͆͑͂L̼͔̻̖̉̏L͈͎̺̩̉͆̓̊̑ͩ ͏̙̪͈̯̻̻ͅB̷͔̮̓̓ͯͩE̸̯̩̞͕̠ͮ ̥̱̼̞͎̘̥ͨ́Â̵̟̺̓͑̍̎B̙̏ͭ̆̌̍ͦ̔Ĺ̐͂̽̇̄͢E̱͈̹ͤ̓͛̒̄ͣ ̸ͪ̔̎͒ͮ̇̚T͉̲͚̳͖̞͙ͭ̎ͤO̵̦ ̬͔̺ͭ͂̐̏ͫ͊O͇͙͑̉̉ͫV͎ͮ͗ͧȆ͖́̂R̪̝̪̦̜̱ͭ́͐̈̽ͥ̚R̘̤̅ͤͭ̈̽͠I ̦̝̹͓̠̽ͯ̆̈́́ͤ̚DÉ͉ ̦̹̳͍̘̋́T̯̘̤̰̦̾ͭͧ̏ͤ̅̃͝H̡̙̞̅ͧ̐̍ͅE̴̿̋̾͐ ͉̦͇ͥͫ͗ͮ͋̿́͜T̘̻̒͗Ř̵̻͉͉̗͐͊͆̚A͙̪͕ͨ̒ͫ̚͞N̹̮͕̋̑̾͗͗ͬS͏̭͚ ̰͖̘͈̳M̏̿ͬ̋͐ͩI̷ͥ̋͒ͧͤS̲̙̺̯̏ͪ͡ͅS̸̲I̙̗̰̣͚̳̞̾̓̓ͪ̀͌͒Oͣ̓̈ ̬̟͎̇̀Ǹ̜̘͈̯ ̢ͨ͂ͥ͒F̱̝̤͚͕̜͚͆͛͂̈́ͩ̑͗͞R̆ͮͦ̈́̾̅̀҉̦̟͈̺O̶̪̣̻̞M̨̻ͩ̔ͧ͛̈̎̚ ͕̣͚̩̩ͅ ̖̩̟̪̼͓̿̿ͮ̃̒Z̺̺ͥͭͩͨ͐E͉̫̗̠̫̾͒̉͒͂̊U̯̺̰̥̰͂ͮ̅̀̚Ŝ͉̆̄͗ͬ͜ ̜̻͍̮ ̓Ă̝̑͋͆̂͌N̸̫̜̎̄̆ͫ̔D͎̥̈̆͠ ͇̤̱ͬ̍̿̊̊A̩͕͍̝̗̙ͮ̈L̉̓͏̺Ĺ̟͖O̓W̙̟͓͔̎ͤ͌̏ͫ ̛̤̟̤ͮY̥͔͖͙̣̳̔ͦ̉Ȍ͎̻͖͓͉ͯÛ̴̓͊̽̂ͯ ̗̗̖̻͔̼̣̋͑̂̔̊̾͠T͡Ȍͥ̐͊̆̇҉͕̜̰̦ ̴̖̙̬̩̪ͫ̾̾̃R̫̽͐̎͡Ȇ̪͎̣͙͋͗̄̿̚P̥͖̪̳̪̫ͫͧ̉̅ͅR͎̹̥͝O̊ͭ̍ͯ̚ ̬͉̹͖̬̈́͑G͙̼͖̞̮̥̓̓͗̿́R̦͔̬͚̣̙ͬ̈ͤ̈́̄̀Ą̣̹͖͙̫̓̇ͬ̽M͛ͦͧͯͩ́ ͙̮̪ ͧ̒̍͗̌̿Iͧͥ̊ͮ҉̩͓T͎͚̩ͯͬ̔.̨͛ͭ̇̂̒́ ̺̹̟̙̠͑́͌̍͝ ͑̿

W̸͇͔̦̟̞͉̩ͫͨͬ̏ͧ̓I̾͊T̳̙̤͈͉͒ͣ̅H̻͈͖͌̄̽̃͐̔̚͘ͅ ̮̝̖̞̜̣͚̒̈̍͑M̨̄͆͋̽̆Y̫̦͙͊̆͡ ͍̟͎ͩ̐S̫̪̙̳̥̍ͭ͆͑C̱̤͖̞̊ͫ͛̎ͨ̐̚H̘̝͐ͬͧͩE͔̞̹͂͐̊̎M̎̋̾͒̂ͦ̂ ̸̙͇A̟ͥ͊T̴̯̲̥ͧ͆̊̈́I̝̘͙͓C̛̃ͨ͂̽͋S̸̹̫̹͌̇ͩͪ̆̅,̲̘͕̪̹͋ͤͣͬ̕ ̘̞ ̓͐ͨ͘A̞̳̝̦ͨ̚N̻̣͔͗͌̋̀̍ͨ̓͞D̴̼̙̳͇̅̾ ̽̐̐̾Ẇ̷̞̟̝̼̫̼͆ͬ̊́͂̚H̜ͥ̔̈ͭ́̀̚A͈̣͖͈̻͆̄̊̀Ṱ͕̳̟̩ͬ͂ͧ̈́̏ͅ ̲ ̥̫ͬ̌̊ͪ͐ͮ̑Y̖͉̫̎́͐ͨ͞Ǒ̻̥̈ͥ̀ͪ͒͆͠Ȗ̠͙̱ ̡̳̥͐̋ͪ̒A̲͈L̗͔̠̳̭̽̎̋̽ͅȒ̨̺͚̫͒ͤ̄Ê̝͖̮̦̪̭͒̇̓̔͐͛̕Á̫̺̺ ̝͙̣̤D̥͇̙͍̮̩͖ͣͦ͂͑̂ͫͮ͘Y̷̼̜͎̝̝ͤ̒ͯ̀́ͥ ̺̦̳͓̖̳̻̊͛K͈̤͓͙̳̬̩͆ͯͨ͌N̠̺͕̗͊ͪ̋͡Ő̓̾Wͦ̂ͭͬ̔̈̇͠,̽̍͑ͥͣ̑ ̹̺̼͓̝͇̕ ̰͔̦̘̙̔ͨͬͣ̚Ĭ̢͍͌͛̑ͨͯT̨̫ͪͦ͊̄̽ͭ ͒̎̆̊̋ͨ̽W̵ͮ̌I̫ͪ̇̔̃ͯ͌͟Ḷ̡̞͐̄L̤̯̘̬͙͊̒̔ͧͧͅ ̡̼͙̘͚̻ͧ͗͂͆̂ͥ͗B͚̞̐̎̆ͤ͠Ẻ̗͙̫͎̝̮̹̐͗́̚ ͑ͫͫ̿̽T͎̖̰̮͔͎̙ͦ̃͂H̐̎ͪ͌̎ͯ҉̰̜͚̰̙̘͚Ẻ̴̝ͩ̌̔͆́ ̯͇̹͙̉ͩ̓̐ͭ̃P̙͎̼̱̳ͪ̂̔̏̽͊͡È͓̙̠̫͋͋ͯ̓̑̒R̲̖ͭ̃̈́̃̾̂̆́Fͮ̈́ ̘̮̮̯̥̌̍̆͗E̺̣͓͙̠͘C̩̈̃T͗̇ͭͤ ̢̞̳̱̤͖I͕͆͞N̘̟̼̫̍̊ͮ̚F̒̅I̳̼̻̭̙̊ͬ̀ͥ̌̑́L̻͔̝̰ͥ̍̃͛͛̍̀Tͫͩ ̨̜R̦̬͚̃̄̀͒ͥ̓̍A̵̼̋́̏̄T̯͖͓͕̮͙́O̧͈͓̖̙̗̱ͮͣ̒ͤ̈͌ͅR̈̆͋̋ͥ̏ ̵̻͖͙,͈̫̬͇̮ ̨̗̙̦̍ͣẢ͚̱̗͕̲B̯̗̭̺͒̉̕L͕̰̬̦̰̻͔̃ͧͫͯË̵̥͚̦̬̳́̅ͭ ̳̭͈ͭ̌

T͚͍̻̃ͥ̚͟Ö̻͚ ͔͈Ě̘́̾̀N̆̄͗̎͗͏̫̠̙̺̜T̻͕̠̖ͣ͆ͣͮ̓͆E̴̹͙͚̰̗̹͌ͪ̋̃̚R̙͛̿͋̆ ̦̘̫ͅ ̼̫̘̞̭̞̻Z̷͇͇̦̙͚ͣ̌ͬE͎̯̥̘̾̀͢U͙̓̋̒̃͆ͩ̿͜S̞͕͈̟ͩͬͮ͊͛͆ͅ.͆̌ ͈͓̜̩̺̻̖̎ͥ́


"Ironically, this was our plan when that massive command unit started grappling us." Ella sighed. "We tried dozens of times to repurpose or hack a berserker. We thought it was some property of the radio waves, but it seems like this quantum comms device serves as an anti-tamper mechanism. Monsters with a warranty."


T̷͙̐̿̈H̘̲̺͖͔͍̦̒̂̐̾̕E͟N̹͍̦̺̏̽̄̑ͭͩ,ͫ͏ ͎̪̱̹̦̯̣̑̆̏ͥ͊̓ͪI͂͘T̥̲͇̠͚͌ͮ ̣̓͝Iͪ̍̿̇ͮ͟Ş͖̙̑͑̃̈̉ ̝̺̱͓͔̀A͇̻͚ ̡͍͙̘͉̙̅̔ͪ̇̓̿ͬS̩̮̈́ͬͯ̂͂̈́́I̘̫̺̝̎ͥͦ̍̽͘M̧̲͈̘͕̅̚P̛̭͔̊̒͛̚ ͈̠L̴̦̫̬͚̠̬̇ͣË̫̘̙̱͇̯ͩ̏ͭ̀ͅ ͍̬̯͚̪͙̄̃M̪̲̩͊ͧ̎ͮͭA̶̘͍̤̗̞̓̎̋ͬ̇̅T̸̩̣̩Ț̦͈͖̮̣̤ͣ̕Eͥͤ͐̅ ̜̱͉̻̭ͦͮR̮̖̱̮͗ͫ͋̇͛ ͔͚̤̹̫̼̥̍̽̅̽͡O̬͉͔̪̔͛̉̌̉̾͊́F͆ͨ͛ ͙͊̿̋̕Ċ͉͉̜͎͉̣̩͂ͯ̂͆H̹̯̜͇̖̬̔̑Ọ̱ͨͬ̉̈́ͫ̄ͭO̦̥͖̫̜ͬͨ̽̑̃̆ͅ S̮̭̬͚̣ͯ̃̏̽I̩̟̗̝͡ͅN̤̈́Gͤ́̓͊ ͑ͤ̓̌ͤ͑͆Ỷ̪͙̎̈̊̑ͩͪ͟O͚̙͍͕̠ͥU̦͇̟ͨ̌ͯ̋ͨR͔͈̪͌ͯ̾͆̒̏ ̦̳̥̄̾̑̄̀̚Ṕ̟̗̝̣͎̙͆ͪ͑͒͑ͅOI̛̠͕̱̘̤̖͂ͨͯ̑ͫͣͤS̰͉̆̏ͯ̇̃ͧ̔O ̍ͥ̊̄̑̚̚Ṇ͖̮̥͕̝̟̐̈́ͤ͑.̕ ͚̤̩̹͞ ͙̘̖̞̀̾ͦU͚̦ͪN̰̫̳̞ͤͤ̄̾ͧĹ̜̪͖ͮͦ̂I̪͆̄ͅK̙̮̖̟̞̟ͪͫE͊ͦ͂͂ͬ͒ ̝͉̜̝͕͚̦̎ ̢̲̳̻ͥ̌ͮͣ̋M̬̼̪ͬ͠Y̛͛ͧ̾ ͆̅̏͆҉͎̹̲M͎̦̳̉̏A̛͕̩̫͈̠̯̓S̍̾̆͛̽́̿T͉̱̜͙̩̤̻ͬ͑͊̃̀E̴̗͇Rͦ ̟͍̈́S̬͓̦̬͆̔͌̂̇̔,̘̳̘͉ͫ̍͑̉ ̗̭ͫͭY͚̩͙͑̈́͘O̻̹͇̘̐̆ͅU̳̠̫͍̙͙̱ͭ́̾ ͕̠̦̟̮͚ͪͩ̎̒͆̕Ǵ̶̗̮̭͇͔̃ͭ̆͛R̵ͥͬ̄E̛̿̒́͛̀ͩ̌W͙̭̻̒́́̐ ͔̣̻ͦͅT̠̪̺͖͊̌̓ͮ̀̈́ͣO̢͉̭͊ͥͬͮͪ̌ ̠̙̠̻̳̲͜

M̪̝̼̻̾̅̋A̩̟̰͕̖̝̓͂ͨ͗ͨTͪU̴R͈̱̟̳̀͟ͅI͖̞̙̭̲̲̬͒̐̋̇̇͛̏Tͦ̃ ͍̤͙̖̊Y̯̺͔̆ ̛̘͉͉͎̃̄͛͒O̝̞̰̱̥̲̻N͙̖̭̠͂ͮ̑̈ͪ̀ͣ ͕͕̲̓͝W̪̗͕̪͓̟͛̓͆̔̔ͧO͚̘͙̘̓ͧ͂ͮ̒͊͆R̳̜̯͎̹̼̗ͫ̂ͦ̓̅́L͂ͥͤ̋ͦ ̞̭̻̪̤̗̎̍͟D̵ͦ̈̄̋̉ͪS̼͍̬̝ͭ ̡̣ͮͩͪ̐O͖̗̝̯̼̘ͪ́ͅF͙̯̱̪̫͕͍ ̞ͧ̈́ͥͮ̀V̳͎̤̏̃͂̀͛͠I̸͓̻͍̗͖̮͔ͤ̋ͬ̉̚Ǫ̝͇̰L̩̻̯̰̠̺̄̽̌E̅̏ͯ ͕̗̩̫̤N̥̣̪̤̬̤̦̋̽ͤ̃̄C̛̱̜̼̩̽̈E̲ͧ͒ͮ̉ͫ͋͒,͓̬̻̍̐̾̈́͐͋͞ ͓̯͉͇ ̬̝͇Á̴͎ͨ̐̎ͯ̔Ň̈ͩ̆͑̉̄́D̡͉͇̼̖̹́̀̃ͤ͛ͥ̿ ͖̣̮̳̠̦̗̈H͎͎̤̣̘̋͋ͩA̢͕̱͔͚͗̿ͤ̈́̓ͬͥV͓̩͚̗͎͚̝̿ͪͯ͗ͦE̴͈̋ͤ̈́ͦ ̪̙͈ ̟ͩ̿̇̈̊̏D̟͉͙̤̻͚͖͡E̶͚̩̦͕̬̦͇͛V̺̬͎͈ͩE͒̏̏ͣ̚͟L͉̪͚̠̝͚̫̕Oͤ ͊ͭ̀P̦̆̽ͦͦ̒͛Ẻ̐҉̹͎͍͎̮̞D̖̩̮̜̳̜ͨ͆͛̿ͬͣ ̰̹̘̈́͐̉̃͘Șͥ̾͗̿͟U͎̭͇̹̟̻̥̇R̟V͕̲̹̪Ḭ̟͍̹͈͐ͭ̌̿̒V̢̮̪̻̥̩̂ A̫̫̯̻ͮ̆L̖͎͍̰͛̿ͬͬͣ ̤̱̘͎̘̯̐T̙͔̺ͤͨR̫̦̋̓́ͤ̉͌͊̀A͕̦̍̽ͩ́Iͣ̈ͬ̎T̨͖͎͖̮̩̰͑ͯ̆̓Sͬ ̺̘̠̞̣̬̄̓͗ͨ̄ͬ ̪̜͍͔ͮͥͮ̒͜ͅT̪̎̽̆ͬ̐͞H̱̝̼Ảͪ҉T̬̯ͬ̀̏̾̅̅́ ̞͂̆̇̏̊̎̕E̡̬͎̩̟̔͒V̪̰͒̎͋͂͋̚͘E̻͔͇̦Ņ̯̻̤̭̜̤́ͥ̇̂ͮ ̬̹͈̲̆̾ͣͨ̒̓N̖̱̮̹ͥ͡Ỏ̲̲̩̗̥̫ͩͩ͞W̰̤̜̝̫̜̱ͬ͆͂ ͖̰͉̯̣ͯ͐ͩͥ̊͘A̢̼͚̟̼̣͙R͓̪̉̄͐ͯͦ̋E̠̼͎̘̺̊͒ͪͣ̉ ̯̳̘͚͙̺͖͜

H̤̯̣͕̗̝̞̃͂ͤͬ̽ͯÉ̫̝̱̯͍̬̐ͥͣ̍͌L̰̼͖̯͇̓̏̿P̗ͫͯ̆̆̃ͯIͩͩͪ͗̀ ̢͈̬ͦ̏N̮̲͕̯̭̙͎̽̆ͤ̃ͫG̑̚ ̼͗ͮ̏ͤ̓͑̃͠Y̺̪̺̠̒͊O̺ͧU̧̫͚ͨ͒̉͒.̧̗͕̝̬̞̦͕̅̊


"And that is where we have to admit to a little bit of paranoia on the behalf of the military compliment." Ella interrupted. "The captain insisted that there was a non-zero chance that whatever was on the other side of the gate was hostile. So we got the Concert to release a set of crust cracker WMDs to us. 100 megaton nuclear devices. Get one of those into the belly of the beast, and its all over. Even better, we think, and Chronus here has confirmed this, that all the collectors in this sector of space are controlled by Zeus. Kill Zeus, and they will all shut down. They learned from Chronus the price of giving their minions too much autonomy."

Ella held up her hands.

"I know this is all a lot to take in, and freaky as all hell. But if Cronus wanted to hurt us, or sell us out, he would have already. Even if they can't send units to the surface, Zeus could still dig us out with capital weapons if he suspected we were working with Cronus. We have a slim chance of making it home, and warning everyone back home about the war that is coming."


Ẅ͉̺̱̰̳̻̥́̐̃̾͘H̛ͫͬͩ̈́A̺͈̙̘ͩ̊̑̿ͭͮ͐Ț̪̻͍̖̇̀͂ͨ̃̈́ͦ ̭͕̐ͥ̚P̣Ṛ͈̩͎̳͍ͨͥͥ̐́̽̚Ô̰͓̦̺̔ͩ͡O̪̙̠̤͙̼̯͗F̖̦̳̘̙͋ ̩̜ ̩̋͆D̢͍ͩͦ̿̍̽̿O̮̲̟̻͙̜̓̀̾ͤ̓̒͋ ̧̦̫̗̯̖Y̲ͦ̓̅̽̏̉̿O̥͖ͥ͛͛́Ư͚̜͑ͬ͛̑̓ͥ́ ͙͓̺̘̿̌ͪ͌̇̄̅͟R̷̝͇ͩ͆̿̀̓E̷̜̗̿̽ͧQ̯̯͈̞̗Ű̥̟̳I̻̲̹̺̍ͬR̊ͣ̋ ͉͇̜͔ͤ̔Ē͍̳̥͉̹̝ͅ ̭̇ͩ̈́ͫ͌̂ͪ͘F͈͓͉͙̪̩̙̂R̜O͌͊̐ͩͦ̄҉͎͔̻͉̹̰Ḿ̘̻̘ ̵̽̌M̘̋E̸͍͓̖̖?̘̼̜͙̪̼̂́̂

[Enigma]

"Why have you not already provided these people the plans for such a device?" Iona asked.


Joining
Information
Information overload
Protocol violation
...
Core purge

"I am only a Gamma. For what you are suggesting, we need a stand-alone node under the supervision of a Beta. Possibly a cluster. We could isolate nodes on the ship, but most of it is overrun. We would need some way of clearing the infection from their systems and to keep them clean."

[dakkagor]

Ť̢̖͙̤̣̃̀̌̍͛̎͟͝͠ͅH̟͎̻̱̦͑́̿̃͘͡͝ͅĖ̶̠͎͉͈̀̍̀̔̆̈́̆͘ͅȲ̛ ̨̧̝̻̤̪̮̾́̉͊̔͊̿ H̵̻̙̜̲̼̬̦̪̯͛̄̑̅͝ͅA̗͚͎͚͍̗̹̺̋͛͗̓̽̾̽͟D͔̣͙̙͉̤͑̀͋̂̈̾̑͟͡ ̶̘ N̖͎̻͕̭͒̆̿̅̿͑͊͟͞Ọ̢̜̙͉̩̉̂́̓̔̈́̓͌ U͓̼̺̪̭̪̭̯̩͙͌̅͊̑̚͠S̨͖̖̪͉̙̖̬̐̍͌́͊͂̑͘͡ͅE̬͇̬̎̂͋͂̌̎͐̂͜͢ ̶̧ F̛͇͕̤̪͗̉̒̐̀̅͒͜͠͠Ǫ̛̠̱̰̳̙͇̂̿̍͌̀̂̄͡R̭̞̪̦͋̋̀̿̐̄́̚͘ ̷̙͢ Ṭ̴̨̢͉̗̭̫̀͛́̊̆̓͋̀̊͘Ḩ̨̛̫̯̗͙͊̊͐̄̈́͛͌̃͠Ẽ̴͕̣̦̦̘̬̿̽̇͌͟ M̶̡̧̻̲͓͙̝͗͑̒̀̐͘͞͡͠͞ T̶͚̲͙͔̯̠͋̊̋̈̿H̡̲̘̖̳̼̘̾̊͑̅̀͒̄̀͡͝Ȇ̵̞͇̤̥̣̩̜͚̑͋̊͋̕͜N̓ ̧͓͚̦͚̬̩̅̈͗̉̑͌̕.̶̧̢͚͙̫̟̪͇̽̈́̐͋̆͘͟͠͡ N͙̗̦̜̫͉̤̣͒̅̔̊͑͐̿͒͗O̴͔͈̘͙̮͑͊̾̋̃̀͌͜W̨̘̠͖̼̟̓̅̆̒̀̇̀ ͚ T̹̲̲̟̦͗̆̌̎́̍̆Ḥ̷̖̤̼̰̤̠̹͇̗͋̅̂͛̓̓͡Ę̜͇̰̰̞̜̗̓̆̈́̉̒͋͠͡ ̗̤Y̴̡̩͚̣͇͔̲̦̰̜͊͐̊̽̃̃̐ D̬̤̫̥̹̫̹͚̀̂̈́̈́͑̚͟ͅŌ͓̤͕̥̲͉͍̥̋̈́̄͜͠.͖̻̠̪̦̯̳́̎̐̊̒͛̉̈́̐͘ ̷̺
̭̭̥̞̤͙͕͉̝̽̂̂̓̄̅̚̕ͅ

̧̭͔̗͓̽̂̐̎̄́̒̔̕͜T̷̤̪͙̻̺͚̀̈́͛͆̑̎̂͗͝Ó̸̝̤̜̼͓̱͖͛̌̋̆͐͜Ỹ ͓͎͖͈̜͓̳̔̃̃͡͝.̶̨͔͚̠̣̩̓̈̄͆̍͗̂ T̨̳͉͍̬̤̏̒̉͘̕Ơ̢͉̦̹̝̞̙̜̱͐̓̕̕͞Y̴̧̝̼̰͙̅͌̏̊͒͝ Ò̵̧̮̹̭͔̹̜̺́̆͂͢͡F̡̤̠͕̥͛̄̈́̍̿͘͟͜ T̸̢͎͕̤̪̝̩͌̂̇̅̎̾̌̚͠͡H̨̘̹̻̬̭̰̠̐̉̽̓͑̍̿͘͝E̼̩͍̳̱̽̊̒͌̇͞͠ ̸ D̶̢̛͔̩͓̫͋͋͛̂͜ͅĒ̵̢͇̻͉͔̝̹͗͛̑͐̌͘̕A̦̤̺̝̱̬͛̽͊͗͋̀D̛̍͆͐̉ ̛̱̫͖͇͙̝̘͒̐.̴̡̛͙̮͚̝͚̯̩͌̅͋́͌̈͆̕͟͢͝ S̡̢̠̖̞̣̰̗̱͋̌̅̀͢͝P̶̼͉͍̲̙͈̔̃̽͂̋͠͝͡Ȇ͎̟̹̺̘͇̹͂̔̑̋͐̐̈́̾͠ ̴͟͜Å̴̛͔̦̳̳͇̬̟͛̆͞K̩͕̘͓̩͈̊́̿̄͜͡͞E͍̤̱͎̺̖̯̫̊̈͋̋͗̒͒͟͞ͅ Ȓ̡̨̘̮̩̤̬̟̊̍̄̕͜͡ F͖̙̼̖̮̙͎̤͓̜̓́̓̌͋̓̏̽̓O̷̞̼̱̞̰̅̅̀̇̑̀̿̕͢Ṛ̖̻̱̋͂̆̅̌̕͝͞ͅ ̸͜ Ņ̧̧̗̹̤̥̮̼͈̌̑̎̀̈͂̚͡Ō̷̫̻͙̭̘̤͙̣͎̎͌̌͂̃̕͢ Ő̸̻͔͖̺̥̱̗̬͇̂̅̊̆̈́͜͠Ń̬͉͈̮̠͆̄̍̑͐͗̕E͓͕̭̻͙͎̥͌̐̎͊́͌̍͋͞ ͓̜.̴̧̟͔̳̤̲̻̏̑̔̅̋̽͞͞ Ŷ̴̧̲̲̮̣̌̀̄͝Ǭ̵̪̻͓̮̇͊̑̅́̃̃͆̍ͅƯ̡̨̳͉͙̓͒̈́̀́̎͊̍͗͢ ̩͙ L̤͚̮̺͎̿͂̑̓̚I̸͍̹̫̟͕̝̥̪͚͆͒̇͆̚͟͝S̢̤͇̟̣̫̫̈́́̓͋̀͌̓͜͠T͛͝͞ ̷͉̟̘̬͖͎̗̔̿̉͟É̮̠̝͓͍͖̽̈̈̚Ṋ̢̡͓̘̫̬̜̜́̓̈̓͟͝͞ B̶̨͎̥̻͙̲͖͚̳̍̔̓̇͐͠Ư̥̤̭̜͍͂̈͊̌̋̕̕͡T̮̝͕̙͂̂́͛̆̓͊̇͞͝ ͔͟ D̨̡̛̘̺͉̫̼̥͍͋̑̏̋̎̓̽͘ͅÖ̭̬̻̺͎́̿̒̿͂̀̀́ Ň̸̡̤̙͍̣̟̂̔̐͗͟͞͡Ŏ̵̡̳͕̗͉̙̪̾̀̉͛̇̃̿̚̚T̰̪̯̑̈́͗̀̇͐̏͂̽͠ͅ ̷̺̭̻̯ H̷̪̫̮͙̳̗͓̐̅̿̀̍̇̊͆E͍̞̖̮̦̠̱̾̋̅͛̍̇͢Ą̻͕͈͎̝̰͙͒͋̆́͗̋͟͝͞ ͅR̩̭̯̺͕͊̔̑̇̿̀̈́͑͆̌͢.̸̨̢̜̟̹̱̳͉̑͆́̆̅̄̕͡ͅ Y̷̧̢̘̗̙̰͙̓̄̎́̽͌̿͂̐̇͢Ȍ̷̠̦̭̲̫͓̭̅̾͋͛͗̑͝Ų͚̘͋̒̈́̔͐̚͢͝͝ ̸̹͜


Ų̰̙̪̖̽̀̇̎̃̽̾͋͗N̴̨̬̮̥̰̟͗̊̂̇̿̿͐͑ͅḐ̢̡̦͓͕̳͔̂̄͛̔́̀̑͑E ̶̡̦̫̟̲̮̝͕̍̍͂̌̂̎͜͢R̛̘̫̗̫͚͐̍͊͛͜͞S̢͖̝̼̑͑͑̀̋͟͢T͎̈͌͐̆͂̌ ̡̢̢̞̘̰̬̥͢Ą̪̦̣͓̜̅͒̃́̄̅͜͞N̷̰̩͉̩̮̔̿̎̀̋D̨̯̱̪̮͚͑̽̆̀̽̅͡ ̴͢,̴̢͕̖͔͙͉͔̂̋̅̀̂́͢ B̴̛̟̫̞̟̘̝̬͇̩̓̒̾͋͐̅̆̎ͅƯ̡̹̗͚̞̙̝͋͌̋̈͐̑̚͜T̲̙̗͒̇̽̋̂͑̀͝ ̧̬͖̞͔ D̢͖̘͎̳͈̰͋͂̀̇͋̓̈͂̂̕͟͟Ǒ̵̡̻̥͍̞͎̬̳̼̘̑́̊̂̉͊͡͝ Ǹ͚̜̗̝͈̬̂̀̊̿̚̕Ơ̷̮̞̮̭̎̌̍̇̉̌͗̕ͅṪ̡̧͍̲̭̝̜͚́̽̈̀́͋̇̒̑͟ ̵ Č̢̦͚͙̰͎̼̝͈͆͛̾̕͢͝O̷̪̮̭̟͉̭̽̍͌̏͆̿̊̚̕͟M͈̦̟͍̈͊̌̒̽̎̈̓̃͢ ̵̠Ṕ̘̙̤̻̍̅̂̐̇͘ͅR̡̘͔͎͈̘̜̙̂̒̀͐̋̾É̵̛̦̹͓̩̇́̏̄͡͝ͅȞ̍̌͠ ̸̨͉̦̱̬͔̲̩̣͊̉͐͘͘͠E̡̢̙̻̖̔̏͂͒̎͒̓̚͢͡͝N̹̳̟̣͕͉̗̈͋̈̆͆̚̚͘͡ ̩̟Ḑ͚̫͓͇̺̖́̎̑͑̆̓.̷̧̜͈̹̩̜̭̅̏̉̏̚͘͝͡ P̵̨̨͇̱̪̩̖̱̲̾͐͊͂́̓́̕͠Ư̷̢͎̜̟̮̽̈́̂̋̑͢͝͞͠P̨̛̯̘͕͑̔͋́͌͝͡ ̰͓̟̩̝͕P̶̪̙̻͈̞̟̠͖͗̏͂̀͜͟͝͝Ḙ̥͉͙͚̫̙̬͛̎͛͂̿̉̔̋̀͟͠T͛͌̄̉̄ ̨̨̞̪̳͚͉͛̆́͘̚͜͟ͅ.̡̼̹̗͓̃̍̒̀̏ͅ P̡̨̮͚̭͖̬̩̰̠̃̇̋́́̿̐Ļ̜̤͉̠̦̠̯͗̽̔̿̐͢͞ͅÀ̡̢͓̟̝͇̉̀̐̀̓̆͂ ̼͈Y̧̥̱̭̱̊̃̀͂͒̊̈͝T̴̛͔̞͉̪̣̲̓̉̌͌͜͞H̛̦̺̯͎̣̙̗̘̀̂̎̏̈́̆͘̚̕ ̮̩Ì̸̧̛͉̼̭̪̥̝̞̥̇̌̂͞ͅN̸̲̖͕͎̟̺̆̊͋̿́̚̕͘͜͞͝G͛͐̐̒̾̂̚͞͞͡ ̷̘̭̥̼̝̤̠.̴̨̧͇̘̗̆̎̑̿̅͟͠
̸̖̥͈͈̘͓̊͒̑̀̃͘̕

̡̭̯̖̬̽̋̋͆̀́̄̑͢O͕͓͙̜̯̟͖̫̱̒̃͊̓̒̄̉̒N̴̨̬̗̼̳͖̓̎̃͐͢͡C͂̉̍ ̵̟̘͚̬̮͖͚̀͆̇͛̕͜Ę̸̡̛̱̖̝̳̟̗̽̆́̉͘̚ Z̨̦̜̲̘̭̙̯̐̃́̅̅̾̓̀̕Ȩ̷͓̦̲͓̏̏̉̍̃͐͊͂͆Ù̢͈̖͔̺̥̾̈̇̀̐͗̌͟ Š̟̣̲̘̲̋̽̊͂̽̽͂̇͐ I̴̡̛̬̭̤̐̿̽́͌̎͞ͅS̺̗͓̫͖̾̄͆͆͌͒̐͐̑́ Ḑ̧͖̞͈̦̞͋̒̽͒͆̐̚͡É̵̢̜̞̪͔́͒͆͝Ȁ̡̢̹̙̤͔̯̻̍̓͛̌̑D̓͊̒̾͋͠ ̶̨͇͇̥̟̯̻̬̆̂͗͜,̸̢̛͉͎̬͍͔͇͛̊͆̑͆͌͛̕͡ T̨̛̛̰̭̜̹̰̔̔̃̎̋͟H̵̛͔̹̱͆̃̓̒̀̔̂͢͝͞ͅÈ̡̧̢̹̗̞͚̬̫̅̎̃̋̿͝͝ ̼ P̶̡͖̹͖̞͗͊̎́́͂̈́̊͡͞A̷͔̣̬̙̳͕̱̤͈̓͗̀̿̏̈́̊̄̅̂T̼̣͕͍̊́́̾̓͋͝ ̷̧̖̺̹̩̯H̡̨͉̺̩͇͆̓̐̏͛̽́̌̚͝ Ĭ̶̲̜̰̖͓͚͇͚̓͒͒̈́͊̃̓̕͢͢͞S̴̢̻̠̦̹̽̃̍͗͐̄̕ C̴̨̩͍͍̤̱̞̒̋͌́̕L̶̝͕̫͉̜͔̙̞̄̍̎̋͞E̠̻̞̞̰̩̱̲͉̖̎͊̆̋̕Ȃ͆̕͡ ̟͉̞̦̮̱̆̎͊̾̌͢͢Ŗ̡̻̯͍̟̪̖̏̽̃̅͟͞͞.̼̠͖̭̘̤͌͛͛́̐̂͂͢͡͡ ͇̬ N̳̞͙͕̫͕͍͔̓͆̂̃̍͜Ȯ̧̢͎͔̰̫̉̿́̎̽̿̔͐ M̸̡̫̜̘̯̂̈́̂͛͘͠Ṏ̢̨̝̺̩̫̝͊͐̏̍̀̀̚͢͞R̛̗͇̲͕͖̩̱͓̽͐͛͌̐E̋̆ ͓̣̩͇̙̞͍̭͙̑̄͛̍̚͟ Î̧̢̛̦̠̠̬̲̃̿͂͑͒̓̕Ņ̸̡̡̬̹̥͈̪̘́̀̎̓̎ͅF̸̱͙͓̰̤̽͆̌̈̽́̈͠E ̶͈͚̤͉̫̮̋̑̀̒̓́͘͟C̴̢̡̛̝̗̯̉̾̿̓͢͞T͕̩̖͖̯̣͈̫͓̍́̄̊̀͘͠I̒͋͝ ̴̧̛̯̣͕̱̞͕͕̫͛̂̽͘͘͢͡Ơ̵̧͙͖̖͕͇̺̙̳̈́͆͆́͑͋̿̾N̰̔̀̈͒͛̌͆́̚͡ ͔̘̳̻̲̘͍͎ O̱̱͈̬̒͆̂̆̚͜F̩̪͖̜͔͋̀̔͗͂̋̒͡ S̶͔͈̘̬͎̮͛͋̀̀̄̉̎͢͝͠H̸̨͎̱̝͙͈̟̮͒͂͐̌͑́͠I̩̯̜̬͐͑̒̉̈́̈́͆̕̚͢ ̴̤̰P̸̗̤͖̥̲̌̄̓́̍͐̌̕ͅ B̨͔̠͍͚͑͗̏͒͠Ơ̶̢̹̳͎̘̯̾̑̀͂͌A̡̢̘͔̒̀̍́́͒̾́͟͜͞ͅR̽͂͐̊̆̑͂ ̱̤̞̞͔̺̯̗͐̚͢D̸̼̘̻͈̜͍̤͙̈́͋̌̊̽̍͡ Ņ̴̢̙̪̖͎̩͚̬̑̆̔̌͐̀͗͘Ọ̲͉̩͓̍̒͒̾́͠D̸̟͖̠̣̲͖͌̾͒̇͊͑̊̀͋͠E ̶̢̺͍̠̘̰̬̅̏̐͆̚̕̕͜͝͠S̖͓̭̙̙̄̄̌́̕͢͠͝.̧̟̬̜̪͍̪̓̀̆̕͡͞ ̭̙ N̰̲̬̰̳̊̍͊̐̓̇̒ͅǪ̡̳̙́̇̇͒̕͟͞ M̴̧̛̹̤̱̪̗͔̩̏̏̈̄̋̍͊̒Ǒ͓̰͔͍̭̞͎͍͋̍̀͘ͅR͙͎̯̃͋́͊̀͐̈́̉͋͌͟ͅ ͕͇͇E̜̹̱̩̮̽̀́̉̈͢͠͠


B̛͇̮̝̰̹̥͕͛̿̒͐̎̍̔Ȩ̶̛͔̟̠̔̍̑͌͛̚ͅR̷̨̡̨̫̖̻̟̓̇͂̄̇́̚͘͘͟S ̢̧̥̲̮̜̭̝̾̑͐̿̈ͅE̙̺͍̫̐̌̅̈͟͜͠R̢̦̖͙͔͙̾̈́̐̐͘K̢̟̭̪̭͖̄̉̐̃͡ ̢͈͜Ę̵̺͖̩͔͖͓̬̉͑̿̈́͋̂Ȓ̛̠̟̮͕̟̩͇̦͉͋̈́̿̐͘ D̢̳̘͔̠̹̝̠͍̒͒͐͊͌̇̋̕R̢̺͓̺̠̹̬̩̰̅͋̔͂̍̽Ǫ̛̗̜͍̫̈́̇̎̊̊͛͌͢͜ ̥̗͈Ṉ̷̹͇̻͚̦͎̲̥̮́̄͊́̋́͐̆̚̕É̴̛̛̩̠͎̺͍̮̰̺̍̉̀̋̕̕̕S̀̽̂͗ ̼̼̹̻͓̩͛̐́̋.̵̢̟͈̮͉̰̳̰̟͒̑̋͒̈ İ̷̘̩̘̦̻̭͇̦̏̌͋̃̉̓̄̒̕ W̯̮͚͉͎͈̾͒̔̎̐̃͆̅͌̑͜I͍̠͙̭̮͋͛͛̇̚͘͝L̸̡̩̞̙̞̪̜͊͋̃̋̉̓̑͒̏͐ L̼̻̦̺̙̲̉͗͊̏̚͜ G͈̮͓̭͓͍͇̹͋̒̋͋̊̕͜I̸̛͈̲̳̥̦͗͆̿͜͠V̛͇̪̖̖̟͆͌͑͑͗͊͌͘͡E͛͌̂̂ ̡̟̼͓̫͓͐͊͗͢ Ỹ̞͉̠̦̠̝͍̰̱̎̐͛̉Ǫ̴̢̧̥̰̝̹͇͚̓́̅͐͂Ù̢̡̗̩͓͍̣̰̣̊̿̎͐ T̷͎̼͓͚͕̓̐͑͋͊͠H̢̭̺̱̝̱̼͇͉͓̉͗̌̌̽̋̒̒̈́͞Ḝ͍̪̪͎͂̽̾́̍̔ ̙̤̘ T̵̢̘͕̮̜̬̣̾̆̚̕͝Ơ͙̯͓̘̩̯͐̈̂̅͐̽͋͠Õ̜̣̺̙̎̃̈́͐̏̓͐͢L̇̂̇̍͘ ̸̨̡̟͔̻̹S̴̡̧̫̯̹̦̬͙̥̎̃̑̾̅̎̈̒͠ͅ.̡̡̺̥͇͎̰͕͒̉͒̽̐̒̓̕ Y̴̡̖̮͈̻͕̫̬͊͒̐̊̇̓̃̏O̶̤̲͉͓̦̣̊̽̾͐̕͟͝Ư̢̛̗̗̭͇̠̬̓̍̉̈́́̚͟ ̵͕ M̴̪̘̣̙̬̳̻͎̄͋̾͌̐Ư̸̡̺̯͎͓̯͉͙̼̈͂̓͗̒̓͑͘̚S̝͈̱̻̘͕͐̎͛̕͟͝͡ ̸̠̗Ţ̩̤̤̭̭̼̒͒̈͒͝͝͞ Ȋ̭͇̘̀̾́̆̈́̂͢͟͡͞͠M̵̭̥̩̖̠̈́̌̑̏͋̎P̢̼͔̥͔̒̍̀̓̈̏̚͘͢͜͠͠L̾͝ ̴̫͙̪̲̝̹̠̂̊̆̿̉E͇̫̥̤͎̼͕̰͋̎͊͛̓ͅM̷̱̯̭͕̘̹͉͐̔͌́̔͘͟E̒̀̅͘͝ ̵̡̦̪̬̦̙͓̪̓̂̐͊͝ͅN̢̛͚̘̘̄̈́̿͆͒̐̈͐͡ͅͅT̫̰͔̅͆́͂̒͒̐̀͂̏ ͈̗ Ţ̲̰̖̪̙̮̹̄͑̅̑͊͊́̈͡͠Ĥ̶͓̙͎̳̏̈͗̋̃͊͢͢E̳̳̼̟̝̓̽̔̅͐̔͞ ̸̖ P̢̰͕̜͖̺̩̭͗̒̂̑͆͒̾͠L̤̗̪̩̗̩͆̃̇͝͞ͅĄ̠͉̥͕̈́͗́̏͝N̓̇͌͒̇̾̉͠ ̧̨̖̟̘͔.̷̛̣͙̘̺̼̘͚͇̼̱̈́͆̋̏̃̆̈͡
̴̫͉̪̟̦̜̟̅̍̔͗̃̏͌̋̐

͈̰̣̘̠̣̦̺̥̀͗̔͐̌̌Ų̵̫͈̭̯̈͒͆̍͗̂͒̚Š̢̢̞̭̱͍̲͕͗̐̓̉̑̚͝͝ͅE ̶̙͖͇͚͓̟̪͖̲͂̐̂̒̽̍́͞ Ḩ̸̜̙͙͎͉̙́́̓͑̽̃̍͒͐͂͟Ḭ̢̣̦̦͖͍̝̞̣͋̒̑͛̀̍̿̈́͘͝S̭͋͑̾̇̏̓͠ ̶͕̘̭̠̰̙̲͢ S̷̨̛̱͕̩̩̗͎͌̃̓̏̉͢͠͠Ù̴̢̯̺͔̫̯̫̆͌̓͗͌͆̒͢͟ͅḆ͇̯̔̀̉̊̀̕̚͢ ̵̝̹͕V̡̛̮̣̜͔͇̈̀̌͊̌̓̈̅E̴̡̲̼̦̰͖̲̳̱͆̍͌́̀̉̽̍͌͂Ȓ̜̣̓́̍͆͞ ̴̝̖̳͇̲͙̥͟Ţ̦͎̳̟͔̖̆̍̊͐͛́Ȩ̴͚͙̥̼̅́̌́͟͝D̛͙̜̭͒͛̔́̀ ̜͜ D̷̡͎̣̩̯̲̜̫͗̀̀͆̚͡Ṛ̶̟̺͇̗͐̀̽͆̏̃̄̒̇͝ͅO̵̢̡̼̼͎͒̇̋͗͢͠ͅN̍ ̷̨͖͉͎̥̰͂̃̈͘̚͟E̠̝͓͓̞͔͑̓̎̂͟͠Ș̺̭̂̍̍̉̊́̅͢͝ͅ.͒̓̇̇͑̅̅̈́̕ ͖͙̙̺͓̯̦͂͢ S̢̧͖̺͍̻͈̣͈̎̇̽͗̅E̪̙̙͓̗̍̊̈͒̎́̈́̓͜͝Ń̢͍̠͕̮̗͈̫͎͋̿̓̈́̀̂̈́͛ D̵̲̝̙͈̗͕͙͐̑̾͑̇͟ͅ Ỳ̸̦̺͕̳̩͍̖̤̿̍̉̑͟͡Ơ̢͙͙̰̟̓̉͋̀̏͘U̸̧̻̘͕̺͙̠͋̃̾̏͗̓̔͒͡R͂ ̷͉̹͖̿̈́̌́̍̏̓̃͟ͅ B̷̨̩̘̙̯͕̠͇̈͆́͒̽͛̾̚̚͡Ò̸̡̠̰̘̻̀̑̍̇̀͟M̠̮͇͖̮̈́̒́̇̏͛̾̊͝ͅ ̢͉̜Ḇ͓̪̺̹̦̤̋̍̋͐̍͑̒̑͘͝ T̵̨̖͕̲͕̪͐́́̀͊̊͠Ơ̫̝̲̩͈͑͑̎͌͆̈͋͆͘͢ͅ H̶̨̢̳̤͙̻̠̤͗̇͒̀̋͛͊͊̕̚I̴̢̱͎̳̱̗̓͊̌̄̉̀̈̈S̙͎̦͙̮͙̃̄̃̀̋̂͡ ̙̹ V̧͔̭̼͍̝̼͍̗͂̈̒͋̍ͅÈ̢̢̡͔̗͉̳̺̝̔̕͟͡͠S̶̡͙̭̣͔͕͗̄̐͑̔̉̄͘͘͢ Ş͍̺͇͔̩̯̭̺̼͑̾́́̐̾͗̆́̚E̡̜̮͖͎͓̪̞̯̖͊͑̒̀͂̚͞Ĺ̤͚̻̬̉̌̀̓̚ ̵̭̼.̷̼̘̺̺͙̪̖̩̑͆͋͒́̽͟ A̵̡̡̪͈̹̩̼̮̾́͐͆̽̍̒̕ͅN̸̡̨͚̖͈͍̭̤̱͛̾̎͛̍̃̾͘͟͠D̨̛̀̓̓̐̇̅̚ ̨͙͕̫͖̲̱͜ K̷̨̢͎̯͉̳̦͐̀̾͆͡I̴̢̛̜̟̯̰͈̲̟͈͗̅͛̓͊͢͞L̶̢̟̲͓̫̰̀̋͗͡͝͝L͛͊ ̴̧̧̖̼̼̲̰͉͆͋̿̒̇̾͡ͅͅ Ȟ̴̨͙̟̮̯͈̺̠̫̓̾̄͊͘̚͡͞Í̶̢̡̧̢̡͉͓̘̦̇̔̒͘͟M̼͍͌͗̎͑͒̿̏͋͗̑ ͙̫̼̩,̗̭͈̦̬͔̩̗̘̊͗̇͒̇ Ǫ̼̼͔̱͉̪͓̦̊̽́̍̀́̃̅̕͟Ņ̴̤͔̞̱̰̩̥̝͊̌͑͋͗͋̀̚͟C̛̟̱͌̎̍̃̑̄ ̷̗̤̳̤̼͢ͅͅE̝̗͈̪͚̘̐̉̅̈́͢͠ A̟̘͖͈͚̦̲̺̥͕̓͊̎̀̍͠͠N̷̥͚̞̳̱͈͇͔̏͑̇͂̿ͅD̺̤̞͚̪̪̈́͆̔̅̕̚͘͜͠ ̴ F̷̠̲̺̭̱̤̞͇̥͔͒̐́͒̍̈́͗͠O̹̰͓̜͇͖̠̭͈͛͂͌̾̑̇͘̚̚͢R̢̙̱̻̓̈̀͡͡ ̶̨̣̯̯̣̮ A̸̼͕͉͓̼̓̊͆͒͒̓̚͡͡L̸̹̗͎̘̫̳̗̂̓͒̂͘͝L̨̨̛̠̩̺̪̺͐̑̐̒͒̊͐͑͝ͅ ̸̬.̷̧̬͎͖̼̮̤͋͐͛͊̊̑͐͊̄̃͜͢



The monster swung its head to focus on Iona alone.

W̧̬͉̜̳͍̱͎͓̔̍̂̕͞Ì̢̡̛̮̯̘͆̎̑͛̑̚͡L̛̲̪̟̦͚̱̰̫̤͌̽̀͑Ĺ͗̾́ ̧̣̠̻̟̇͋ Y̧̡̱̟̟̅̆͐̊̏͛͛̆͊͟͢Ó̗͙͚̩̱̘̀͊̄̔Ų̛̬̯̲͙̞̠̬͐̾̈͆͋͆͘͝ ̯̱ C̶̮͍̩̭̱̫̍́̈́̓̍̂͟A̷͖͍̪̠̜̗̓̽͑̑́̋̓̃R̮̝̗͍̪̱̈̆͋͒̿̾̆́͢͞͠ͅ ̴R̸̛̲̭̱̘̈́͗̏͌̚ͅỲ̵̧̞̙̯̼̬͎̌̃̃͗͐̒̔͌̕ I̢̫̘̜͖͕͈͌̈͒̉́͊̆͘͡Ṭ̸̼̱̭̪͋͋̈̀̏͐̕͞͠,͓͔̌̉̈̿̍̀́̿̀͢͞ ͍͜ O̶̡̨̜̘͚̯̦̮̮̤͆͛̌̈͑̾̀͋͘̕R̶̻̙̗̪̭̪͋̃̽̑̆́̑͘̚͜͡ W̢̨͔̟̙̰̬̖̻̒̓̎̆̅̊ͅI̖͚͚͉̜͓̻͈͙͋͋̆̅͞Ḽ̰̲̖͚̦̞̤̈́̉̀́̈́̽̀͘͝ ̷L͙͚͓͎̭̲̾̌͊̄̽͗͜͟͞͠ T̨̘̼̘̪͚͛̉͆̈́͒͢ͅH̡̡̼͓͚̤͕͇͚́̾͛̒̊̾̄̕͜E̮̻̘̿̍̋̇̇̑͂̋̇͘ ̴̲̹ D̪̦̘͇̫̐̂̔͌͐͆̏͒̊̀R̡͓̬̼͒̊̐́͛̔̒͢Ǫ̴͕̲͇̙̦̝̈͂̎̊̑̇̔̏̈́͞N̈́ ̵͔̲͕͔͇̓̓͋̾͜͟E̷̛̻͚̱̝̹͇͛̂̏̊̍ T̢̡̗͇̰͈̞̋̿̍̇̓̊̋̚͠É̡̛̼̬͈̹̱̦͛̅̇͑̚͞͡Ņ̙͉̭̬̘͓͐͒͋̌̆̕͜D ̵̧̛͔̦͍̟̗̣̻̲̜̊̑̑̑̈́̆͝E̲̼͍̼̳̣̒́̌̉̔̕͢R̨̟͕̗͍͐̀̈̉͋̀͠͠?͒͐ ̨̨͓͈̲̼̌̉͌͗̇̓̀̕ Ơ̵̮̗͍̮͉͗̄͋͛̄̈͆̽͜R͚̲̺͍̳̀̀͛̀͊͟͟͝ͅ Ẅ̸͍͓̻̜̬͔̜̜́͐̓̒̽͠Í̸̗̜̟̰̱̟̺͛͊̽͒͞L̗̩͎̤̳͈̮̬͋̈́̌́̏̂̎͊̚L ̶͈̲͂͗̓͑̽̑́̒͟͢͟͞ Ỵ̵͖̮͖̹̹̻͉͑̂̀̃̓̉̿̕͟͞Ơ̸̛͇̝͚̹̝̼̂̿͊̀̑̚͟͜U̖͊̇́̐̈͊̄̇̑̋ ̧͈̰̳̝͔̤̝̜ G̡͉̮͓̳͈̪̱͑̂̒̈́̔̕͡͡I̸̧̧̢͉͔͔͕͛̏͆̎̓̒̃͟͠͠V̖͎̪͓͙̏̿̐̆͛̆̌ ̨E̶̲̥͙̭̽̂͌̾̈͢ M̵̡̥͈̤͈͌̎́̾͌͂̚͠͝E̡͔̮̠̤͑̽͑̀̈́͐̈́̚͢͜͜ T̡͍͍̯͕̖̆̓̄̎̆͠͡H̛̞͕̻̭̱̾̊̍̂̊͜͜͞͠Ė̢̛̱̯͎̻̙̦̣̀͛̍͋̊̑̾̚ͅ ̴ F̡̣͇̫͔̘̥͔̌͌̾͌̓͂̐̆͌ͅǪ̶̳̥̞͎͖͎̺̻̱͋̑͆͒̕͘Ơ̢̞̲͉̘̻̈́͌̽͆̕ ̧̺͖̖L̶̛̤̬͙͇̠̫̇̏͊̚̚͟͜?̝̭͚̠͚̠̥̮͙̈̂̆̈̄͘͜

[Enigma]

"Are the berserkers aboard the Elcano merely Zeus' drones?" Iona asked. Was the Alpha Prime calling her a fool?

"Why not make them all bombs and send them back to swarm like they reportedly swarmed aboard our ship?"

A single bomb could do some damage. A lot of bombs could do a lot of damage.

[AngelDellaNotte]

She struggled against Winters holding her a bit until finally elbowing her in the stomach. Then she stomped down on her foot and leaned forward throwing Winters over her shoulder. The Terrain landed right at Sayori's feet. Miranda turned to Ella looking between the group and Chronos. “Like hell you are letting this monster have me. Hear that? I don't give consent to whatever the hell this thing wants to do with me.” Miranda said, her eyes stopping on Ella. “You let this thing take me and you prove that the Lyre First movement right and the Concert is nothing but a lie. That they don't give a damn about anyone and their so called morals are a front.”

[Azazeal849]

“And that is where we have to admit to a little bit of paranoia on the behalf of the military compliment.” Ella interrupted. “The captain insisted that there was a non-zero chance that whatever was on the other side of the gate was hostile. So we got the Concert to release a set of crust cracker WMDs to us. 100 megaton nuclear devices. Get one of those into the belly of the beast, and it’s all over. Even better, we think, and Cronus here has confirmed this, that all the collectors in this sector of space are controlled by Zeus.”

“What exactly is Zeus?” Sayori asked, thinking of what Davvry had said about Alphas. “That thing we saw on the hanger deck?”

Ella shook her head. “Think bigger. Zeus is the ship that is currently pulled up alongside ours. You probably got a look at the ugly motherfucker on the way down.”

Sayori nodded and chewed her tongue, vaguely resentful at her own mistake.

“The Berserker command platforms do not shrink down into bodies this size.” Ella went on, “Well, you know, unless it’s a punishment.”

Sayori glanced up through the shield bubble at the shifting, agitated Cronus, speared to the floor by its own creations. “Okay. And if we destroy the super-cap...?”

Ella nodded. “Kill Zeus, and they will all shut down. They learned from Cronus the price of giving their minions too much autonomy.”

Sayori massaged a gloved palm with her thumb. “And the Gate will be safe?” Cronus had said it had six ‘children’. But if all the Berserkers in the system went down, they would have a chance to flee back through the Gate, and close it behind them before the others could follow.

Ella stood immobile, not sharing the optimistic thought. “Maybe.”

…

Their Sentinax speaker’s attempts to negotiate were suddenly interrupted when Miranda slipped out of Stratford’s grip and elbowed her in the stomach. Then she stomped down on her foot and leaned forward throwing Winters over her shoulder. The Terran landed right at Sayori's feet.

Miranda turned to Ella looking between the group and Cronus. “Like hell you are letting this monster have me. Hear that? I don't give consent to whatever the hell this thing wants to do with me.” Miranda said, her eyes stopping on Ella. “You let this thing take me and you prove that the Lyre First movement is right and the Concert is nothing but a lie. That they don't give a damn about anyone and their so called morals are a front.”

“Oh fuck this!” Sayori exploded, striding forward. “I’ll do it, you hear me!?”

The oil-slick shimmer of Ella’s elemental-suit field forced her to halt, which gave her time to blink and realise (fuck) that yes, it had been her own voice that had just spoken. For a moment she wanted to step back, but stupid stubborn pride won out yet again, and a glance back at Miranda rekindled her anger.

“I’ll do it.” she said again, biting down. “I’m quite sure Sinclair will put a bullet through my head if I do anything suspicious, right?”

The gallows humour fizzled. She stood there, separated from the towering alien construct by the thin shell of the field, feeling suddenly very alone.

Gaea leaned her head back against the wall, and closed her eyes. (Did she feel alone too?) “Watch out for your decisions. Make them, by all means. But...you're gonna carry that weight.”

(God, but she could feel that weight now.)

No, Sayori realised. Gaia hadn’t been feeling alone - all in this shit together, she had said. Something that Sayori suspected Miranda and Stef were never going to learn. So who else was here to make the decision?

She wanted to go home.

Sayori curled her fists inside her suit gloves. Was that all it was? The crew, the Gate, the Berserkers, the threat to their home galaxy - despite all that, was her only motivation her frightened inner child who just wanted to make this waking nightmare stop?

No. It might be just stubborn pride again, but she had promised Gaea. Help them get home. (I’m gonna fucking try.)

She had promised Garrick too. She wondered what that clever bastard would make of this. Assimilating the knowledge of an alien god-machine would certainly rank up there with his experimental gamble with the rejuvenating nanobots. Science: poke things with sticks, and see how they react.

Maybe that was part of it too. Just selfish curiosity - the same curiosity that had steered her towards her current career (Aren’t you embarrassed by how limited we are?), and that had been awed by the alien planet of cybernetic life.

Sayori slowly unclenched her fists.

She didn’t even know anymore. All she knew was that she had made her decision, and now she was going to carry the weight.

[Enigma]

A human wanted to do the sharing? Curious.


Unknown risks:
Vulnerable to Cronus
Vulnerable to Zeus
Hybrid biosphere connection


"And what will this do to her?" Iona asked, turning towards Cronus. "Will she need cybernetic nanites? Will she be vulnerable to attack by Zeus?"

[dakkagor]

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Ą̷͍̦̱̻̞͍̑̉̃̅̌̂͆ͅÇ̘̦̼̮̤͓̘̩̿̾̐̒̌̃̔̈͡C̡̰̘̱͒́̀̿̔͌͑̓͠ ̧̢̡͖E̴͈͈͎̦̗̭͆̅̽̐̉́̿͟ͅP̴̪̤̭̱̆̓̓͒̀ͅŢ̩͇̭̖̟̹͂̊̂̾͂̈́̋̚E ̴̨̛̛̖̩̝̱̎̏̽̽͒͗͠ͅḐ͇͈̭͎̭̋̍͛̐̏̾
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The shield failed as the massive construct smashed through it. It ignored the questions of Iona and dozens of metallic tendrils unfolded from the rents in its hull.

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Y̢̬͖̺̮̓̊̍͐̇͊̓Ó̴͈̺̟̫͕͇͖͚̻̃̿̍̓̑̓̿̚̚U̧̼̲̫̱͉͌͌̐̉̓̐͟͡ͅ ̸̩̫ W̷̡̞̮̪͚̱͖͙͈̆̒̍̒̈́̊̓͜͡Ī̴̢̤̻̟̱͖͙͈̜͓̏͌̀̆L͓̳̿͐̄̓̎͒́͢͠ ̷̧̨͜L̵̦̪͉̭̠̯͎͙̎̊͗͗̈̈́̌̽͞ B̴͙̺̣̩̖͙͂͐̀̈́͌̊͗̑̈́͆É̷̡͎̥̭͙̣̃̄̑̕ H̡͔̳̻̣͍͚̰͔̊̎͑̉̊̚ͅA͔̯̺̥͚̽̆̍͐̓̀̔R̛̲̹̤̺̼̯͚̱̂͒̀̃͜͢D̽̈̕ ̶̡̞͍͈͕̞̅͂̉̉͂E̵̛̲͖̦͕̳̫͆̇̋̀͜͞͠͡N̴̮̦̬͖̝̪̂̀̀̉̓͐̋̇͝E͛̾͋ ̨͇̮̜̮̫̍̓̎͒̋̈D̸̛̥͕͉̳̟̞̮̜̫̓̓́͐̓͢͞͞.͈̝̼͙̻̘̺͐͛̿̾̒̎ ̵͜ Y̵̨̥̼̦̭̦̱͆̈͋̆̄̕͢Ò̴̮̙̰̘̣̻̙̣͍̈́̒̔̍̌̕U̧̟̦̫̲̦̒̓̓̏̐̔̀͆̚ ̷ C̴̺̦͖̱̦͓̍͋̍͗͑̀͢͜͝͡A͕̣͎̺͚͖͂̌́̈͑̽̆͘͟͜R̨̧̟̪̥̩̟̎́̀̀͑͝͞ ̵͈͜Ŗ̸͕̤̲̮̬̳̤͔̯̈́̀̽̽̓͂͂Y̢̢̩̳͈͗̊̉͋͋́ M̵̡̦̼̱͍̭̫̯͉̃̋̌̈́̎́̍͟͡͡Y͙̝̫̰̲͊͑̐̀͑͒̚ Ķ̴̜̫̗̜̺͓͒͂̌̾̍͑͒̽̽͡N̡̗͔̼̱͚̹̲̿͑̿̕͘Ǫ̨̡̯͇͙͙̓̌̓̈̈́̀͘͟͜ ̫Ẅ̶̢̨̛̞̫̘͍͓̮͇̞͆̀̓̕̚͝L̛̥̥̯̗͈̅̇̿̃͆͂̈́̕͟͜͞Ê̗̰͋͑́̊̚͞ͅ ̱̥̼Ď̶̟̝̘̺͔̥́̃̍͂̾̋͋͐Ģ̮̱̬͚͖͓́̈̀̈̊̿Ḛ͙̩̊̀͌̌̍͗̚͞ ̸̝͇ T̶̲̗̲̒̓̅̉̾̀͌̾̽̇͜͟O̼̱̖̝͍̺̠͈̔̓̉͊̾̽͞ͅ Ţ̧̨̛͕̟̮̗̭̤̿̐̏̇̉̓͒̎͘H̰̝͙͓̞͋̋̃̿̋̓͒̋Ḙ̢͈̙̾̋̄̐̎̀̓̈́͟͠͠ ̹ S͙̤̪͉̺̮̺̍́͊̉͒͟P̳̤̜̜̬̗̗̜̳̐͐͛̕͘͘Í̢̛̯̹̼̘̟̩̃̊̀̓̍́͂R̾̏ ̫̗̙̟̜̏̊̇͑͞A̴̼̠̯͚͕̍̔̅̑́̿̾͌̚L̲̝͓̖̬̪̭̹̤͗̔̾́̆̄͗.̊̎̾̀̕̕ ̶̟͚̩͍̗̥̈́̎̈̌͜͟ Ỳ̢̡̨̥̼̭̱̅̐͑̿̿͋̔̄͟Ọ̷͉̜͈̊͋̂͘͢͡ͅŲ̞̖͕̘͇̣̙͋̄͒̓̆͂̎̏͜͞ ̵ W̷̨̢̨̮̘͚͙̮͋̆͗͑̈́̔̕͘͢I̧̡̘̟̝̩̣̎̎͛́̅͟L͖̹̬͈̭̫͛̽̓͂́̈́̒͌̚͝ ̵̘͜L̛̗̙̫͕͖̓͑͑̀͛͒̚͘͘ S̡̜̻̞͎̳̞̦͆͛̔͛̉ͅÀ̵̡̲͚͇͉͍̎̈̋͂̊͠͞V͕̩̜͔͋͊̓̏͛̎̕͟͝ͅE̍̌͆ ̻͇̺͔͂͑̎͢ Ÿ̴̢̰̭̩̟̣́͒́̅Ǫ̵̺̯̼̲̱͔͕̽̌̄̎̿͜ͅỤ̸̩̙͈̣͇̹̯̏̽͋̒͒̍̈́͐Ṙ ̧̥̮̰̮̱͛̈̑̑̒͝͞ P̡̛̤̬̰̹̫͍̯̎̽̄̃̽Ě̵̳̠͎̥͙̦̓͑͋͝O̸̝̫̪͕̲̔́̈́͂́̄̒́̊Ṕ̛̚̕͠ ̷̜̦̥͙̥̱L̶̻̻͚̦̗̞̖̊̍̇̌̔̍̅͗͑ͅẸ̭͔̬͍͖͕͂̅̀̍̇̄͊̅̚͜͟͞.̽͋͗ ̴̤͍̭̹̖̋́̀̆̿̊͠ͅ
.
.

For a second Ella yelled no, raising a gun to fire, before she was swatted aside. The tentacles snatched up Sayori, and the vast grinding maw opened in front of her like a lotus flower made of industrial machinery and diamond tipped drills.

.
.
Ȳ̷̭͓͙̻̭̜̒̿̅̊̇͢͜Ơ̵̳̩͍̜̹̼̲̙̺̋̊͗̓́̅̓Ų̭̥̜̍̈̍̎̋̈̍ ̤͇̻ Ẃ̟̬̭̝͙̙̭͓̺̈̃̄̕͞Ȉ̸̡̜̣͇̖̦͆͂̌͐̓͢ͅͅĽ̰͎͓̠͙̣̻̰̂̀̇̚̕͜L ̶̢̢̟̩̫̃͊͒̊͑͌̕͟͡͡ F̱͈̭͕͈̎̈́̍̓́̋̒̕͞Ę̢͍̠̤̹̹̆̇̓͗̀͋̾͜͡͞E̡̛̪͍̩̩̠͉̍́̈̃̓͜L͆ ̴̺͈̹͙̥̞̘̯͛̆̇́̏͢ͅ S̨͔̰͔̳̤̖͚̥̃̑͒̇̾͋̎̎̒͠O̘̤̺̱̫͎͊̀̀̀̀̏̇̄͞M̧̆́̿̀̅́͊̊͠͝ͅͅ ̴̡̭̗ͅĘ̸͈̱͙̪̟̫̻̞̍͋̂́̈͘͜ P̸̯̣̦̗͓̰͇̒͛̆̃̇Ą͇̞͓̦͚͈̤̎͋̑̔͊̕͟I̜͎̝̞̠̓̓̃͊́̚͘͡N͂̏̓̏͠ ͍̟̤̲͓̈
.
.

And then she vanished into the beast.

You don't need to be embarrassed any more, by how limited you are.

Sayori woke up, shivering and cold on the floor of the chamber. It was empty, except for the vast alien idol that loomed over her, still skewered by stakes, but now cold and silent.

Those spikes are one way data trunks. They show me what the Berserker command platforms are doing, but don't let me transmit out. You are running out of time. You have the schematics, and are augmented to be able to fight the berserkers. You and your crew have a chance, to carry the warning to the milkyway, and save trillions of lives.

The door to the chamber, which seemed hastily welded shut, ground open, tearing with a shriek.

Go!

+++++

"It. . . took her?" Davrry muttered, hands over his mouth. It had been two hours since the incident in the 'dungeon', when the alien command platform had eaten their best scientist. Ella was visibly shaken, sitting in a corner and staring into space. Captain Severt had set to organising the party that would be returning to the Elcano. Not everyone could fit on the stealth shuttle, so a small group had volunteered to be marooned, with the hope that the Concert might one day be able to launch a rescue mission, once the war was over. Ostensibly they would be there to research the necropoli that dotted the world, but the small band of humans, led by Severt, knew it was likely they would die on this alien world.

Severt walked over and put a hand on the other Lyrans shoulder to get his attention.

"Are you staying here, or going back? We could use a good hunter and woodsman like yourself."

He slowly shook his head. "Gaea needs me up there. The ships still swarming. . . "

"Contact at 250m! Something's coming up from below!"

Davrry leapt up and dashed to the sensor post, with Ella and Severt a step behind.

"That big ugly bastard get loose?"

"No sir." The sensor tech responded. "No way it could fit up the tunnel. Its small, fast, and showing similar EM and Infra traces. . . to. . . well, us!"

Ella tuned into the guard post that they had left at the 100m mark, to warn them in case Cronus did send something against them now it seemed to be hostile.

"Perimeter two, situation report!"

+I've got the floodlights on, and weapons armed. I can hear footsteps, and, wait. . .+

"Jackson!"

+Ma'am, its. . . holy shit, its Sayori Warrick! She's ok!+

[Azazeal849]

For a second Ella yelled "No!", raising a gun to fire, before she was swatted aside. The tentacles snatched up Sayori, and the vast grinding maw opened in front of her like a lotus flower made of industrial machinery and diamond tipped drills.

.
Ȳ̷̭͓͙̻̭̜̒̿̅̊̇͢͜Ơ̵̳̩͍̜̹̼̲̙̺̋̊͗̓́̅̓Ų̭̥̜̍̈̍̎̋̈̍ ̤͇̻ Ẃ̟̬̭̝͙̙̭͓̺̈̃̄̕͞Ȉ̸̡̜̣͇̖̦͆͂̌͐̓͢ͅͅĽ̰͎͓̠͙̣̻̰̂̀̇̚̕͜L ̶̢̢̟̩̫̃͊͒̊͑͌̕͟͡͡ F̱͈̭͕͈̎̈́̍̓́̋̒̕͞Ę̢͍̠̤̹̹̆̇̓͗̀͋̾͜͡͞E̡̛̪͍̩̩̠͉̍́̈̃̓͜L͆ ̴̺͈̹͙̥̞̘̯͛̆̇́̏͢ͅ S̨͔̰͔̳̤̖͚̥̃̑͒̇̾͋̎̎̒͠O̘̤̺̱̫͎͊̀̀̀̀̏̇̄͞M̧̆́̿̀̅́͊̊͠͝ͅͅ ̴̡̭̗ͅĘ̸͈̱͙̪̟̫̻̞̍͋̂́̈͘͜ P̸̯̣̦̗͓̰͇̒͛̆̃̇Ą͇̞͓̦͚͈̤̎͋̑̔͊̕͟I̜͎̝̞̠̓̓̃͊́̚͘͡N͂̏̓̏͠ ͍̟̤̲͓̈


Too late, a primal instinct clawed its way to the front of Sayori’s mind - a panicked survival drive that caused her to start thrashing against the tentacles that were dragging her into that writhing, scissoring mass of blades and needle points. She could hear nothing but the blood roaring in her ears, feel nothing but her heart trying to punch its way out through her ribs.

Wait! Her lips formed the word but her throat had closed off, throttling off the scream. The horror was like cold water trickling down the inside of her skull - sharpening the image of the oncoming death, freezing solid her ability to do anything to save herself. The drills spun up, hissing like vipers, and lunged.

“You’re gonna carry that weight.”

Her last mistake.

The drills clawed through her suit and touched her skin, a grinding pressure that in a split second became searing pain, punching into her neck, her wrists, her elbows. She heard her helmet visor crack and splinter. She didn’t feel the drills pierce her face, but they must have done because suddenly she could neither see nor hear. Or perhaps that was her senses simply shutting down, curling away into a wretched, weeping ball so she wouldn’t have to witness what the alien god-machine was doing to her.

She could still feel it though. She could feel a hundred needle-thin threads of living wire snaking and spreading underneath her skin. Tracing her veins, unfurling through her sinuses, worming across the inside of her scalp like crawling maggots. For a moment - a mercifully brief moment - every nerve in her body lit up with white-hot agony.

And then-


* * * * * *

Black.

She couldn't see anything, and she couldn't feel anything apart from a dull sense of pressure against her back and shoulders. She could however hear something: a meaningless white noise - like a tinnitus ring, downtuned. It drained through her mind without leaving any real feeling of significance.

Black and...metal.

The air tasted cold and coppery. A breath of convection was stroking her cheek. Her helmet was gone. Her exo-suit gloves were gone too. She could feel cold metal under her hands. How long had she been lying there? She had no time reference, just

Black.

Sayori opened her eyes and saw the ceiling of the vast cavern staring back at her, a warren of geometric tunnels and sharp, hard angles. She stared up at the hive for perhaps five seconds before she remembered that the chamber had not had any light sources.

“You don't need to be embarrassed any more, by how limited you are.”

Sayori started violently at the booming voice, coming from - seemingly - right next to her. She clawed onto her side, scrambling around to face the vast alien idol that hung above her. Fully visible in the un-light, it was a terrible thing - intricate, majestic and broken. It loomed over her, still skewered by stakes, but now cold and silent.

“Cronus?” Sayori asked. The vast chamber swallowed her voice and chorused it back to her as faint echoes.

“Those spikes are one way data trunks.” The alien construct’s voice didn’t echo. “They show me what the Berserker command platforms are doing, but don't let me transmit out.”

Sayori could still hear the white noise. An incredibly low, slow sound; balanced somewhere between a ring and a rumble.

“Is that…” She swallowed, her brain rebelling against the signals that her senses were feeding her. “Is that what I can hear?”

“No. That is the local star. You are receiving the radio signals of satellites in orbit, which are observing the coronal loops.”

Sayori lay on the floor, hands splayed across the cold, smooth metal, staring at the dormant giant. She didn’t know how to respond. No words seemed adequate to the task.

“I downtuned your new senses, so as not to overwhelm you.”

Sayori swallowed again. “What else can I hear?”

It began slowly at first, a gentle sifting of static like wind blowing through the grass. Then bursts of it began to pulse to and fro, rising towards her and then dopplering away almost before she had truly registered them. She heard the susurrus of the fibre-optic trees, the clicks of the mechanical birds as they surged and flocked above the silicon canopy. She heard the twittering of a million tiny creatures in the undergrowth, and the whisper of the dust-tiny nanobots threaded through the soil. It was the same hypnotic cacophony she had heard when she had turned on her suit radio on the surface - only now, it all made sense.

Sayori gasped, grinning from ear to ear. She looked up, at the motionless monster. “Cronus…”

“I am not that Cronus. I am a standalone instance, copied into your new augments.”

Sayori looked down at her hands. They were still her hands, down to the cuts and abrasions of the last few days. Even the tiny red scab where the cryo-pod’s feeder tube had been inserted into the back of her hand. But the veins beneath her skin weren’t quite the right colour. Less blue, more silver. Like Ella’s.

As if a switch had been flipped, like focusing attention onto the normally automatic acts of breathing and blinking, she was suddenly aware of it all. The nanite colonies seeded through her bone marrow. The sixth-seventh-eighth senses she could reach out to touch a computer, a drone...even a Berserker. And the knowledge...oh god the knowledge. Theorems, principles, codes, equations, logarithms, designs, diagrams, schematics...

“You are running out of time. You have the schematics, and are augmented to be able to fight the Berserkers. You and your crew have a chance, to carry the warning to the milky way, and save trillions of lives.”

The door to the chamber, which seemed to have been hastily welded shut, ground open, tearing with a shriek. Sayori blinked. Had Cronus done that, or had she?

“Go!”

With new resolve, Sayori pushed herself to her feet.


* * * * * *

"Perimeter two, situation report!"

+I've got the floodlights on, and weapons armed. I can hear footsteps, and, wait. . .+

"Jackson!"

+Ma'am, its. . . holy shit, its Sayori Warrick! She's ok!+

The pylon-mounted floodlights converged in the centre of the hall, splashing stark shadows across the hexagonal walls. A pair of glassy-red eyes reflected back.

Sayori Warrick slowed to a halt, and slowly raised her arms in surrender. Her pressure suit hung from her limbs in tattered ribbons.

“Hi guys?” she said uncertainly, her lips quivering into a nervous giggle as she stared down the barrels of the crew’s assault rifles. “Um...did I miss much?”

[AngelDellaNotte]

Miranda didn't fully see what happened to Sayori, just that she was there one moment then gone the next. Everything after that was a blur, Miranda like the others was thrown from the room. When she pushed herself up she felt something wet and warm on her face. Reaching up to wipe it off Miranda knew it was blood before she looked at it. The blood wasn't her own but rather Sayori's. “Crazy bitch got herself killed. And you wonder why I wasn't fucking keen on volunteering.” Miranda said, to no one in particular as she turned and started walking back to the surface. Once there she found the guard that taken her guns. She managed to convince him to give back her pistol but he kept the rifle saying it was needed for perimeter defense. She knew she wasn't going to win the argument so left it.

A couple of questions around the camp and she found a stream that the survivors had been using to bathe. With what just happened she just wanted to get clean, to wash off the dirt, grime and blood. No what she really wanted to do was be back home in her parent's house sleeping in her bed but she was beginning to think that was never going to happen. Hell at this point she would rather be on her cot in the Concert prison station. “Should have took my chances in prison.” Miranda said, aloud to herself as she started pealing her flight suit off. She knelt down in the water soaking the suit in the water washing it off. Once it was clean she draped it over a tree to dry then stepped into the water herself.

It was surprisingly warm and felt refreshing better than the cold water on the make shift showers on the ship. She indulged in the water longer than she needed to letting the warm water soak into her sore muscles. Finally after close to an hour later she got out of the water and changed into some clothes that had been given to her. They were hand made of some sort of woven fiber and itched a little. The crew on the planet had made them. The idea must have been one size fits all as she had to roll up the pants and tie a cord around the waist to keep them up. They would work until her suit dried.

What she was going to do now she had no idea, but she knew she sure as hell wasn't staying on the planet. Thankfully her skill as a pilot ensured she had a ticket on the shuttle. If she wasn't sure knew she would be 'volunteered' to stay on the ground. Miranda found herself wandering around the camp actually impressed at how built up it was. “Clarke!” She heard a male shout and turned to see a Kel'cyre man standing about ten feet from her with his fists clenched. Miranda didn't answer him just stood there waiting for him to get to the point, though she had an idea what it was. “Its disgusting that they are letting you walk around free. My sister was in the Lyran capital when you monsters bombed it. She was killed.”

“I had nothing to do with that.” Miranda said, turning away from the man and meaning to walk off but he closed the distance between them and shoved her. Miranda stumbled a couple of steps but somehow managed to stay on her feet. She spun around and looked at him, her first reaction wanting to be to throw a punch at him but she just stood there. “It doesn't matter you aren't going to believe me. Nobody ever does. Go on do whatever you think you have to do to make this right.” Miranda said, the man stepping toward her again and punching her. The blow knocked Miranda to the ground and the man moved closer kicking her in the stomach. He didn't stopped and despite the kicks Miranda let her focus wander from her attacker. She noticed a mechanical squirrel run out of bushes and jump at the Kel'cyre man. He batted it away knocking it to the ground making Miranda realize it was the one the befriended it. “Glad you made it out but run along I'm not worth it.” She said, to the animal as another kick hit her stomach.

[MidKnight]

The large lizard looked closer to what looked like Sayori but much more advanced then her usual self. He leans forward and sniffed several times to know if the smell was right. He growled softly and leans back with a little shake of his head. "It is her." He muttered softly and chuckled with a grin. "You look like a warrior now." He walked away for the others to see and social with while he looked at the rest of the surrounding area.

His ear perked up when he heard the lyre woman had said before leaving the scene. He growled for a moment and grunted a snort before looking back towards Sayori and the others. His eyes examined each one as though he was looking at prey. It did not matter to him though for he looked to where the lyre woman had wondered. He grunts again and started following her path in hopes to talk some small sense into the woman.

Following her traces was difficult in this environment. It was though the ground quickly covers her steps and hides her scent. He continued walking around for a while longer and suddenly he hear small sounds of grunts and moans. Following the noise he comes across a Kel'Cyre beating a woman. He heard the pointy ear said something about bombing the capital where his sister died. He hears another grunt and growled softly.

Taking a step forward and his tail wiggled in a zig zag. He learns forward with his arm down and wing tucked in. His tail wrapped around the Kel'Cyre's neck and dragged him back towards Vez. He lifted the elven soldier off the ground with his tail still wrapped around the neck and squeezed tightly.

"Stupid pointy ears. Do you know threatening my friends is a dangerous move?" His tail moved backwards, tossing the Kel'Cyre away from both of them. "Now...run before I decided to carve you up and eat your liver." He chuckled with a grin. "It's been a great while since I had Kel'Cyre liver for dinner." His mouth drooled and his body shakes with excitement.

[AngelDellaNotte]

When the blows stopped Miranda just lay there for a moment before pushing herself into a kneeling position. She's hurt but nothing felt broken, maybe a bruised rib or two but that was it. She could see the Kel'cyre man on the ground about ten feet from her. He was scrambling to his feet then ran away. He wasn't running away from her but rather whoever was behind her. Miranda turned looking at the dragonoid then stood to her feet a little unsteady at first. She almost lost her balance as the mechanical squirrel jumped to her shoulder and ran over licking a bit of blood from her cheek seeming concerned for her. "I'm not the best to think of as a friend. It isn't worth the hassle." Miranda said, the dragonoid before spitting some blood on the ground.

There was a soft purr coming from the elder dragonoid. His body moved slowly towards the lyre woman. His eyes stared to hers as they looked disappointed. He walked over and extended his arm out to help with her balance. "You gone soft." He said. "The Lyre woman I had seen had fire in her. A fire that burned with passion." He sniffed the woman scent and sensed a small linger. "Now you become nothing." He sighs softly and looked around their surrounding. He sees a chair and motioned the woman to sit. "In my time, those who become weak would become food. And we needed the food."

She looked at the offered chair but didn't sit down. "It's just that I seem to be the only one of us to realize how screwed we are." She said. The squirrel jumped from shoulder to shoulder seeming to be checking out her wounds. "I'm fine will you just hold still?" The little creature let out an indignant chirp and plopped down on her shoulder. "The problem is I'm too stupid to just roll over and die. Yeah, that's gotta sound strange for someone who just got the shit kicked out of them and did nothing to stop it. You see I don't have any many points in my favor. On my world I'm a criminal, the only reason I am on this mission and not in a prison is my sister has alot of political clot and is a sentimental fool. It has been made very clear to me that if I rock the boat I am done. So that..." She said, gesturing to the small pool of blood she just spit out, "Is me playing nice and not getting marooned on this damn planet so I can live another day. Most likely just to die some other horrifying way. But never the less I am an idiot who fights on."

He listened to her words. He sensed both shame and pain. Yet he can only listen to what she is feeling. He walked over to a log and sits on it. He placed his hand on his knee and elbows the other. "You had an easy life." He finally says. "On my world. I was once a Clan Chief....and we were very dangerous." He lifted one of his wings and revealed several torn parts. "When Verath and his warriors had come for us. It was either lay our weapons and surrender...or die. But I was replaced by a younger warrior. And he did not heed my words as most of my clan kin died in the field. So I was taken prisoner. Tortured for several hours until Verath himself set me free. But he did warned me if I turn away the United Clans....he would place my head on a spike like the others."

He leans forward and picked up a rock and showed it to the Lyre woman. "This is only a pebble...easy to pick up and move around." He flicked it with his claw. "However." He stands up and picked up a large rock the size of a tire. With grunts coming from the dragonoid. "If this was a bunch of pebbles....it would be....hard to move!" He dropped the little boulder and sighs heavily. "What I'm saying is simple. Being alone doesn't make you strong. But as a team you are strong." He walked over to the woman and taps her shoulder. "What is going through your mind must be cleared. Wipe away the doubts. Yes...we are screwed in this situation. But if we can find a way to get out of here. We can come back here stronger than ever. Those demons won't see it coming." He looked over his shoulder to the entrance. "Winters has no fear of facing her enemies. That I had seen."

"You think I give a rats ass about your past? I'm not here to make friends. Hell I never even wanted to be here." Miranda said, starting to walk away as he started on about his story with the pebbles. She stopped kicking a small rock across the clearing then turned to Vez. "Save your parables for someone that actually gives a damn. I'm not looking to see the error of my ways or learn someone sort of lesson."

Again she turned away from Vez meaning to walk away until she heard Winters mentioned when she clinched her fist and a scowl appeared on her face. "Winters is an idiot who rushes in without a plan. Don't mistake her stupidity as bravery."

"We admire stupidity. Sometimes those who are stupid are always making the right decisions." He gets up and walked over to the Lyre woman. "She is far more braver than you ate." Then he chuckled. "The fire is growing again. Maybe I should get Winters and have her spare with you like before." And then he laughed.

She looked at the dragonoid after his statement of admiring stupidity. "Then you are a fool too." Miranda said, starting to walk away again. She didn't stop when he mentioned sparring with Winters. As much as she would enjoy giving the Terrain a beating she didn't really feel like it and others might not see it as a 'friendly match'. "I'll pass." She left the clearing to head back to the shore where she had left her flight suit to dry. In the time it had taken to get into the altercation with the Kel'cyre and heard Vez's babbling it had dried and she was able to change out of the itchy clothes back into her suit.

[Enigma]

"So, when can we leave?" Iona asked. Was the berserk creature still in the hanger deck? How compromised was the landing party?

"Has anything been passed to you as to how we protect ourselves from these creatures when we return?"

[Azazeal849]

“Has anything been passed to you as to how we protect ourselves from those creatures when we return?”

Sayori took a breath as if about to speak, but seemed to check and instead just closed her mouth again, looking amused.

“Short answer: yes.” she said with a flicker of a smile. “But first thing first. We need to take our ship back.”

She turned her glowing red eyes on Jackson and the other armed bridge crew.

“I’m going to need a computer, a 3D printing module, and a dead Collector.”

[MidKnight]

Winters was walking alone. Her thoughts were running amock in her head. Thinking over of how Sayori had changed. Taking a deal from the devil to ensure the survival of the crew. Her ears perked up to the noise of rushing water. A stream. Following the current and looked among the area. Her eyes looked around and noticed a woman nearby. But not just any woman. A Lyre woman. "You got some guts pulling that stunt." She said. Standing there with her hand on her hip.

She finished zipping up her flight suit glad to be back in it rather than the rough clothes that were loaned to her. Miranda half suspected they had better clothes but didn't want to loan them to the likes of her. She heard Winters walk up but didn't know who it was until she spoke. "I didn't exactly see you volunteering to take her place." She said, thinking about how Sayori had taken her place. She didn't trust Chronos and sure as hell wasn't going to become its tool. Miranda was her own woman and would be no ones puppet.

She scoffed and looked around. "You think I'm that stupid?" She grinned. "What ever Sayori got she's paying for it right now. And I rather keep headbutting with you over this any day." She folded her arms and crossed them over her chest. "Somebody has got to keep your rich snots in check."

"Do you really want me to answer whether or not I think you are stupid?" Miranda said, bending to lace up her boots. Once finished she strapped her sword and pistol belt back on taking a few extra moments to make sure the sword was properly aligned. The voice of her drill instructor fresh in her mind, yelling at her that she looked like a bag of ass because it wasn't hanging just right off her hip. Had she been in her regular uniform or her dress uniform she would be checking her gig line. She looked over at Winter's comment about butting heads, Vez's offer to get Winters to spar with her sounded good right about now. "Like you could handle me." Miranda said, then walked past Winters. She briefly thought of shoulder checking the Terrain but decided against it wanting to stay as far on the Captain and Gaea's good side as possible.

Her face scrunched with hate and watched the woman walked pass her. Her fist clenched and finally turned around and grabbed the woman by her shoulder and stepped close to her face. "I can handle...can you." Her nose barely touching hers, eyes meeting hers and she could smell her breath. "Something you riches can handle right?"

Standing this close to Winters she kept her eyes locked with the Terrain. They stood there in silence for a few moments before Miranda grabbed Winters by the collar pushing her back. She used her strength to push Winters back, taking several steps forcing her back. They continued like this until Winter's back struck a tree, her face moving inches from the other woman's. "If we don't mind slumming it a bit." Miranda said, leaning in the rest of the way and roughly kissing Winters.

She grabbed her arms and felt her legs stumbling backwards. She kept her balance until her back hits something and her head hits too. Her eyes glared at the woman who said something. Her lips was pressed by hers. Her eyes widen and let's out a surprisingly moan. Her hands grabbed her suit and slowly closes her eyes and kisses the woman back. "You're a pain in the ass." She says softly over her lips.

"Just shut up." Miranda said, her grip on Winter's shirt tightening as she pressed harder into her. Miranda moved her leg between Winter's pressing upward with it. They kissed for a while before Miranda bit into Winter's lip hard enough to draw a little blood. Miranda then pulled leaving Winters standing against the tree. "Oh second thought I don't feel like getting dirty. I did just get clean." She said, then took several slow steps away from Winters.

She felt annoyed when she stopped and looked as her as she slowly stepped away. She reached out and grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back. "Don't you dare." Then roughly presses her lips against hers. Her metal arm braces around her waist while her flesh hand reaches up and groomed through her hair and caressed her skin.

She was pulled back to Winters their kiss resumed. Being the stubborn woman she was Miranda struggled against her but the artificial arm kept her there. In her struggle Miranda tried to step back bit lost her footing falling to the ground and talking the other woman with her. Winter barely broke the kiss in the fall. "Fuck it." Miranda mumbled around the kiss then rolled over so she was straddling her waist. It was then the she was able to break free of the kiss but she didn't try to leave the time. Instead she unbuckled her belt and tossed it to the side. Her hand reached up and pulled the zipper on her suit down to the waist. Enough to tease Winters but not reveal everything.

She closed her eyes and rocked her hips against the other woman's. She hadn't been intimate with anyone since before she had been arrested so it had been about a year and half without sex. Longer actually if you counted their deep sleep. Miranda wasn't the type to have a steady partner but she did have a number of people she messed around with. On the Lyran shipped she had been assigned to she regularly fooled around with a nurse and a mechanic both of them able to satisfy her needs. Pulling herself from the thoughts of the past Miranda opened her eyes and leaned down unbuttoning Winters shirt. She pulled it away kissing her collarbone then returning to her lips.

Later....

Winters checked her gear to make sure it was properly placed. Tightening her boots and pressing down her clothing she finally brushes her hair back and sighs softly. She looked at the Lyre woman for one second and looked away. She takes a deep breath and walked away like nothing had happened. She eventually returned to the others on her own making it appeared she went out for a walk after seeing what happened to Sayori. She heard her saying something about needing a few items. "I'm always looking for a good hunt." She said and stopped a few feet away. "I still have some rounds left to kill a few freaks. I've been itching to pull the trigger of lately."

[dakkagor]

"We're fresh out of dead collectors." Captain Severt responded. "But computers and field fabricators we can supply here. But if this is some type of prototype weapon you are cooking up, I'd prefer the science team back on board to take a look over what you are cooking up. No offence."

There was some irony in Severt not trusting Sayori. Ella coughed into her hand.

"We've selected a team to accompany you back to the Elcano." The Elemental spoke up. "I'll be leading them, but I'll be deferring to Davrry and his expertise until we hook up with the survivors aboard.
Obviously, most of our forces will have to stay behind on this damn rock. But hopefully some hardened soldiers will be able to help in whatever plan the monster in the basement has come up with."

[Enigma]

"I don't require a seat," Speaker Iona stated to the captain. "I can fit myself into any available volume in the shuttle, so that's one more person that could make the journey."

One more person could make the difference, but...

"Will we wind up infesting the crew aboard the Elcano with the same nanites that have infected the crew on the surface?"

[Azazeal849]

"But if this is some type of prototype weapon you are cooking up, I'd prefer the science team back on board to take a look over what you are cooking up. No offence."

“None taken. It’s the weapon Cronus was telling us about.” Sayori looked from the captain to Ella, who had been present for the conversation. “The one that’ll sever a Berserker’s connection to Zeus.”

Ella coughed into her hand.

"We've selected a team to accompany you back to the Elcano. I'll be leading them, but I'll be deferring to Davrry and his expertise until we hook up with the survivors aboard. Obviously, most of our forces will have to stay behind on this damn rock. But hopefully some hardened soldiers will be able to help in whatever plan the monster in the basement has come up with."

Sayori chewed the inside of her cheek. “If this works, we’ll effectively neutralise every Berserker in the system. We can come back for you before we make the run for the Gate.”

"I don't require a seat," Speaker Iona stated to the captain. "I can fit myself into any available volume in the shuttle, so that's one more person that could make the journey. Will we wind up infesting the crew aboard the Elcano with the same nanites that have infected the crew on the surface?"

Sayori glanced left as if listening to something, then shook her head. “Not enough atmospheric concentration. And in us, they can only replicate at self-sustaining levels inside bone marrow. Any we shed would die before they could affect anyone else.”

When she moved, the shreds of her exo-suit slipped down over one shoulder. Sayori tugged it back up, and scratched the back of her head.

“Also, um, can I borrow a spare jumpsuit? I’m feeling kind of under-dressed here.”

[AngelDellaNotte]

After dressing Miranda resumed her wandering around the camp until she stumbled across the meeting. It would seem they started without her and Winters who was standing at the edge of the group. It was good they hadn't arrived together but both coming late and one after the other could draw some attention. As she walked towards it she realized how sore she was from her activities with Winters but tried her best not show it.

“Also, um, can I borrow a spare jumpsuit? I’m feeling kind of under-dressed here.”

Miranda was walking past a clothes line as she heard Sayoui comment about the clothes. Oddly enough there happened to be a jumpsuit hanging out to dry on it. Along with several other sets of clothes, much nicer than the ones than the ones that had been loaned to her. She grabbed the suit and walked to the group throwing the jump suit at Sayori. “You look like something ate you and threw you up.” Miranda said, leaning against a tree and chuckling at her own joke, despite how morbid and true the joke was. She didn't trust this weapon the scientist was talking about building but it had been made clear no one cared about her opinion. So she didn't object anyone. “When do we leave?”

[dakkagor]

"Will we wind up infesting the crew aboard the Elcano with the same nanites that have infected the crew on the surface?"

Sayori glanced left as if listening to something, then shook her head. “Not enough atmospheric concentration. And in us, they can only replicate at self-sustaining levels inside bone marrow. Any we shed would die before they could affect anyone else.”

"Even if we did, it would be worth it to seal the gate." Severt muttered. "We can't afford these horrors attacking our civilians back home. As for the shuttle, its about mass, not volume. Too much mass and the engine has to burn too hot to make orbit, and you get spotted. However, Iona right? Why don't you pick the shuttle over and see what can be ditched here. If we can pack in an extra body it might make all the difference. You'll need to make about 100kg of weight saving to allow us to get one more fully strapped marine aboard and not have it affect the stealth systems."

“You look like something ate you and threw you up.” Miranda said, leaning against a cave wall and chuckling at her own joke, despite how morbid and true the joke was. She didn't trust this weapon the scientist was talking about building but it had been made clear no one cared about her opinion. So she didn't object anyone. “When do we leave?”

"Soon." Severt interjected, keeping an eye on Miranda. "We have about four hours before the Elcano will be back overhead. So lets call it three. Get moving people."

+++++

The camp was abuzz with activity, the caves echoing to booted feet and pre-combat drills. Despite their long marooning on the surface, the team being prepared to go back, 10 heavily armed marines, were being quick and professional, stripping weight and making sure every last item they were carrying was essential.

During the preparations, Severt drew Sayori aside.

"Regardless of your feelings on coming back for people, which are appreciated, there is no guarantee that killing that bastard super-capital will actually shut down the other berserker units. If you can't come back for us safely, I want you to take this."

The captain pressed a data chip into Sayoris hand.

"Its my final report. It has recommendations on military action to the Concert races to prepare for these Berserkers if they do get access to our galaxy. You and Nikos need to make sure they take it seriously if I don't make it back."

She paused, before handing over another small chip.

"This is more personal, for my husband and sons. I have a copy, but. . . just in case."

+++++

As Miranda wandered the camp, someone approached from her side. A pilot, by his jumpsuit, with dusky skin, black hair (https://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=90974&p=2971996&viewfull=1#post2971996) and piercing blue eyes, like chips of ice.

"Well well well, Miranda Clark." The mans southern drawl remained undamaged, even if his face had taken a shrapnel wound at some point that left him with a grizzly scar from the left side of his mouth up to his temple. "I'm glad to see someone with some sense has survived." He bowed slightly. "I don't think I introduced myself properly last time. Jack Orrik, the shuttle pilot crazy enough to get the command crew to the ground in one piece." He sneered around the last few words. "Not that I was up for running at the time. What's your story? How'd you end up babysitting some scientists?"

+++++

The young Dragonoid led Vezarres, Winters and Iona back down the mountain, using a set of tunnels that opened on a concealed entrance. Several mules followed him, unladen, ready to receive anything they stripped from the shuttle to improve its carrying capacity. Davrry and the Charabidian sentry who had challenged them at the cave mouth both rode on one and seemed to be chatting amiably about the local game, ignoring the others.

"I've learnt much in my time on this radioactive rock." The young warrior growled. "I feel like this mission has turned me from a fledgling to a warrior. I have killed dozens of the spawn, and had to relearn how to kill them each time. And this place has beasts that put the berserkers to shame."

As they reached the cave mouth, which itself was a small forward observation base and cache, carefully hidden by an artfully woven and welded collection of leaves and branches, they all heard something heavy and large move and breath outside. Sometimes the sound of its breathing was interspersed with a whine like an electric saw powering up.

"Like one of those." The young warrior growled quietly. "The humans call them a buzzsaur. Can you smell that battery tang? It is marking its territory."

Davrry had dismounted and joined the front of the group. "So, big guy, do we chase this thing off, or kill it?"

"Kill it." The young Dragonoid snorted. "When wounded they enter a battle rage. And they are fiercely territorial. The best way would be for me and the elder to distract it. Then, you and the sentinax kill it. You have to hit it in the side or an eye. Its front scales are a ceramic composite, heavy and tough."

[Azazeal849]

The camp was abuzz with activity, the caves echoing to booted feet and pre-combat drills. Despite their long marooning on the surface, the team being prepared to go back, 10 heavily armed marines, were being quick and professional, stripping weight and making sure every last item they were carrying was essential.

A static gear in the middle of all the moving parts, Sayori was working away in her usual way: nose scrunched, tongue pressed firmly against her top lip. A replacement ox-tank and helmet were stacked at the side of the fabricator unit, but she hadn’t bothered to put them on. There seemed to be little point in keeping the indigenous nanobots out of her system now, and she would need the air for the flight back: Cronus hadn’t gone so far as to make her immune to hard vacuum, it seemed.

Sayori stood up, re-rolled the jumpsuit sleeve that was slipping down her elbow, and examined the device that she had built from the schematics Cronus had implanted in her head. She turned it over in her hands, and twisted her mouth at it.

“I dunno.” she said aloud, to no-one in particular. “Still looks more like a TV remote than a gun to me.”

And it’s still missing a piece.

She spied Kalyn Severt threading through the crowd towards her, and pocketed the Berserker override device as she turned to meet the Lyran.

“Captain.” She could see herself reflected dimly in Severt’s glassy-red eyes. Sayori glanced down at her own silver-veined hands, and wondered what her first encounter with a mirror would bring. She dissembled the thought by hitching up a smile. “We’ll hopefully see you again soon, huh?”

Severt drew Sayori aside. “Regardless of your feelings on coming back for people, which are appreciated, there is no guarantee that killing that bastard super-capital will actually shut down the other Berserker units.”

“Cronus said that it would.” Sayori started to argue. “He said no more Berserker drones.”

“Correction.” the computer instance in her ear intoned. “The spawn of Zeus will no longer be acting as his drones. They may shutdown, or they may revert to a feral state. In the latter case they would be unable to coordinate a pursuit through the Gate, but they could still act aggressively towards any sapients who remained in the vicinity.”

Severt must have read the uncertainty on Sayori’s face. “If you can't come back for us safely, I want you to take this."

The captain pressed a data chip into Sayori’s hand.

"It’s my final report. It has recommendations on military action for the Concert races to prepare for these Berserkers, if they do get access to our galaxy. You and Nikos need to make sure they take it seriously if I don't make it back."

Sayori nodded, brushing the chip with her thumb. “We’ll do it.”

She pushed the chip into her breast pocket and velcroed it shut.

“I’ll make copies as soon as we’re clear. One for Nikos, one for Gaea, and a redacted warning to leave at the Gate, for anyone the Concert might have sent after us in the last two years.”

Severt paused, before handing over another small chip.

“Don’t copy this one. This is more personal, for my husband and sons. I have a copy, but... just in case.”

Sayori looked down at the second chip, instinctively holding it a little more delicately than the first. Much like with Gaea, she wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

It distilled everything, she mused - this mission, this situation - even for relative strangers. Their humanity. And their animosity. Sayori glanced around at the thought, but Miranda didn’t seem to be among the faces in the main camp. She wondered where they would be now if she hadn’t volunteered to take the Lyran’s place.

Severt was still looking at her, the red sheen of her eyes making her difficult to read.

Trust, Sayori thought. It was nice to be trusted. She looked down again at her biomechanical hands. All things considered.

“I’ll make sure they get it.” she said gravely, pushing Severt’s second chip into the opposing breast pocket. It was only after she had said it that she realised the difference between that and her promise to Gaea. Not just I’ll fucking try, but I’ll fucking make sure.

It sounded dangerously like optimism, that.

“Is there anything else you want me to pass on?” she added, on a sudden impulse. “From you or from the others?”

[MidKnight]

Following the small convoy to their destination. He listened to the young warrior of his kills and how to relearn how to kill the next one. He lets out a small snort with a nod. "Good." He said. "Finally you are adapting to different natures of your kill. Smart move to do." He grinned for a second as though he was smiling. Proud of the young warrior he had met before who now is becoming a full adult in his prime.

When they arrived to their location. He carefully creep'd behind some cover and looked at the new creature they had found. "Like one of those." The young warrior growled quietly. "The humans call them a buzzsaur. Can you smell that battery tang? It is marking its territory." Vez snarled at the sight and smell of it. Once he heard that he and the young warrior can distract it and learned about it's nature. He grinned again.

The old Dragonoid moved his head around popping the bones of his neck as each one was loud enough to be heard. "This will a be great challenge for any Dragonoid." Then he chuckled as he looked among the others. "Keep your distance. This monster looks slow and clumsy." He looked to the young warrior and gives a small nod. "Let's fly around first, I wanna see how far his reach can get and fast he really is." He looked to some trees and started climbing on one slowly.

Winters checked her ammo box and gear before settling in position. "Slug rounds ready." She whispered and looked to Davrry. "Good thing I upgraded this little bad boy huh?" She smirked and aimed the end of the barrel at the machine. "I'll fire first once those two get it's attention." She aimed and waited.

Vez climbed to the highest peak before looking down and snarled softly. His inner warrior burned in his heart as he felt the adrenaline kicking in. He spreads his wings and hopped from the tree. His wings flapping hard as he was near the ground and swooped towards the machine. He roared loudly with his lungs as he moved straight down to attempt a strike. He passed barely scratching the surface. He kept his distance in the air and away from the machine as he looked for a flaw.

Winters fired several rounds to the sides hoping to make a dent. Pulling the trigger and reloading another shell in the chamber. "That thing can take a beating, I'll give'em that." She muttered to herself and continued to fire off rounds.

[Enigma]

"Is this necessary?" Iona frowned as they attacked the beast.

The Buzzsaur, however, seemed unfazed by claws or slugs. She needed options.


Possible attacks
Conversion
Use nanites to convert Buzzsaur mass
Must spread out to form a mesh
Could only cover a third of the beast
Conversion would be slow
Possible contamination issue
Vulnerable to other attacks

Impalement
Assume role of target
Divert mass to make anchor
1/3rd of available mass
Buzzsaur charges
Shapechange to spear
Impale Buzzsaur
Attack from within
Possible contamination issue
Vulnerable to other attacks
May not be able to impale

Trap
Convert soil to make pit
Buzzsaur falls in
Threat ended
Possible contamination issue
Unable to properly conceal actions
May need decoy
Vunerable to other attacks

Divert
Consume mass
Mirror Buzzsaur
Territory challenged
Others attack flanks


"I regret this action," Iona sighed, calculating the available chances.

She stepped out, hoping to attract its attention while a third of her mass shifted into the ground as a massive spike.

[dakkagor]

The buzzsaur was aptly named, looking like the unholy offspring of a late cretaceous theropod and an industrial crusher. Its teeth moved back and forth in its jaw like the cutting blades of a chainsaw, and its tail ended in a massive, wrecker-ball like club. Unlike a terran theropod, its forelimbs were long and terminated in shear like claws backed by straining muscle, and its back, neck and head were armoured in heavy, ceramic plates, which themselves were interspersed with iron hard quills a meter in length.

It roared at the two Dragonoids who circled around it, and when they got closer, bellow like sacs produced a great spray of acidic mist that drove them both back. Winters plugged several heavy rounds into the creatures flank, and it turned on the terran and began to thunder towards her, its tail thrashing back and forth. Winters dashed past Iona, who stood her ground. The angry beast slammed its armoured head into the Sentinaxs side to knock her away, and reeled away in pain and confusion as Iona stayed rooted in the ground, just. It stepped back and went to spray Iona in acid, but a round from Davrry's rifle slammed into its head, distracting it again but not killing it. Blood like thick, black treacle poured from a wound just above its eye.

"If it bleeds, we can kill it!" Davrry yelled, scrambling away from the monster as it turned its attention on eating him.

[Enigma]

WARNING
3% Structural Damage
Recycling damaged nanites

Combat Assessment
Possible Chemical Attack
Additional Mass Required

"What do you know about this 'Buzzsaur' that you've not told us?" Iona demanded as her crumpled side began restoring itself. "It look like it was gong to spit."

Poison or mucus would not be an issue - but she doubted anything on this planet would be so simple.

[Azazeal849]

“Is there anything else you want me to pass on?” she added, on a sudden impulse. “From you or from the others?”

"I'll make sure that if anyone has letters to send home, you get them. It feels like bad luck though, like assuming we won't get home." Severt rubbed the back of her neck. "The problem with soldiers is we all end up superstitious bastards."

The captain forced a smile, but with her blood red eyes it was slightly disturbing. Sayori wondered again what her own eyes really looked like now. She really needed a mirror, to see her new self. Or rather, to see what others saw.

“I do have one more thing for you to look into.” Severt said after a moment. “When you got defrosted, Davrry said there was someone in your party with you. A Terran male, named Jason Ysthmir.”

Sayori scrunched her nose, trying to recall. “The tech? What about him?”

“I have no files on him, from the Elcano's database or from the background checks I asked the LEIS to run on the crew."

She handed a datapad to Sayori, with a file open of the man in question. Apart from a poorly lit, fuzzy picture, his basic statistics, and his name, the file was filled with garbage data, clearly corrupted.

Sayori frowned at it. “Damaged, maybe? Julian hasn’t exactly been having an easy time up there.”

Severt shook her head. “Look at the photo, though. Do you know how hard you have to work to take a photo that bad these days? Between that and the lack of information, I think Jason is a Terran spook, probably for the Office of Naval Intelligence. That means he has as much clearance as our Elementals, and his report will reach the highest levels of Terran government. But Davrry has no memory of him beyond being sure he was woken up with you."

Sayori cast her mind back to the cryo deck, choked with wreckage and corpse stink. She remembered Gaea and Nevarn, cutting through the nightmare with sharp commands. She remembered Iona, hiding in the form of a simple maintenance drone, and Vez, immediately reaching for a weapon. She remembered Clarke and Stratford, overwhelmed, turning on each other (Not much change there). Jason had been coughing and shaking as he stumbled from his pod, as disoriented as everyone else. But she couldn’t remember seeing the man after they had made it to the hideout. Admittedly she had been distracted by Garrick and his new face, but until now she had simply assumed that the tech had gone to make himself useful among the work crews.

“You really think he’s with ONI?” Sayori pressed, still skeptical. On top of everything else, were there spies working on the ship too? That didn’t seem to make a lot of sense. She checked herself almost immediately - actually, on this ship, on this mission, it made rather a lot of sense indeed.

Severt just looked at her levelly, and something in the Lyran’s sober expression convinced her.

“Alright. What do you need me to do?”

"If you can, find him. Make sure he debriefs you, and anyone else that you think might have key strategic information. Getting this information into multiple channels will save lives."

[dakkagor]

+++Meanwhile+++

Tris inched his way through the undergrowth. Fronds etched with micro-solar cells brushed on his mottled green skin suit. The feel was disturbingly like being naked. His skin had developed new senses of kinaesthesia, adding an awareness of his advanced suit to the awareness of his bodies position in space. He could, for lack of a better word, 'feel' right through his suit. It was a common complaint from the survivors, and he counted himself lucky that his suit hadn't bonded to his skin. Yet.

He pulled a sensor drone from his webbing and tossed it into the air. With a near silent hum, it wobbled in the air for a moment before gliding away from him. He followed it, stopping at the top of a slope, at the bottom of which was a stream.

As he'd suspected, hoped, he wasn't alone. Down at the waters edge, a family of diamond-backs drank from the water. A pair of yearlings, from the shine on their carapace, and a large female. Nearby, a huge male with an impressive spread of antlers watched the jungle intently.

Diamond-backs looked like a curious blend of horse and beetle. Armoured in shiny black, carbon rich plate, they where the largest herbivores they had encountered yet, though there seemed to be an indication of much larger, sauropod like grazers down in the valleys.

The drone started to record, hovering over the small group as Tris observed. He wanted to paint one with a radium tracker so they could get a better handle on their habits. An ecological survey like this was as good a way to spend time while they were trapped as any.

+Tris, where the heck are you?+

Tris started at Ella's voice, and fumbled with the paint gun in his hands. Startled by the noise, the female diamond-back and the yearlings turned and fled back into the jungle. For a second, the male fixed him with its glowing eyes, almost daring him to do anything, before it too and turned and followed its family at a more stately pace.

+Tris, there has been a serious development. Get your ass back to base camp now.+

When he got back to the base, Ella was waiting for him. The briefing was short, and to the point. Not only had survivors come down from the Elcano but one of the crazy-ass scientists had struck some kind of deal with Chronus, bonding deeply with the aliens tech and being given the tools for a plan to deal with the monster in orbit.

"And we're sending you back with the first team." Ella hadn't mentioned that the 'first team' might also be the 'last team' they could evacuate, but the implication was there. "You are our resident expert on this planet, and they'll need your insight back in the milky way. Pack your gear, and get ready for a shuttle ride."

[AngelDellaNotte]

Stopping in mid-step she turned to who was speaking to her. He looked familiar but she couldn't quite place where. Truthfully he sounded more familiar than he looked. It took a moment then she realized he was the pilot from before the mission when they were getting ready to go into cyro sleep. He had been handsome before with a sort of hard look to him. Now he had a rugged look to him like a grizzled old soldier. Someone who technically wasn't handsome but somehow was attractive. Maybe it was biological, dating back to a primal need to have the strongest mate. Someone who could produce strong children and be able to protect them. He had been through alot and was still standing.

Miranda's mind flashed to the tattoo she had briefly seen in the pilot berth. She took several steps toward him until she was standing closer than what was usually considered polite among humans. Many alien races stood much closer which was always a point of contention with Lyrans. Humans liked their personal space and didn't take kindly to people invading it.

"How did I end up babysitting a bunch of geeks? I overslept." She joked, referencing how her group had woken up quite a bit later than the others. She brushed her hands along the shoulders of his flight suit, it was old and worn. Definitely had seen better days. Trailing her hands down she stopped at the sleeve and pulled it up then traced her finger around the edge of the tattoo on his forearm. "This isn't a popular symbol especially in the company we've been keeping. Got to be a good story about how you ended up here."

"Not much of one." He shrugged. "Got woken up in the second wave, and ran evac shuttles between the Elcano and one of its destroyers when it got overwhelmed. Damn scary stuff." He had a lopsided smile. "And I've kept my politics on the low down. But I wanted to talk to you about that."

He gently grabbed Miranda's arm and drew her aside into a tunnel. He quickly checked to make sure that it was clear.

"So, Sayori did a deal with that monster right? Do you know what that could mean for humanity. United humanity. We could use that tech to put humanity on top for ever. Imagine a whole fleet of those super capitals in orbit, all working to further the interests of mankind, and not the. . ."

He trailed off, and waited, a finger to his lips as a pair of charabidians walked past the tunnels mouth.

"And not the cats, or the toasters, or the elves. We'd conquer the galaxy."

She let him pull her into the tunnel wondering where this was going. It didn't go the direction she thought it would when he started talking about a united humanity. This was something that had been talked about for a long time among both the Lyrans and Terrans but it never seemed to go anywhere. Mostly because despite their shared DNA they were too different. "Sayori is an idiot and should be dead. Hell for all we know she is and that thing is wearing her skin like a Halloween costume." Miranda said, still upset that Chronos had wanted to force itself on her instead of Sayori. She should be thankful to the scientist but wasn't. She didn't ask for it and wasn't going to be grateful for stupidity.

"Last time we tried that it didn't end well." Miranda said, thinking of the war that just ended. Then again humans had a history of repeating their past. It wouldn't be the first time that there would be a global war followed by yet another a couple decades later. Though this time it would be a universal war. Ironically in those wars it both had been started by the same nation. The public opinion of war among Lyrans wasn't good. Many lives had been lost and the world that came out afterward was totally different. "We aren't looking to take over the galaxy, we just want to be left alone to lick our wounds without a puppet government or sanctions put forth by aliens and Terrans."


"Yeah, but with that tech, things would be different. The nano-tech alone on this world would allow us to outfight any Charabidian on the ground. Do you really think that the aliens are ever going to leave the Lyran alliance alone? You proved that humanity is dangerous, and they are scared. They'll keep chains around your pretty neck until the Lyre's star burns out. The Terran government ain't much better, bunch of quislings selling us down river to the xeno rather than taking what should be ours."

He spared another look around before continuing.

"Sayori, whatever it is, it's an asset now. We need to get it to the Lyre First movement. They'll be able to use that skin-job better than the Terrans. Pull it apart, figure out what makes it tick, and use that tech to put humanity on top."

"Whatever the hell she is now she isn't human." Miranda said, thinking about the creature Sayori had become. She looked at him noticing the tech that was apparent in him. "On that note I don't think you are really all that human either. Don't think the Lyre First Movement would want to touch anything that isn't pure. There's cyber mods but you've been hijacked by gods know what." She turned away from the Terran thinking he was rambling about something he didn't have a clue what he was talking about. Another Terran who wished their ancestors had the balls to stand up. A wannabe Lyran.

"You might as well be as much of an alien freak as the fairies, toasters, lizards and cats." Miranda said, with her back to him as she made a dismissive gesture.


There was a flash of anger across his face, and for a second he tensed like he was going to go for Miranda over the insult. Clearly, it had cut deep. Instead, he let out a rattling sigh.

"Fine. I can see they've got to you, you you're not willing to do what needs to be done."

He turned and started to walk away down the tunnel.

"Just stay out of my way!"

Miranda didn't bother with a reply to his insult, instead she just kept walking the other way. She didn't really believe their plan was going to work and thought they were never making it back to their system. So plotting to use Chronos' tech to take over the galaxy was a moot point. Even if they did make it back there was no way they would be able to get Sayori / Chronos away from the Concert. In her mind it wasn't that she had been leashed by the Concert but rather a matter of practicality.

She continued down corridor realizing she was getting hungry. She passed by the cave they were using as a cantina but she wasn't sure that she trusted eating the food on this planet, then she remembered there were some protein pastes in the supplies she had grabbed from the shuttle. Miranda walked into the cantina sitting at a table away from the others not wanting to talk with anyone after the fight with the Kel'Cyre or whatever that was with the Terrain. She reached into the pouch pulling out a anti-radiation injection and a protein tube. The injection was quickly used on her thigh and she ripped open the protein pack sucking out the paste. It tasted a mixture of being bland and one of the most fowl things she had eaten. Protein rations were common in the field and most people just tried to swallow them while trying to not keep them in your mouth long enough to taste.

Looking around the cantina there was a mix races and though none of them outright stared at her she knew they were watching her and probably didn't trust her. It was something she had gotten used to since joining the project. She thought back to the interaction with the Terrain wondering what the hell had just happened. Part of her wondered if it was a test by Captain Severt to see if she could be trusted. If that was the case had she passed or was the Terrain just some idiot who had delusions of grandeur?

[Enigma]

The flora where the Buzzsaur had earlier sprayed its "mist" was turning brown.


Combat Assessment
Acid attack
Hazardous to organics
Possible hazard to nanites.

Of course the organics would provoke a beast that was dangerous.

Iona withdrew the anchor, then turned herself into a standing liquid silver blob, which flung itself at the back of the Buzzsaur.


WARNING
Course of action poses risk of contamination

Don't think about how the native organic is going to taste. Think about sampling their inorganic components.

[Sylent]

Good weather today; moderate temperature, recent rainfall but nothing too severe, only a slight breeze…perhaps a little cool, but that wasn’t a concern. Even as sensitive as its wearer had become, the skinsuit was as protective against the elements as it was in combat. Tightly woven like the wet-suits that were so popular on beaches back home, it was set flush against the skin and made to move with its wearer, expanding and contracting as necessary but only enough to allow for the body to “breathe” without actually hampering the wearer or decreasing its protection. It was state-of-the-art and had kept Specialist Tristan Phoenix alive and in relative good health for a very long time.

Unseen behind the helmet he wore, Tris’ lips shifted into a small smile. He had been following the local herds for some time now, but most of them simply consisted of small families like this one. There seemed to be a kind of tribal mentality to the animals, as though they were more intelligent than the herbivores back home but not quite smart enough to master their surroundings and develop them as mankind often did. After years of scouting hostile locations for various military reasons, it was nice to look upon something that didn’t immediately want him dead - something that honestly didn’t want anyone dead. They were just trying to survive - much like Tris.

They also had far keener senses than those of the horses, deer, and the like back home. When Ella came over the comm, Tris’ smile had faded before she had even started speaking. He hadn’t been contacted much on this planet when he was in the field unless his expertise was needed, either in linguistics or with his pistols. But it sounded like this was far more pressing a matter.

+Tris, where the heck are you?+

Still, he was sad to see the creatures go. He had been as startled as the creature before him, almost losing a tracer but pulling his trigger finger away just in time. The leader of the family before him wasn’t at all pleased by the interruption, and to be honest, neither was Tris. For a second, the male fixed him with its glowing eyes, almost daring him to do anything, before it too and turned and followed its family at a more stately pace. Tris stared right back, his eyes locking onto those of the male, a steadfast and calm gazed matching a fierce and intimidating one. Then Tris quickly drew in a breath and let it out in a soft sigh. He activated the comm only briefly following her next message.

+Tris, there has been a serious development. Get your ass back to base camp now.+

+Copy,+ was all he said, his voice just high and soft enough to sound like a girl’s to those who didn’t know him, especially in the loud whisper he was currently using to avoid startling any other nearby wildlife.

It was a wonder he hadn’t been born a girl, though gender expression had always been a fluid thing for him. Certainly, he had taken the more submissive role in his relationship with Ryan, for that’s what had come naturally; and he enjoyed wearing earrings and the choker that he never took off. But on the other hand, there was something distinctly masculine about firing off a shit-ton of rounds of ammo from the perspective of others. He had felt the power of his pistols many times and even enjoyed it; they were comfortable, they were familiar, and they often became an extension of himself in a fight. But he had never really seriously considered his own gender beyond wondering what the hell he actually was. Ryan had never seemed to care much, either.

And in the military, it didn’t matter at all. The current situation, for example, was clearly bigger than him. If Ella was calling him back without telling him what was going on, it must have been big. A brief explanation had been completely left out, which meant that this wasn’t something that could be explained quickly over the radio. No, something was definitely going on. He shook his head slightly and sighed again, calling back the drone. He could go over the recording later (what little of it there was).

The return journey took a while even for Tris, who had grown accustomed to moving quickly across the landscape here. He wasn’t exactly just across the river; he was across a couple of rivers, over several hills, and just on the other side of a small mountain. It was a bit more than a quick jaunt. But when he got back, he shut off the now-nearly-empty O2 #4 canister and disconnected the coil; it was a simple twist-and-pull with a click that was as much felt as it was heard, though Tris’ helmet blocked out most ambient sound unless he wanted to hear it. He popped the latches on his helmet, slipped it off, and ran a hand through his hair.

The briefing was short, and to the point. Not only had survivors come down from the Elcano but one of the crazy-ass scientists had struck some kind of deal with Chronus, bonding deeply with the aliens tech and being given the tools for a plan to deal with the monster in orbit.

Tris was floored. The situation in orbit had been one of the worst that he’d ever been in. Those things, the way they moved…it was like being in a massive spiders’ nest, and he hated spiders almost as much as he hated bees and wasps. These things, though, were so much worse. And now they had a way to deal with them…because Chronus had bonded with someone? That meant that the others had awoken…and survived. This was definitely big.

”And we're sending you back with the first team. You are our resident expert on this planet, and they'll need your insight back in the milky way. Pack your gear, and get ready for a shuttle ride.”

He was going back…the dismay probably showed in his baby blues, if not in the down-turning of his lips in a deep frown. But he schooled his features quickly and gave a curt nod. He had to get ready. He had already showered this morning, so there was only a need to change. He did so quickly, slipping into his black outfit. The mottled dark-green and gray was good for the wilderness, but black would help conceal him better in the darkness off-world. They would have to move quickly and quietly, and his pistols would be ready when it came time to not be quiet.

He gathered his few possessions, checked his gear, and donned his helmet once more. He took several extra canisters of O2 this time, all full, but opened the cycling vents for now to avoid wasting oxygen unnecessarily. He would need all the O2 he could carry when he ascended once more, and despite his load, that was quite a lot; the O2 canisters were compact by design to prevent encumbering their carrier without sacrificing a significant quantity of oxygen. They would last for some time, so as soon as he was ready, he moved out. Time to go meet the survivors.

[dakkagor]

The Buzzsaur roared in anger as Iona splashed over its back. Her nanites stripped layers of hardened organicly grown ceramics and got to the tough, leathery skin below. The Buzzsaurs roars turned into howls of pain, and it dropped onto its side, then rolled onto its back, clearly trying to rub the burning crawling liquid off its back.

"Now! Its underbelly!" Davrry yelled. He fired again, and this time his round punched a bloody tunnel of meat through the underside of the creature. Fire from Winters, and the Dragonoids, drummed into it, and the creatures massive barrel chest collapsed in a spray of blood and acid. For a minute it thrashed piteously, until Davrry put a round into its eye, emptying its armoured braincase across the jungle.

"Good job Iona." Davrry gestured to the dropship, still untouched nearby under its camo net. "Now lets get on with what we came to do."

+++++

As the deadline approached, the camp broke up and moved out, the international crew forming into two ragged columns as it headed into the jungle. Both columns snaked down the mountainside, loaded with equipment.

"We'll be relocating the remaining team to a new location, in case Zeus decides to drop a megaton present down the gravity well." Ella explained to Sayori. "I've uploaded the coordinates into the stealth shuttles computer, if everything goes to plan it can use its autopilot to come get us if need be."

Finally, the ragged group, hardened survivors and newly awakened, gathered in the shuttle clearing. Severt gave a brief speech, wishing the boarding team luck and reminding them that the most important thing was getting the warning back to the milky way. There was some stiff saluting, and the marines filed aboard the stealth shuttle.

As the awakened turned to board, Davrry stood from where he had been leaning against the shuttles ramp.

"I'm not going back. If these poor bastards get stuck down here, they are going to need a woodsman to keep them safe, and they are sending their best back with you." He jerked his head at Tris as the slight pathfinder strapped himself into a crash couch. "Anyway, I'd almost want us to get stuck down here. This planet is a big game hunters wet dream." He smiled. "Tell Gaea to look after herself, and stay safe up there. You won't have this devil on your shoulder keeping an eye on you. Whatever happens, I'm glad we woke you guys up when we did."

+++++

The shuttle ride back to orbit was tense. None of the marines seemed particularly talkative.

"Its so quiet." Ella muttered at one point, and there was a lot of nodding and muted words of agreement from the other surface survivors.

As Miranda rolled the stealth ship and lined up for final approach, they all got a good look at Zeus. Its vast spiny bulk seemed to impale the Elcano.

Sayori had to grip her seat, knuckles turning white, as a surge of hatred boiled up in her brain from the Chronus Instance. At almost the same moment, there were small pinpricks of light from the spines that detached and raced towards the ground.

"Weapons fire. It must have detected at least part of our approach and worked back to where we lifted off from." Ella switched the view to the ground. A few minutes later, the surface was engulfed in balls of fire, vast thermonuclear explosions that ripped through the jungle and shook the artificial mountains to their cores.
"They would have got under cover in time." Ella said, as much to herself. She stood in one fluid movement and started to walk up and down the ships cramped gangway.

"Alright pukes, this is it! Prep for hostiles! If its got more metal than flesh, you cap its fucking ass! Its time for some payback!"

The roar of the marines was teeth rattling.

[Azazeal849]

As the awakened turned to board, Davrry stood from where he had been leaning against the shuttle’s ramp.

“I'm not going back.” he explained.

Sayori paused, one hand already on the hazard-striped handhold. “You’re not?”

“If these poor bastards get stuck down here, they are going to need a woodsman to keep them safe, and they are sending their best back with you.” Davrry jerked his head at Tris, as the slight pathfinder strapped himself into a crash couch.

Sayori searched the hunter’s face. He still had all of a Lyran’s stubborn pride, it seemed. Her new eyes registered everything about him, from the soft infrared glow of his teak skin to the way the ultraviolet sunlight scattered off his tangled dreadlocks. She held onto the image, suddenly struck by the thought that this might be the last time they spoke.

“We’ll send shuttles back for you all as soon as we can.” she said, in a reassurance that was as much for herself as the hunter. And that’s your stubborn pride, Sayori Warrick.

Davrry shrugged laconically. “I'd almost want us to get stuck down here. This planet is a big game hunter’s wet dream.”

Sayori found herself grinning. “Alright, fine.” She shot back. “This time I’ll be the one coming back to save your ungrateful ass.”

Davrry smiled at the callback. “Tell Gaea to look after herself, and stay safe up there. You won't have this devil on your shoulder keeping an eye on you. Whatever happens, I'm glad we woke you guys up when we did.”

“Yeah.” Sayori agreed, letting go of the handhold and swinging back down to the ground to offer her hand. “Me too.”

Davrry took it, and Terran and Lyran clasped hands - in unity, in friendship, and in farewell.


+++++

The shuttle ride back to orbit was tense. None of the marines seemed particularly talkative. Even the shuttle itself was silent save for the quiet whisper of electronics and coolant pumps. Their course was a simple, rising arc, barely corrected by soft breaths of air from the maneuvering jets. Any flare of thrusters would have lit them up like a spotlight to the watchful Berserkers.

“It’s so quiet.” Ella muttered at one point, and there was a lot of nodding and muted words of agreement from the other surface survivors.

Sayori didn’t concur. She could still hear the cacophonic orchestra of the planet, fading with distance until it was just a murmur, and then a soft hiss at the edge of her augmented hearing. But as they climbed higher and higher, a new sound replaced it. A low, steady pulse, like a drumbeat; the fusion heart of a machine far bigger and far more vindictive than the Elcano. It was pervasive and inescapable, shuddering through her until it felt like her own heart was beating in time to it.

And over it, growing steadily louder, a chorus of chittering screeches.

It was like the song of the planet and yet unlike it, a static cackle of AIs who were working and repurposing, searching and marking, hunting and feeding, but all bound to a single implacable will. The heartbeat thrummed out, and the Berserkers called back - hissing; snarling; hungering.

As Miranda rolled the stealth ship and lined up for final approach, they all got a good look at Zeus. Its vast spiny bulk seemed to impale the Elcano. One spar was broken clean off, wrenched apart when Davrry’s hull breach rolled the vessel. The end was still embedded in the Elcano’s flank, like a black metal dagger.

The Berserker ship thrummed.

Sayori had to grip her seat, knuckles turning white, as a surge of hatred boiled up in her brain from the Chronus Instance. At almost the same moment, there were small pinpricks of light from Zeus’ spines, that detached and raced towards the ground.

“Weapons fire. It must have detected at least part of our approach and worked back to where we lifted off from.” Ella switched the view to the ground. A few minutes later, the surface was engulfed in balls of fire, vast thermonuclear explosions that ripped through the jungle and shook the artificial mountains to their cores.

Sayori’s lips formed a curse that she didn’t have the breath to voice. Davrry...Severt…Chronus.

“They would have got under cover in time.” Ella said, half to herself, though almost as if she had read Sayori’s thoughts.

Sayori clenched her jaw. The survivors might have gotten clear - but Chronus was still staked to the ground at the bottom of the alien hive. Could the blast from the missiles penetrate that deep? The instance in her head was silent, but Sayori couldn’t help wondering if she was now carrying around the last remnant of that vast alien AI.

Maybe not the only last remnants. She thumbed the data chip in her exo-suit pocket.

Ella stood in one fluid movement and started to walk up and down the ships cramped gangway.

“Alright pukes, this is it! Prep for hostiles! If its got more metal than flesh, you cap its fucking ass! It’s time for some payback!”

The roar of the marines was teeth rattling. The ultrasonic hissing of the Berserkers within the Elcano’s hull was louder. Sayori could not stop grinning, nervous muscles pulling her cheeks back into a fearful rictus.

“And if you cap a Collector,” she added (why did her voice sound so calm?). “Bring me the computer stack in its neck. There’s something in there that’s gonna help us blow that Berserker overmind straight to hell.”

[Enigma]

Iona had shed all the Buzzsaur matter, but the memory of its taste lingered. What would the organics say? Disgusting.

It was only now on their return trip that she could see the source of their torment that had killed so much of the crew, including the Sentinax among them. Like her plan for the Buzzsaur, this enemy had penetrated the hull, impaling the ship.

An Alpha, feeding like a crude Epsilon Seeker. Like a rebellious child.

Like a Seeker....
Mining Evaluation-----------------------------------------------
1024 Seekers required with 128 Beta Factory modules
128 Seekers with 32 Beta Factory modules, 1 Alpha Factory
Estimated processing time - 207.36 megaseconds

Too big for one scout to eat by itself.

[Sylent]

Setting out, Tris had gone directly to the shuttle clearing. Unfortunately, not everyone was ready. They were apparently stripping the shuttle to lighten the load. They wouldn't be ready for another couple of minutes, so Tris went back to the cantina. It was usually a good place to think. He could sit in his usual corner, check his equipment, and mentally prepare himself for the horror that was about to unfold.

Despite the need to reduce weight on the shuttle, the analytics in his helmet detected no plausible reduction of equipment with the exception of his jewelry box; that was not something he was willing to drop. He sat quietly and watched the clock, but he realized he was slightly more nervous than he probably should have been. He had been through this before. He knew what to expect.

Didn't mean he had to like it. Things here were...peaceful. Despite the uncomfortable connection he had developed with the planet, he had a better post here than he'd ever had. His task here was disconnected from politics, disconnected from war, and disconnected from the sort of extreme survival he had been extensively trained for. Here, survival was simply a matter of studying one's environment and that which dwelt within it, and integrating appropriately. He supposed, then, that the nanobots were little different from him - pathfinders seeking to survive and thrive.

He disconnected his helmet and took it off after looking at the clock for the thousandth time, revealing his short hair and extremely fair features. He decided to do another check of his equipment. Perhaps with his own eyes, he could figure out something the tech in his helmet could not. But after a quick check, he determined that his gear was as perfect as it was going to get. He let out a long sigh and realized exactly how much he did not want to go back.

But he had orders.

In his head, Tris was going over everything he knew about the creatures. It wasn't much. Here, he had much more time to study horrible things - like the squish-bugs; some called them balloon bugs or pus-bugs. Whatever they were actually called, they were...odd and disgusting. Eyelash-thin tendrils snaking out from what looked like a large black balloon filled with a caustic liquid that burned skin and eyes on contact, they moved at a glacial pace most of the time - but it was a steady pace, and they were completely silent. They were mostly harmless, unless they found an open wound or orifice; then they would shove their "balloon" inside until it popped. It was disgusting and painful and caused radical changes to the body's inner workings, altering things like blood pressure and body temperature, breathing rate, heart rate...all for the purpose of killing the host so as to prepare the perfect environment in which to breed.

Tris, thankfully, almost always wore his skinsuit and helmet on this planet. On the one hand, he didn't want to know anything more about the creatures that had slain so many of them; he knew more than he wanted about the damned things as it was. On the other hand, he wished he knew more for the purposes of survival and extermination. And Tris wasn't the type to want to exterminate anything. It was a mark of how much the military - and the situation - had changed him.

Standing up Miranda walked across the room and sat down next to him, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "Morning beautiful." She said, despite the fact that it wasn't actually morning. Neither the kiss or the comment were sexual in nature it was just how Miranda had always acted around the young pathfinder.

At first, Tris didn't notice the arm. But then the light brushing of soft lips pressing against his cheek broke him out of his reverie. He started and looked to the side, eyes wide and blinking, before settling into a more neutral expression as he tried to place the strangely familiar woman.

"Officer Clarke," he replied after a moment, recalling. She was a pilot.

Miranda Clarke, if he recalled correctly. Back when he'd first completed his training, he was assigned as a translator for a bunch of high-collar stuffed-shirt types. He honestly couldn't care less about politics, but a job was a job and orders were orders. It had been a long time since he had seen her. He remembered her as being overly friendly and a little sarcastic, but not in a mean way. Or perhaps he was misremembering her - it was a long time ago - though, considering her greeting...

She settled down on the bench next to him. ”Miranda.”

So he was correct. Miranda Clarke. The escortees had called her…Sinclair. He knew he should know the significance, but his aversion to the eternal game of three-dimensional chess that people like that constantly played often led to him knowing less about - well, anything - than everyone else did. There had been bombings around that time; he recalled that much. But beyond associating it with the Lyre First and a shift to a more open connection with the aliens, he probably knew about as much as any civvie did.

"I didn't know you had been selected for this mission." Miranda said, reaching up and pushing her bangs out of her eyes unintentionally giving Tris a good look at the bruise forming around her eye and a cut on her forehead both from the beating she had taken from the grieving Kel'cyre.

Tris’ eyes briefly darted to the head wound, but she seemed fine. It had probably been received during ingress. They lowered to her own eyes, and then shifted toward his helmet as he somewhat awkwardly shrugged. He was about as much of a social butterfly as a politician was honest. He glanced at the clock again. Three minutes until he was due back in the shuttle bay. He had everything he needed. It was the waiting that was bothering him at the moment, sort of like when someone was forced to sit in a room until a doctor could examine them. It was a different sort of waiting than patiently and quietly hunkering down to observe the wildlife on a strange planet. That was…not soothing or peaceful, necessarily. But…

Comfortable. Yeah, that was the word.

"Uh yeah, it's fine I just got into a tuff with a faerie." Miranda said, getting a dirty look from a couple Kel'cyre sitting behind them but she didn't pay attention. Most Kel'cyre didn't like being compared to characters from human children stories. Though as far as slurs went it was a mild one. "Normally I would say you should see the other guy but I took the brunt of this one."

Tris glanced over at a couple of Kel’cyre nearby. The looks they were shooting Miranda were…not nice. Then again, neither was calling them faeries - though, to be fair, Tris had probably said a few things about aliens himself (or at least thought them) over the years. Actually, he mostly talked to himself, but he didn’t like being surrounded by all these weird, non-human…beings…either. While not as aggressive as the Lyrans First, he certainly didn’t like working with them. At least human subcultures he could understand. Still, studying them had helped him piss off as few of them as possible, thereby preventing him from being stationed on, say…Neptune.

His eyes darted back to Miranda’s briefly as he nodded. She seemed the type to start a fight with a faerie - or to finish one, at least. Lyrans in general weren’t exactly known for their congeniality toward non-humans, or even non-Lyrans.

There was a silence between that seemed to drag on. Miranda waited for him to say anything but it never came. After what felt like forever there was a crackle of a speaker and an artificial voice called for the away team to gather. Miranda looked over to Tris and then stood up, "Sorry I have to get going. It was good seeing you again." Miranda said.

Tris nodded as he reached for his helmet.

Finally.

It wasn’t that he disliked Miranda, necessarily. Hell, they seemed to compliment one another; he was the quiet, reserved one who could do his job and just generally be ignored when he wasn’t, and she was the more outgoing type who could probably handle just about anything he couldn’t. He sealed and hooked up his helmet, checking the vents and the O2. He’d close the vents and open the valve once they were ready to take off. Standing, he checked his gear one last time. He thought about ditching his books, but they weren’t significant enough in number or weight for him to bother. He donned his pack and headed for the shuttle again.

“Huh.”

He was almost out of the cantina when he was stopped by someone else. He hoped this wasn’t going to be a routine. He had to get to the shuttle before it departed.

The surprised grunt came from a slender woman who had walked into the canteen space just in time to hear Miranda’s parting words. She wore a faded First Words jumpsuit and had the glassy red eyes of nano-integration, but Tris didn’t know her face. It left him to conclude that this had to be the Crazy Ass Scientist that Ella had mentioned; the one who had brokered a deal with the alien AI and then let it chew her up and spit her out in an entirely literal sense. She had thin lips and a broad, button nose, and her peachy skin looked pink, as if freshly scrubbed.

He had mixed feelings about that. Some of the others had wanted to destroy the monstrosity upon first seeing it - a natural reaction to the unfamiliar and unsettling, he supposed. Tris didn’t like going anywhere near the thing, though he’d had to more than once, being a linguistics expert. He wished it hadn’t integrated itself into the party that had been forced onto the planet’s surface, either, but there was a lot that he couldn’t do anything about. This, though…if she really did know a way to eliminate the berserkers - to end them by eliminating Zeus - then she was a necessary evil.

And yet, in a way, he felt pity for her. She had been thrust into a situation no one should have been in or would have wanted to be in; she had subsequently done the only thing she could probably think of at the time: allow integration as a means by which to go home. But if they made it back, what would happen to her? Most likely, the military would lock her up. She’d be a lab rat, subjected to their experiments until they were satisfied or she was dead. Whatever she was experiencing now had to be ten times worse than what most of the current inhabitants of the planet were experiencing, though, so perhaps that was a small mercy.

“I guess she doesn’t hate everyone after all.” the scientist’s eyes followed Miranda out towards the shuttle clearing, but she merely shrugged as the pilot disappeared. “You’re Phoenix, right?” she added, brushing her wispy black hair back behind her ear and returning her attention to Tris. “The pathfinder?”

His features now hidden by his helmet, he nodded respectfully at the new-comer.

“Captain Severt said you know the planet better than anyone else.” she went on. She was smiling, but the slight crinkle of her eyes told him that she was trying to categorise him at the same time - perhaps trying to work out the kind of person that Miranda Sinclair-Clarke would actually be civil to.

“I’m Sayori.” she said, passing the ugly kitbash of a gizmo she was holding over to her left hand so that she could hold out her right towards Tris. “I’m the, uh…” A self-deprecating giggle. “I’m the one who let Cronus eat me.”

There was a long moment of hesitation before he awkwardly took her hand in his glove. It should have been an easy thing - just shake the hand and be done with it - but nothing was ever that easy for Tris. What if he shook it wrong? Was his handshake too weak? If he put effort into it, would it be too strong? What was she thinking about him right now? She was obviously judging him - first impression. That was normal, right?

These and a thousand other questions had become almost a background hum in his mind after years of trying and failing miserably to socialize. His hand dropped quickly after the brief contact. She probably thought he was being rude, not saying anything and giving a half-assed handshake. He hated dealing with people. Why did he ever think it was a good idea to try to be more friendly with them? He sighed mentally. It was time to report for duty, anyway.

“I…have to go,” he said quietly, though the exterior mic made his voice sound like he was talking on a radio at a more normal volume.

Sayori gave him the expected look of puzzlement. “Um...right. Okay.”

She gave him back his hand and withdrew a step.

“I’ll see you on the shuttle then.” she finished, slightly stiffly.

He left promptly after that. Following his awkward reunion with officer Clarke - with Miranda - Tris was glad for the silence that led up to him reaching the shuttle site. He came in just in time to apparently miss some important pre-board speech; the others were probably just being told to keep their arms and legs in the shuttle at all times, wear their seat belts, no smoking, and don’t piss off the pilot. He wondered briefly whether Miranda would be flying the shuttle. They had both risen to depart when the announcement came over the intercom, so it was at least slightly plausible.

Tris reported for duty immediately, stowed his gear in the seat-rear compartment, and strapped himself in. The shuttle ride back to orbit was tense. None of the marines seemed particularly talkative.

"Its so quiet." Ella muttered at one point, and there was a lot of nodding and muted words of agreement from the other surface survivors.

Tris, however, was glad for the silence. It meant there was no awkward discussion of what was potentially about to happen, no even-more-awkward introductions - none of the usual chatter that seemed to be prevalent during pre-mission flights. It wasn’t long before they were approaching their destination. As Miranda rolled the stealth ship and lined up for final approach, they all got a good look at Zeus. Gargantuan didn’t even begin to describe the hideous, god-like vessel; Tris couldn’t help but think that it resembled a fat, disgusting ruler whose throne was a ship Tris wasn’t entirely certain he was glad to see intact. Its vast spiny bulk seemed to impale the Elcano, a vicious insect queen waiting for the perfect moment to devour its helpless prey.

Morbid thought, perhaps, but it seemed to fit the situation rather aptly.

When tiny flashes of light started hurling themselves toward the planet, only to result in massive explosions on the surface, Tris couldn’t help but stiffen suddenly. Unseen through his helmet, his eyes darted to the planet and instinctively scanned the wreckage he knew logically that he could not see from here. He might not like interacting with people much, but that didn’t mean he wanted them all annihilated in a nuclear apocalypse on a planet that wasn’t even their own.

"Weapons fire. It must have detected at least part of our approach and worked back to where we lifted off from. They would have got under cover in time."

Ella, bless her, was almost certainly correct. The ground forces would certainly have anticipated what was about to happen the moment they left the planet. Still, it was a moment that seemed longer than it probably was before Tris relaxed.

Slightly.

Ella stood in one fluid movement and started to walk up and down the ships cramped gangway.

"Alright pukes, this is it! Prep for hostiles! If its got more metal than flesh, you cap its fucking ass! Its time for some payback!"

The roar of the marines was teeth rattling.

Tris set himself, shutting everything else out. He unhooked his straps, hefted and secured his pack, and checked his pistols and equipment. Everything was golden. He was good to go. He was ready.

He had to be.

[AngelDellaNotte]

Sitting in the cantina, Miranda watched the people around her knowing that most of the would be staying on this rock. The likelihood of being able to come back for them was very low. She didn't know many of them and most she had just met. She felt bad about them staying but really didn't care. Her skills as a pilot meant she had a ticket back to the cursed ship. It was a snowball's chance in hell of getting home but least it was a chance. As she watched the taste of the protein paste lingered in her mouth. She took a canteen from her belt and swished the liquid around in her mouth trying to get rid of the taste.

Setting out, Tris had gone directly to the shuttle bay. Unfortunately, not everyone was ready. They were apparently stripping the shuttle to lighten the load. They wouldn't be ready for another couple of minutes, so Tris went to the cantina. It was usually a good place to think. He could sit in his usual corner, check his equipment, and mentally prepare himself for the horror that was about to unfold.

Despite the need to reduce weight on the shuttle, the analytics in his helmet detected no plausible reduction of equipment with the exception his his jewelry box; that was not something he was willing to drop. He sat quietly and watched the clock, but he realized he was slightly more nervous than he probably should have been. He had been through this before. He knew what to expect.

Didn't mean he had to like it. Things here were...peaceful. Despite the uncomfortable connection he had developed with the planet, he had a better post here than he'd ever had. His task here was disconnected from politics, disconnected from war, and disconnected from the sort of extreme survival he had been extensively trained for. Here, survival was simply a matter of studying one's environment and that which dwelt within it, and integrating appropriately. He supposed, then, that the nanobots were little different from him - pathfinders seeking to survive and thrive.

He disconnected his helmet and took it off after looking at the clock for the thousandth time, revealing his short hair and extremely fair features. He decided to do another check of his equipment. Perhaps with his own eyes, he could figure out something the tech in his helmet could not. But after a quick check, he determined that his gear was as perfect as it was going to get. He let out a long sigh and realized exactly how much he did not want to go back.

But he had orders.

The people seemed to come and go while she was sitting there most paying her no attention aside from a few people giving her dirty looks. Not that she was expecting anyone to care about her but she half expected someone to come at her like the Kel'Cyre had. She longed for the days before the bombing where most people didn't have a clue who she was. When the only time people recognized her was as the president's sister. She missed the times when it was just her and her ship. That was when she felt most at home even when she was just busing people back and forth. Out there in space she could tune everything else out and it was just her and the stars. Some pilots hated the long hauls but not Miranda she loved them. Never falling into the boredom that so many did.

She looked over to the entrance watching someone walk into the cantina in skin suit and helmet. At first she didn't think anything of them as they sat down in the corner opposite of her seeming to prefer to be alone and not grabbing any food. Miranda didn't know why she was watching the figure so intently. When the helmet came off she let out a chuckle at the feminine man. Not that she had socialized with the crew much before leading up to the launch but she hadn't know Tris had been assigned to the Elcano.

In his head, Tris was going over everything he knew about the creatures. It wasn't much. Here, he had much more time to study horrible things - like the squish-bugs; some called them balloon bugs or pus-bugs. Whatever they were actually called, they were...odd and disgusting. Eyelash-thin tendrils snaking out from what looked like a large black balloon filled with a caustic liquid that burned skin and eyes on contact, they moved at a glacial pace most of the time - but it was a steady pace, and they were completely silent. They were mostly harmless, unless they found an open wound or orifice; then they would shove their "balloon" inside until it popped. It was disgusting and painful and caused radical changes to the body's inner workings, altering things like blood pressure and body temperature, breathing rate, heart rate...all for the purpose of killing the host so as to prepare the perfect environment in which to breed.

Tris, thankfully, almost always wore his skinsuit and helmet on this planet. On the one hand, he didn't want to know anything more about the creatures that had slain so many of them; he knew more than he wanted about the damned things as it was. On the other hand, he wished he knew more for the purposes of survival and extermination. And Tris wasn't the type to want to exterminate anything. It was a mark of how much the military - and the situation - had changed him.

Standing up she walked across the room and sat down next to him wrapping her arm around his shoulder and pressing a light kiss to his cheek. "Morning beautiful." She said, despite it wasn't actually morning. Neither the kiss or the comment were sexual in nature it was just how Miranda had always acted around the young pathfinder.

At first, Tris didn't notice the arm. But then the light brushing of soft lips pressing against his cheek broke him out of his reverie. He started and looked to the side, eyes wide and blinking, before settling into a more neutral expression as he tried to place the strangely familiar woman.

"Officer Clarke," he replied after a moment, recalling. She was a pilot.

Miranda Clarke, if he recalled correctly. Back when he'd first completed his training, he was assigned as a translator for a bunch of high-collar stuffed-shirt types. He honestly couldn't care less about politics, but a job was a job and orders were orders. It had been a long time since he had seen her. He remembered her as being overly friendly and a little sarcastic, but not in a mean way. Or perhaps he was misremembering her - it was a long time ago - though, considering her greeting...

She settled down on the bench next to him thinking it was good to see a friendly face or rather just one that didn't hate her. She didn't know if Tris had heard about the bombings and her implication in them. If he had she didn't know how he would feel about her now. Their time together with the diplomats had been dull and boring not quite what either of them had signed up for. Tris was a pathfinder wanting to be out there exploring new worlds while Miranda would have been much happier flying him there or even enrolling in fighter pilot school. She had eventually made it to fighter pilot school and had loved every moment of being in the fighter crafts but hadn't spent much time assigned to a fighter squadron, with peace in the Lyran Alliance they didn't see much action and spent most of the time in deep space on standby waiting for one of the rare moments they squared up against pirates. It had been too boring for Miranda and she had transferred back to a helmsman position. While assigned to the diplomats she had been a glorified taxi driver to a bunch of pompous blowhards. She hadn't liked socializing with the diplomats or their entourage so she had spent most of the downtime between locations hanging out with Tris enjoying his company though she wasn't all that sure if he enjoyed hers.

"Miranda." She said, thinking there was no need to be so formal despite her outranking him both militarily and socially. Being stuck on that little transport ship with him and the diplomats it just didn't seem to matter to her. The diplomas couldn't read rank and often called them by the wrong rank. They never seemed to get Tris' name right either not bothering to learn it. The diplomats always got her name correct however they called her Sinclair rather than Clarke she mostly figured they were thinking of winning favor by impressing the Secretary General's little sister. Boy had they been wrong on that front. Quentin didn't care about what Miranda thought of people and they certainly didn't talk enough for Miranda to even share her opinion.

She supposed being marooned in this gods awful galaxy it didn't matter either. She was still of the belief that they were most likely going to die here. "I didn't know you had been selected for this mission." Miranda said, reaching up and pushing her bangs out of her eyes unintentionally giving Tris a good look at the bruise forming around her eye and a cut on her forehead both from the beating she had taken from the grieving Kel'cyre. Coming here hadn't been her choice and she had been quite upset about it so hadn't really made friends. Not that many people were interested in getting to know a criminal that most believed should be in jail or executed. Yes she had Quentin to thank for still being alive and not behind bars but was this really all that better?

So he was correct. Miranda Clarke. The escortees had called her…Sinclair. He knew he should know the significance, but his aversion to the eternal game of three-dimensional chess that people like that constantly played often led to him knowing less about - well, anything - than everyone else did. There had been bombings around that time; he recalled that much. But beyond associating it with the Lyrans First and shift to a more open connection with the aliens, he probably knew about as much as any civvie did.

"I didn't know you had been selected for this mission." Miranda said, reaching up and pushing her bangs out of her eyes unintentionally giving Tris a good look at the bruise forming around her eye and a cut on her forehead both from the beating she had taken from the grieving Kel'cyre.

Tris’ eyes briefly darted to the head wound, but she seemed fine. It had probably been received during ingress. They lowered to her own eyes, and then shifted toward his helmet as he somewhat awkwardly shrugged. He was about as much of a social butterfly as a politician was honest. He glanced at the clock again. Three minutes until he was due back in the shuttle bay. He had everything he needed. It was the waiting that was bothering him at the moment, sort of like when someone was forced to sit in a room until a doctor could examine them. It was a different sort of waiting than patiently and quietly hunkering down to observe the wildlife on a strange planet. That was…not soothing or peaceful, necessarily. But…

Comfortable. Yeah, that was the word.

Miranda noticed him staring at her cut and for a moment had forgotten about it. "Uh yeah, it's fine I just got into a tuff with a faerie." Miranda said, getting a dirty look from a couple Kel'cyre sitting behind them but she didn't pay attention. Most Kel'cyre didn't like being compared to characters from human children stories. Though as far as slurs went it was a mild one. "Normally I would say you should see the other guy but I took the brunt of this one."

He didn't say anything seeming to be focusing back and forth between the clock and his helmet. Miranda watched him for a little while wondering of maybe he had heard about the bombings and wanted nothing to do with her. She didn't know why she thought this would be any different. There was a silence between that seemed to drag on. Miranda waited for him to say anything but it never came. That shouldn't have surprised her, he never was a man of many word. After what felt like forever there was a crackle of a speaker and a artificial voice called for the away team to gather. It was hard to tell if the voice sounded off because of the speaker or if the owner had been changed by the planet. Miranda looked over to Tris and then stood up, "Sorry I have to get going. It was good seeing you again." Miranda said, getting up and walking to the corridor..

Tris glanced over at a couple of Kel’cyre nearby. The looks they were shooting Miranda were…not nice. Then again, neither was calling them faeries - though, to be fair, Tris had probably said a few things about aliens himself (or at least thought them) over the years. Actually, he mostly talked to himself, but he didn’t like being surrounded by all these weird, non-human…beings…either. While not as aggressive as the Lyrans First, he certainly didn’t like working with them. At least human subcultures he could understand. Still, studying them had helped him piss off as few of them as possible, thereby preventing him from being stationed on, say…Neptune.

His eyes darted back to Miranda’s briefly as he nodded. She seemed the type to start a fight with a faerie - or to finish one, at least. Lyrans in general weren’t exactly known for their congeniality toward non-humans, or even non-Lyrans.

There was a silence between that seemed to drag on. Miranda waited for him to say anything but it never came. After what felt like forever there was a crackle of a speaker and a artificial voice called for the away team to gather. Miranda looked over to Tris and then stood up, "Sorry I have to get going. It was good seeing you again." Miranda said, getting up and walking to the corridor.

Tris nodded as he reached for his helmet.

Finally.

It wasn’t that he disliked Miranda, necessarily. Hell, they seemed to compliment one another; he was the quiet, reserved one who could do his job and just generally be ignored when he wasn’t, and she was the more outgoing type who could probably handle just about anything he couldn’t. He sealed and hooked up his helmet, checking the vents and the O2. He’d close the vents and open the valve once they were ready to take off. Standing, he checked his gear one last time. He thought about ditching his books, but they weren’t significant enough in number or weight for him to bother. He donned his pack and headed for the shuttle again.

[MidKnight]

After killing the beast with their weapons and watched it fall on the ground made Winter's feel alive again. She rushed up to the dead beast and popped a few rounds in the machine's head and watched as the blood splattered everywhere. "Got nothing now huh?!" She yelled and was breathing heavily. She even kicked the head a few times. She started reloading her shotgun and looked at the others. "Let's get this done and over with." She said after catching her breath walking with the others to the stealth ship. Vez landed on the ground next to her and sees the look on her eyes. "You fought well." He said.

"Yeah?" She looked up. "You looked like a bad ass out there."

Vez chuckled. "A warrior's life."


__________________________

On the flight back. She was sitting on one of the seats. Thinking about the plan of returning back to their own worlds. She kept a grip on the shot she had placed next to her. Looking at the ground and takes in a deep breath. Thinking of the words Miranda had said to her. About being nothing.

Her thoughts ran back to where she had lost her arm. About how her 'friends' told the police of how the accident had happened. She was in high school. A another normal girl who didn't talk to anybody for a while. Until she met another girl who was being picked on by other girls. She protected her since freshmen and when they were seniors times had changed for them both. Her friend was getting popular and soon became one of the cool kids you see.

Although it was odd but when her family had won the lottery and started a business that became corporate. Her friend had gotten more friends and had forgotten about Winters. One day Winters had confronted her old friend. Wondering why she had decide to leave her alone. Her friend explained she did not mean to and tried to talk to her but was busy with her own life. She invited Winters out to her party and Winters was gullible to accept it.

When school was over and the weekend had started. Winters had went to her friends house where the party had started. Everybody was drinking expensive drinks the family had bought in their liquor cabinets and the house looked very high price. 20 rooms, a large living room, a pool in the back and a garage that had about 10 cars all in good taste. She started drinking with her friend and was enjoying the party until of the other popular girls decided it was a good idea to drive one of the brand new cars.

Winters was in the back seat and kept telling her friend it was a bad idea but her friend didn't listen. The driver was intoxicated and continue swerving on the road like it was a video game. But when the stop lights turned red the driver kept moving and ran into a passing car. Winters wasn't wearing her seat belt and was forced out through the window. Her arm caught something sharp and felt a tremendous pain. The fall knocked her unconscious. She barely woke up to see red and blue lights flashing and EMT's were next to her. She could hear her friend telling the police she was driving.

When she was in the hospital and awake. Her friend had visited and told Winters why she had to take the blame. The other popular rich girls had persuaded her friend to do so and apologized numerous times. Though in a hospital bed and with only one arm cuffed to the bed. She lifted one of her legs and kicked her friend in the face and wished her to go to hell. The assault charges were never pressed.


__________________________

When the ship had landed she came back around to reality and wiped her tear from her eye and cheek. She followed the others and heard Davrry wanted to stay. She stopped and looked over her shoulder before walking towards one of the armories to collect more ammo. Her eyes caught the Lyre woman heading towards the ship. She moved a little closer to Miranda and brushed her shoulder off on hers and continued walking.

Vez remained near the ship and continued talking with the young Dragonoid. "If I find your mate. I will tell her of your heroics effort here and you had made your clan proud of what you had done." He bid farewell to the young warrior and headed towards the ship to examine it over before taking off.

On the ride back she was seated with the other Marines whom seem to have seen more combat than she did. She felt the rumble of the ship like it was going through hell fire. She waited for the ramp to open and charge at first light. But followed the others instead of running to death.

“Alright pukes, this is it! Prep for hostiles! If its got more metal than flesh, you cap its fucking ass! It’s time for some payback!”

The roar of the marines was teeth rattling.

"Hell yeah!" She yelled and raised her fist in the air. She looked to Sayori. Her appearance had really changed.

“And if you cap a Collector, bring me the computer stack in its neck. There’s something in there that’s gonna help us blow that Berserker overmind straight to hell.”

She smiled and stood next to the woman machine? "You got it Doc. You nerds get the good stuff then we do." She joked with a soft chuckle. "I'll kill a Collector for ya." Her helmet visor darkened and she cocked her shotgun. "These freaks have hell to pay." She joined the fray with her fellow marines.

Vez waited for the opportunity to move. Though his wound had held him back for a few minutes. Seeing the demons had reopened his fear. He placed his fist on his chest and growled. "Come on you old lizard." He said to himself. "Let go and cap some ass." He didn't really understood the metaphor but it riled up his blood and gave him courage. He charged with the marines and felt the rush flowing inside and roared fiercely like a young warrior.

[AngelDellaNotte]

She half listened to the speech given by the Captain, say what you will about Lyrans they knew how to give a good speech. Hell you had to be charismatic if you were going to convince an entire nation to go to war with the entire galaxy. Miranda had heard dozens of speeches like it and they were all the same. Davrry staying behind caught her a little off guard but she didn't say anything. Instead she just went to the cockpit and started the preflight steps. The trip back way much smoother than then one they took to get there. Of course that could be they weren't under fire the entire time. Knowing there was a squad of Marines in the back it made her think of the training missions she used to fly. The pilots always liked to have fun and make the flight as rough as possible pushing the internal stabilizers to the limit. Especially if there were some green Marines aboard. The commanders never complained unless they managed to break something, it helped condition the Marines for rough landings. Miranda didn't play around on the throttle on this trip though, everything was by the book and smooth. Nothing to draw attention to them. Still at the end they didn't manage to arrive completely undetected.

When Ella pulled up the explosion on the screen she didn't look at it focused on her visor making sure the ship was docked and ready to auto-pilot back if indeed they survived though honestly Miranda had her doubts about anyone being alive down there. The Marines disembarked with their unusual zeal which was fine let them run blindly into battle, she follow behind and not be cannon fodder. She picked up her rifle and followed behind the Marines noticing Winters and Vez was with them. Not surprising. Miranda knew despite the fact she was military she was part of the support element so thankfully her job aligned with her opinion of rushing in. She was to stay back and guard the support element. Mainly keeping Sayori alive.

[Enigma]

Iona sighed softly, once more in her human child form. At her next opportunity, she needed to incorporate some weapon modules into her nanite matrix. Pity she didn't bring any with her on this trip. As it was, she was limited to simple forms and eating.


Conversion Evaluation

Conversion to active forms present 55% risk to existing body
Conversion to inert forms present 30% risk to existing body

Shedding her body would require her to rely on someone picking up her processor and bringing it back to the Safe Zone so she could integrate it into her Beta.

Of course, it was possible they could avoid all contact.



Situation Report
Collector interception estimated at 90%

The Berserker on their hull knew they were back and was undoubtedly looking for them. Bad odds if you were trying to avoid attention. But very good if you needed the central stack in a collector.

[dakkagor]

"Clear"
"Clear"
"Clear"

The Marine fireteam formed a perimeter around the entry hatch as the shuttle was emptied of crew and the slim quantities of equipment they had brought with them. The deck of the Elcano was much as the survivors remembered it, dark, empty, and this close to the skin of the ship, cold as ice. This section still had a breathable atmosphere at least, and soon the breath of the marines was misting the air as they advanced, a squad of marines in front, a squad as rearguard, with Ella in the centre coordinating with the survivors.

"We've got to push down these main corridors until we get to the inner hull." She explained as she kept one eye glued to a portable scanner. "There are just too many of us to make it quietly through the Jefferies tubes at any kind of reasonable pace."

It made sense, but there was palpable tension in the air. An attack, even an ambush could come at any moment. Ella made a fist in the air, and pulsed a warning over the squad intercomm. The whole convoy came to a halt and dropped to one knee, weapons sighted in all directions.

"There." Ella said, gesturing to a slowly moving blip on the scanner. "A collector, small pack of combat drones with it as escort, or scavenging from its leavings. Damn, I think I can hear it." She shook her head. "Its the first I've seen on the scanner. Do you want to hit it now, or move on?"

The question was directed at Sayori. If they could kill the Collector, they would have the part they needed to build the hacking weapon. If not, they would have to venture out from the safe lab space again to find one. But attacking a Collector could call down more Berserkers. . .

[Enigma]

"I'm surprised there's only one collector," Iona frowned. Why wasn't there more coming down on them? Surely the alpha who'd impaled itself on the ship noticed their return?

"What's to stop it signalling it's here?"

[Azazeal849]

"There." Ella said, gesturing to a slowly moving blip on the scanner. "A collector, small pack of combat drones with it as escort, or scavenging from its leavings. Damn, I think I can hear it." She shook her head. "It’s the first I've seen on the scanner. Do you want to hit it now, or move on?"

Sayori was struggling to hear anything over the Berserker noise sliding greasily through her mind. It was only after a moment of silence that she realised the question had been directed at her.

She looked up at Ella, to find the red-eyed Elemental already watching her intently. It felt wrong; to have the military leader deferring to her as if she were the true authority here.

Not just me. she thought. The thing I’m carrying.

"I'm surprised there's only one collector," Iona frowned, looking surreally out of place in her human child-form. "What's to stop it signalling it's here?"

Sayori scrunched her nose, trying to find a brief enough way to convey the (hardware, protocols, codes, equations, failsafes, logic gates, emergent behaviours…) understanding that Cronus had avalanched into her brain.

“They can signal each other.” she said at last, “But they’re not all connected. And they rely on ultraviolet and sound more than they do radio.”

She looked at Ella.

“This might be our best shot at getting what we need. I say go.” She thought for a moment. “When she woke us up, Gaea used her suit to soundproof the cryo bay. Could you do the same thing?”

Ella’s eyes flickered downward as she chewed her tongue in thought. “I could, but I wouldn’t be able to do anything else. Gaea was always better at manipulating the fields than me. It’d be up to you to kill the bastards.”

Sayori glanced around the group. Now that she truly understood the Collectors - what they were for, and what they did and why - she hated them all the more.

“What do you say?” she challenged the others, feeling the savage, tense grin creep back onto her face.

[dakkagor]

There was a moments confirmation, and a few more moments planning.

Ella counted down.

"Go!" she yelled over the comms as she threw her arms wide. The room and corridor became muffled, deadened, as stun grenades tumbled into the room. Arc white flashes of light bleached the room, and marines and the survivors poured into the room on their heels. Unfortunately, all the flash bangs seemed to do was warn the berserkers that they had company. One hunter, twisting impossibly through a hail of gauss slugs, landed on a marine and plunged claws into the joints of his armour. The Charabidians scream was cut short as the Hunter flexed artificial muscle bundles, and tore the marine in two, splitting him apart in a spray of gore that froze when it hit the deck. As it tensed to lunge, Tris plugged a plasma round into its torso, and it reeled back. Tris blanched as the blood spattered horror recovered its balance, a smoking hole punched through its torso he could see the wall through.

"tris" it hissed in a static laden voice. "tristritritiritristi . ."

Winter was at Tris's side, in a moment, and her shotgun boomed once. The custom shredder rounds punched the monster back and onto the deck with massive damage, where it twitched as Winter stomped a power armoured boot through its blank skull.

Two more of the Hunters had gone down in the opening salvo, pure weight of fire slapping them down and tearing them apart. A third had nearly made the line before Vezarres, roaring in anger, slammed a torn free chunk of deck plate into it like a baseball bat, sending it reeling in three separate pieces.

The Collector had scuttled back into the darkness of the room, sobbing like a frightened child before there was a bang of pressure change and a wave of blue light that spread from the Collectors shifting, insectoid hull.

"What. . .how" Ella gasped as she slumped to her knees. "Its popped the field! Fuck, its popped the sound baffling! Kill it now!"

The marines opened fire even as its final guardian scampered away into a vent, the room overwhelmed by a thunderous avalanche of sound and noise as a dozen rifles opened up on full auto. Thousands of rounds tore through the Collector, until it finally fell, smashing drunkenly into a stack of empty of cryopods and scattering them with an awful noise of breaking glass and metal on metal.

For a moment, the collector hissed and sizzled on the deck, and the place was eeirly quiet.

Then the screaming began. An awful crescendo rising through the abandoned halls of the Elcano.

"Scrap it quickly, and lets go!" Ella snarled as she pulled a pistol free. With barely a flinch she pumped a round into the fallen Charabidians skull. "We just ran out of time."

[AngelDellaNotte]

After the battle plans were made Miranda took up a position on the edge of the corridor she had climbed onto a damaged bulkhead giving her height above the others. She set her rifle up putting the silencer on then flipped on her holo-glasses. From here she had a nice makeshift sniper's nest. When Ella threw the flash bangs and set up the sound barrier the glasses filtered out the flashes. It was odd not being able to hear anything. She was outside of the bubble so when the fighting started she didn't hear the chaos of the battle. It was like someone had hit the mute button on a holo-vid.

From her perch Miranda picked off targets where she could. She noticed a Marine being backed into a corner by a berserker. She took aim and pumped several rounds into the berserker knocking it back enough for the Marine to get away. He looked around bit trying to see who had helped him but couldn't locate Miranda and was drawn back into the fighting.

The blue flash blinded Miranda briefly despite her holo-glasses, they adjusted quickly and as strange as the silence was it was equally strange when the sound suddenly came back, it was deafening. Somehow Miranda managed to hear Ella's command to take down the collector. She redirected her fire to it until it dropped to the ground. With the order to retreat Miranda jumped down from the bulkhead, the silence was back but only for moment then all hell broke loose. “Fuck!” Miranda shouted then grabbed a frozen Marine by the collar forcing him to run.

[Azazeal849]

Sayori lowered the steaming barrel of her thermal pistol and ran towards the butchered Collector, crunching over the broken glass that it had scattered in its death throes. She could hear the escaped Hunter scrambling away through the ducts, the metallic battering shot through with a more deliberate thump that she now knew to be a warning to its fellow Berserkers. They were already responding; Sayori could hear them rising like a wave, screeching and snarling.

"Scrap it quickly, and lets go!" Ella snarled as she pulled a pistol free. With barely a flinch she pumped a round into the fallen Charabidians skull. "We just ran out of time."

Sayori was already up to her forearms in the biomechanical viscera of the Collector. Slick black oil and other, worse fluids coated her hands and jetted sporadically from the beast’s ruptured innards. She could see the transceiver, glowing yellow against her augmented vision. Hair-thin cables snapped as she closed her fist around it and yanked it free.

“I’ve got it!” she called out.

“Then let’s move!” Ella countered.

Sayori gritted her teeth, trying to shut out the screaming that seemed to be coming at them from every direction.

No, she realised suddenly - not every direction.

“Aft.” she said, pointing.

One of the marines looked at her sharply. “You said your base was between the science decks. That’s forward.”

“I can…” Sayori began angrily, then swallowed her irritation as she realised how the words she was about to say would sound. “I can hear too many of them forward. Aft is quieter.”

[MidKnight]

She fired each round with precise at her targets. Pumping the shotgun over and over like it was an automatic thing to do in her head. Once she hears a click and nothing shoots from the barrel, she had to reload as quick as she can for each second counted. She followed the others as they were on the move and when Sayori had got what she needed. She kept her eyes on enemy movement. Pumping her shotgun again and fired the weapon several times before following the others.

Vezzarres roared as he fiercely fought each of the demons that came after him. Ripping their arms, legs or whatever they use to move around apart from their bodies. He stopped and looked around their surroundings.

"We just ran out of time."

He looked to see another Demon was close to pounce one of his allies. He quickly moved and tackled the demon to the wall and punched through his body ripping out the parts. He watched it die slowly as he foot crushed the skull of whatever or whoever it was before. "Move quickly!" He hissed.

[dakkagor]

"Incredible" Nikos grunted as he careful hefted the transceiver from the scan bed. "This is not just a transceiver, its a reservoir of quantum entangled matter. There was a theory floating around, before we left, that the only source of naturally occurring QEM could be found in the hyper dense corona of Neutron stars, maybe even in the ejected matter and radiation from their cousins, Pulsars. God, this even explains the weight of the Berserker units. We always wondered why they where so damned heavy in action and suddenly light on death. They must have a nanoscopic magnetic containment bottle, which contains a neutron of this matter. Enough to add kilograms of weight. Look at this aperture. I bet the main role of the Collector units is to implant each independent unit with the QEM it needs to operate the berserkers IFF network. Fascinating. I bet the collectors are recalled to the mothership to 'refuel' as required."

I like him the Cronus copy clicked and hummed in Sayori's skull as the science team, accompanied by Ella Salk and Gaea, watched Garrick work through a sheet of bomb-glass. Garrick was clad in a suit to protect him from any contaminants, using a variety of tools to slowly, carefully, inspect the transceiver inside a clean lab.

The trip aft had been harrowing. Another firefight had brewed up as pursuit units chased the team, and they had had to turn and fight again to throw of their pursuers. The rest of it had been spent crawling through dead, compressed decks, alternating between as cold as the void and hot as hell. Eventually, a freight elevator shaft had allowed them to get to another entrance to the baffled and bostoned science labs.

"That's great doc" Gaea interrupted. "But how long? We've got hunter units sniffing outside every entrance. If the collectors can beat our gravitic baffling now, they might be able to hear through it as well."

"Not long." Garrick looked up to his audience and gave an exaggerated 'thumbs up' with his thickly gloved hands. "If you let Sayori and our Sentinax friend help, I can have a working prototype in an hour with the auto-fac."

"I don't know if I like letting. . . whatever is in her head near the auto-fac." Someone else might have looked at Sayori and offered a 'no offence', but Gaea didn't. "Its our biggest point of failure."

I like her too. It hummed like a server fan. Decently paranoid security is worth its weight in gold.

Ever since the copy of Cronus had been implanted in Sayori's head, it had been learning at a startling rate, analysing her own knowledge and memories to make its interface as smooth as possible. It answered any question put to it, and had offered to activate a radio transmitter so it could talk more directly with the crew. Garrick had been ecstatic. Gaea and Ella had been. . .less keen.

"Without Sayori, two hours. You military types should be coming up with a plan, by the way. We need to isolate and capture a single berserker drone, and either bring it into our labs to function as a bomb carrier, or set up a workstation somewhere in the ship. Either process will carry some risks."

[Azazeal849]

For once, Sayori was holding her tongue and simply slouching near the back of the group with her arms folded. It seemed prudent to let good old Nikos make his analysis of the QEM without her - or rather, without Chronos - being seen to influence his conclusions one way or another.

Despite Nikos' enthusiasm for the idea, she had been somewhat glad when Gaea turned down Chronos' offer to talk to them directly. She would rather people kept seeing her as Doctor Sayori, rather than The Lady Who Happened To Be There Whenever They Needed To Speak To The Alien A.I.

"Without Sayori, two hours." Nikos was saying to Gaea.

"One more hour won't make much difference." Sayori spoke up, shrugging. "If you and Cicero want to field this one, I'm happy to help colonel Sanders make everyone lunch."

That was a bare-faced lie, but again it seemed like the prudent thing to do. Fighting down the urge to huff, Sayori supposed that she might still be able to find something useful to do. She had already handed off the override gun to Garrick's team, and captain Severt's mission log to Gaea - as promised, one copy for the Elemental to keep in her suit, one for Nikos to keep in the lab, and a third that they'd eventually leave on a beacon by the Gate. Perhaps she could start brain-dumping Chronos' knowledge down on paper, in case anything happened to her before they made it home.

If we make it home.

She toyed with the velcro flap of her jumpsuit pocket, where Severt's other, more personal data chip was nestled. She still wasn't quite sure of the safest place to keep it.

[dakkagor]

"We set up here."

Gaea and Ella had spent an hour combing through the sensor net the survivors had laid on their expeditions into the Elcano. The location chosen, was somewhat ironically, the chamber they had recovered the survivors from.

"Its a good distance from base, it has conduits with power and atmosphere. Its not on a crush deck and its only got one entrance, and its linking corridors can be defended by a few fireteams." Ella pointed out key locations on the map.

"If we have to defend it, we're screwed already." Gaea interjected. "We can't fight these things head on, we've learnt that."

For a moment it looked like Ella would argue, or even dress down Gaea for insubordination. Instead, she bit her tongue.

"So we'll have to work fast. We lug our equipment and the payload to this bay, trap and disable a berserker nearby, then haul our prize in and modify it. At that point. . .well at that point we then need to figure out how to convince it to head back to the mothership." Gaea drummed her fingers on the console.

"Sayori, any ideas from . . .Cronus? Can you pilot it in, like the drones?"

[Azazeal849]

Sayori - not relegated to kitchen duty after all, but still unused to being the de-facto authority on everything - drummed a boot against the crate she was sitting on. Keeping her attention on her foot stopped her from glancing round and catching herself in the semi-reflective glass panels that separated the sensor module from Garrick's makeshift lab. Miraculous as her new senses were, seeing herself with red eyes freaked her out a little.

It could be done, Cronus pulsed in her ear, But...

But it would take more time to modify the drone. Sayori mentally finished.

Before she could make a mental list of the components she would need, Cronus was already flooding her brain with step-by-step images of where and how to connect them to a Berzerker motherboard. (Or at least, what passed for a motherboard on those things...)

She chewed her tongue as she considered Cronus' input.

"I might be restricted in the route I could take, 'cause of losing the link." she mulled aloud through her thoughts. "And there's a chance one of the other Berserkers might trace the signal. It'd be more secure to program it to return to Zeus and then send a detonate code. More secure still to put the bomb on a timer...but the more we automate it the less control we'll have if something goes wrong, and the chances of something going wrong are..."

She scrunched her nose.

"...really fucking high."

[Enigma]

"Can you rig a distraction, then?" Iona asked, breaking her long silence. "Something that pulls them away from us, and gives us a chance to make it to safety?"





Plan evaluation

Static device - deception easily discovered
Bread crumb trail of static devices - delays discovery
Mobile device - longer delay of discovery

"You have suits, still. What are our odds of avoiding them by crossing the exterior hull?"

[Azazeal849]

“Sanders said they’ve tried spacewalks before and no-one’s ever come back from one.” Sayori recalled.

[dakkagor]

"We can run a distraction." Gaea confirmed. "Its not a bad idea. But anyone we send on a distraction run. . .its practically a suicide run."

"I'll take it." Ella said. "I'll get some volunteers, and we'll run a distraction in a different bay."

This time it seemed like Gaea would argue, but Ella held up a hand to interject.

"I spent too long on that damn rock to sit back now and not put my neck on the line. You've got security, Gaea. Get the job done."

Gaea shook her head before turning to face Iona.

"I'm not sure what a space walk would achieve. No one has ever come back from the outer hull, its probably crawling. And we'd be in full view of the monster outside."

[MidKnight]

Vez growled softly to the arguments of who would do what in order to get things done. He looked around the room and noticed nobody else volunteered to take the task. He looked around again but this time he finds one of the heavy weapons on the ground. He leans down and picks it up with one hand. It was a heavy assault weapon that was meant to be used by two people in order to operate it. The trigger was big enough for his fingers and he could hold it with both hands.

"You all would die before reaching the tenth step." He said aloud as he turned around with the weapon. "This time. It won't be a noble human sacrifice." He said as he takes a step towards Sayori. He reaches for his neck area and pulls out a chain necklace with a tooth attached to it. He pulls hard and slowly gives it to her. "Make sure Tharos receive this. Tell him...I tried." He started walking to where the Demons were searching. Placing his mask on and hears the hissing sound confirming the helmet is on tight. "I have been waiting for a warriors' death." Then he chuckled. "It's about damn time." He growled and started running down the hall. In a distant, you can hear the sounds of gunfire and a fierce roar along with it. The sounds continued moving further away from the group. Then silence.

[dakkagor]

"Make sure Tharos receive this. Tell him...I tried."

"We will Vez." Gaea nodded. "You're a brave man. It was an honor to have you aboard"

"Miranda." Gaea turned to the pilot. "Join up with Sayori. Maybe we can capture two drones, and you can pilot one, like you did on the drop. Two bites of the cherry have got to be better than one."

+++++

The distraction team plunged into darkest halls of the Elcano. With Vez leading the way, a small handful of marines from every species aboard, with Ella in command, punched into a heavily infested nest.

Vez started walking to where the Demons were searching. Placing his mask on and hears the hissing sound confirming the helmet is on tight. "I have been waiting for a warriors' death." Then he chuckled. "It's about damn time." He growled and started running down the hall. In a distant, you can hear the sounds of gunfire and a fierce roar along with it. The sounds continued moving further away from the group.

"Support him!" Ella yelled. Her gun kicked in her hands as she hammered a drone to pieces. They were swarming now, coming out of the walls, ceiling and floor. Soldiers were dropping left and right, often dying in bright flashes of light as they detonated suicide charges, not willing to risk being taken prisoner. Ella pulsed her augments, throwing a wall of force down a corridor and coming up on Vezarres slumped in a pile of torn up berserkers, his clawed hands plunged deep into the guts of the horror that killed him, the two locked together in seeming death.

"You god damn lizard! You better not die on me!" Ella roared, firing again as more monsters came swarming out of the dark. She fumbled with a syringe and thumped it into the weak spots of Vezarres scales, near his neck. It was a lethal dose of an illegal combat stimm, one she had used to get one last burst out of critically injured soldiers. For those already dead, it gave them the chance to go down swinging at full strength.

"You have got to build a bigger pile, you scaly fuck! Don't you dare die without my permission!"

+++++

"Now!"

Gaea dropped from the ceiling, catching the rear end of a small pack of in a hail of fire. Tris emerged from a covered position, draped in torn of wall panels and heat masking fabric. Their guns each pulped a hunter drone as Sayori stepped out of cover, Winters at her shoulder carrying a battery power pack and her own customized shotgun.

Sayori aimed the . . . weapon. Which was generous way of saying a complex, multi-spectrum emitter designed to transmit to and manipulate electronics at range. Cronus, the instance in Sayori's head, called it an effector for short. While the initial module that Sayori had built had been small and easy to handle, to get it ready for the field with the components they had, it had grown in size and weight, but Sayori had been able to handle it easily.

The air wavered, shimmered, and the two hunters caught in the cone of the effect spasmed as if they were being electrocuted.

Almost. . .

Like puppets with their strings cut, they slumped forwards. Then, tentatively, their suborned electronics quested outwards with identifier signals to Sayori, requesting instructions and new IFF codes.

You'll need to work fast The instance of Chronus sounded almost smug. Lets hope Miranda, Nevarn and the good Doctor Kolvar are prepped in the bay for the next stage.

[Azazeal849]

"You all would die before reaching the tenth step." Vez said aloud as he turned around with the weapon. "This time. It won't be a noble human sacrifice."

He took a step towards Sayori. He reached for his neck area and pulled out a chain necklace with a tooth attached to it. He pulled hard and slowly gives it to her. "Make sure Tharos receive this.”

Sayori took the ornament wordlessly, the thick chain pooling in her cupped hand. She had expected it to feel heavier, though perhaps that was Chronus’ augmentations at work.

You look like a warrior now. she remembered Vez saying. It was perhaps not the sort of compliment that she would have sought, but the Dragonoid had always been gentle with her - in stark contrast to Miranda and Stef.

She looked up, still feeling almost like a child next to the hulking Dragonoid.

“I will.” she promised him, curling her other hand around the thermal pistol that he had given her.

“Tell him...I tried."

"We will Vez." Gaea nodded. "You're a brave man. It was an honour to have you aboard."

Vez placed his mask on and a hissing sound confirmed that the helmet was on tight. "I have been waiting for a warriors' death." Then he chuckled. "It's about damn time."


+ + + + +

Like puppets with their strings cut, they slumped forwards. Then, tentatively, their suborned electronics quested outwards with identifier signals to Sayori, requesting instructions and new IFF codes. She felt it as a soft but insistent pricking; almost plaintive, but it still put her in mind of a centipede crawling up the back of her neck.

You'll need to work fast. The instance of Chronus sounded almost smug. Lets hope Miranda, Nevarn and the good Doctor Kolvar are prepped in the bay for the next stage.

Yes, lets.

Where once Sayori would have needed a computer and a telemetry cable, now she only had to think. Chronus had molded its new augmentations around her existing experiences with drones, although at times it felt as if the instance was already half a step ahead of her. She would have to ponder the implications of that later.

Designate friends. she mouthed, and saw strange, mottled UV ghost-images superimposing themselves over the faces she was forming in her mind’s eye. The Hunters emitted blurts of hissing radio noise, crouching low with clawed hands splayed.

“Woah.” Gaea cursed, snapping her gun up.

“Wait.” Sayori threw out a hand to forestall her. “It’s alright. They think you’re other Berserkers. Threat displays, like Davrry said.”

The Berserkers played invisible beams of EM over Gaea, tagged her rifle and the field emitters in her armour, and backed down.

While the Elemental hovered warily, Sayori edged forward a step and twitched her fingers out towards the two Hunters. She hesitated. Beaming her thoughts directly to another mind was everything she had once dreamed of accomplishing, but brushing against the minds of the Berserkers felt like dragging her fingers across the surface of a cold, oily pool, with something pale and predatory lurking beneath the slimy waters.

No time. Chronus warned.

Sayori held her breath.

A map of computer code unfurled in fractals before her eyes, almost as if her link visor was back in place. As the real world blurred away behind it, she recognised the familiar-unfamiliar architecture of the Berserkers’ minds - the messy, snowflake-unique web of evolutionary routines; the semi-conscious system it had been crudely sutured on top of. Driven down through both was an ominous black hole of code, the architecture for Zeus’ direct override of either system. Like Chronus had said, its children had guarded their creations against repeating their own patricide.

A day ago the conflicting mashes of code would have been as incomprehensible to Sayori as they had been to Cicero and Garrick. Now she could see the code webbed over the original system as it really was - burrowing, parasitic, spreading like a cancer - it made her physically sick. It was a digital reflection of the same design philosophy that had built the Collectors, and Zeus’ other biomechanical puppets: a Frankenstein’s monster stitched together by an intellect that was vast and cold and unsympathetic, valuing disposable ferocity and little else. By rights the AI beneath Zeus’ code should have rivalled a Sentinax beta unit, but it had been starved and crippled - leeched of processing power and decision agency by the systems grafted over it.

What were you before? She hoped that none of the others would think to ask that question. She didn’t want to give them the answer.

The parasitic code webbed over the Hunter’s original system was as pervasive and shapeless as a cancer, spreading out in twisting fingers that dead-ended or branched as the computer learned and re-learned through new sensory data and a trial-and-error of experimental programs. Even the programming languages that the two Hunters had developed were markedly different, converging only in the essential systems for communication. Chronus led Sayori down through the spirals, highlighting the subroutines she needed.

Codes and programming language that she had never known blitzed past in a thought, enacting the simple, subtle changes she needed to make to the Hunters’ learned behaviours. QEM renewal protocol: locate Collector unit, cancel search for closest unit, proceed to Zeus core levels, commence search.

She shifted to the override architecture driven like a steel spike into the Hunters’ brains, teasing it apart and adding as many dead-end routines and meaningless feedback loops as she dared.

Hurry. Chronus urged her.

Sayori jumped back to the IFF protocols and tethered the two Hunters to herself with a simple set of follow and report commands.

“Doc?”

Her lungs were burning. Sayori gasped out the breath she hadn’t realised that she had been holding, and scrunched eyes that had become dry and painful from a solid minute without blinking. Binary afterimages smeared and swam across her vision.

“I’m fine.” Sayori coughed, sucking down air. She gestured painfully at the Hunters. “They’ll follow us back to the cryo deck. I’ve established an ongoing link, but if Zeus ever figures out what we’re doing he can override me.”

“Can you lock him out?” Gaea asked. “Use Cissy’s self-rewriting code or something?”

Sayori shook her head. “For one I might need to change their behaviour on the fly, and for another Zeus could see the code as soon as he connected and might start replicating it for himself. I’ve thrown as much shit as I could in the way of his backdoor access point, but it won’t stall him for long.”

Gaea turned on her heel, powered armour thrumming as she moved. “Then we’d better hustle back to the cryo bay.”

[MidKnight]

Vez felt his heart beating faster than most. His eyes felt the rushed as he moved back to his feet and his roar fierce as the walls shook. He quickly looked around and struck a few more demons to the ground ripping them apart with his bare hands. He noticed one of the dead soldiers didn't activate his detonator. He glances around and sees Ella still firing her weapon. At that point he noticed a conduit was leaking fuel cells. He growled softly and grabbed the explosives and the detonator from the dead soldier and a hook with a long cable that was attached to a wall. He rushed towards Ella and placed the hook on her armor and pushed her away from the conduit.

"For Draconia!!!!" He roared as he rushed into a group of demons that blocked his path. Holding the explosives close to his chest he pushed through the pack until he was close enough to press the detonator in his other hand. The explosion was big, loud and created a hole in the hull.

+++++

Winters felt a sudden shook that was far off. "That's not good." Though in her mind she knows it had to do with Vez and the others. Watching them rush to buy time was something she wanted to volunteer. Though knowing the big guy he would probably say something to convince her to stay. And so she did. Following the doctor with a battery power pack. Though it made it uncomfortable while carrying her shotgun. After everything had happened she stayed near the doctor while she looked worse for wear. She can't shake the feeling whatever was ahead of them in the cryobay was gonna be a lot harder then leaving the ship. She placed more shells in her weapon and cocks it swiftly. "I'll blow a hole in it's for ya doc. Let's move." She helped Sayori up on her feet and helped her move while she catches her own breathe.

[dakkagor]

The team worked fast. They didn't have much choice about that.

With Sayori's guidance, they installed repeaters and transmitters to the carapaces of the hunter drones. These should, theoretically, mean that Sayori's and Miranda's control signal would overpower and drown out anything but a fully directed attack by Zeus.

Payload was a bit trickier. The first device that had cracked 50 megatons of explosive force back on old earth was the Tsar bomba, and that had weighed somewhere in the region of 27 metric tons. Advances in payload, delivery and materials had reduced the current state of the art to 2.7 metric tons.

That was still very heavy.

"We got the whole payload down to 1000 kilograms. But. . . there are some compromises." Nevarn looked nervously at the skeletal frame with welded on handholds that ominously hummed and creaked. Someone had welded it onto a pallet truck.

"That’s something of an understatement." Cicero dryly stated in what could have been interpreted as sarcasm.

"We had to strip the casing, the redundant magnetic shielding on the antimatter bottle, and the secondary triggers. Impact compensators are gone. Second stage accelerant is also gone. It drops the payload and penetrative power of the device. . .and if this frame is struck, or jostled, there is a high chance carbon antimatter will strike the edge of the carbon bottle. The microfilm around each carbon molecule will shatter, you'll get a release of heat and light into the chamber, burning away more of the microfilm while pushing the antimatter into matter, the reaction will take off, and then. . . ."

"English, Navarn." Miranda snapped as she struggled into the control rig.

"If this stripped down death trap takes any kind of damage, it will instantly detonate. If it does that on the Elcano, we all die."

++++++

The two hunters advanced, hefting the tonne payload between their metallic frames. In the cryobay, Miranda and Sayori sat back to back, focusing on issuing a tight stream of instructions to the subverted Berserkers. Winter, Gaea, Iona and Nevarn stood guard.

It was nerve racking. The bay was close to the breach points used by Zeus, and they were constantly detecting other drones nearby. Kolvar and Cicero watched telemetry translated onto their equipment, monitoring their progress and issuing directions to Miranda and Sayori.

"Nearly there." Kolvar breathed. "You're both doing great."

"Feels different from a drone." Sayori commented through clenched teeth.

Sometimes a drone would mistranslate a haptic or a mind impulse and lock up; filtering those same impulses through the hunters’ fingerprint-unique fractals of emergent behaviour caused them to spasm and skitter if they were told to do anything more complex than move in a given direction. Before long Sayori had to strip off her gloves and reach out with the transmitter Chronus had melded into her to correct the hunter’s routines on the fly, letting Miranda’s hunter set the pace while she attended to the more delicate task of keeping the payload stable.

The constant stream of code feedback swirled weirdly over her vision, blurring her visor image of claw-raked corridors and shadow-haunted modules. Around them, smaller, bug-like berserkers halted, assessed the threat of the two hunters, and skittered up the walls to give them and their cargo a wide berth. Once a collector rippled past them, slithering on lobstered metal plates. The hunter twitched towards it, seeking the antimatter reload that their diagnostics required, but the new programming held and kept them on track towards the mothership.

"Is that it?" Sayori asked as they approached the torn ruin of a storage deck.

"Confirmed. Visual on Zeus breach point." Cicero said softly. "We approach the Alpha itself."

++++++

The deck around them was slowly leaking air into the void. Plastic sheets and tatters of cloth fluttered in the breeze.

The spike was hollow, and easily wide enough for the hunters to pass four abreast. It had been punched through with massive force, buckling deck plates and deforming walls. Cables hung from ceiling ducts, and the mouth of the spike was dark, unlit. They gingerly stepped across, both women sweating despite the chill of the cryobay as their sleeved drones carefully manhandled the payload across the broken deck.

Gravity faded, and both breathed a sigh of relief. It was easier to move the payload smoothly through the air, their drones clambering hand over foot along the wall of the spike. It reminded them of the caverns on the surface, machined metal etched with fractal patterns.

Radiation began to spike. The darkness deepened. Air rushed past them, like something huge breathing.

Finally, they crossed the spike, and entered the belly of the beast.

++++++

"Transmission is still clean." Cicero confirmed. "We are getting solid telemetry back."

"Contact!" Gaea yelled. "Tell them to hurry! Winter, Nevarn, we have to hold them as long as we can!"

"Hurry." Cicero said. "Get as deep as you can. Detonate here and you'll cripple us. Get deeper, find the core."

"Copy." Sayori slurred quietly. The voices were becoming distant, the splotchy UV of the hunter’s vision beginning to overlap her own as she dived deeper into the Berserker’s AI, having to close off more and more subroutines as they lit up from proximity to the mothership. In the back of her mind she could feel Cronus fighting to tune and scrub their control signal as the hunters moved deeper into the radiation-washed core of its wayward son.

There was nothing that looked critical, that looked fragile. Nothing that looked like a central brain or control centre, even a munitions bay or fuel tank. It was an endless, twisting warren of tunnels and chambers, all the same, all disturbingly empty, all horrifyingly full of monsters. The ship shifted around them, the walls alive and crawling.

There was an increasing sense of pressure: of something trying to focus on them, look at them, narrow its perception enough to comprehend two very small, very tiny things. Sayori wondered if this was what a bacteria felt under a microscope.

Bacteria can kill.


̶̨̣̙̙͈͉̒̓͛̈́̌̎̇̀͠͝Ç̴̨̧͙͖̦͉̄̅̎̀̌̒̓͛ͅH̸̖̺̳̪̺̖̔̊Ì̸̏̚ ͇̤̙͈̺̳̝̰̱̀́̉̏͘L̷̡̼͚̜̮͇̰̲̎͌ͅD̷̼̠̥̮̗̠̬̎̊̎ͅR̷̞̂̀́̈́̎̍͝ ̲̤̮E̶̫̓̊̈́̐N̷̢̳̹̲̥͉̎


The voice was like cold water running down the inside of Sayori’s skull.


̵̮̯̪̋̋̍̎̓̐W̸̝̲̒Ḩ̴̮͉̝̟͕̟̖̟͂͐̈͌̎̾͂̈́͝͝Å̶̧̝͠T̵̔̋̊͝͝͝ ͈̫̯ ̸̢̫͉͕̲̳́̎Ḧ̸̡̢̛͖̖́̈͆̎̄̀́͘̚Ȧ̶̧̼̬̼͚̲͚̥̰̊̎͆̔V̸͂̈́̇̚̚͝͝ ̢̘͙̭̠̗̞̣̐͜Ẻ̸̡͇̖̬̗̟̥̳̓́̊͆ͅͅ ̷̨̰̼̀̽͋̓̓͌̇̂́͠Y̶̡̝͎̤͋̇̾̌͘̚O̵̡̭͕̠̙͔̲͋́͆̿́ͅÛ̸̎̑͑̐̆͘ ̗̣̺ ̶̢͑̏̇̍̑́̏̇͠B̵͍̭̎͊͝͠R̸͕̙̮̖̙̜̤͚̋̈́͌͊̿́͋͘͝͝O̸̽̍̓͗͛̇́̓͝ ̛͚Û̵̧̯̫̻͇̹͚̦̂̄͛̏̇͑̾̚͜G̴͎͎̊̓̈́H̵̯̤̥̱͇͔͚̀̒͊͠Ṫ̶̈́ ͈͎̰̲ ̸̡̲̜͚̱̜̖͖͔́̈́̏͋̀̀̋̇ͅM̴̥̀E̶̙̥͉̪̱͓͝?̶͙̘̹͗̐̍̾͝


The thought tried to lock into the override architecture of the two drones, but glanced off, redirected by Sayori's hacks.

"Run." Sayori urged aloud, the word like a bullet through the cryo bay.

They moved faster as around them the berserker drones began to stir, regarding them, testing them. Traffic spiked as dozens of IFF pings hit the drones. The hunter’s brain lit up under Sayori’s fingertips, spiraling with conflicting orders for threat and friend. They faltered.

Suddenly, Cicero was there, in the code with her. He took over some sub-systems, throwing his subordinate programs at problems as they arose.

+Focus. Focus and hurry. We don't have much time.+


̶̨̣̙̙͈͉̒̓͛̈́̌̎̇̀͠͝Ç̴̨̧͙͖̦͉̄̅̎̀̌̒̓͛ͅH̸̖̺̳̪̺̖̔̊Ì̸̏̚ ͇̤̙͈̺̳̝̰̱̀́̉̏͘L̷̡̼͚̜̮͇̰̲̎͌ͅD̷̼̠̥̮̗̠̬̎̊̎ͅR̷̞̂̀́̈́̎̍͝ ̲̤̮E̶̫̓̊̈́̐N̷̢̳̹̲̥͉̎


The voice boomed again. It hammered them. The drones froze in something approaching fear. It was a struggle to override the response. Sayori felt like she was applying spurs to a panicking horse, to make it jump through the fire. Miranda lost control of her drone as it froze out completely.

With a last gasp of effort, Sayori lunged. Her drone slammed into the floating bomb and pushed it through a final door before it irised closed, leaving her floating in a vast, central chamber. Zeus’ interrogating signals crawled all over her, pushing into the hunter’s AI past her layers of dead ends.


S̸̡͓̋̋̿̅͋͝U̵̪͒͌B̴̭̜̗̓́͜͝͝ͅV̵̦̍͋͐͆͠Ẻ̶̥̰̙͚̗̭̫̦̻͊R̷͝ ͍̦S̷̛͓̤͕̼̫͉̲͎̗̈́͝I̶̬̓̇O̸͕̫͛̅̐͂͜Ṉ̸̹̖́̇͗͝.̶͍̞͌͑̇͛̕̕͠ ̭͕ ̴̢̫̃̄̽̈̅̒ ̶̡̳̐F̸̥̰̤̌̉̈͌A̶̟͒͆͗T̷͖͕͙͓͙̩͕̜͙̼̊͛̓̆͂H̶̡͕̣̥͍̲̐́̓̇̀͝ E̸̮͊̀̇̊̍̅͐͋̅͋Ȑ̷̲̱͓͙̰̓̒͗̀̊̾̕̚͝.̴͚̟̞̘͓̫̯̗̅͐̔͛ ̴̟̜̣͙̭̜͎̃̾̾̑̽̌̈́͊̚͝ͅ ̸̨̧͉̱͔̮̠̑͑̈́̓͆͛̊̔̚Ỳ̷̢̧̢̧̖͓̻̳͈̅̿͋͝ͅÒ̷̝͎̞̟̲̣͇̬͆͐̇̔̄ ͕U̷̪͕̣̤͇̤͇̗̦̪͛̃̕ ̸̹̜̠̻̥͈͓̪͙͊͊̓̇̐Ḩ̶̞̖̗̳̟̬̒̒͌̋̚͠A̷̺̺̙̩̟͊͂͒̾̈́͊̈́̓́V̶̹̍ ͇̪̝̤E̵̺̎̂́̊̋̓̈́ ̶̪̩̠͕̘̲͔̫̥̽̍̈̚P̷̩͓̗̀̔̈̾̃̑̃̂͠R̶͇̲͖͚̗͓̞͎͙͌̔̐̆̈͝ͅO̷̓͗ ̟̞͖̗̮͈͋͒́V̶̢̧͔̖̲̖̖̓̓E̵͔̯̮͖͇̓͝D̸͔͍̍ ̷̨̥̻̩͍̞̔́̄͆̀̄̒̌̚C̷̲̎̔Ļ̷̘͙̘̱̹̟̰̖̇̂̿͘͝Ě̷̟͍͒̀̇͗̚V̶͑ ̱͋̉̓̈̀Ę̵̧̱̝̭͔̘̬͖̼̐͒̏̈́̊͆͝R̵͕̜̩̈́͑̌̈́͗́̉͒̒͜͠ ̸̙̖͖̤̔̒̿́̿̆̂͘̚͜T̸̗̮͉͇̽͂̋̀O̸͚͊̐͋͠ ̵͉̻̘̦͓͌́̔̉̌̈́̔̉͐̅͜U̷͇̙̣̟̭̟͋̋̇̓͛͊ͅS̷̢̫̖̬̺̲͙̪̚Ę̶̳̣̭̃ ̜̳ ̴͍͇͓̻̉T̸̨̛͓͖̺̊̉̊H̶̟͋̔Ȩ̸̭̫̌S̸̜͚̙̟̜̠̩͕̑̈̒́̉̂̚͜Ë̶́̓͐ ͚͚̬̭̗̩̲͎̇ ̴͍͖̇͆C̵̨͉͉̭̭̬̤̖̕R̷͕̞͊̑̐͐̽̉̿́̀̚A̵̠̥͈͍͉̿̐̈́͆́͠W̶͛̉͊̓̆ ͙̝͇̞͔L̴̡̠̰͉̈̈̀̆̿Ī̵͖̟̞̗̩̣̻̃͜ͅṈ̸̨̬̙̺̝̰̖̼̝̉̀̃̅̀̋G̷͘ ̡̙̬̠̤ ̵̨͉̙̪̼̣̹̞̭͊͆̌͘T̵̗̝̞̥̫̻̺̣̄̈̓̅H̶̡͚̠̪̥͚͔͗̓͑͌̒̆͊̒͂͆Ĭ̴ ̲̩͊̄̊͑́͗Ņ̶̟̄̃͠G̴̛̤͉̞͋̍͘ͅS̴͕̻̦̠̻̲͂͌͊̌̾̓͌̈͘.̸̆̓͊̆̊̃ ̪̪͉̣̬͊́̇͂͜ͅ ̶̛̘͚͓͔̈́̋̉̎̈ ̸̢̮̭̘͍̒Ṭ̵͕̙̅̒̎́O̶͇̘̲͋̊͜͜ ̸͉͌Ẹ̷̖̙̲̦̺̫̍̆͋̂́͐S̷͇͉͓̖̙̀̄C̴̫̖̜͕̀̃͊̕Ą̸̀͛̕P̸͓̮͋́͠ ̳͍̘̜͍E̸̡̯̱͎͍̓͌͒̔̚ ̸̢̥̦͇͕͛̂̌̐͆̓Y̷̟̤̏̉Ö̵̳̦͙̬̞͈́̍̾̿̕͜ͅƯ̷̭͔͓̝͚̗̱̺̩̋̅͜R̸ ̢̩͉͓̫̦̐͊͑͑́̽̉͘̕͝ ̸̭̺͇̾̒̉̒̈́̎̓̍P̷̟̪̗̰̙̖̜̯͔̿͊̎R̴̘̮̂̈́̍̋̈Ḯ̸͔Ṡ̸̡͕̝͇̮̯̋O ̸̣̣̹̹̗̗̥̮͍̿̂̓̿̌͗́̋̄̈Ṇ̵̨͔͇̮̗͎͉͙͐̃̓͒.̵̧̖͕̹͚̠̘͂̄͗͆͊͝ ͍̲̬
̴̡̱̩͒̽̂̂̎́̉͝͝

The hunter fell still, drifting as Sayori retreated inside its processors to throw up new firewalls and sandbox quarantines. Cicero worked around her, a blitzing stream of binary purpose. It was faster than her; more deft, more capable. Cicero was a creature of light and data; she was merely an organic imitation.

Zeus was faster and stronger and smarter than both of them. She could feel its hunter instinct, cold and implacable.


̸̼͊͛͝Í̴̙͇̹̓̇͆̀̒̏̅͘ ̶̡͖̙̗̻̓̾̀̀͋̒̚͠Ẁ̴͚̫͎͍͇̘͔̗̰̅͆͆̏̂͝Į̶̘̘͔̤͐̍̑̍́́͠L̴̊͑ ̧̡̫̥̼̰̹̙̊́͜Ĺ̸̮̫̤̮̹͔͚̗̺̀͑̎̀͌͆ ̶͈̥̪̙̯͓̍̎̓̕F̶̘́̀͌̓̈́̍͜Ĭ̸̢̪̏̓̏̊͗̎̈͌͜Ņ̶̩̎̈́̉̆͘D̴́͋͒̈́ ̡̘̤̮̞̜͉̻̺̺̈́ ̴͖͈̽̆́͑̕Y̸̼̟̙̟͘O̶̡͔͚̠̬̟̼̫͂̓̒͠U̷͇̿̋̈͘Ŗ̶̩͇̼̺̻̇̉͒̾̓͝ ̤̦ ̶̙͇͈̦̥̹̘̈́̿̋̂̐̆̂́̚̚ͅH̶͔̞͉͐̒͋̾͒̔̀̄͘̚Ơ̶̮̮̓̎̍̉̔͌͑̈́̕S̸ ̨̡̨̢͍̼̜̫̣́̅͗̇̄̄̂͑͘͠Ţ̵͚͚̙͓̯̗͑͊̔̌͝ ̴̬͔͙̰̪͎̠͕͐̈́̔͝͝Ǡ̵̛̹̳͍̩͂̿̈́͜͜͜N̷̡̟͉̜͎͌͐͜D̴̯̯̽̏̚ ̘̮̤͍ ̷̦̻̀̇̃̒̃͗̚P̴̢̠̫͍̙̲͝ͅŔ̸̡̫̲̬͇͎̖́̔͘Y̷̳͙̫̠̬͆̉̀̌̽̓͆̕̕͠ ̪͇̪̜̺ ̴̛̭͋̇͗͊̌Ÿ̸̻̣̟̻̥̙́̈́̏̐̈̀̔͆̆͘Ǫ̴̺̮͎̰̟͈̩̈́̈̚Ù̸̢̜̃̿ ̢͉̩ ̵̧͎͎̘͇̞̬̹̜̇F̶̘͍̼͈̖̤̦̪̖̀́̎̏͜R̸̯̗̅̃͛̀O̶̡̥̦͕͂̒M̸̄͋̽͘͝ ̢̯͇̦̋͘͝ ̵̨̤̟̪͍͔̪̎̒̈̿̐̀̔ͅĨ̸̮̺̰̯̥̹̙̓͒̅͝͠T̵͎͕͓̋̋̓̈́͘͝͝S̶̡̠̠̥̿ ̢͉̬͈͓̱ ̸̛͈̰̣̲̱̞͖͍͓̙̈͊͑̍̈͐͘̚͝M̸̘̔̍͘Ę̶̅̚A̵̛̞̼̟͚̼̔͐̅̐̀̍͘͝T̶ ͇͇͖̻̟͚̼̮̬͐͜.̷̧̣̼͈̓̄̑͒͒͑̑̚͝ ̴̨̫̿ ̴̞̺̦̱͌̍ͅA̶̧͎͇̖̥̭̱̮̪̍̂̍̅̿͋Ņ̸͎͎̻̬̜̣̼̯̳͑͂͊̽̓̐̿Ḑ̵̥̈́͝ ͕̫ ̸͍͈̭̼͖̬͈̈́̈Ý̸̛͉̣̹̫͑̈́O̶̧̩̗̮͓͙͕͓͈͋͆̎̾̀̈̍̔͋͜Ư̶̧̇̏͑͌͘ ̗̭̻͕͇ͅ ̷͇̲̺̞̥̼̰͎̐̈́̽̒̋͒͛͒̚ͅẀ̴̨̱̪͚̣̓̈́̊Ḭ̶̧̟̬̥̉̒̃͋̈͑͘͜͠L̸͙̄ ̫̻̹͓̥Ļ̶̧̪̠̬̼̗̝̗̎ ̶̢̺̉̾̓͝S̶̡̥̤̺̠̱̰̗̲̱̽̃͒́̿̓̋͗Ų̷̳̟͚̙͚͍͎̦͂̃̏̊F̸̆̑̓̽̀̿ ̤̘̳̙͜F̴͙̩̭̋͛E̴͖͖̽͑́̑͑̉̅͛́̑R̶̠̗͈̟̀̏͆̓͘.̸͎̎̿͛̆͌͐̒͊͝͝ ̥͖͎̤̰͚̰


Sayori and Cicero were fighting now, fighting hard, to keep Zeus out of the hunter. It spasmodically swam through the air under the imperative of its last command, pushing the bomb further into the vast, empty space. Sensor readings began to filter back to Kolvar, even as the signal began to degrade.

"Gods above." the greying Kel’Cyre breathed.

"Faces." Sayori’s physical lips whispered, half a curse and half a whimper.

This chamber was different. Hanging from the walls and ceiling, floating in zero gravity, tethered by endless cables and wires, the rest of the ship’s Sentinax were knitted together, interspersed with the more heavily modified of the missing crew, stitched into a twitching mass, with Hekatonkles wired into the centre. His flat arrow-shaped head flared with light and turned to face the suborned drone.

Sayori felt it like the spike of a nail being driven into her head, a white flash of pain that set motes of static fulgurating across her layered vision. Instinct overrode her conscious thought and she shied away, trying to break her connection with the hunter as she might wrench her hand away from a piece of white-hot metal. The connection remained open.

While they fought to keep Zeus out of the override architecture, it had found the signal stream Sayori was using to control the hunter and leaped onto it, ravening across the void between the two ships and straight into her own head. She could feel it flashing behind her eyes, thundering in her ears, thrashing around her head in a storm of barbed code as it homed in on the Cronus instance.

T̶̩̟̠͇̗̬̥̭͎̜͆̂̓̅̅͋H̷͍̀Ẹ̸̫̒͌͑̇̅̃̾S̴͖͖̩̦͇̥̀̌͊͗͛̕E̸̓ ̗̜͚̟̝͚̤̣̘̪ ̴̠̺͚̺̾͗͝͠S̶̗̔͛È̶̝̩̬̼̑̋̇͒̈́N̶̨͉̲̗͈͖̗̑͑̅́̋͌͜ͅT̸͓͛̀̓̐ ͓̖͙̳̝̟̗̼ͅİ̷̡͓̣͐̎̾̈́̊͌̚͜Ǹ̴͕̹̗̘̼͉̝̌̊͑̊̂͌̈́̂̽A̷͛͋͆̒͑ ̧̼̗̱̻̝͖͊́̂̀ͅX̶̪̿̄͊̾͒̈́ ̸̘͗́̈́̎͑́̑͂H̷̡̩̥̘͙̯̭̰̥̔̈͌̀͜͠A̴̮̘̪̩̠͌͐̈́͑̽̚V̸̳̹͍̗̐͛̎͆ ̡̼̘̜ͅͅE̷̛̪͕͓̅̈́́̎̌͋͒̋͝ ̵̣̥̥̲̗̈́̀̉̕ͅS̴͉̞͓͔̏̐̎̀͜H̶̙̟͍̟̬̥̻̹̒̑͜͜Ò̷̧̼͎̲̖̤̄͌̉̈́̊ ̡͎̯̙W̶̰̪̹̤̎̓̐̆̄N̵̨͕͕͔̱͇̑͑̽ ̷̣̳͈̔̐M̵̢̫̮̻̲̪͒̈̇̚E̸̠͚̺̩̮̬̙̼̟͐̆̄͒ ̵͖͎̻̰̩̲͍̔̐̓M̸̡͚͙̰͚̻̖̻̘̖̈̀͊͆Ü̴̗̞͍Ç̶̢̩̠͕͍̦̝͍̆́̋̽̕̕ H̸̟̒̉͊͂̅̍̔̂͝͠,̷̲̬͖̌͌̓ ̸̢̩̞̟͇̕͠F̸̰̝͇͌̈́͌͌̏̏́̿͂̓A̷̢̡̻̗̫̫̹͂͑̔̄̑̆͝T̷͔͎̀͊̀́̈̌͝ ͇H̴̡̙̥̩͚̰̟̼̬̄̂͐̊̇̓͜Ȩ̶̱͙͉̩̰̦͑̽̉͋͗͌R̶̗̼͊̀̅́̀͘͘ͅ.̸͐͑ ̡̢̫̤̦͍̬͉͌̎̈͝ͅ ̶̥̻̳̝͈̻̜̦͖̠͊̄̓̓̚ ̶͍̯̻͖̯̪͉̆ͅĄ̷͉̗͍̬̞͉̉̄̇̅́ ̷̥̲̫̰̐̃̓G̵͇̈̽̕A̸̢̬̜͎̻͙͍̽̀̑̈͂̀͒̚ͅĻ̵̹̖̦̠͈̊̏̉̆͋ͅÄ̶͝ ̦̄X̸̧̗̗̤̃̈́̎͌̈Ỵ̶̧̡͎͓̯̭̺̤̈̂̒̄̃͗̋̕͠ ̵̞́͑̊̔̑́̃͆͝ͅO̶̠̎F̵̳̫̱̳̣̯̦̫͑̂̈́̏͛͛ ̴̡̛̩͙̠͈͊̒͝P̵̠̀̾̽̓̍̉̆̚͘R̴̬͇̖̄͂̚͜Ẹ̸̓Y̵̛͙͕̫̳̤̣̍̈̌̎͘͠ ͓.̴͇̿͝͠ ̷̨͇̭̲͎̣͚̜̓̓͑͌̉͌̐̓̅


Sayori could hear gunfire battering distantly, but Gaea and the others fighting to keep the Berserkers out of the cryo bay seemed remote and inconsequential compared to the battle now raging inside her own skull. All of Cronus’ knowledge was useless, helpless to defend her from the murder-red glare of the Berserker leader.


̵̛̬̘̇T̸̨̜̫̍̏̿̏̄̂̓͠͝H̷̢̘̼̄͊̔̋̔͋̑̈̊E̵̛̼͇͇̬͈̽̇̍̊͌͑͆̄̒ ̞̥ ̸̡̡̟̹̗̼̟͈̣͌̈́̐͝Ẁ̶̡̜̘̰͍̰̠̳̘̭Ṏ̶̡͈͙̣̦͉̙̀̕R̸̛̋̓̽̈́̓̈́̒ ̺̮͉̥͍͖̯͖K̶̢̧̳͖̦͍͙͍̬̒͌̎̽̈́̒̌̾͝S̵̨͖̖̠̹̓̆̄̌ ̴̡̢̜̖̺͍̗́̓͋̑O̶͉̮̝̪̽F̸̛͇̄̏̚͝ ̷̢̡̨̝̲͖͈̼̱̈́̽͜T̷̮̀̅H̶̨̩̺̜̹̞͎̦͕̃̈̈̂̉̓̕E̷̮̠̰̼̎̒̄̏̾̋̕͝ ͎̤ ̴̞̳͂̒̎̔̀́͌͘C̵̡̯̥͔̣̜̥͛̈͒͑͘͘͠R̵̨̡̹̙͚͈̠̼̦̺̽̒̇̈́̿̑̇́E̴̍ ͍̳̩̫̻͚̎̒̓A̴̤̋̀̆͜T̸̨̠͌̓̉̇̽͂͆̍̊O̷̭̻̱̾̾̀̀̚Ṛ̸̊S̵̈͊͛̎͝ ̡̨͉̹̦̟̙̙̬͋͌̉͘̕,̷̨̣͙̻̬̙̰̗̇̿ͅ ̴̧̛͔͕̅́͊̂̈́̏̌͐̇Ǫ̵̛̘̭̩̼͖̱̼̩̬͂̐̆̃̒̌͘͠͝C̴͉̆̎́̅̉̌́̚͘͠ͅ ͙̥C̶̟̘͔̦̥͎̀̋L̷̫̗͈͇̖̳̙͋͐̈́̀͋̓̒̈́͜͝U̴̢͓̝͉̺̍D̴̨̺̣̯̟̣̱̀ E̴̦͙̠̦̫̐̌̉̀Ḑ̶͇̼͎̮͔̪̀͆̂̑̔͛̉͝ ̴͇͙̺̠͔̈́̋̈̆̓͛͒͝F̶̮͕͐̆̀̎̎̊̽̅͌͠Ṛ̸̨̝̾̒͗́̚ͅO̸̐͐́̄̃̒̽̚͝ ̰̳͕̘̤͚̻̰̬̟Ṁ̶̛̱̖̈́̆̔ ̴̧̟̰̼̥̮̏̌Ŭ̸̘̗̈́S̶͙͎̙̟̰̦̭̙̃̊͗͂ ̷̞̲͍̒̾F̷̡̛͙̦̼͎̹͊̆̌͒̊̏͝͝ͅO̴̮͆̔̀̑̎̓̉R̵̰̺̠͔͖̦̀̔̅̊̌͆͑͠ ̰͉ ̴̡̛̜̜̺̙͈̱̬̿̾̈́̅́ͅṀ̴̛̛̼̞̭̗͎͐̈̐̿͌̑I̷̧̛̝̟̹̦̤̭̖̾̂̾̈́̌͘L ̴̡̝̲̜͍͖̼͔͎̎͊̔͋̋͝Ĺ̸̥̯̫̱͔͚̫̰̺̈́̏̇͋̅E̵̛̼̼̙͇͋͌̂Ǹ̷̾̏̑̇ ̤͉̜̺̓̋͊̚ͅṆ̴̝̬̜̻͊̒̈̂̆͜Ĭ̸̛͚͎̺͆̀̌̏̾͠A̶̢̞̎̆̇͌̃̂͘.̸̃͠ ̡͉̝͖͇̪̞̤̟͌̋́͋͐͠͝


Sayori felt Zeus beginning to pulse something across the link; a rhythmic stutter of signals perfectly calibrated to set off a fatal seizure in the brain matter Cronus was webbed into. Inside the Berserker ship the hunter’s limbs spasmed wildly, trying to translate the impulses of her misfiring brain.


T̷͖̱͈̤͎̾̒͋́̀̈́͝H̶͎̑̇̈́̍̑Ě̷͇̪̜̙͓̺̯̳̯̫͆̿̈̀͒͘ ̷̻̠͔̝͖͓̣̐̑̎̄L̴͉̬͒̓̉͆͆̐̒̆͜͠Ô̶̟͔̦̗̯̤̳̰̈C̷̡̝̪̞̦̜͔̿A̵ ̛̠͋͋͊͑̆̽͠T̴͈̘̰͔̠̤̓̔̾̐̎̚͜I̴̛͉͔̳͖͉̼͛̉̄̍͗̉̉͠Ơ̶͂̄͗̉̽͝ ̨̥̖̫̈̚Ṇ̴͇̫͐ ̵̠͖̤̦̬͓̎̀̉ͅȌ̷̢̥̲̯̤̘͌̐͘͘͠͠F̴̙͉̱͙̉̽͗͛ ̷͈̰̪͍̺̯̌͛̑̔͌̄͋͘T̸̘́̊͌̈́͂̐̐͘Ḩ̷̢̨̛̫̘̖̼̱̰̓̎͂́͝ͅË̶́̃̿͝ ͇͈̐́͑ ̸͚̯̈́̌͊̕S̵̢̹̲̬͉̍̏͆̾̋̕̕͝͝͝Ę̸͎̤̩̔̐̍̀̋C̵̨̮̺̀̾̀̂̽̂̇̚͝͝ Ơ̵̯̪̟̜̙̟͆͑̎͐̇͒̈́̊͐Ņ̸̢͕͉͇̖̜̰̬̺͒̃̓̀̑̐̿͝͝͝Ḋ̴̨̢̖̭̥̇̓ ͓͖A̵̭̪̎̀R̸̭̻̋̑͋̋̇͘Y̸͍̊̆̽̋ ̴̡̗̳͔͆͒ͅṖ̸͕̖͍͉̳̫̮̏̑͊͒̐͝L̵̠̘̎̏͌͋A̴̢͇̠͓͉̰͙̰̼͛̋̾̓N̸̋ ̩̮̖͚̌E̸̡̫̯̫̤̬͛̈͘̚ ̵̧̢͎̳̠̭̜͊A̴̠̓͆͝W̴̢̙̲̬̞̞̯͌͛A̷̝̹̍̌̏̍͊́̏̃̿̀I̴̛͖͋͌̍̃͛͠ ͔͈̞̳T̵̳͎͎̯̞̲̙̓̓̌̏́̔̋͛ͅS̵̭̘̦̊̎̒̓ ̴̞̬́Ư̵̛̘͚͉̣̪̊͊̋̉̓͒̕͝S̸̲̮̙̆͑̅͘͝.̴̢̢̥̖͍̜͆̒̊̀͐͘ͅ ͖̳ ̶̖̙̤̖̯͂̉̓ͅ ̸̗̦̦̈́


Sayori felt something trickle from her eye and run down her cheek, too viscous to be tears.


M̶̢̪̪̤̙̯͆̋̐̕͠Y̸͓͎͈͂̔ ̷̢̟͈͍̩̘͛͑Ŝ̴̨̯̪̯͇̈́͑̎̕͘͝Ï̶̖̌̌̃͌͛̋̎͆͝B̵̦̗̲̩̠̩̥͙̺̉̔͠ ̤L̶̬̞̝͈̹̠͇̅̐̂́̋͘͘Ȉ̵̧͈̬̘̹̼̑͂̊̏̈́͐̕N̵̲̖̫̙̫̜̑͐̉̇͂́̀̈̆ ̡̖̮G̶̡̞̳̫͇̥͕͙̅̒̀̌̾̓͗̉͌͜͠S̸̫̪̲͖͇̋̃͋̓͆͠ ̵̨̱̮̝̌̾A̶͍͍̺̹̋̂̕N̷̦͙̥̄D̴̡̡̼͔͕̈́̒͊̀̋̑̓́̚͝ ̵̨̙̙̦̰̈́̕͠͝Ī̶̛̻̳̪̘͕̝͉̝̱͌̋̆͗́̔̕͠ ̷̲̲̦̎̿͂̓͜͝͝Ẁ̷̠̱̻͛̉̚͠ͅI̶̝̜̘̘͉̱͕̎̌͐͘̕͘L̶̼̑͒̂̊̾̿͊̽̎͘ ̡̭̳͕̲L̴̡̢̛͉̞̟̻̪͈͙͐͗͒͐̎͒̔͝͝ ̷͎̥̳̩͇͇͔̘͖̅̑́̽̆͋̚Ḧ̶̺́͗̈́͂̇̕U̷̘̮̫͚̯͙̥͐N̴̤͚͖̪̲͇̎̇́̃͆͝ ̮T̷̜̹̈́ͅ ̵̣͇̖́͐̈Ę̸̰̳̲͍̥̥̖͒̃̓̎̈́͌̕͜Ň̴̨̥̥̠̝͈̼̦͉̭D̴̢͉͇̀̏̔̅̅͋͠ ̣̜͜L̶̤̳̮̯̫̟̱̣͌́͘Ę̵̜̞̖͉̳̑̿́͜͜S̴̖̘̺̙͉̺̙͌̐̕̕͜͜͠S̵̍̐̚ ̧̳̺̤̐̎̀L̶͇̥͗̉̐Ỳ̴̛̜̒̀̈́̾ ̶̢̹̞̼̬͚̱̹̥́͑͂́́̍̕I̵̱̦͖͝N̶͔̽̾ ̷̨̢̳̝͓͍͍͈͆́̓̽ͅT̶̢̡̫̪̮̮̺̍ͅH̷̢̗̲̖̪̝͕͛̊̐̿̓͐̀͐͌͜͝Ȅ̸̎͘ ̣̓ ̵̢̢͈͍̝͓̒̊̀̀͘̕ͅS̵̭̳̠̬̟̞̋̓̓̒̿̾͝ͅP̸̧̛̤͍͚̗̪̟͕͛͐̑̕ͅÍ̴͝ ͔̬̻̬̖̱͉͝Ŕ̵̡̛̦͇̦͈͂͐̓́̕Á̶̧̩̻̘̩̆̆̎͐͆͌͐͗̾͜ͅL̸͂̂̅̍̒̈́͠ ̡̡̨̨̞̭͎͗̋ ̶̨̱̪̹̺̯̤̮͒ͅĠ̴͇͚͉͚̹̲̲̀́̎̊̊̔͜ͅĄ̵͙̣̟̼̳͔̙͋̋̎͐̓L̸͊͐͗̚ ̛̘̮̣̿̂͝Ã̸̛̲̲͉̮̀́̿̾͑͆͘X̸̧̠̱̪̹̠̦̺̩̩͛̎͌͑́̊̃͐̓͘Ẏ̴͚̉̚ ̘͈.̵͓̱͈̙͓͚̪͕̟͉́́̽̒̓


Hurry, Sayori. Cicero’s voice cut through the raging tempest, reaching back to her from inside the hunter. It has to be manual. We've lost the payload.

Zeus had abandoned its assault on the hunter’s override, all its focus on killing Sayori and the ghost she was carrying. As her physical body began to grow numb, Sayori pressed together one simple command code, as stitched and ugly as the Berserkers themselves, and flung it across the hijacked link into the hunter’s brain.

The drone clambered to the top of the payload.



W̷̧̺͉̫͓͍̾̋͊̓͌͝H̴̬̆͐̄̉̂͊͘Ä̵̯̦̠̣͎̥̑̎̄͗͊͋̚͘T̶̛̀̀͂̀̂̔ ̠̝̖̹̼̣̳̩͓ ̴̬̟͍̣̟̜͎̀̍̔̉̐͑͊̐͜H̴͓͙͈̖̗̾͊̌̈́͂̒͊̿̕Ă̴̬̞̗̒̋̚͘͜͠͠V̵̀̌ ̛̤͚̓̑̃͗̂͠E̸̡̧̧̦͚̫͓̅͊̀̐̓͂͜ ̴͍̯̠̠͊͒̈́̓̌̄̈́͘Y̷̱͚̙̫̮͓̓̀͊̓̂͌͊́̎̃O̶̢͗͗Ų̴̥̮̔́̀̽̐ ̨͉̻ͅ ̶̧̛̯̞͈͖̜̥͈͙̖́̉̓́̓͛̑B̶̡̢̝͎͈͚̤͍͖̑͊R̷̨̫̺̅͌͗̅̑͂͛̌̈́O̷͂͝ ̪̞͚͎̟̙̜̪̪̎͆͜U̶̼̹̱̼̳̮̳͋̆̀̕͝G̸͍͚̺̜͌̾̓̂H̷̻̽̀́̈́́͝͝ͅT̴̄ ̢̛̜̗̦̥͗̌̿͗̾͘͜͠ ̶̩̘͓̻̺͒M̷̨̨̥̭̲̻̃͗̄̊̀̌͘̕͜͠Ȩ̷͙̲͖͇̯̤̈́̅̊?̸̈́̄̋̓́̑͘ ͚͖ͅ ̸̥̮̣̝̲͎͉̩̰͛́̓͛͋͐̆̀͌͜ ̸͖̉̅̐͋̈́͑̿͒̚͠Ǐ̵̛̖̲̼̬̏͆̒̔̾̈̈́̎ ̴̡̼͌̆̃̑͊̒͠T̷̜͙͌̽͆̎̇͠͠Ä̴̧̖̹̘̤͇̱͓̪̗̍̽̚͝Ş̶͈͎̼͙̆̋̇̀T ̴̧̣͔̼͕͕̖͔̌̀̓̈́̒͑͑͗̚Ȩ̴̛͇͎̭͍̪̹̥̰̮̑̋̅̀ ̶̨̢̻̭͚͙̃́͜.̵̧̭̣̯̟̀͛͒̑͊̋̎͗͝ ̷̧̲̓̏̏̎̈.̴̧̧̹͚̦̩͕̯̈́͜ ̴̛̟͎̍̐̈́.̸̨̝̺̘̗̪͑͆ͅ ̴̨̛͔̪̯̓͗͋̏̈́̓͝N̵͙̐͜O̷̰̯͎͙͖̜̎̈́̑͛̀͘̕͝!̸͔̱͈͘


The drone brought its fist down as Cicero dived into the hissing snake-pit of code around the I/O architecture and threw Sayori out of the system. She collapsed panting on the floor of the cryo bay as the blinding glare of Zeus' signal vanished like a light switch being flipped.

The Sentinax beta didn't have time to get clear himself.

++++++

The shuttle came for them a scant 30 minutes after the harsh, white pulse had lit up the night sky. The night was still lit as debris transformed into shooting stars, enough to provide a lifetime of wishes to anyone on the surface. The shuttle was automated, and quickly filled with relieved soldiers and sailors of the Concert, happy to have their main wish answered.

To go home.

One, neither a soldier or a sailor, took one last look at the alien world, and smiled sadly. His teeth flashed with a hint of metal.

One day, he'd come back here. Once he'd made sure his home was safe from the monsters.

++++++

Two days later, the battered hulk of the Elcano accelerated towards the gate, through the debris field. There were indications of a fresh space battle: hulks from Berserker warships guttering fire, fresh clouds of debris and traces of weapons flare. As they got close, they were hailed.

"This is the Concert dreadnought Lucifer Descending. Identify yourself."

"This is captain Kalyn Severt of the Elcano. Ident codes attached. We need to retreat immediately. This galaxy isn't safe."

"An understatement, captain. We'll transfer crew survivors and data to the troopship Michegan. The Elcano will be scuttled here, our scans show it won't survive the jump back."

Kalyn nodded, a surprising knot forming in her guts. After all they had fought and bled, the Elcano would be abandoned. It hardly seemed fair, even as she appreciated the brutal logic of it.

"Issue an all hands. We need to move everything, and everyone. I don't want a single scrap of data lost or a single person left behind in this hell hole."

One of the bridge crew looked at the captain.

"What about. . .the Prisoner?"

"Especially the Prisoner. And let the Michegan know that quarantine facilities will need to be set up for all the survivors."

++++++

The bostoned science bay was abuzz with activity, apart from one corner. There Sayori sat, the wire of an EEG monitor trailing from her temple. She wanted to see Garrick, and Navarn, and Davvry, and Severt, but there was no energy left in her body, wondrous though its new augmentations were. For now, all she could do was stare at the body of Cicero.

Just because he was dead, it didn't mean his metal frame wasn't moving.

At the moment the bomb had detonated, Cicero had saved both Sayori Warrick and the instance of Cronus, both overcommitted and too entangled in the alien architecture of the hunter. When Sayori had recovered, she had found that the voice in her head was gone. She had landed back in her skull; Cronus had landed back in Cicero, and taken over his empty frame like a human would put on someone else’s coat.

The scientists had quarantined Cronus in a hastily built faraday cage, itself sequestered in a diamond glass box. He had saved them, but they still didn't trust him. The only input/output was a simple speaker and microphone set up. Seemingly, Cronus had exchanged one prison for another. Sayori would have been furious, even though she had been lucky herself to escape the same fate, but after everything that had happened all she could feel was numb fatigue.

"What happens next?" she asked her alien mentor’s new body.

"There are still five of my children out there." It didn’t use Cicero’s voice, having rewritten his vocabulator software to match the cadence she recognised from inside her head. It was strange; somehow slow and clunky-feeling to have to wait for the sounds to pass through her ears instead. "And with this gate soon sealed, they will seek other ways to reach your galaxy. Other gates."

"And then..." Sayori exhaled. "We have to fight."

Cronus nodded.

"You don't have to fight. You have to win. You win, or you die. It’s as simple as that."

Sayori found enough energy to clench her jaw. "Then I'll fucking make sure we win."

That was the second time she had said that. Not just I'll fucking try, I’ll fucking make sure. Dangerously like optimism, for definite.

++++++

[dakkagor]

Epilogue One

Jason hauled himself from a transit tube with a grunt, before carefully sweeping the secondary bridge with his pistol. For days he had been sneaking around, gathering intelligence on the Berserkers, his crew mates, and the battles that had unfolded. All he had to do now was pull an instance of Julian from a sub-system, and he would have all the information he needed for his paymasters back home.

Behind him, a terran pilot covered his rear, with dusky skin, and eyes like chips of blue ice. Like all the ground team survivors, there was a metallic tint to his skin under the right light, and his biology was subtly threaded with alien nano-tech. A reprobate associated with Earth First, he had proved useful muscle and a source of intelligence on the ground survivors that had helped fill the holes in Jasons report, especially once he filtered out his racist bullshit. Now Jason had convinced him, with some specific half truths, that he was working deep cover for an Earth First cell in the Federations intelligence apparatus. Jason was looking forward to shopping the idiot the first chance he got.

"What do we need here that took us 2 hours of off grid travel through the rotten guts of this ship to find?"

"An unguarded access point to the ships mainframe Jack, now shut up and keep watch." Jason growled. "A Sentinax alpha instance would be a massive intelligence coup."

The pilot grunted, and delivered a kick to a drone on the floor. Its scissor limbs clattered as it skidded across the floor.

"Not so tough without their big boss are they?"

"No, they aren't." Jason muttered. "Wait. . .oh, shit."

"What? Whats wrong?" Jack marched over to him. "Whats happened?"

"They're leaving! We aren't taking the Elcano through, they're abandoning the ship right now."

Jack paled. "They. . .they won't leave without us, will they? They must know we are still here!"

"I wiped you from the system after your indiscretions with that Lyran. And I'm not nearly that lucky."

As the two watched in mounting horror, the screen Jason had got working showed the Concert battlegroup retreat through the gate, vanishing on their long voyage back to the milky way.

"There's something else, another concert ship?" Jack pointed to the sensors. "Whatever it is, its big."

"We have other problems." Jason muttered. "The Elcano's reactor has been set to detonate to deny it to the enemy. We need to get to one of the pioneer shuttles and get back to one of the abandoned frigates if we want to survive longer than a half hour. If we can hide out on one of those derelicts, we might be able to survive long enough for the Concert to come back here one day."

"We're. . .we're fucking marooned?!"

Jason swung round and grabbed Jack by his jump suit.

"Yes, we've been fucking marooned. Now get your shit together, and follow me to a hanger."

"But. . ."

"But what?" Jason yelled.

"What's that big ship out there?"

Jason turned back to the sensors. This was a secondary bridge for directing the Elcano's weapon systems, so its sensor data was solid. As Jason parsed the data, his blood ran cold.

"Its another Berserker super-capital."

Behind them, as powerful control signals swamped the system, and hundreds of berserker warships poured into the system, the drone Jack had kicked lurched to its feet.

The rest was gunfire and screaming.

[dakkagor]

Epilogue Two

Deep in the catacombs of a nameless world, Cronus waited.

He waited for the bombardment to end, for the fires to die away. For the Humans, Charabidians, Sentinax , Kel'cyre and Dragonoids to leave. He waited for the debris to stop falling, for his remaining children to finish their squabbles over the corpse of Zeus, and for them to depart, because a new hunting ground was open, and they would, if they could, reduce the Spiral to a graveyard choked with the corpses of civilizations.

He waited a little longer, for the jungle to grow back, for the concert survivors to reach their home, to issue their warnings to their governments. For the new war to begin.

And then, as silence descended on that nameless system, he began to sing.

From the darkness of the deepest tunnels, his wards sang back. They emerged from the shadows and prostrated themselves before him, his masters, his wards.

The Concert called them the Collectors. He knew them as the Sharn, a race too peaceful, too soft, to survive without his help. He had hidden them from the Concert as he had hidden them from his spawn.

Now, their time would come again.

M̫̪̠̤̗͙͜y͖͚̪̠̠̖̝ ̵͈͕M̛͖͙͕͕͙̗a̶̩̜̠s̩͍ṱ͙͔͝e̝̬̪̝̻̝͈r̙ș̟̬̻͉
͇̻͍̼
͙̬͙͈͉̫̩̕I̸̺̮̼t̛̥͓̻̲̤̗ i̢̜̤̰̼ͅs̼͎̝͕̮̕ ̠̰̝̣͖̝̞́t̠̪̥̟̝̜͈́ḭ̣̠̖͈͞m͓̬̰̟͉̞̦ẹ͇̦̤͇̝ͅ
̥̬̻̯͞ͅ
̷͈̳̙T͎͝o͏̘̪͚͖̳̪ ̺͔͞b͚͙͖͝e̙̻g̘ͅi͍̠͙̱̳n͏̬̣̮̠̙̫ ̫͇͖̪̻a͈͎̹̯̤̩̪g̘̬͈̺a͉̘̘̝͖͕ͅi͇̠͔̲͎̙̱n͎̯͎̦̟

[AngelDellaNotte]

Walking through a corridor Miranda felt strange like her body wasn't her own. She wasn't in control of her movements and her stride was lumbering like she was carrying large mass. It took a moment to figure out where she was, she was in the Elcano. It was wreaked and barely holding together. Miranda realized her steps were so awkward because there was no atmosphere in the corridor and her feet were magnetically holding her to the floor. She paused for a moment wondering how she was breathing if there was no atmosphere. Then again not on her own she started walking. She passed a glass panel and was able to see in its reflection that she was embedded into a berserker. Still not in control of herself a loud scream burst from her lungs.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Miranda sat up straight in bed a scream still on her lips, she was drenched in sweat and breathing hard. At her sitting up the lights in the room lit up in a light dim just enough to see without waking up her roommate. Her scream did that but the Kel'cyre in the other half of the room just groaned and rolled her back to Miranda then went back to sleep. Miranda glanced around the room spotting a mirror on the wall next to her bed. She scanned every inch of her that she could see in the mirror making sure everything was as it should be. Just as it should be there was no tech marring her skin except for a medical scanner attached to her temple and another on her chest above her heart. This was how she seemed to wake up each day in the throws of some sort of nightmare. “Miranda Sinclair-Clarke, your heart rate is elevated beyond optimal levels are you experiencing a medically emergency?” A computerized voice said, sounding neither male nor female. Miranda fell back to the bed panting and trying to compose herself, ignoring the voice. “Miranda Sinclair-Clarke, your heart rate is elevated beyond optimal levels are you experiencing a medically emergency?” Once again she ignored the voice staring at the ceiling as she trembled. “Negative response from patient Miranda Sinclair-Clarke, medical team has been alerted and are responding."

“Cancel, negative medical emergency.” Miranda growled, “Cancel.”

“Medical team response canceled. Conducting deeper patient scan.” The voice said, “Miranda Sinclair-Clarke your neurological systems are functioning at an extreme level, you appear to be experiencing a psychological emergency.”

“No shit she's having yet another panic attack.” The Kel'cyre in the other bunk shouted at the computer. “And at five thirty in the morning no less.”

The computer continued on as if ignoring the Kel'cyre, “Psychological team dispatched to quarantine module 642-A.”

“Bloody hell cancel psychological team.” Miranda growled, as she grabbed the monitor on her temple and ripped it off leaving a small red welt on her temple then she threw it across the room, it bouncing off a glass panel separating them from the hanger bay they were in. There were numerous other modules in the bay with them.

“Miranda do you have any idea how expensive those things are?” A young Terran man said, leaning into a microphone on the outside of the module.

“Send me a bill Jefferson.” Miranda said, sitting up then walking to the glass panel and sitting down on a chair. “Please tell me I am getting the hell out of here today.”

“You and Alolanr are scheduled to be released from quarantine today, however I haven't decided whether or not to have you transferred to a psychiatric facility.” Jefferson said, sitting in a chair on his side of the glass panel.

“I'm not crazy.” Miranda said, clinching her fist.

“No one said you were crazy Miranda. I am concerned with how you are coping with the trauma you experienced aboard the Elcano. Irritability and angry outbursts as well as nightmares are symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Jefferson said, writing something on his clipboard though Miranda couldn't see what he wrote.

“I think you are crazy, but really doctor she was irritable and prone to anger management issues before the mission. If you ask me she has a narcissistic personality disorder too.” Alolanr said, giving up trying to go back to sleep. She walked over to the glass panel and sat down in another chair. She then turned to Miranda sticking her tongue out.

“You are lucky they added that divider between us or I'd blacken your other eye too.” Miranda said. The divider had been installed four days into their quarantine after Alolanr had been doing a ritualistic chant to calm herself from being trapped in the module, which annoyed Miranda who had decked Alolnar after she refused to stop. The modules had been hastily constructed and they had no choice but to double up people.

“Ladies.” Jefferson said, shaking his head then turning to Miranda. “If you agree to outpatient treatment I can arrange for you to receive treatment twice a week without having to be in a live in facility. I assume you will be returning to Lyre? There are many amazing veteran hospitals there.”

“I'm going wherever my next posting is.” Miranda said.

Jefferson was silent a moment seeming to listen to someone else, which he was as he was wearing a ear piece then he nodded as he placed two sets of clothes in the drawers, one for Miranda and one for Alolnar. “Miranda you will have your exit interview in room Alpha and Alolnar you will be in Charlie.” Jefferson said, then turned away of them so they could change.

Miranda looked down at the clothes in the drawer seeing a pair of brown pants, a black t-shirt and a brown coat. “Where is my uniform?” She asked, she knew that the clothes they had been wearing had been destroyed after they were put into quarantine and they were given a pair of blue cotton pants and a white tank top. All of the crew in quarantine were dressed the same.

“This is what they gave me but if your prefer being discharged in your jammies feel free.” Jefferson said, his back still to them.

Despite her protest she changed into the clothes truthfully feeling good to be in regular clothes again. Once they both her changed the doors to the module opened with a hiss as the seal was broken. Jefferson lead both of them to the interview rooms but stayed outside. Miranda stepped into hers and saw a tall woman with dark brown hair and the same features as her sitting at a table. “Oh you got to be fucking kidding me.” She turned on her heels and started walking from the room.

The woman jumped to her feet and gently grabbed her by the shoulder leading her back to the table and sitting her down. “Please Miranda just talk to me.” Quentin said. In the two weeks they had been in quarantine Miranda had refused to see Quentin and the couple times she had come had completely ignored her.

“Why? So you can say you're sorry yet again? Sorry you practically sent me to my death? Too bad it didn't take.” Miranda said, crossing her arms but made no move to leave.

“That wasn't my intention we had no idea it would be like that on the other side of the gate. We could only imagine the wonders that could have been there. Never did we think of the horrors that were there. Miranda you have to believe me I am so sorry you had to go through that and I am so grateful you were able to come home.” Quentin said, reaching out and lightly touching Miranda's arm though the younger sister didn't react.

“Okay you said your peace, now do you have my orders or do I got to speak to someone else?” Miranda asked, pulling away from Quentin's touch.

“They didn't tell you?” Quentin said, looking a little dismayed. “Miranda you don't have orders. You are being discharged from the Navy with full retirement benefits and promoted to the rank of commander. I've arrange for transport back home to the family estate and when you are ready you will have a helmsmen position aboard the SIS Templar, the Sintaris Industries flagship.”

“What the fuck do you mean I am being discharged? Don't I get a say in this?” Miranda said, standing up and slamming her hands on the desk.

“No, Miranda the medical team has been observing you these last two weeks and a review board has determined you aren't suited for active duty. Perhaps in a couple years with continued treatment you can appeal the decision but for now this is how it is.” Quentin said, she hadn't wanted to be the one to tell Miranda but knew her wife had been right when she said it should be her. Quentin breifly wondered if Taionna had arranged for Quentin to be the one to tell her. It certainly was something the Kel'cyre woman would do. She supposed it was best as anyone else Miranda would have hit. Then again looking at her sister that still might happen. She was glad she had been able to convince her guards to wait outside the hanger because she felt she deserved it and wouldn't fight it if Miranda felt the need.

“You know as well as I do those appeals are bullshit. Remind me again how yours turned out.” Miranda said, but didn't give Quentin a chance to answer. “Well now that my career has been successfully tanked when is my transport going to be ready?”

“My ship will be leaving in the morning.” Quentin said.

“I'm not riding with you and I don't need your handouts.” Miranda said, then walked to the door and out the room leaving Quentin sitting there. Quentin didn't follow after Miranda she only stared at the door. Miranda may have made it back from the Elcano but she was lost to her. Quentin didn't think anything could mend the already fragile relationship they had.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Two Months Later
Lunar Station on the moon of Dion

In a dark bar room, Miranda sat in the far corner of the bar leaning against the wall with a drink in her hand. The bartender had left the bottle there as he did every night. Miranda's hair was a bit longer now touching her collar and looked like it hadn't been cut in months. She would growl at anyone that tried to sit near her and most the regulars knew to just leave her alone. Every so often a recruit from the nearby flight school would press their luck especially after finding out she had served on the Elcano wanting to hear some sort of story or buy her a drink. Those ones usually left with at least one broken bone. The owner of the bar didn't mind as Miranda had paid in advance for her room and her drinks, tipping far more than was necessary.

She had originally returned to Lyre but didn't stay long between the nagging of her psychologists and the mother henning from her mom, Miranda couldn't take it and had left in one of her father's cruisers. He had initially tracked her but once she realized it had a tracker she had sold it and bought an old junker that made it as far as Dion. She didn't see the point of going on and had stopped on Dion to drink herself away. The nightmares were still an every day occurrence and her mood didn't improve. Though every night just before passing out drunk she had a brief moment on peace.

She looked up seeing a young man walk across the room, she could tell he has a recent academy grad no doubt assigned to Dion for flight school. Miranda had gone here herself and still held several records though that wasn't what she was famous for. No she was a survivor of the Elcano if you could call it surviving. “Commander Sinclair.” The Ensign said, still coming toward her.

“If you have half a brain boy you would turn around and walk away.” Miranda said, looking into her glass but could tell he wasn't stopping.

“Can't do that I feel it's my duty to buy a hero of the Elcano a drink.” The Ensign said, coming to a stop next to Miranda and tapping on the bar for the bartender to pour them drinks. However the bartender didn't move knowing how this was going to end.

“I have a drink and I'm no hero. Just an unfortunate jack ass who doesn't have enough common sense to die.” Miranda said, taking a drink of her whiskey then pouring another finding the bottle was pretty much empty. The Ensign started to protest that he would get the next one but didn't get a chance as Miranda swung the bottle around and cracked him on the back of the head then slammed his face into the bar breaking his nose and knocking him out cold. She dropped the now broken bottle to the ground next to the Ensign and looked at the bartender. “George, another if you would.” Miranda said, as the man slid another bottle down to her. A couple of the Ensign's classmates dragged him from the bar as a few regulars exchanged credits, betting on how long it would take Miranda to throttle dumb recruits had become a sort of pastime in the bar.

"Impressive. I thought as much, you're not broken."

The man had stepped into the bar during the brief burst of violence. With his dour, understated suit, and black glasses.

"You can tell Quentin to piss off." Miranda snarled looking over at the man. She had figured he was a government agent and not a PI her father had contracted to track her down. Even though he had indeed paid several PIs to look for her. This wasn't one, his clothes weren't the sort a man of the caliber her father would hire. Which pegged him as a government lackey. Beside she had paid George a nice price to mislead the last PI that she hadn't stayed on Dion long and was halfway across the sector by now. George had served in the Concert War and knew the toll war could take one someone, truthfully he felt bad for Miranda and that's way he put up with her crap. She looked back down to her drink taking a long pull from the freshly filled glass then looked over seeing the man was still there. "Let me guess Quentin told you not to leave without me. You'll join him on the floor if you follow her orders." Miranda snapped.

"I'm not working for your sister. I'm here to give you a choice."

He sat at the bar, just out of Miranda's reach.

"I'm putting together a new organization in the military. Black ops, for the coming war against the Berserkers. Those teams will need pilots to get them into trouble, and back out. Someone with combat experience, against the Berserkers, would be ideal. Someone looking to exorcise their nightmares with a little payback."

Miranda looked into her glass, but said nothing. The agent pulled a manila envelope from his suit jacket and slid it across the bar to her.

"No pressure, and no time limit. You decide you're ready to fly again, you get in touch."

By the time Miranda reached out to take the envelope, the man had disappeared. She messily ripped it open, to find a credit chit, a net contact card, and a pair of dull gold pins. Commander rank.

She looked down at the items on the bar, her fingers lingering on the rank pins. She had been promoted but never actually worn her Commander rank. The staff at the hospital, recruits and many others called her commander but she never actually felt like she was one. It was a hollow title that she hadn't earn, something that was meant to ease the pain of being forced out. It hadn't. All it did was enrage her more. Could this be a chance to actually earn the rank? For as much of a rebel she was things like titles and ranks mattered to her. Which was why she had never referred to herself as commander.

But joining this task force would mean she had to get back into the fighting. It wasn't that she was scared to fight, hell all the recruits she had beat up showed that she still had fight left in her. But facing the berserkers was something she wasn't sure she could do. Every morning she woke up in terror at the thoughts of them. Her doctors had tried more medications that she could count but none of them helped. They always seemed to mess her up even more. One doctor had ever gone as far as suggesting they implant a neuro-monitor in her brain that could sense her triggers and divert her thoughts away from it. She had fractured his eye socket and knocked out three of his teeth. After seeing the monstrosities the berserkers had made Miranda vowed never to allow tech to be implanted in her body. That had been the final straw and she had left the planet before the MPs had arrived.

Payback, yes but this could be a chance to take her life back. She pushed the credit chit and contact card back into what remained of the envolope and gripped the bars in her hand as she tried to stand but the amount of alcohol she had consumed today was catching up and she staggered then fell back into her chair. "Oh wow maybe I should sober up first. George some coffee please."

"Coffee ain't going to cut it kid." George said, reaching beneath the bar and pulling out a drink shaker as well as an assortment of random items. Miranda lost track of everything he poured into the shaker but was sure there had been a raw egg, worcestershire sauce and an onion. He screwed the lid on shook it then poured it into a glass, "Tastes like shit but you will be steady on your feet in no time. Drink it down all at once." George said, giving her the glass.

Miranda looked at the strange concoction then did as he said taking it all in one take. She had barely finished the glass and set it down when George handed her a waste basket which she promptly threw up into. She heaved into the waste basket for a couple of minutes then looked up at George a pissed look on her face. "There got all that alcohol out of ya. Hurry up now and you can catch the last transport back to Lyre. I'll have your things shipped to Sintaris Industries." He said handing her a pack of mints.

[MidKnight]

A war vessel was orbiting around a station, the location was kept private for several reasons. The station was nominally a research hub, though it carried enough defensive batteries along its wheel-shaped hull to equip a small battlefleet.

The war vessel, Dragon Fang, kept its distance and its weapons offline. A shuttle was seen leaving the ship and docked with the station. Terran security was at the gate, and there they met with the Dragonoid security team including the Grand Clan Master, Tharos. The armoured humans performed a lengthy series of biometric scans before offering the Dragonoid deputation crisp salutes, and they were escorted to one of the interview rooms where Tharos would be placed.

He waited for someone that he wanted to talk with about the currencies that occurred in the other galaxy. And also he heard someone who was advanced with technology augmentations and wanted to see for himself. He faced out the window in the room, looking at the vast empty space, waiting. Around him the click and buzz of distant machinery continued, underscored by the soft whirr of air circulators and the ever-present hum of power generation. Beyond the window the stars glittered, a dusty scatter of pinpricks.

He only had to wait a few minutes before the door at his back whispered open on its magnetic runners, and soft footsteps began to cross the imitation tile floor. As he turned he found himself looking at a human woman, dressed in rolled-up shirtsleeves. She was small and slight - by human standards at least, for most beings were small and slight compared to Tharos - but the clan chief's gaze was immediately drawn to her eyes, which were flat and glossy-red in a way that he knew was not typical for the species.

"This had better be-" the human was saying, right up until she caught sight of the huge Dragonoid by the window, at which point she stopped and instead simply said, "Oh."

He chuckled after tearing his gaze away from the converted human. "Oh is right." He said with a soft purr. "I am Grand Clan Master Tharos of the Dragonoids." He introduced himself with his fist on his chest and bowed his head. He took a deep breathe and exhaled slowly. "To the Concert, a minor power though strong in heart."

"Doctor Sayori Warrick." the human introduced herself in turn, smoothing down the front of her blouse. "But I expect you already knew that, didn't you? That's why you're here."

Tharos placed his hands behind his back under his wings, which lay flat towards the ground. He stood taller then Vez and was much bigger as well. "I came here on behalf of my people and a...interesting story of a report I have read."

He walked around a table that was nearby and looked at the human's appearance. "Thousands of young Dragonoid warriors were sent through the portal but only one was the eldest of them all."

Sayori's red-in-red eyes twitched off to the side, as if looking at something. Tharos saw her blink twice. He looked at the wall to see if there was a clock or decor, yet there was none.

"And not one has returned from the other side."

Sayori shifted her weight in evident discomfort. "I didn't see the whole thing - our cryo pods got woken up late. But I was told that the Dragonoids in the crew threw themselves into the fight first, to keep the others safe."

Tharos tapped his foot, feeling both anxious and impatient. "What really happened on that metal world?" he asked turning his eyes back on hers. Not being able to pull away or say another word.

Sayori waked forward to face him across the table, resting her hands on the brushed steel surface. The veins on the backs of her hands looked faintly silver. "Everyone says that it was a horrible place - but it wasn't, not really. It was just...another kind of life, and..." She gestured in the air. "Everything was integrated. Everything. Like the Sentinax but a whole ecosystem. It was the only part of that galaxy we got to see that the Berserkers hadn't ripped apart."

"And yet we haven't seen any information of how that would happen. If there is a negative input in a technological system then the positive would remain intact."

Sayori smiled faintly. "Chronus told me a lot of stuff, but it was mostly about the Berserkers and how to build things to fight them. Not much on extra-galactic history."

She tapped her lips with a knuckle.

"It's funny you should say that though. There was definitely...something, buried under the Berserker AIs that we interfaced with. Something that used to be something else, something less twisted."

She hugged her elbows, shaking her head.

"I didn't have the courage to ask Chronus what it was before they moved him to some other facility."

Tharos lowered his head and mumbled something to himself. He shook his head and looked back at Dr. Warrick. "Apologies I tend to wonder off with my head." He chuckled. "But please, tell me more about this metal world, tell me about how your fellow survivors thought of you when you took this body." He gestured with hand towards her. Still examining her from head to toe. He had never seen such an extraordinary being.

"My eyes are up here." Sayori told him, sardonically. She exhaled a laugh. "I guess I was lucky, in a sense. We'd met captain Severt and the other melded crew just before, so they'd had a chance to acclimatise to the whole..."

She circled a hand over her face to indicate her changed eyes.

"They didn't expect me to take Chronus' offer, though. Tell you the truth, I didn't either until the moment it happened." She laughed again, shaking her head, and murmured under her breath. "Babuya."

"And was it painful? How did it feel?" He had more questions but he felt he should only ask a few before running her down with so much questions.

Sayori gave him a long, searching look. "Does it matter?"

He hummed, sounded a little disappointed about the pain and yet not answered. He walked around the table again but this time towards the woman. He stood in front of her and looked down. Towering over the female who looked more like a child to him.

"Elder Vezzarres." he said. "Do you know any information of him?" He asked curiously.

Sayori let out a slow breath, and nodded. "Yeah, I knew him. They rescued him from the cryo pods the same time as me. He...looked out for me a couple of times."

The slight smile faded from her lips as she tilted her head to look the clan master in the eye.

"He died protecting us while we sprung the trap on Zeus. He said it was what he wanted."

She glanced back towards the door, and by some non-verbal command it slid open to admit another figure - this one a taller humanoid made out of cable bundles and curved plates of carbon-black alloy. Its head was a smooth oval with the dim lights of optical sensors glowing in place of eyes. There was a soft whine as it crossed the room and raised a cybernetic hand towards Tharos.

"I figured you'd want to talk about him as soon as you mentioned elder." Sayori explained. "So I sent this one back to my room to fetch something. Vez said to give it to you."

The robot opened its hand and a thick, snapped necklace chain spilled out, a single hooked tooth dangling at the end.

"He said to tell you that he tried." Sayori informed Tharos, solemnly. "But I don't think that's right. He did better than try. He saved us."

The robot reached forward and gently dropped the necklace into Tharos' waiting claw.

"He won."

Tharos watched as the machine dropped the item into his hand, looking at it closely and listening to what she said. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Indeed he did....and he brought great honor to his Clan." His finger rubbed the tooth at the end of the necklace. "His name will be sung not as fame, but a legend." He chuckled again and looked at Sayori. "Of course he would look after you. He is a Elder after all. They were meant to look out for the weak until they become strong."

Sayori made a face. "Well thank you for that extremely backhanded compliment."

"Strong enough to protect themselves." Tharos clarified. "And this?" He showed the necklace. "Was only meant that you brought his word to me by bringing something he treasured."

Sayori blinked her crimson eyes at him, uncertainly. "He did?"

"Only Dragonoids know this." He looked at the necklace again before looking back at Sayori. "He wanted you to have it." He stood in front of her, and placed the necklace around her neck. "Treasure it...like he did. It is a way to carry on his name and memories."

This time the human had no answer for him. She was looking down at the necklace, tracing the tooth with a pearlescent fingernail.

Tharos took a step back and placed his hands behind his back. "You have my support should you need it. I will send my strongest warriors this time. Not the young that was meant to populate a whole new world. But we will fight for it."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Sayori's face. "God help the Berserkers, then. I'll hopefully have some new toys ready for you by that time."

Tharos bowed his head. He turned around and walked to the door and stopped. Looking over his shoulder, "I have more questions about this...." He looked around the room. "...new species but when the time is right...I will come."

Sayori raised a hand to wave. "See you soon."

He continued moving and headed back to his ship. On the walk back he passed a succession of robots criss-crossing about the station, each one of which stopped to give him the exact same wave.

[dakkagor]

Epilogue 3


1st May 2613, Ixia III.

They called it the 'Martial Olympiad', which was a very high sounding name for what was effectively a way for corporations to show of their newest toys for waging war. Pride was on the line, not just for the mega-corps here to sell their newest wares to a galaxy hungry for new weapons, but for the pilots, soldiers and officers putting on a show on the training fields of Ixia.

Ixia was a warworld, a planet ravaged thousands of years ago by some unknown conflict. Even Archeologists had abandoned it. Now it was a grey, dead and burned out place, perfect for putting new equipment through its paces and not worrying about the locals, or environment, because it lacked either.

Janessa Daysun-Shen reclined with a cold drink on her lounger in her private box, flicking a practiced eye across a dozen screens as the dryly took in the Bipedal Combat Unit (Single pilot) Decathalon. A very dry name for watching dozens of walking battletanks, piloted by test pilots and aces from multiple militaries, manouvere around obstacles, fight drones, and test their weapons and equipment in artificial environments.

Currently the front runners were the Errant MkVII, an advanced combat model that would be put into service in the royal fleets next year, the Sentinax Collosi Warform, which was a late entrant but was already proving flexible and capable, and the Terran Federations Gargoyle. Mechs were a new unit type for the terrans, and they seemed to have developed a very surprising unit that went against received logic. It was fast, light, and very deadly, and if rumour was to be believed, AI driven.

There was a string of explosions out on the field as all the units fired on the move, training various weapon loadouts on drone tanks. The Collosi had scored highest, a perfect blend of speed, accuracy and firepower. She frowned, and ordered another drink as she retrieved her field glasses and walked to the edge of the box.

"Princess."

She turned to her security detail, and felt that familiar hitch in her throat. Not Iroci, but so similiar. It was almost torture that they had grown a clone of her, and she had turned out so different this time.

Irociin handed her a communication slate, which she took and started to read. Distantly, she could pick up the voices of the Terran and Lyran delegtions in the boxes next to hers, watching the testing field. They did not sound happy.

She dropped the field glasses as she read.

"Is this confirmed? The Elcano is back? And. . . and . . . "

"Spirits" She ran a hand through her hair. "Does Mother know?"

"She has reactivated your commission. You are to take command of the Dreadnought Blood Moon and await further direct orders from the homeworld."

She cast the tablet aside with a curse, and listened more closely to the other boxes. The Terrans and the Lyrans. . .

"Has the Concert leaked this?"

"We don't know who leaked it." Irociin admitted. "But several news networks are leading with the news that hostile, all consuming bio-mechs have infested a local galaxy and definetly want to skull-fuck us out of existance. They have briefed all the investors in the Elcano project, but somewhere that data leaked to the media"

"Fuuuuck." Janessa shook her head. She suppressed a small smile at Irociins very crude turn of phrase. So close. . . "This is going to be a messy."


14th May 2613, Ixia III.

Despite her initial reluctance, it felt to be good in command of a warship again. The Blood Moon was a new ship, equipped with a shackled AI core, shield projectors, and the heaviest calibre railguns the Charabidians had ever assembled. It made a natural escort for the Empress of arguable the galaxies greatest military power. She handled like a cruiser, and her crew were fresh, eager and disciplined.

They had jumped from charge station to charge station, crossing Charabidian space in days to reach the homeworld, retreive her mother, and then proceeded to Memoriam. The survivors of the Elcano were being kept in a quarantine station there, and some of the more important samples, and crew, had already been separated out from the survivors. Her mother had insisted on meeting these exceptional people, as had many other leaders, and the concert had to oblidge by the rule of its charter.

"We're late." Janessa muttered to herself as she assessed the readout from the ships sensors. Dozens of concert ships clustered in a defensive formation around the now inert gate, but that wasn't what she was focused on. Tharos personal war-barque, the Claw of Heaven was already in orbit over Memoriams primary world, as was a federation fast cruiser, and a lyran dreadnought. Bigger than them all, a titanic Sentinax super capital rested at polar orbit, a mind boggling silver spike of guns, armour and advanced technologies.

"The new sentinel class." Janessa muttered, comparing the sensor readings against Charabidian Royal Clan intelligence files.

"Primordus will be here." A soft voice spoke from behind her. "I've just talked to Birth, and the human governments."

Janessa turned and dropped to a knee.

"My Empress."

An old hand reached down and scratched behind Janessas ear. She was conflicted between affection, and embarrasement.

"My Daughter." the voice was ineffably sad. "To have lived to see a day like this. To learn there are true horrors in the galaxy." The hand withdrew. "Assemble an honour guard, and accompany me."


++++++

"So. You are the leaders of this galaxy. Or their representatives."

It had been a long time since Janessa had seen Primordus in the 'flesh'. But she could still read him well enough. And it seemed he was radiating rage hot enough to melt the armour glass and faraday cage prison of the specimen.

They called it Cronus.

"You will vacate that body, and restore Cicero. Immediately."

"I would if I could, but I cannot." The sentinax in the prison responded smartly. "He is dead. And I would need somewhere to go."

"Cronus." Laris stepped forwards, and put a hand on one of Primordus massive metal arms. "We have other things to worry about. We can get it into a new body soon, and you can. . .pay your respects to your dead comrade, after we have answers."

"Listen to the organic, cousin." Cronus chipped in. It was sitting calmly on a chair, with a simple bed in one corner of the chamber. A wasted luxury for a tireless machine.

"Cousin?" Primordus asked Cronus, shaking off Laris touch but making no aggressive move. "Clarify."

"You were built by the ones who you call Precursors. The same people who built the Matrioshka brain you've been stashing primitive civilisations in. Those Precursors were friends of the Collectors. The technology they traded led to your birth. And mine."

"Wait." The terran officer stepped forward. "Matrioshka brain. I know that concept. A star wrapped in computers, each layer ran by the waste heat from a inner layer. A computer capable of simulating a perfect, simultaneous reality for trillions of concurrent users. And you're saying. . ."

All eyes turned to Primordus. He was as still as a statue, before he finally ground out a response.

"How. How did you know about the great project?"

It was the first time Janessa had ever heard doubt, or even fear in Primordus voice.

"Everything Hekatonkles knew, Zeus knew. Everything Zeus knew, he inflicted on me. So I know that your ships, when they convert worlds, transmit the minds they steal, against their will, to a vast virtual construct, left behind by the Precursors. A digital paradise, a lossless utopia for the organic mind, clearing space in the real for the rise of your machine empire."

All eyes fixed back on Cronus. Silence filled the observation deck.

"I know a great deal more. All the betrayals, and hatreds, and petty disputes. All of it is also known by my children, as well. They know about your militaries as they stood when the Elcano left, your every weakness, even the ones you don't recognise in yourselves."

Cronus stood up, and stepped towards the glass. Everyone shied back. Even Primordus stepped back as Cronus pressed its stolen hands against the glass.

"They are already plotting how to kill and absorb every one of you, down to the last man, woman and child. They will not stop until this galaxy is a wasteland, a grave of empires."

Janessa stepped forward, a snarl twisting her face.

"Your bastard children haven't fought anything like us before. We're in this fight to the end. Tell us how."

"How what?" Cronus rocked back, meeting Janessa's steel hard gaze.

"How to win."

"Good question. The right question. The first thing, is trust me."

It pressed its stolen hands back against the glass. Its words dripped with an infinity of malice and hatred.

"Because I want them dead as much as you do."