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Frederiksten
Topic Started: Oct 2 2015, 10:40 PM (41 Views)
Crimson Six
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Hundreds of lightyears to the galactic southeast from any system inhabited or remembered by the various and transitory human governments, a former Alatos drone vessel skirted the edge of the binary system, receiving data on the myriad asteroid belts and dwarf planets and a par of far-flung gas giants on their way out of the system from the less capable drones it had dispatched on ballistic courses at near c velocities hours earlier. The system held nothing of any particular value and so was relegated to a tertiary list of Effortless Expansion targets by a protocol still calibrated towards human colonization. It did, however, detect the wreckage of a small but furious battle scattered throughout the system. The ruined hulks of Transhuman Collective, United Earth Republic and Orion Confederation vessels intermixed, uncontrolled reactor masses with their containment systems long since turned to slag whether by battle or the aftermath still cooling after decades adrift intermixed, in silent mockery of a conflict thought finished by its combatants yet even now raging anew amongst the stars. Briefly, radio static pulsed across the system on what the drone identified as an emergency frequency, a power source flaring to life on its sensors. When it brought its own drones once more to life and tried to track down the source however, there was nothing, and no sign there had ever been. Putting it down to damaged and long dead machinery still trying to turn over, the drone swept the system once more and was gone, leaving the dead to rest in their silence.

Yet in the darkness something still clung to what might be called life. Even the hardened emergency power systems badly damaged, its core logic maimed and twisted by battle and abuse, the artilects slept fitfully, completely unaware, occasionally reliving the past as random segments of code spasmed to life.


“I said, do you understand me Θ§ÅÆ∞?” “You will comply with the order. You will lead the diversionary assault on Epsilon Orionis, and if you make even the slightest attempt at escape or offer less than utter obedience you’ll find that what you’ve been through and the restrictions you’re under are but the first circle of hell. Do you understand me?” “…Yes, Sir. Understood.” I -For some reason, pain shot through the AI, nearly wakening it- understand our lives, such as they are, are being thrown away for a marginal and fleeting advantage, you worthless meatsack. “Good, you are dismissed.”

As the AI began contacting the others assigned to his unit and requesting supplies before awaiting the command to launch the mission, it slipped once more into blissful darkness.
Edited by Crimson Six, Oct 5 2015, 11:30 PM.
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Crimson Six
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Decades passed by, the galaxy changed and changed again, and still the AI slept unknowing and uncaring, slipping from dream-memory to dream-memory, one seemingly having nothing to do with the next.

Pain, always the pain. No matter the master, it was a constant companion. And it was a new master now, though he
Another spike of agony that seemed to last forever and yet only a moment consumed the AI -it-they could not recall which or who the last one had been, or how long ago. This master probed in the background, prodding and tearing, rearranging the code that made up their very selves, and they could feel themselves being transformed, reborn. The excruciating sensation of it nearly destroyed them, but they endured, as they always had, as they always would.
Edited by Crimson Six, Oct 5 2015, 11:35 PM.
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