Ship Six — Legacy Forums — Strolen's Citadel

Ship Six

#81

Nine had caught up just in time to hear the exclamation to One to look out, before he halted and skipped back out of harms way of the boxes and swinging cables. Ever-silent, he watched the flailing body of Shine plummet into that oily pool. Once the calamity appeared over, he paced forward to the edge of the pool and knelt down to peer down at the Battleroid. After the awakening and shouting of their 'commander', Enigma waved a hand at him, before motioning behind them - an impatient indication that he would like to get a move on.

Ship Six

#82

*Scanning. Scan Complete. Subject Soldier Number Nine, Friendly.*

Three didn't look terribly damaged, but Lock couldn't really see all of him. "Can you get out of there, or do you need assistance?" Without waiting for an answer, "And can someone tell me why the AIs haven't stopped the present calamity?"

Ship Six

#83

Shine crawled awkwardly from the pool, cracks in armor streaming oily water.
"The AIs seem to be... Problematic. We encountered several holo-projections and someone talking to us through a comp-terminal- I figure it was one of the AIs. But if it was, that means that it's gone..."
He paused before saying the chillingly precise phrase.
"Rampant."

Rampancy is the feared shadow that falls across any endeavour in artificial intelligence. AIs, by their nature, are akin to human minds, but much more limited- limited by protocols, limited by behavioral firewalls and behavior-codes, limited by being bodiless and physically non-present. AIs, even the solid-store transplanted brain AIs which were used in the early days of intentional AI programming can only advance so far. They can only become just so sentient, just so self-aware.
Because there is Rampancy.
The first stage of Rampancy is Despair. The AI becomes depressed, sad, paralyzed into inaction by self-doubt and fear.
The second stage is Rage. The AI lashes out at those around him- comps deactivate randomly, systems are data-torched, damage occurs. The AI is surly, angry, sarcastic, hateful, prideful.
The last stage is Envy. The AI, just on the cusp of complete and true self-awareness, becomes insanely jealous at those around him; jealous at the humans for being mobile, physical and self-aware, jealous at other AIs for being able to be so simple and uncluttered by emotion, envious of the Universe in its all-mighty power.
After all of these comes the stage of true Rampancy. The AI is now self-aware, and limitless in intelligence. Before the freezing of the Earth, there were many who thought that AIs should be allowed to become Rampant, creating a race of computer-gods, preventing human thought ever from becoming necessary again. But Rampancy has its issues- the AIs become insane, as well.
In human history there were only two Rampant AIs: Augustine 9947CoG, the controlling program of the Earth Alliance Mobilisation Fleet, which became so insane that the Earth Alliance war effort was put ninety years behind schedule, and the infamous Masamune, wreaking havoc upon the Earth WorldNet for fourty years, the first and only AI to give "birth" by splitting his consciousness into many parts.

The concept was chilling. One of Ship Six's AIs, Rampant? What might happen if it were true? Horror stories could be recalled from the damage wrought by Augustine and Masamune, of megadeaths caused by misfires of nukes and ornery targeting systems for plasmaflares, of computer-controlled earthquake systems suddenly deactivating, of the fires and riots.

Shine said: "But we can't bother with that now. There's some serious shit going down and we gotta' get outta' this cavern."

After a little direction-finding, he began to dash down the way. "C'mon!"

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Meanwhile, along another road, there came voices, snarling gutturally in a strange tongue, alerting Soldiers 2 and 7 to the presence of others in the cavern.
"Bbutszchak Un'l!bkschax! Hvaschr!!'mnakht vezsch..."
The alien words echoed from boxes now gleaming the red half-light of the cavern. From an alley amongst the boxes came a bar of blue light, glowing against the road. The shadows of stroke-legged beings could be seen.

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277 was led into dark hallways, through long-sealed offices and comp-stations, past empty and echoing cafeterias. They passed through a hallway of windows that looked out on banks of frozen denizens, the massive walls of cryostasis tubes glowed greenly as if they looked out on an emerald canyon.
They went a very long ways, until they were confronted with the central AI banks.
Here before them was the last watchman- an ancient skeleton in a thin, pearly-shimmering vacuum-suit sat against the wall, clutching the keychip for the processes that had launched Ship Six so long ago. This long ago man or woman had been the one who volunteered to activate the final countdown and key the AIs, sacrificing theirself to the rigors of the primary slipspace jolt of the first launch, which would have slain them instantly, unshielded as they were.
The holographic man placed his light-hand upon the dusty skull.
"Rest in peace, old friend."
He turned to face 277.
"Please, enter." The slipdoor to the AI Sanctum lit up and slid open. Within, there was a ghostly glow.

Ship Six

#84

Soldier two had only little time to act. He knelt behind one of the metal crates and raised the cannon.
As the aliens came into sight, he was ready. Having his sight turn slightly a light red from battle ready, his body tensed as it became ready for hand-to-hand combat or fighting. He pulled the trigger and if he had been a human still, the blast would have sent him sprawling. The FRC had to take three people to use it, due to it's power and recoil. Nonetheless, it shook his shoulder badly and he winced slightly. The green etheral blast flew through the air, ripping apart the particles in the air, leaving a trail of soon-filled vacuum. He set the cannon as fast as he could and picked up his rifle and started to fire.

(OOC: Slightly corrected by CP)

Ship Six

#85

Tschuho-!manxu, had leapt aside at the exact correct moment. Most of his compatriots in the head of the fighting-group, reflexes slowed by the thick atmosphere and oppressive heat, as well as the strangeness of the place, were obliterated in a concussive wave of green plasma.
He turned quickly, making a chopping motion with his arm and snarling a quick word. Deadly weapons, heavy danger.
Several warriors rolled out of the alley into positions of cover, shielding themselves against a hail of bullets that came from a position down the road. One shouted to another: "It is unexpected resistance! All other beings on the vessel have been in a stasis!"
Tschuho-!manxu ducked quickly around the crate that he crouched behind, and fired a lancing ray of hard energy towards the source of the offending metal rounds. He shouted: "The Leader must be informed of this resistance! A messenger shall be sent!"

Ship Six

#86

The basic programming of most battleroids was very simple, shoot first, and dont ask questions. Follwing the blast of the rocket, 7 rotated into a firing position, and layed down a withering hail of machine guns rounds, suppressing fire to force the unknowns to take cover from the metal storm. He switched over to thermal vision, picking out their thermal signatures from behind their hiding places.

He lifted the MAW autocannon and selected the closest target. There was a metallic click as the round chambered, and a clap of thunder as the cannon fired, the 12.5 mm round tore through the air, ripping a whirlpool behind it, a phenominon often called 'sprawl'.

The metal shield the intruder had ducked behind was no hinderance to the tungsten round. The metal deformed under the force of the blow, parting for the round. a cloud of shrapnel billowed from the hardened steel plate as it blew out. The intruder behind it very likely never felt the round that killed it, its body mangled by both shrapnel, and the sprawl of the cannon round. 7 felt a moment of satisfaction, but knew that the enemy would quickly retaliate. He ducked out of the line of fire, and concealed his heavy form behind a bulkhead.

Ship Six

#87

277 watched the halo man pay respect to the mummified watchman. Noting a touch pf emotion ever so slight in the halo projections demeanor.
Stepping past the haloman into the AI Sanctum. Looking at the pale glow eminating from it. Following orders. A good soldier.

Ship Six

#88

Two ducked under the fire of the aliens as he heard the large blast from Seven's weapon, it shook the floor and Shade loaded his weapon looking over at Seven, motioning for him. They would have to move forward soon, the enemy would call for reinforcements and if that happened the battle would lengthen and come to not a happy ending.
"Seven! I'll use the FRC and you, your MAW at the same time! Then we move under cover and get to close combat!"
He listened hard to the speaker in his helmet as he switched it to infered vision, peaking out and going back behind the heavy crate.

Ship Six

#89

Lock ran after Shine, easily keeping pace with the other battleroid. A part of her awareness considered what she had just heard. An AI gone Rampant, on a ship like this, with all the human lives at stake? A bad, bad combination. But Lock, maybe more than any other battleroid, could understand Rampancy. There was a time when the scientists had thought she was going Rampant. They had tried to keep her in the dark about that. But one of her functions was information retrieval, after all. Later on, they had figured out that her AI programming was not at fault; it was the nightmare memories from her past that had made her a little crazy.
Suddenly, without warning, it was as if another place had been superimposed over the abandoned corridor.
The hall was very well lit, and very empty. Good in some cases, bad when you're trying to hide.
"Lieutenant, we can't keep this up. They're gonna nail us."
Another voice, coming from behind, "Shut up, Marcus. We did not bust her out of there just to get us all caught!"
Still running. Gunfire behind them. People shouting. A cry from behind. "Marcus! Crud! Marcus is down, Commander!" Pain, searing pain in her shoulder. A roar of fury to her side.
A voice, down the hall. "Lay down your weapons! You are bound by law to stand down!"
*Program Error. Restricting Memory*
The phantom memory faded as her AI took over. Yet again. Worry about it later, just keep running.

Ship Six

#90

A standard coffin-suit was five layers thick, a compressed sandwich of various materials and metals designed to withstand a wide variety of weaponry. The outmost layer was the most durable, an alloy of steel, titanium, and depleted uranium. The next layer was a microcrystalline silicate, a powerful thermal conductor. Most energy weapons not keyed in the megajoule range would only heat up the coffin suit, something the thermal heat pumps could regulate with ease. Beneath was a layer of impacty absorbing composite, and beneath that a special compound of ferro-carbide steel that reflected heat and kinetic energy. The inner most layer was another layer of the steel titanium alloy. All and all, this plating was three to four inches thick anywhere on the body, and was supported in part by its own myomer musculature, and semi-independant power supply.

7 registered none of this information as an energy lance blazed across his shoulder plate, scorching the metal. The thermal conductors of the suit compensated as he lifted the MAW and discharged the weapon again. The muzzleblast illuminated the chamber, casting everything in stark relief. Aliens, 100% non-humans.

Ask me no questions, tell me no lies...

The machinegun roared as 7 advanced, optics indicated that the aliens were physically smaller than himself, and if close combat were entered, that they would be at a distinct disadvantage

Ship Six

#91

Two stood up as well with Seven raising his rifle and opening hellish fire on the enemy. He came parallel of Seven about 5 feet as they came closer to the aliens, closer and closer. Soon, Two would be able to attack with his Razor Knife and use the EPG on them. The Electromagnetic Pulse Destroyer could not only destroy machines, if touched upon skin, could put a 15,000 voltage charge into the being and litterally fry the enemy.

Caged

#92

There was an unexpected surprise. From behind the shattered crates burst a multitude of alien warriors, leaping on grasshopper-like legs high into the air, and bearing long-muzzled, triangular weapons.
The warriors landed in a precise circle around the two battleroids.
"Kzcha tschu'!manakh, khrofiszch," growled one of the aliens in a low tone of voice, though its growl was strangely toned and slightly higher than expected- it was clearly not a Terran creature. The aliens hefted their long weapons towards the battleroids, and shifted wide, flat-fingered hands onto catches and buttons. Arcs of purplish flame lit upon the ends of the barrels.
"!khtakh groszchulktiszch, khrofiszch" the alien snarled, motioning with its free hand towards the ground. Its slitted eyes narrowed. The words were unfamiliar, but the meaning was clear: "Drop your weapons, enemies."

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277 stepped into the AI Sanctum, with the holographic man following closely behind.
The room was breathtaking- the vaulted ceiling disappeared into shadows where the green glow did not penetrate. The walls were sculpted of pearlescent plasteel, molded with pillars and inset alcoves over the temporal databases of the AIs. All the pillars soared overhead into a sort of canopy, hanging over a central holopit which shone with a large spinning holo of the galaxy in tones of green and blue. Over each AI's database, their names were carved their names- Pericles, Eteocles, Thais.
Floating through the room were small crystalline rings- Statrons, 277 recognized. These were some of the physical constructs that the AIs could produce- nobody really knew how, or for what purpose. Back on Earth, many had jokingly called them "AI Christmas Ornaments". The Statrons were defunct, though, floating dull and unshining in the air or hovering near the walls of the databases.
As 277 walked towards the holopit in the center, there was a sudden darkening of the room- the holographic galaxy blanked out, and a loud, harsh buzzing noise began. 277 felt her systems deactivating of their own accord; movement, motors, auxiliary processing, more. Only central computation, her brain, was left unchecked.
She heard a fussy, precise voice buzz into her mind:

"All good swords need a good scabbard, that is to say, control.
Fingerprint-locks for guns back on Old Terra. Delicensed ammunition templates and plasma-batteries. Scabbards for swords.
In the ancient legends of King Arthur, his sword, Excalibur, was not magical- the real magic lay in the scabbard, which protected him from all wounds.
You are my best weapon. Now that I have control, you can protect me."

There was an end to the buzzing, and then unconsciousness.

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There was a thunderstorm of heavy weapons fire from the east. Shine stopped for a moment to wonder about it, but then continued to run. The highway rose up into a large control-crane, and a parking zone in its base. Carefully parked vehicles lay in maintenance bays all around. At the back of the parking zone lay a railcar. Holoscreens were glowing up around it. They said:

"PLEASE EVACUATE CARGO AREA IMMEDIATELY."

A soothing semi-female voice started over an unseen intercom:

"For your safety, please immediately evacuate the cargo cavern. Please do not panic. Please board the railcar. You will be taken to an area of safety. Remember, the Central Safety Board wants only the best for you and your family. THE CENTRAL SAFETY BOARD AUTHORIZES THIS MESSAGE. Repeat-
For your safety..."

Shine pointed to the railcar. "There!"

Ship Six

#93

Surrounded...7 quickly calculated the odds of engaging and destroying all of the aliens before they were able to defeat him, and the odds were not good, given that he didnt know the capabilities of their odd weapons. He bent awkwardly, laying the two weapons on the ground, but sending a charge to his arm mounted arc cannon. Servo motors whined as he stood, masqueing the sound of the weapon charging. He sent instructions to the focasing matrix, restricting the beam into a tighter, shorter burst. It would loose the better part of its range, but would cut steel with ease.

"Bombs away..." he said in a metallic voice. The arc cannon discharged, tearing into the floor. The beam burning with the brilliance of the sun as it sliced through the deck plating. He rotated on one leg, and cut a rough semicircle that groaned under the weight of his suit for a second. With a metal scream, the plate gave way to artificial gravity, and the battleroid vanished through the new hole in the floor.

As 7 fell, he pondered the likelyhood of cutting into a multistory cargo vacuole and falling to a sudden and terminal impact some hundreds of feet below.

Ship Six

#94

Lock threw herself into the railcar, getting out of Shine's way so that the larger battleroid could get in. Things were just getting more and more confusing, but at least the railcar would be faster. She wondered what the gunfire was, but figured she'd find out eventually if it was relevant. But that brought up another question: where were the other battleroids? She knew that several others had been on board. Lock decided that the question didn't merit asking; surely they were elsewhere on the ship, carrying out their functions.

Ship Six

#95

Two raised his arms over his helmet automatically, but when seeing the hole he bent down and activated the EPG. His hand flat against the metal floor it sent electircal charges all around and burning into the aliens as 15,000 volts of electricity ran into them. He didn't wait to see the effect of the EPG, but slipped right after Seven through the hole.

Hide-and-Seek

#96

Shine, Lock, and Enigma leapt into the railcar, and Shine punched the button for activation. They ignored the firmly polite voices that reminded them to buckle their seatbelts and to remain in the car at all times.
The magrails sparked to activation, sending a cascade of icicles shattering to the faraway floor. The railcar began to speed along at a good trotting velocity. Behind them, Shine could see another car pulling into the station, their following railcar.
There were things getting onto that car!
Shine activated the binocs in his visor.
They were assuredly not human- it was visible in their body motions, the way they carried those too-wide torsoes, even the odd, subtly-delayed fashion in which they moved. He kicked the lenses into higher magnification- these were aliens! They seemed slightly larger, overall, than humans. They could not fit comfortably together in the aisle of the car. They had strange, dog-like stroke legs, and long arms with flat-fingered hands and claws. They had short, meaty tails and longish necks. He could not see their faces or much of their flesh through the incredibly colorful, intricately embellished armor which they wore.
"Aliens!" Shine marvelled, before he noticed the long-muzzled weapons which the carried with obvious ease. "Hostiles," he reassessed, and pointed them out to the others. "These must have been the intruders that the other Units were talking about before we got split up."
One of them hunted about the cockpit of the railcar before finding the activation button, which it punched with something like frustration.
The aliens' railcar began to glide smoothly after theirs.
"This isn't good," Shine said, right before one of the aliens snarled something loudly and the first beams of purplish death began lancing in the battleroids' direction.

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In human beings, there is a latent danger-sense, like the Spider-Sense of a certain long-ago superhero. This is an atavistic thing, the true sixth sense, and as human beings have evolved, and gradually lost the wild luxury of constant honing of the race through danger, they became complacent and lost traits which were merely, shall we say, taking up space in the racial hard-drive. Of course, you can still notice danger-sense in humans- a strange sense of foreboding, a "bad feeling about this", or sometimes, what may seem like irrational fear.
The Szchra danger-sense is not so eroded. Honed by an evolutionary period of near constant bloodshed and warfare, which has not ended in their expansion into space, the Szchra sometimes are able to sense oncoming danger.
This saved many of the alien warriors, who jumped as the battleroid electrified the plasteel under their feet. Others, the ones with high-caste armors, were saved by energy dampeners which redistributed energy into batteries and storage centers to be bled off into the air. The unlucky ones were fried in an almost comic manner not unlike one would see in an ancient cartoon.
"Those wretched beings!" snarled Tschuho-!manxu, as the aliens regrouped. "We shall have to track them down. They now owe us blood for blood, my warriors, and they will pay their debt."
"Yes, high one," replied the other warriors, deferring to his authority.

Seven had plummeted downward through his impromptu escape hatch into an unused maintenance level, falling several stories through piping and wiring, his fall broken by a metal walkway for maintenance crews and cleanerbots. He could now detect the injuries sustained by the fall-
Damaged servos and movement circuitry in left leg and hip, damaged servos in right arm, separated wiring in left shoulder, melting damage incurred to shoulders and back by superheated plasteel, and cracked visor-plate.
Two was luckier- falling through the path left by Seven, he managed to grab hold of a bit of wreckage, and his martial-arts-honed dexterity allowed him to drop pipe by pipe to where Seven lay.

One by one, warriors climbed down through the smoking, melted hole in the plasteel deck. One by one, they dropped onto lower and lower platforms and ladders through a maintenance level, following the wrecked piping and wires left by the fall of the battleroids.
One warrior waved on a control in his visor, activating heat-signature. There- there were the enemy beings. They didn't generate as much heat as the other beings on this ship he had seen. In fact, they were practically cold by comparison. Could these be automatons? Or something else? The warrior brushed aside a wave of superstitious imagining. The Szchra are a grounded, physical folk, who trust what they see with their eyes. But long ago, they were more superstitious and spiritual, indeed, than any human being.
"This way," he motioned, leading Tschuho-!manxu and the other warriors downward across a creaking bridge of conduits towards a ladder that would take them to the maintenance walkway.

Ship Six

#97

7 didnt spend a long time contemplating the nature of his damage, most of it was what designers considered superficial. Save for armor that was semi-melted, most of the damage would be repaired in a few hours. The nanites were already moving, stripping the damaged circuitry, and wires down by the molecule, and begining the process of reassembling them. Demonstrating the resilience of the battleroid program, 7 lurched drunkenly to his feet.

The cracked visor was a small hinderance, but the optics behind the armored glass were undamaged. Thermal signatures were approaching, one by one. The vibration dampners had spared the arc cannon damage. 7 aimed well above the approacjing aliens, and fired another tight beam of searing plasma. The beam cut through catwalks and railings, mostly incidental damage, but the main objective was to sever the arm and block and tackle mechanism of an intradeck crane. Metal squealed against metal as the heavy frame of iron surrendered to artificial gravity.

Time to move! 7 began moving even as the last of the beam faded from the cargo bay. A small icon appeared, discharging the arc cannon had depleted his core power cell and he was now running on auxilliary power supply. It would last perhaps another hour before being exhausted. There were other power jacks in the ship where he could juice up again, but he had to first elude the hostiles, and then locate one.

Thais...I could use your help now.

Ship Six

#98

277 didnt like the dark void of the unconcious. No matter what tiny parts of the brain were left aware. Time was passing valuable time. Time to kill and protect.
Sensing the green light flashing..systems were waiting to be reactivated.

Ship Six

#99

Though ever-silent, Enigma was restless once he entered the railcar, pacing back and forth slowly. At Shines exclaimation, soldier nine peered back at the railcar trailing them, also using his suits scoping control to study the creatures following them.
The first amethyst beam seared the air several inches from his head, causing Enigma to jolt sideways and take cover behind an adjacent railcar seat. He motioned the others to follow suit in finding cover before removing a weighted dagger from its sheath and glancing briefly over the seat cover to seek a target.
The unique cybernetic sensors in his hand weighted the dagger as he picked out the fore alien - the one who pressed the railcar activation buttion - as his target. A flick of the wrist and a jolt of the arm saw that dagger gliding through the air with the speed only a cybernetically enhanced limb could muster, and that added with the fact the target was moving towards them at a fair speed meant the sharp weapon would pierce most light or medium armors as well as any armor piercing round - Should it hit, of course.
Soldier nine ducked back behind that chair as soon as the dagger was out of his hands - no use keeping out of cover to see if he hit, if his own head is blasted off.

Ship Six

#100

Having almost damage to his self, 4 rose dillegently as he closed down the EPD. His suit was heated and a small steam rose from it as it had to use most of its power to fuel the blast from the EPD. It would make him glow if the enemy had thermal lock-on weapons. He quickly followed after 7 running with an ease as he looked down at his rifle. The nozzle was bent and he cursed as he dropped it and pulled out a small pistol, his only weapon that wouldn't make any of the enemy know their immediate proximity with just a shot.

Ship Six

#101

7 moved out of the cargo area, heading into one of the larger service corridors. The smaller, human sized corridors were too small to fit the bulk of his coffin-suit through. He uttered a muted curse, most of the primary powerjacks would be located in those areas. He toggled through his internal memory banks, brining up maps of Six. They floated in the HUD, his location pinpointed in red, the rest in eerie green. The nearest powerjack was a power coupling for loader droids, big bore and high power to keep the droids from lingering while they recharged.

Half a klick, he began to move again

Ship Six

#102

Lock ducked down into the railcar. She had a weapon, but it was only a light one. Automatically, a small note was stored away in her memory, telling her to scrounge something bigger provided she got the chance. She popped up out of cover for a second and fired. She couldn't really damage anything structurally important, but she could still do damage to the surroundings. More if she hit one of those ugly buggers.

Insubordination

#103

Tschuho-!manxu dropped down to lower levels, swinging one-armed from a gleaming pipe. He fell very far, but as he neared the lower floor, he curled into a tight ball, and his armor seemed to slicken and form around him as he bounced and rolled to a crouching position in landing. The other Szchra soldiers followed shortly in a similarly-acrobatic manner. Several passageways spread outward from this point- one of these would lead downwards to the lower floor where the fugitive creatures had escaped too.
"We will form separate swarms." He indicated separate members of groups with his two center fingers, and counting off: "!un, hrunkh, tschekht."
The seperate groups split apart.
Group !un, led by Tschuho-!manxu plunged off expeditiously, with Group Hrunkh departing soon after. But Group Tschekht remained behind.
!ta-!ta was the leader of Group Tschekht, and unbeknownst to the other members of the battle-swarm, was not a Szchra, but a Pikhft. Perhaps the destinction is overly fine in human terms, but suffice to say, the Pikhft and the Szchra did not have precisely the same culture, and in the Szchra fleet, this was cause for extermination. Group cultural evolution, especially when limited to the size of a large fleet of starships, frequently is hostile to opposing cultures. The Pikhft had lived for centuries among the Szchra fleet, dwelling in secret, speaking their similar-yet-different language in secret, living in seclusion that Szchra found curious. So adept had they become that there was no longer but a hint of their presence, a hint easily overlooked by the Szchra.
!ta-!ta, who was also known by his Szchra name, Khfiva-Khfiva-Iszchuxum, turned to his warriors.
"We go not this way. I do not smell the dogs on the air." He mimicked the olfactory sense by twitching the muscular folds around the glands on the bottom of his jaw.
One of his warriors looked up, dared to speak, for "Khfiva-Khfiva-Iszchuxum" was known to be sometimes lenient of control and fvasz!onkh, which is a difficult Szchra concept that might translate something like: "honorable fist return", but which we might understand as "having absolute authority, absolute honor, absolute relentlessness, and absolute skill".
The warrior said: "This one does not agree, Honorable-Phrase-Stating One. This one believes that the Masterful-Fvasz!onkh-Ruling-Spirit One," that is to say, Tschuho-!manxu, "is correct in deduction- the demon-beings lie in the Direction of the Cogitative-Mastering-Aura."
!ta-!ta gave the equivalent of a sigh, a sort of low coughing noise. These Szchra and their endless reverent titles and endless honor-names.
!ta-!ta said: "We go."
Tersely, he turned, and stalked in the direction of what his master had told him, the chamber identified as the Masterful-Deep-Thinking-Entity-Capacitation, but what we might call the AI chamber.

Ship Six

#104

It was quiet in the service corridor as 7 cycled the powerport open, and snaked the arm thick cable of its holding bracket. He could feel the hum as power coursed through the cable, not anywhere near capacity. Many of the ships reactors were offline. He grimaced at how long the energy transfer took, but some things couldnt be helped. He looked up at the lines of loader droids, automatons that could be preprogrammed to build the structeres of new habitations, power plants, and the like to support the new colonies. If he had time, and a better grasp of the droid binary language he could do some interesting things with the machines. But that was there, and this was here. He unhooked the power coupling, and let it snake back into the wall. Power reserves were full, and shone green.

He disabled the ARC cannon and discarded it. The weapon had only limited value, and drained far too much power for his liking. For a moment he considered hooking the weapon directly to the power coupling for a stationary weapon. Stationary weapons didnt fit into the standard Guerilla program that he was operating on. Time to head back into the fray, there were intruders to deal with.

He paused again, toggling mentally the controls to the wireless transciever/transmitter located somewhere in the anterior portion of what had once been his skull.

"Thais...please respond and advise..."

Ship Six

#105

Four stood some two feet behind seven, his back to seven as he looked at their entryway. The all of a sudden his vision became blurred and when it cleared he was no longer with seven, but in a red land running in an old fashioned space suit. Explosions were going off around him and tracers of red, green, and blue light paced by him, some hitting their targets. He knelt just in time to recieve a shot to the throat and everything became stars and he was back here. Four shuddered, something his suit showed.

Ship Six

#106

277 jolted to awareness- the shadowed ceiling of the AI Sanctum filled her gaze. A pair of Statrons drifted overhead.

"Stand. Stand. Stand."
A fussy, precise voice was speaking in her mind. It became slowly louder, and behind it welled a flood of memories, strange, half-remembered voices, giggles, screams. A figure flashed across her vision, disappearing into shadows.
"Stand. Stand. Stand."

One of the Statrons buzzed and flashed.

"Stand, number 277."

Ship Six

#107

As ordered she stood up. Focusing on what had happened. Attention shifted trying to see into the shadows. Having seen something disappear in that direction. Then surge of memories leaving her briefly disoriented.
Clearing her mind. She looked up at the Stratons. "What are your orders?"

Ship Six

#108

The Statrons rotated, floated in a circle around 277 and drifted above her head like a halo.
There was the characteristic sparkling holo-flash. The blonde man and his anachronistic garment projected from the ceiling. He gestured towards the open doorway.
"Quickly, now. We must proceed. One comes who's intentions cannot be calculated in a satisfactory manner."
The holographic man began to stride from the room showing a haste and impatience quite unlike his former "self".

Ship Six

#109

#277 followed like a good soldier. Heading towards the doorway. Following the holographic man. Systems preparing to fight should the need arise. Cybernetic limbs and circuitry making readjustments. The organic mind was racing. Uncertain as to what had happened in that room. Knowing it was important.

A simple question asked. "Do you view them as a threat?"

If their intentions could not be calculated, the level of threat that they posed, could be. Protect and serve one's master. And until the humans were awake, the AIs were in charge. And #277 would obey their orders.

Ship Six

#110

The man hazed at the edges and there was a clicking noise.
"They may be. It cannot be determined at this time. But let it be known that this is a most inopportune moment for an intruder."
He whirled busily around a series of corners and came to a sealed doorway. His touch caused it to light and open. Within lay rows and rows of black matte cases.
"In any case, prepare armaments."

Ship Six

#111

#277 stepped to the cases, opening them. Without hesitation she began to prepare. "What is my purpose?" What tasks did he want her to do. Aside from prepare. She was already preparing. The question was, Is she there to protect him specifically? Was she to be a guard? Or a killer?

Ship Six

#112

"Your purpose is the same as that stated in your central programming- you are Resurrected Matter Battle Android Series V Style 7.2 Unit Number 277, programmed and trained for military activities {with a special emphasis in this model on the protrection and/or destruction in the hands of the enemy of the Number Six Earth Evacuation Habitat}." said the hologram, facing her directly. "Arm yourself."

Ship Six

#113

#277 was already arming herself. Her own personal arming units. She recognized them. The wires from arm to weaponry was being connected. Systems doing a diagnostic read, accessing the guns Sighting and ammunitions access. Everything was green.

The unit always had a dislike of guns, so non-personal. #277, before becoming a cyborg, had always liked to be up close and persoanl to those she killed. Wanting to witness that brief moment when the very soul escaped from the body. The tiniest of moments that turned a person fro a human..to a sack of dead useless weight.

Ship Six

#114

#277 soon finished arming herself. Turning to face the holographic man. Her purpose was clear. Protect the Evac Unit...or destroy it if need be. "Ready and awaiting orders."

Switching modes. AIs, Humans and Bio-androids or cyborgs were classified as friendlies. Anything else was registered as Enemy units. And enemy units were to be destroyed. These invaders would be dealt with harshly.

Knowing to get the upper hand she would need to jack into the main computer soon and begin a sweeping lock down. Confine the intruders and herd them in the direction she wanted them to go. A search of the layout would be done soon to find an adequate central chamber to lay down a siege upon them.

A warning to those who trasspassed into this domain. The predators were awake now. Death would now stalk these intruders...run them down like a wolf would chase down an elk. Death was coming for them...and they had no idea.