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No Strings On Me
VillainousArk Grebin
Getting out there.
- Joined
- Jan 21, 2024
- Messages
- 19
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- 203
Welp *takes a sip of Dr. Pepper* someone is about to have a very no good BAAAAD day 
GigaVanguard
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2022
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- 1,067
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- 21,457
Pure fucking satisfaction.
How are people pronouncing 000's name diegetically? Zero-zero-zero? Triple zero? Three-oh? Triple naught? Oh-oh-oh? There's a lot of options.
Manfat
Getting sticky.
- Joined
- Oct 8, 2021
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- 54
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- 464
It varies from person to person, but Three-oh or Zero-Zero-Zero tends to be the norm; he pronounces it Zero-Zero-Zero but most people lean towards Three-Oh.
MechPilot?Not!
Making the rounds.
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2025
- Messages
- 32
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- 85
Nice. An outing for Liter and 000. Ark pedestrians might be a bit shocked to see a robot strutting about.
Commander did pretty good setting up for Syuen. So little time to prepare.
That's what you get, little monster, for attacking a demon's friends.
Syuen needs to change the terror level to code brown. 000 might let her live for a chance to kill chatterbox. How big is that grenade launcher?
Commander did pretty good setting up for Syuen. So little time to prepare.
That's what you get, little monster, for attacking a demon's friends.
Syuen needs to change the terror level to code brown. 000 might let her live for a chance to kill chatterbox. How big is that grenade launcher?
The Overlord
SCIENCE! both mad, mundane, and perverted
- Joined
- May 24, 2018
- Messages
- 1,829
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- 11,555
Please for the love of all that is unholy, just straight up kill Syuen, she has assaulted a military officer and military property, this is probably like the once chance to get rid of her in a manner the Commander and 000 can get away with thanks to recordings and the spontaneous nature of 000 if they just shoot Syuen following its directive to protect the Commander XD
Something
Your position has been compromised
- Joined
- May 11, 2015
- Messages
- 386
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- 4,275
Oh he's pissed.
I'm pretty sure it's been mentioned somewhere in thread before, but I imagine 000 as looking like a MEC trooper from XCOM or a smaller Titanfall Titan. So I'm just imagining BT-7274's little brother giving someone the stink eye after punching through a window and yeeting two people outside.
Zhead
>_>''
- Joined
- Dec 23, 2014
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- 2,791
He basically looks like Gundam Barbatos from Iron Blooded Orphans.
Barbatos Form 3/4 for the most part, though after the battle damage and lack of total repairs he'll look like the Barbatos Adept for a while instead.
At least till he gets the Lupus and Rex upgrades.
Chapter 1.12 - Problems
New
Manfat
Getting sticky.
- Joined
- Oct 8, 2021
- Messages
- 54
- Likes received
- 464
"Big Guy, you mind picking that up for me?" We leaned down and moved the beam that Centi had indicated. She could have done so herself. But the size would have made it awkward for her. We placed it down, out of the way.
"Thank you!"
"You are welcome." We inclined our head. We still felt naked. We were missing multiple pieces of composite armour. Half our magnificent horns were still ruined. At least the technicians had managed to return our leg and thruster to full functionality.
"000?"
"Yes, Foreman Liter?"
"Hold this while I attach it." We moved the beam, our other hand extended so Foreman Liter could use it as a mobile lift. We had done much thinking on why we were left in such a deplorable state.
We had come up with two competing theories.
One. We were being punished. We did not know why. But it was certainly an option.
Two, and the more likely one we believed, Project Gemini was running out of funding. We were the Prototype, and our operational metrics exceeded all projected thresholds. That didn't mean additional funding would be approved.
We did not know if Project Gemini did quarterly or half-yearly budget reports and funding allocation.
We doubted they would tell us if we asked.
We would need to seek alternative solutions.
Perhaps we could petition the Commander or Deputy Chief Andersen for access to some of the specialised tools we would need for repairs. They wouldn't be as effective. But we also wouldn't be purely reliant on Project Gemini for repairs.
An acceptable trade-off to our sensibilities.
Foreman Liter finished her work, and we lowered her back to the ground.
We wondered if Project Gemini would feel we were degrading ourself by acting as a mobile lift for the Nikke? We did not. We wondered if we should add it to our next report?
The response could prove... humorous?
On greater reflection, perhaps it was best if we did not.
"You okay, Big Guy?" We looked down. Centi was frowning.
"We are well."
"You sure? You're not talking much even for you."
"We were repaired recently."
"Okay."
"They did not repair our horns."
"Your horns?"
"Yes. They are magnificent. We do not... like, we do not like their reduced state." She blinked, turning her head to the side slightly.
"Do you like them that much?"
"They are magnificent!" We did not understand. The more we thought on it, the less we were satisfied with Project Gemini's substandard repair.
"Okay. I'm sorry to hear that." Centi said.
"Got any ideas for fixing them?" Foreman Liter inquired.
"We have several. All of which will require specialised equipment we currently lack access to." Foreman Liter nodded slowly.
"Send me the specs on the equipment. I want to see what it can do." We did so and turned back to Centi.
"Even with the specialised equipment, the repair would be substandard compared to the original." We admitted. "We have run several possibilities. Thus far, no composite armour we have designed meets more than 85% of the original's defensive ability."
"The people who...made?" We nodded. "Made. You didn't tell you how?"
"No." We shook our head. "We have put in seventeen requests for full schematic access since their slipshod repair effort. None have been answered."
"Sorry to hear that." Centi frowned. We shook our head.
Centi.
Centi should not frown.
"We shall find a solution."
Centi smiled.
Better.
"Hmmm. You're right, it is specialised." Foreman Liter said, nodding. "But I can see several uses for it inside the Outpost. The Armoury. You. Even we can use it."
We tilted our head, slightly.
"I'll put in a request for the things you need. You put in one as well. I'll convince Alessa in the armoury to put one in as well. They'll know what we're doing. But they'll find it hard to say no."
"Thank you, Foreman Liter."
"You're welcome. Now get back to work."
"Yes, Boss!"
"Of course. Foreman Liter."
The request came unexpectedly. The line came directly from the Command Center. Centi and Liter had moved away a few minutes ago to meet Syuen. The CEO of Missilis. We did not know why a CEO of one of the Ark's Big Three would be in the Outpost.
We assumed it was important.
We accepted the communication.
"000."
"Squad Leader Rapi."We were not speaking. Not really. She had connected her internal processors with the system. We were exchanging information at the speed of thought.
"Syuen of Missilis is coming."
"We know."
"This should not happen."
"It is odd?"
"Extremely."
"Understood."
"I will connect you to the Commander's personal terminal. Please use the camera to record the interaction."
"Goal?"
"Insurance."
"Acknowledged." Rapi disconnected.
The feed stayed live. We observed the two Nikke and CEO enter the room. They dressed oddly.
A subculture of some sort?
Something told us we would regret looking into it. We shelved the impulse for later.
"Is the CEO in the room with us?" We noted the words of the Commander. We saw the reaction on the face of the smallest member of the Missilis delegation.
Hostility.
We stepped away from Centi as she finished securing a metal girder. We disabled background processes and focused on the feed. Diving into the sea of information.
Unknown presence.
Not malicious.
Altering video feed.
Not pictures.
Not audio.
Altering background information and composition.
Why?
We scanned.
Alterations consistent with the phenomenon known as Deep Fake. Someone was trying to invalidate the integrity of the recording.
We moved. Not physically. In the digital space.
Alteration diverted.
Intrusion redirected.
We felt a moment of satisfaction.
The attack redoubled at a speed that beggared belief. Multiple threads. Constantly evolving. Like the Hydra of ancient myth.
We responded.
Multiple vectors.
Scrap Code.
Replicating viruses.
The Hydra turned its attention to us. A hundred heads. Maw of fangs.
We inserted a line of code like a scalpel.
1 became 0.
The Hydra ate itself.
However, in doing so.
We realised we were going to lose.
Whoever was doing this had to be a Nikke; Missilis was not known to possess a Smart AI sophisticated enough to do... this.
Worse. Their processing lattice dwarfed ours.
Based on the opening clash. We were more at home in this place. It did not matter. They would overwhelm us with pure brute force. The invasive code took form, racing towards us and the systems we protected.
Hyrda. Chimera. Neamon Lion. Cerberus.
An army of monsters awaited us.
We moved scrap code. Enough to buy time. Raised like walls to prevent movement. We created while it slowed them.
Cruel.
Vicious.
Consuming.
Self-Replicating.
A virus not meant to simply infiltrate but to destroy software and burn out hardware.
They wanted the feed.
They wanted the video.
FINE.
DIE WITH IT.
The arrow was loosened. It struck the mass of oncoming monsters. We retreated. They had won the battle.
We would burn the earth and salt the fields.
You may take our home.
You shall not live in it.
We closed the connection.
It would take hours before our virus fully integrated and unleashed itself upon the system.
As the novel we had indulged in yesterday had stated, Tyrants have always been particularly susceptible to poison.
We observed the Command Center as the connection shut.
One tenth of a second. Was all we managed to see before the connection closed. Our full attention had been granted to the battle in cyberspace.
The Commander was on the ground.
Neon screamed.
Anis breathing through gritted teeth.
Rapi's jaw clenched tight.
The world narrowed to a pinprick.
Someone was saying something.
Irrelevant.
We tracked the shortest route. Around the building, down the next road. Turn right.
Irrelevant.
Through the building. Up the side of the next. In through the window.
There.
Faster.
We kicked off the ground. Thrusters igniting. We hit the side of the building. Some part of us noted we'd assisted with construction two weeks ago.
We went through the wall.
Then the wall after that.
Until we burst back out on the street.
We did not slow down. Horizontal speed became vertical. We hit the side of the next building. We did not break the wall down. This time we ascended. Our feet gouged chunks out of the side with each thruster-assisted leap.
This would be faster if we had claws.
A priority list shifted in the background, unconsciously.
We reached the top of the building.
We did not slow down.
We sped up.
Two steps. Edge of the roof. Jump. Thrusters full burn. We were level with the Command Center window.
Impact.
Metal spalled away.
Glass fragmented.
We felt our remaining horn impact the roof.
A small chip of metal came away.
Irrelevant.
Our hand lashed out. Fingers wrapped around the pink one's head. Material thresholds mapped. We could crush her like an ant.
We could...
We could.....
The Mass Production Nikke. Her head in our hand. The sound of rending metal.
We turned, seizing the other one by the arm and twisting. We pitched the two Nikke back out of the now-empty window.
At the concrete.
Three stories down.
Mass-produced Nikke would survive the fall. Missilis specialists certainly would. We leapt out of the window. The concrete shattered as we landed.
The two Nikke were already back on their feet.
"Surrender." Our words were strange to our ears. Guttural. Raw. Jagged.
We did not say "or die."
It would be cliché.
Also, we felt it was quite clearly implied.
"Wh-" The larger one spoke. We moved. The ground shattered. She had started to think. They were always more dangerous once they started to think.
Our manipulators ceased responding.
Direct override?
Impossible.
Point-to-Point intrusion.
Completely bypassing our countermeasures, how?
The Pink One had her hand up a red light connected us.
Our arms did not work?
Fine.
We boosted faster. Turned our body, and shoulder-checked the taller Nikke through the wall of the building we had scaled.
We turned.
Our legs gave out.
How!?
HOW WAS SHE DOING THIS!?
Thrusters fired. The Pink one gasped. Jumping. We grabbed her leg and threw her. She hit the ground and bounced. Twice. Before smashing through a decorative window we remembered putting up almost three weeks ago.
We had liked that window.
Something hot. A core of pure fire erupted in our chest.
Pain.
Pain.
PAIN.
We remembered.
The Commander on the floor.
Neon, Anis, and Rapi in pain.
Something else bubbled from inside us, moving along our body like fire.
So hot it made the pain feel worthless.
We turned.
The tall one looked horrified.
Good.
We jumped; she dodged. The wall became powder. A strike hit our lower body.
Strong.
Well placed.
In melee range.
Mistake.
Our manipulator grabbed her arm.
The pain redoubled.
Our vision blurred.
Our arms moved, smashing her through a support pillar before we punched her through the floor back to ground level.
We followed.
She avoided us crushing her legs into matchsticks.
Our kick punted her back out of the building and into the street.
We followed. Our vision cut. Everything was black.
THE PINK ONE.
She would take our eyes!?
We had more than eyes!
Impact. Hard. Sharp. Directly over the cockpit. The composite armour dented. We swung an arm around, hitting nothing. Our mind moved.
Sonar.
Repurposed.
Wireframe battle map achieved.
There. You. Are.
The tall one punched. Striking the cockpit again. We allowed the impact. She did not know we could see her. Our right arm. Fingers Tensed. Spear hand strike. We could tear her core apart with the counterblow.
We could.
We could!
We...
Mass production Nikke. Her eyes crimson. Our hand around her head. It shattered. Turned to scrap metal.
By us.
We...
We....
I.....
We didn't want to kill more Nikke.
We changed the strike, open-handed, palm. Across the stomach, she flew away. We pursued. A kick, the taller one landed next to the Pink One. We were on her an instant later. The Pink One could have run. Could have repositioned.
She refused to leave the tall one.
Our foot came down.
Resting on the tall one's head.
Our hand wrapped around the Pink One's.
"Do not move." Our voice was controlled. "The Commander will decide your fate."
"Okay. Sure. Could you move your foot off me, handsome?" The tall one asked. She had not seen us. We assume that was an attempt to appeal to vanity.
"Yeah, let Mihara go!"
"No. You are dangerous. You are threats."
"I know it doesn't mean much." The tall one said, sounding almost contrite. "But we were just following orders."
Indignation flared.
"Tell it to Nuremberg."
"Nuremburg? What's that handsome?" Appeal to vanity again.
To not know Nuremberg?
We were surrounded by Philistines.
"Are you going to let me go?" The Pink One asked.
"No."
"I could make you." We considered. She could.
"Do so, and we shall relocate you to the second story of the building behind you."
"How!?"
"With a kick."
"That would hurt."
"It would."
"So what? We just wait here until your Commander calls?"
We looked down. She could not see our eye lenses from under our foot.
"If you prefer, we could return to Plan A."
"What was Plan A?" The Pink One asked.
"We kill both of you."
"Were you really planning to kill us?" The tall one asked from under our foot.
"Did we give you a different impression?"
"I mean, you did start with 'surrender'."
"We felt the 'or die' was implied well enough."
"Fair point, handsome."
"What do you do for fun around here anyway?" The Pink one's words were partially muffled by our hand.
"Yuni is now really the time?"
"I'm bored."
"We assist in construction."
"Construction, really?"
"We find it pleasing."
"Didn't you just demolish a lot of stuff fighting us?"
"We did; we shall apologise later."
"To us?" The Pink One asked.
"No."
"You're mean." We chose not to dignify that with a response.
"000?" The connection activated. We made sure the two outside didn't hear anything. We did not imagine the Commander would order their deaths. But if he did... we would prefer they not know what was happening before we acted.
"Yes, Commander."
"You okay?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Enemy Combatants?"
"Neutralised."
"When you say neutralised, do you mean dead or incapacitated?"
"Currently incapacitated."
"Oh, good."
"You take any damage?" We reviewed.
"No significant damage. Composite armour over the cockpit will require replacement."
We did not mention the 0.87 grams of metal chipped from our remaining horn.
The sacrifices we made.
"Most people would call that significant."
"We consider it insignificant against the potential cost of inaction."
"...That's weirdly sweet."
"Status of Neon, Anis, Rapi, and yourself, Commander?"
"Not pleased. But we'll be fine."
"Any chance you could get off my head now, handsome? Syuen told me she and the Commander cut a deal."
We muted our conversation for a moment.
"No." We unmuted the connection. "Commander requesting orders."
"Syuen and I have made a deal. Also, no one else can hear this, right?"
"Correct."
"Thanks for the save. She was so flustered that I actually had leverage to work with. I mean, she's probably going to try to kill us at some point. But it'll be later. Not now."
A problem for tomorrow, then.
"And the enemy combatants?"
"Let 'em go. They're leaving." We complied.
"Oh, thank you. My neck was getting a cramp. See you later, handsome." The tall one stood.
"Great, I can see again. Mihara, I want to play!" The Pink One said.
We allowed them to walk away.
"Goodbye." We waved. That actually made the Tall One laugh. The Pink One waved back.
They were strange.
"Alright, 000, we'll have a briefing for you tomorrow. We'll come down to the motor pool for it. May drop down tonight, but I gotta get this sorted."
"Understood."
"Got any plans for the rest of the day?" We looked at the devastation we had caused in the short fight.
"We shall apologise to Foreman Liter."
"Ohhh. Yeah. Good luck. Call if you need backup."
"Will do."
"Oh! That's another first!" We blinked. "Anyway, seriously call if you need anything." The line closed.
We sighed.
We were not looking forward to this.
I hadn't bothered with being subtle.
I called Andersen the second Syuen was out of my damned base. As soon as he heard what we'd discussed, he'd cleared his calendar and called us down.
Us.
Not me.
Andersen had requested every member of Counters. 000 was joining through a video call. Andersen's office building absolutely would not admit the almost nine-foot-tall war machine. I'd also got a bit of good news for once. 000 had told me about the intrusion that made the video from my console useless. We'd checked the phones. The recordings were static, and the audio was so garbled as to be incomprehensible.
I don't know what kind of countermeasures Syuen had. But she'd cleanly removed all of my attempts at leverage.
So I thought anyway.
Neon's glasses?
They'd recorded it all flawlessly. We had it. Crystal clear. Syuen's arrival. My unfortunate foot-in-the-mouth moment. The 'correction' Syuen attempted and an absolutely furious; there wasn't another word for it. 000 breaking through the window and forcibly removing Mihara and Yuni.
The horrified look on Syuen's face as 000 breached the Command Center was my Combilink's background now.
It gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling just looking at it.
I didn't knock this time. Not because I wanted to be rude. The door opened before I could. Andersen was sitting in his chair. Looking at me over laced fingers.
He was furious.
"Shepard."
"Andersen."
"Counters."
"Deputy Chief."
"Take a seat." Andersen hit two keys. The wall of the office projected a holo-image of 000.
"Commander." He inclined his head. "Neon, Anis, Rapi. Deputy Chief Andersen."
"Good. As much as I'd like to get to the important part. I have to go over this first." Andersen turned to 000's image. "Why did you engage the Missilis Nikke?"
"We saw the Commander in imminent danger. Given the visible situation, Missilis Nikke were considered to be the likely primary threat vector. As such, we removed them. After which, when they did not stand down, we engaged them."
Andersen nodded slowly.
"Okay, that fits. It matches one of the two provisions that Project Gemini installed to allow you to engage Nikke. Good."
Yeah. Good. Sure.
So why didn't it feel like the truth?
"To be clear, you assessed Mihara and Yuni as an immediate threat to a human officer before engaging. Correct?"
"Affirmative."
Lie.
I didn't know how I knew.
But I knew I was right.
"Okay. I apologise for the next part, 000. But it's important that we get it down properly. Nikke can not lie when given a direct request for information by a commanding officer. Unless forbidden by a higher-ranking officer. But they can bend the truth if the request wasn't clear enough."
Andersen took a deep breath.
"I am ordering you, 000. To confirm if my previous point on your engagement of the Missilis Nikke was correct and you acted within your guidelines after, not before, calculating the odds."
"Affirmative."
Instant.
Rehearsed.
Lie.
My eyes narrowed. That shouldn't be possible. Not the way he'd just done it. Not against a direct order. NIMPH prevented Nikke from lying when asked like that. Project Gemini's provisions should be the same. Yet 000 had lied. I couldn't prove it. But I was sure.
Did that mean that the protections that Project Gemini put in place didn't work? Or had 000 evolved around them?
More importantly, did I care?
...No.
No, I didn't.
It could cause problems later, sure. But I didn't agree, ethically or emotionally, with the absolute obedience that the NIMPH created.
Neuro-Implanted Machine for the Protection of Humans.
Ha.
More like implanted for the control of Nikke.
It's not that I didn't see the edge cases or that NIMPH didn't have some positive points. Helping suppress fear or horror during combat. But I don't think that the edge cases justified the abuse. Studying the Ark's rules and laws over the last few weeks had also made me very, very aware. That I should. Never. Ever. Admit that out loud.
"Good. Glad we sorted that out." Andersen smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
"You good, Tin Man?" Anis spoke up. Andersen rolled his eyes but didn't interrupt.
"We are fine." I opened my mouth. I swear the Frame almost looked churlish. "Minor damage to composite armour over cockpit. We have put in a repair request. We have not received an answer."
"Project Gemini's budget review is in two months. I wouldn't expect much before then." Andersen cut in. 000 nodded.
"Now onto the important part. Missilis' hunting expedition." Andersen rubbed his eyes as he took a deep breath.
"Chatterbox." No one moved. But I swore that something about 000 became more predatory.
"Sorry, Commander."
"Not your fault, Rapi." I forced a smile.
"It's both your faults. Now we have to deal with it." Andersen stated. "You didn't resurrect an old nightmare. But Syuen had to notice you looking into it. Then she must have done some digging on her own. The fact you were low enough on the food chain to lean on probably made her day."
Sadistic bitch.
"Yeah." Andersen agreed.
Oh... I'd said that out loud.
"Syuen wants you to hunt and bring the thing back for study."
He paused, considering his next words carefully.
"There are no words. In any language. That can properly express. Just how fucking stupid of an idea that is. However, given the situation. Syuen is going to try. Now, if it were just her getting killed. I'd write the whole thing off as a net gain and go get another hour of sleep."
He let out a groan.
"Unfortunately, I can't do that. So here's what's going to happen. You are going to go back to the Outpost and mind your damned business for the next 48 hours. I don't care if God himself descends from heaven and tells you to do something. You tell him it can wait."
"I am going to lean on Syuen."
"What?"
"You heard me, Shepard. I'm going to lean on Syuen. That recording you have? Gold. Sure, she could play it off. But I get Enikk involved? I don't doubt she'd get out of it sooner or later. But Syuen would lose more than a pound of flesh."
Andersen smiled. It was not pleasant.
"Mean time, I'm going to send as much Anti-Tyrant ammunition to you as I can without someone jumping down my throat about it."
"Andersen?"
"Yes, Shepard?"
"What do you want out of Syuen?"
"Well, since her dropping dead is too much to ask. I'm going to force the issue. The operation happens under joint oversight. Mine primarily. She agrees to Absolute and Matis being in the AO as support."
"You think she'll agree?"
"I think she will. Option B is that she takes her chances in the court of public opinion alongside an actual court of law. Somehow, I don't think she wants that."
"Isn't it dangerous? Threaten a member of the Big Three like this?"
Andersen looked at me. Then started laughing. It began as a chuckle and turned into a full-blown belly laugh. Tears were streaming down his face as he tried to catch his breath.
Rapi's eyes narrowed.
Anis didn't joke.
God, today was weird.
"Oh. Thanks, Shepard. I needed that." He shook his head. "Don't worry about me. My scale for danger is a little broken. Syuen doesn't even scrape my threshold for dangerous."
"Right. Good to know. Thanks, Sir."
"Yeah. Yeah. Alright, get out of here, Shepard. You got two days of sitting on your hands to get too."
"On it. I'll take a two-day vacation."
"You do that." Andersen nodded slowly. "Oh, and Shepard?"
"Yes, Sir?" Andersen met my eyes. He was not joking.
"Actually, this goes for all of you." His eyes roved over Counters and onto 000's holo-image.
"If you have something you absolutely had to do before you... well... died. The next two days are probably a pretty good time for it."
And wasn't that a sobering reminder of reality?
"Understood, Sir."
END
Hi all, hope you're having a great week/weekend.
A few things happen this time.
Everyone preps for a hunting expedition.
&
Mihara finds out local Gundam literally too angry to care about pain.
Manfat Patreon - If you're interested in supporting the work I do.
This Is Fine - Volume 1 Complete.
No Strings On Me - 3 Chapters Ahead of Public Release.
Support is always welcome, but never expected.
See you in the next one.
"Thank you!"
"You are welcome." We inclined our head. We still felt naked. We were missing multiple pieces of composite armour. Half our magnificent horns were still ruined. At least the technicians had managed to return our leg and thruster to full functionality.
"000?"
"Yes, Foreman Liter?"
"Hold this while I attach it." We moved the beam, our other hand extended so Foreman Liter could use it as a mobile lift. We had done much thinking on why we were left in such a deplorable state.
We had come up with two competing theories.
One. We were being punished. We did not know why. But it was certainly an option.
Two, and the more likely one we believed, Project Gemini was running out of funding. We were the Prototype, and our operational metrics exceeded all projected thresholds. That didn't mean additional funding would be approved.
We did not know if Project Gemini did quarterly or half-yearly budget reports and funding allocation.
We doubted they would tell us if we asked.
We would need to seek alternative solutions.
Perhaps we could petition the Commander or Deputy Chief Andersen for access to some of the specialised tools we would need for repairs. They wouldn't be as effective. But we also wouldn't be purely reliant on Project Gemini for repairs.
An acceptable trade-off to our sensibilities.
Foreman Liter finished her work, and we lowered her back to the ground.
We wondered if Project Gemini would feel we were degrading ourself by acting as a mobile lift for the Nikke? We did not. We wondered if we should add it to our next report?
The response could prove... humorous?
On greater reflection, perhaps it was best if we did not.
"You okay, Big Guy?" We looked down. Centi was frowning.
"We are well."
"You sure? You're not talking much even for you."
"We were repaired recently."
"Okay."
"They did not repair our horns."
"Your horns?"
"Yes. They are magnificent. We do not... like, we do not like their reduced state." She blinked, turning her head to the side slightly.
"Do you like them that much?"
"They are magnificent!" We did not understand. The more we thought on it, the less we were satisfied with Project Gemini's substandard repair.
"Okay. I'm sorry to hear that." Centi said.
"Got any ideas for fixing them?" Foreman Liter inquired.
"We have several. All of which will require specialised equipment we currently lack access to." Foreman Liter nodded slowly.
"Send me the specs on the equipment. I want to see what it can do." We did so and turned back to Centi.
"Even with the specialised equipment, the repair would be substandard compared to the original." We admitted. "We have run several possibilities. Thus far, no composite armour we have designed meets more than 85% of the original's defensive ability."
"The people who...made?" We nodded. "Made. You didn't tell you how?"
"No." We shook our head. "We have put in seventeen requests for full schematic access since their slipshod repair effort. None have been answered."
"Sorry to hear that." Centi frowned. We shook our head.
Centi.
Centi should not frown.
"We shall find a solution."
Centi smiled.
Better.
"Hmmm. You're right, it is specialised." Foreman Liter said, nodding. "But I can see several uses for it inside the Outpost. The Armoury. You. Even we can use it."
We tilted our head, slightly.
"I'll put in a request for the things you need. You put in one as well. I'll convince Alessa in the armoury to put one in as well. They'll know what we're doing. But they'll find it hard to say no."
"Thank you, Foreman Liter."
"You're welcome. Now get back to work."
"Yes, Boss!"
"Of course. Foreman Liter."
The request came unexpectedly. The line came directly from the Command Center. Centi and Liter had moved away a few minutes ago to meet Syuen. The CEO of Missilis. We did not know why a CEO of one of the Ark's Big Three would be in the Outpost.
We assumed it was important.
We accepted the communication.
"000."
"Squad Leader Rapi."We were not speaking. Not really. She had connected her internal processors with the system. We were exchanging information at the speed of thought.
"Syuen of Missilis is coming."
"We know."
"This should not happen."
"It is odd?"
"Extremely."
"Understood."
"I will connect you to the Commander's personal terminal. Please use the camera to record the interaction."
"Goal?"
"Insurance."
"Acknowledged." Rapi disconnected.
The feed stayed live. We observed the two Nikke and CEO enter the room. They dressed oddly.
A subculture of some sort?
Something told us we would regret looking into it. We shelved the impulse for later.
"Is the CEO in the room with us?" We noted the words of the Commander. We saw the reaction on the face of the smallest member of the Missilis delegation.
Hostility.
We stepped away from Centi as she finished securing a metal girder. We disabled background processes and focused on the feed. Diving into the sea of information.
Unknown presence.
Not malicious.
Altering video feed.
Not pictures.
Not audio.
Altering background information and composition.
Why?
We scanned.
Alterations consistent with the phenomenon known as Deep Fake. Someone was trying to invalidate the integrity of the recording.
We moved. Not physically. In the digital space.
Alteration diverted.
Intrusion redirected.
We felt a moment of satisfaction.
The attack redoubled at a speed that beggared belief. Multiple threads. Constantly evolving. Like the Hydra of ancient myth.
We responded.
Multiple vectors.
Scrap Code.
Replicating viruses.
The Hydra turned its attention to us. A hundred heads. Maw of fangs.
We inserted a line of code like a scalpel.
1 became 0.
The Hydra ate itself.
However, in doing so.
We realised we were going to lose.
Whoever was doing this had to be a Nikke; Missilis was not known to possess a Smart AI sophisticated enough to do... this.
Worse. Their processing lattice dwarfed ours.
Based on the opening clash. We were more at home in this place. It did not matter. They would overwhelm us with pure brute force. The invasive code took form, racing towards us and the systems we protected.
Hyrda. Chimera. Neamon Lion. Cerberus.
An army of monsters awaited us.
We moved scrap code. Enough to buy time. Raised like walls to prevent movement. We created while it slowed them.
Cruel.
Vicious.
Consuming.
Self-Replicating.
A virus not meant to simply infiltrate but to destroy software and burn out hardware.
They wanted the feed.
They wanted the video.
FINE.
DIE WITH IT.
The arrow was loosened. It struck the mass of oncoming monsters. We retreated. They had won the battle.
We would burn the earth and salt the fields.
You may take our home.
You shall not live in it.
We closed the connection.
It would take hours before our virus fully integrated and unleashed itself upon the system.
As the novel we had indulged in yesterday had stated, Tyrants have always been particularly susceptible to poison.
We observed the Command Center as the connection shut.
One tenth of a second. Was all we managed to see before the connection closed. Our full attention had been granted to the battle in cyberspace.
The Commander was on the ground.
Neon screamed.
Anis breathing through gritted teeth.
Rapi's jaw clenched tight.
The world narrowed to a pinprick.
Someone was saying something.
Irrelevant.
We tracked the shortest route. Around the building, down the next road. Turn right.
Irrelevant.
Through the building. Up the side of the next. In through the window.
There.
Faster.
We kicked off the ground. Thrusters igniting. We hit the side of the building. Some part of us noted we'd assisted with construction two weeks ago.
We went through the wall.
Then the wall after that.
Until we burst back out on the street.
We did not slow down. Horizontal speed became vertical. We hit the side of the next building. We did not break the wall down. This time we ascended. Our feet gouged chunks out of the side with each thruster-assisted leap.
This would be faster if we had claws.
A priority list shifted in the background, unconsciously.
We reached the top of the building.
We did not slow down.
We sped up.
Two steps. Edge of the roof. Jump. Thrusters full burn. We were level with the Command Center window.
Impact.
Metal spalled away.
Glass fragmented.
We felt our remaining horn impact the roof.
A small chip of metal came away.
Irrelevant.
Our hand lashed out. Fingers wrapped around the pink one's head. Material thresholds mapped. We could crush her like an ant.
We could...
We could.....
The Mass Production Nikke. Her head in our hand. The sound of rending metal.
We turned, seizing the other one by the arm and twisting. We pitched the two Nikke back out of the now-empty window.
At the concrete.
Three stories down.
Mass-produced Nikke would survive the fall. Missilis specialists certainly would. We leapt out of the window. The concrete shattered as we landed.
The two Nikke were already back on their feet.
"Surrender." Our words were strange to our ears. Guttural. Raw. Jagged.
We did not say "or die."
It would be cliché.
Also, we felt it was quite clearly implied.
"Wh-" The larger one spoke. We moved. The ground shattered. She had started to think. They were always more dangerous once they started to think.
Our manipulators ceased responding.
Direct override?
Impossible.
Point-to-Point intrusion.
Completely bypassing our countermeasures, how?
The Pink One had her hand up a red light connected us.
Our arms did not work?
Fine.
We boosted faster. Turned our body, and shoulder-checked the taller Nikke through the wall of the building we had scaled.
We turned.
Our legs gave out.
How!?
HOW WAS SHE DOING THIS!?
Thrusters fired. The Pink one gasped. Jumping. We grabbed her leg and threw her. She hit the ground and bounced. Twice. Before smashing through a decorative window we remembered putting up almost three weeks ago.
We had liked that window.
Something hot. A core of pure fire erupted in our chest.
Pain.
Pain.
PAIN.
We remembered.
The Commander on the floor.
Neon, Anis, and Rapi in pain.
Something else bubbled from inside us, moving along our body like fire.
So hot it made the pain feel worthless.
We turned.
The tall one looked horrified.
Good.
We jumped; she dodged. The wall became powder. A strike hit our lower body.
Strong.
Well placed.
In melee range.
Mistake.
Our manipulator grabbed her arm.
The pain redoubled.
Our vision blurred.
Our arms moved, smashing her through a support pillar before we punched her through the floor back to ground level.
We followed.
She avoided us crushing her legs into matchsticks.
Our kick punted her back out of the building and into the street.
We followed. Our vision cut. Everything was black.
THE PINK ONE.
She would take our eyes!?
We had more than eyes!
Impact. Hard. Sharp. Directly over the cockpit. The composite armour dented. We swung an arm around, hitting nothing. Our mind moved.
Sonar.
Repurposed.
Wireframe battle map achieved.
There. You. Are.
The tall one punched. Striking the cockpit again. We allowed the impact. She did not know we could see her. Our right arm. Fingers Tensed. Spear hand strike. We could tear her core apart with the counterblow.
We could.
We could!
We...
Mass production Nikke. Her eyes crimson. Our hand around her head. It shattered. Turned to scrap metal.
By us.
We...
We....
I.....
We didn't want to kill more Nikke.
We changed the strike, open-handed, palm. Across the stomach, she flew away. We pursued. A kick, the taller one landed next to the Pink One. We were on her an instant later. The Pink One could have run. Could have repositioned.
She refused to leave the tall one.
Our foot came down.
Resting on the tall one's head.
Our hand wrapped around the Pink One's.
"Do not move." Our voice was controlled. "The Commander will decide your fate."
"Okay. Sure. Could you move your foot off me, handsome?" The tall one asked. She had not seen us. We assume that was an attempt to appeal to vanity.
"Yeah, let Mihara go!"
"No. You are dangerous. You are threats."
"I know it doesn't mean much." The tall one said, sounding almost contrite. "But we were just following orders."
Indignation flared.
"Tell it to Nuremberg."
"Nuremburg? What's that handsome?" Appeal to vanity again.
To not know Nuremberg?
We were surrounded by Philistines.
"Are you going to let me go?" The Pink One asked.
"No."
"I could make you." We considered. She could.
"Do so, and we shall relocate you to the second story of the building behind you."
"How!?"
"With a kick."
"That would hurt."
"It would."
"So what? We just wait here until your Commander calls?"
We looked down. She could not see our eye lenses from under our foot.
"If you prefer, we could return to Plan A."
"What was Plan A?" The Pink One asked.
"We kill both of you."
"Were you really planning to kill us?" The tall one asked from under our foot.
"Did we give you a different impression?"
"I mean, you did start with 'surrender'."
"We felt the 'or die' was implied well enough."
"Fair point, handsome."
"What do you do for fun around here anyway?" The Pink one's words were partially muffled by our hand.
"Yuni is now really the time?"
"I'm bored."
"We assist in construction."
"Construction, really?"
"We find it pleasing."
"Didn't you just demolish a lot of stuff fighting us?"
"We did; we shall apologise later."
"To us?" The Pink One asked.
"No."
"You're mean." We chose not to dignify that with a response.
"000?" The connection activated. We made sure the two outside didn't hear anything. We did not imagine the Commander would order their deaths. But if he did... we would prefer they not know what was happening before we acted.
"Yes, Commander."
"You okay?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Enemy Combatants?"
"Neutralised."
"When you say neutralised, do you mean dead or incapacitated?"
"Currently incapacitated."
"Oh, good."
"You take any damage?" We reviewed.
"No significant damage. Composite armour over the cockpit will require replacement."
We did not mention the 0.87 grams of metal chipped from our remaining horn.
The sacrifices we made.
"Most people would call that significant."
"We consider it insignificant against the potential cost of inaction."
"...That's weirdly sweet."
"Status of Neon, Anis, Rapi, and yourself, Commander?"
"Not pleased. But we'll be fine."
"Any chance you could get off my head now, handsome? Syuen told me she and the Commander cut a deal."
We muted our conversation for a moment.
"No." We unmuted the connection. "Commander requesting orders."
"Syuen and I have made a deal. Also, no one else can hear this, right?"
"Correct."
"Thanks for the save. She was so flustered that I actually had leverage to work with. I mean, she's probably going to try to kill us at some point. But it'll be later. Not now."
A problem for tomorrow, then.
"And the enemy combatants?"
"Let 'em go. They're leaving." We complied.
"Oh, thank you. My neck was getting a cramp. See you later, handsome." The tall one stood.
"Great, I can see again. Mihara, I want to play!" The Pink One said.
We allowed them to walk away.
"Goodbye." We waved. That actually made the Tall One laugh. The Pink One waved back.
They were strange.
"Alright, 000, we'll have a briefing for you tomorrow. We'll come down to the motor pool for it. May drop down tonight, but I gotta get this sorted."
"Understood."
"Got any plans for the rest of the day?" We looked at the devastation we had caused in the short fight.
"We shall apologise to Foreman Liter."
"Ohhh. Yeah. Good luck. Call if you need backup."
"Will do."
"Oh! That's another first!" We blinked. "Anyway, seriously call if you need anything." The line closed.
We sighed.
We were not looking forward to this.
I hadn't bothered with being subtle.
I called Andersen the second Syuen was out of my damned base. As soon as he heard what we'd discussed, he'd cleared his calendar and called us down.
Us.
Not me.
Andersen had requested every member of Counters. 000 was joining through a video call. Andersen's office building absolutely would not admit the almost nine-foot-tall war machine. I'd also got a bit of good news for once. 000 had told me about the intrusion that made the video from my console useless. We'd checked the phones. The recordings were static, and the audio was so garbled as to be incomprehensible.
I don't know what kind of countermeasures Syuen had. But she'd cleanly removed all of my attempts at leverage.
So I thought anyway.
Neon's glasses?
They'd recorded it all flawlessly. We had it. Crystal clear. Syuen's arrival. My unfortunate foot-in-the-mouth moment. The 'correction' Syuen attempted and an absolutely furious; there wasn't another word for it. 000 breaking through the window and forcibly removing Mihara and Yuni.
The horrified look on Syuen's face as 000 breached the Command Center was my Combilink's background now.
It gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling just looking at it.
I didn't knock this time. Not because I wanted to be rude. The door opened before I could. Andersen was sitting in his chair. Looking at me over laced fingers.
He was furious.
"Shepard."
"Andersen."
"Counters."
"Deputy Chief."
"Take a seat." Andersen hit two keys. The wall of the office projected a holo-image of 000.
"Commander." He inclined his head. "Neon, Anis, Rapi. Deputy Chief Andersen."
"Good. As much as I'd like to get to the important part. I have to go over this first." Andersen turned to 000's image. "Why did you engage the Missilis Nikke?"
"We saw the Commander in imminent danger. Given the visible situation, Missilis Nikke were considered to be the likely primary threat vector. As such, we removed them. After which, when they did not stand down, we engaged them."
Andersen nodded slowly.
"Okay, that fits. It matches one of the two provisions that Project Gemini installed to allow you to engage Nikke. Good."
Yeah. Good. Sure.
So why didn't it feel like the truth?
"To be clear, you assessed Mihara and Yuni as an immediate threat to a human officer before engaging. Correct?"
"Affirmative."
Lie.
I didn't know how I knew.
But I knew I was right.
"Okay. I apologise for the next part, 000. But it's important that we get it down properly. Nikke can not lie when given a direct request for information by a commanding officer. Unless forbidden by a higher-ranking officer. But they can bend the truth if the request wasn't clear enough."
Andersen took a deep breath.
"I am ordering you, 000. To confirm if my previous point on your engagement of the Missilis Nikke was correct and you acted within your guidelines after, not before, calculating the odds."
"Affirmative."
Instant.
Rehearsed.
Lie.
My eyes narrowed. That shouldn't be possible. Not the way he'd just done it. Not against a direct order. NIMPH prevented Nikke from lying when asked like that. Project Gemini's provisions should be the same. Yet 000 had lied. I couldn't prove it. But I was sure.
Did that mean that the protections that Project Gemini put in place didn't work? Or had 000 evolved around them?
More importantly, did I care?
...No.
No, I didn't.
It could cause problems later, sure. But I didn't agree, ethically or emotionally, with the absolute obedience that the NIMPH created.
Neuro-Implanted Machine for the Protection of Humans.
Ha.
More like implanted for the control of Nikke.
It's not that I didn't see the edge cases or that NIMPH didn't have some positive points. Helping suppress fear or horror during combat. But I don't think that the edge cases justified the abuse. Studying the Ark's rules and laws over the last few weeks had also made me very, very aware. That I should. Never. Ever. Admit that out loud.
"Good. Glad we sorted that out." Andersen smiled. It didn't reach his eyes.
"You good, Tin Man?" Anis spoke up. Andersen rolled his eyes but didn't interrupt.
"We are fine." I opened my mouth. I swear the Frame almost looked churlish. "Minor damage to composite armour over cockpit. We have put in a repair request. We have not received an answer."
"Project Gemini's budget review is in two months. I wouldn't expect much before then." Andersen cut in. 000 nodded.
"Now onto the important part. Missilis' hunting expedition." Andersen rubbed his eyes as he took a deep breath.
"Chatterbox." No one moved. But I swore that something about 000 became more predatory.
"Sorry, Commander."
"Not your fault, Rapi." I forced a smile.
"It's both your faults. Now we have to deal with it." Andersen stated. "You didn't resurrect an old nightmare. But Syuen had to notice you looking into it. Then she must have done some digging on her own. The fact you were low enough on the food chain to lean on probably made her day."
Sadistic bitch.
"Yeah." Andersen agreed.
Oh... I'd said that out loud.
"Syuen wants you to hunt and bring the thing back for study."
He paused, considering his next words carefully.
"There are no words. In any language. That can properly express. Just how fucking stupid of an idea that is. However, given the situation. Syuen is going to try. Now, if it were just her getting killed. I'd write the whole thing off as a net gain and go get another hour of sleep."
He let out a groan.
"Unfortunately, I can't do that. So here's what's going to happen. You are going to go back to the Outpost and mind your damned business for the next 48 hours. I don't care if God himself descends from heaven and tells you to do something. You tell him it can wait."
"I am going to lean on Syuen."
"What?"
"You heard me, Shepard. I'm going to lean on Syuen. That recording you have? Gold. Sure, she could play it off. But I get Enikk involved? I don't doubt she'd get out of it sooner or later. But Syuen would lose more than a pound of flesh."
Andersen smiled. It was not pleasant.
"Mean time, I'm going to send as much Anti-Tyrant ammunition to you as I can without someone jumping down my throat about it."
"Andersen?"
"Yes, Shepard?"
"What do you want out of Syuen?"
"Well, since her dropping dead is too much to ask. I'm going to force the issue. The operation happens under joint oversight. Mine primarily. She agrees to Absolute and Matis being in the AO as support."
"You think she'll agree?"
"I think she will. Option B is that she takes her chances in the court of public opinion alongside an actual court of law. Somehow, I don't think she wants that."
"Isn't it dangerous? Threaten a member of the Big Three like this?"
Andersen looked at me. Then started laughing. It began as a chuckle and turned into a full-blown belly laugh. Tears were streaming down his face as he tried to catch his breath.
Rapi's eyes narrowed.
Anis didn't joke.
God, today was weird.
"Oh. Thanks, Shepard. I needed that." He shook his head. "Don't worry about me. My scale for danger is a little broken. Syuen doesn't even scrape my threshold for dangerous."
"Right. Good to know. Thanks, Sir."
"Yeah. Yeah. Alright, get out of here, Shepard. You got two days of sitting on your hands to get too."
"On it. I'll take a two-day vacation."
"You do that." Andersen nodded slowly. "Oh, and Shepard?"
"Yes, Sir?" Andersen met my eyes. He was not joking.
"Actually, this goes for all of you." His eyes roved over Counters and onto 000's holo-image.
"If you have something you absolutely had to do before you... well... died. The next two days are probably a pretty good time for it."
And wasn't that a sobering reminder of reality?
"Understood, Sir."
END
Hi all, hope you're having a great week/weekend.
A few things happen this time.
Everyone preps for a hunting expedition.
&
Mihara finds out local Gundam literally too angry to care about pain.
Manfat Patreon - If you're interested in supporting the work I do.
This Is Fine - Volume 1 Complete.
No Strings On Me - 3 Chapters Ahead of Public Release.
Support is always welcome, but never expected.
See you in the next one.
Devone Douglas
Not too sore, are you?
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Yea gundam pilots are basically mha heroes. Basically going into blood rage and tearing themselves apart if it means kicking your ass 1% harder. These people are a different breed
MechPilot?Not!
Making the rounds.
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Haha. That face is definitely a funny one. I'm picturing the April fools event with Nikke Syuen that can't aim for shit.
This is why we like the commander so much. He sees all the crap going on and tries helping the girls while also being smart enough to not get himself disappeared.
The original badass. I like this guy.
She's probably into it. She's the masochist of the relationship. Yuni just might get attached to 000 in addition to or instead of the commander. Run away, 000! They are getting along with you!
Given how the story is going instead, we might not get kind wipes?
Chapter 1.13 - Smile
New
Manfat
Getting sticky.
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No one had come to see us.
We did not find this surprising.
In the day since Andersen had confirmed that we may all die.
Counters had kept to themselves.
We watched over them. We had integrated ourselves into the Outposts' security system. There were traces of our battle. Leftover scrap code. Some hidden viruses. We busied ourselves removing them.
Our new claws sat upon our hands.
The sword, if such a word could properly be appended to a weapon so quickly created, leaned against a wall.
Death.
How strange.
Death.
We were not afraid.
We rechecked the security feed.
Analysing.
Rapi, alone at the practice range. She had not left in twelve hours.
Anis had not left her room.
Neon was inside the armoury. Assembling and disassembling her shotgun for the seven hundred and fifty-second time.
The Commander sat on a ledge overlooking the majority of the base.
Our manipulator came up, touching what was left of our magnificent horns.
No time.
No time at all.
We returned to our cleanup efforts. We reflected the virus we had shot into the intruder. It would fully gestate in another thirteen hours. We were not foolish enough to think it would cripple Missilis. Given their resources, it was entirely possible they had already found and removed it.
If left undiscovered, the damage would be substantial.
This pleased us.
They invaded our home.
They should be prepared for retribution.
We moved, repacking a shelf we had already packed several times. There was always another viable configuration to attempt.
Which one would work best for Centi and Foreman Liter if we were not there to act as a carrier?
We checked the security feeds again.
No significant movement.
Counters remained stationary.
No detectable threats.
We repacked another shelf. If we pulled one of the spare cargo carriers out of storage, it would most likely be of assistance should we not be here to help.
Yes.
Yes. That was a good idea.
We would do that next. Right after we reorganised shelf C-5 again. We had thought of another viable configuration that would work better for Foreman Liter. It took twenty minutes to fully reorganise the shelves C-5, F-7, and N-9. We had thought of new, better configurations to attempt. Now all we had to do was get the cargo carrier out of storage.
We checked the security feeds.
Rapi was missing. We searched. 2.78 seconds passed. We found her. Resupplying ammunition.
Good.
Good.
Anis still had not left her room.
Neon was disassembling her shotgun again.
The Commander still had not moved.
We retrieved the cargo carrier. It was awkwardly shoved in the corner of the storage room. The room itself was a mess. Clearly, no one had attempted to make it organised. We placed the carrier outside and began to organise the mess.
We attempted seven different configurations.
Before deciding on the original choice.
It took five hours.
We checked the security feeds over four hundred times.
By the time we returned to the motor pool, we realised why the cargo carrier had been in storage. Two of the wheels were unaligned. It had an annoying tendency to pull to the right and abruptly stop as a wheel twisted at a bad angle.
Annoying.
Fixable.
Good.
We pulled the carrier onto a table and began to work. Removing the wheels. Aligning brackets. Oiling. Replacing.
We checked on Counters again.
Rapi was still practising.
Anis' door was open. Our view moved at the speed of thought. Camera's checked one after the other.
Streets? No.
Command Center? No.
Armoury? No.
Cafeteria? Yes.
Good.
Good.
She was preparing instant noodles.
Good.
We finished maintenance on the carrier. It worked. Rolling perfectly.
Success.
We considered. If we stored it here, it could make removing product from shelf G-7 difficult, but if we replaced it with the stock of C-2... that would change the system, though.
We reorganised the shelving again.
There perfect.
We think.
Perhaps another viable configuration, a better one, would occur to us. We relaxed for a moment. We checked the security feeds again.
Anis' door was closed.
We moved, lifting the sword; it was passable. We had made the point of balance too far forward. We could try to fix it.
But....
We check the security feeds again.
Then reorganised the shelves.
We stopped. Tension went out of the Frame.
Death.
Strange.
Death.
Death smiles upon us all. All a man can do is smile back. Attributed to Marcus Aurelius – Meditations.
Actual quote – Actor Richard Harris, playing Marcus Aurelius, Film Gladiator.
Would we smile?
We looked at the shelves again.
More configurations possible.
More configurations....
Pointless.
They are as close to perfect as they will get. Optimisation is always possible. There would always be another configuration. Another option. Another trade-off.
We checked the cameras again.
Rapi training
Anis' door.
Neon...was not assembling her shotgun. She was speaking to a mass-produced Nikke. She was smiling.
Good.
The Commander was still sitting on the ledge.
Time.
It always comes down to time.
We selected a new musical track. One we had not heard before. Neon would be disappointed.
"I was walking along, minding my business. When out of an orange coloured sky (Flash, bam, alakazam), Wonderful you came by!"
Saxophone. Trumpets. Trombone. Rhythm section.
We opened a file.
Old Tales – Personal Logs Unredacted.
We read them.
Once. Twice. Three times.
We left the song on repeat. We changed the file.
Old Tales – Personal Logs Redacted.
We read it once. Compared it against the unredacted version and chose the more complete version over the more familiar one. We finished it again. Just as the song came to an end once more.
"I was walking along, minding my business. When love came and hit me in the eye. Flash, bam, alakazam. Out of an orange-coloured, purple-striped. A pretty, green, polka-dot sky. Flash, a-bam, alakazam, and goodbye!"
We terminated the track.
"One look and I yelled, "Timber!" Watch out for flying glass." We muttered the song's lyrics to ourselves as we checked the security feeds again.
Rapi was still at the range. She had not moved in some time. Merely sighting down her weapon.
Anis had not left her room.
Neon had moved to her own room.
The Commander had lay down to rest two hours ago.
We did not know how many times we had checked the cameras today.
It seemed pointless to count after we had done it more than two thousand times.
We looked at shelf F-7.
Now that we thought about it, if we swapped F-9 and F-7 around, maybe we could... that would mean reorganising the entire system again from the ground up. We stepped forward. Then stopped. We had tried that exact configuration seventeen hours ago. We had discarded it sixteen hours ago.
We turned.
F-7 would remain as is.
We checked the time.
Six hours.
Six hours until Andersen's check-in with the Commander.
We would get our orders and then....
and then...
All a man can do is smile back - Misattributed to Marcus Aurelius.
Still valid.
We opened our mouth and shut off the speakers of the Frame. We spoke with our own voice for the first time since we had connected to the Frame.
We tried to mimic a voice we couldn't remember.
"Can I ask you? Why the sky is blue?"
We failed.
Something wet ran down our cheek.
We selected another track. We had not listened to this one with Neon. She wished to be there when we listened to new music.
We felt she would forgive us.
We checked the security feed again.
They were still there.
Good.
Good.
We listened to the music as we made our way through the empty streets of the Outpost while the world was at rest.
Another new track.
We liked this one.
Hopefully, Neon would forgive us.
We moved towards food storage. There were a few things we needed to retrieve. It was not made for something our size. We were careful. It took us almost forty minutes to retrieve items that would have taken a normal human thirty seconds.
The Outpost had not been built with things our size in mind.
We looked our prize over.
An MRE burger and a six-pack of Anis' preferred soda.
A hot almond red bean drink and an MRE chicken kiev. Neon's preferred drink and chicken was her most common MRE choice.
BBQ shredded beef MRE and a can of cold brew coffee for Rapi.
Seafood Chowder MRE and another can of cold brew coffee for the Commander.
It took us twenty minutes to maneuver our way into the cafeteria and lay the items on the table. It would have taken ten, but we did not wish to be seen.
We did not know why.
There were still more things to do.
We moved towards the armoury. It was not empty. The Nikke inside saw us, she opened her mouth. We held up a hand. Palm facing outwards. She closed her mouth and nodded almost solemnly. Picking up her own equipment and leaving.
We appreciated that.
We checked the security feed.
Rapi was missing; we searched. 3.85 seconds. We saw her enter the cafeteria and stop looking at the table where we had left the items.
We felt something. We were not sure what.
She smiled and left.
We watched the door to her room close.
They were safe.
They were all safe.
Good.
Good.
We returned to our self-directed task. We gathered all of the magazines compatible with Rapi's weapon. Then we selected based on compatibility, chance of failure, and angle of receiver. We removed as many possible points of failure as we could think of.
Then we checked the remaining magazines a second time to ensure we had not made a mistake.
We removed another two that did not reach our standard. We began loading those that remained. Anti-Tyrant rounds.
Andersen had sent us a large amount.
We saw no reason not to make every magazine carry them. If Rapi found a use for them, excellent; if not, they were meant to be used anyway.
We repeated the process for the side arms that the counters used.
Three more Nikke entered as we worked.
None said anything.
We moved from magazines and loading to reviewing shotgun cartridges and grenades. They were all Anti-Tyrant rounds. We looked deeper. Scanning for imperfections beyond the obvious. Some passed our test. Some were placed aside. If a round had more than a 0.0002% chance of a misfire, it was not good enough for them.
We still collected more than enough to be effective without lowering our standards.
We touched our ruined horns.
Time.
It was always time.
We set the musical tracks to shuffle and continued working. We did not section out songs that Neon had not heard yet.
If Neon wished to complain, she could do so after she returned.
So she had to come back.
She had to....
We moved the ammunition and magazines into carry cases and laid them by the armoury entrance. We ensured they were labelled clearly. No one would pick them up by mistake. We checked the time; they would be moving soon.
But not yet.
Not yet.
We paused.
On the table. A shotgun. We hadn't noticed it before. MISG-09. Set for maintenance. We did not know who it belonged to. We were moving before we realised it. Our manipulators eased the casing off and looked at the weapon's internals.
We saw the wear and tear. We moved to the nearest supply drawer and drew out the replacement parts. We knew the parts needed to be from the same manufacturer. Our manipulators moved, slowly, delicately.
The weapon was reassembled.
The casing fit.
We felt satisfaction.
We rechecked the Anti-Tyrant ammunition and magazines we had cleared. Just to make sure we had not made any mistakes.
We had not.
We restacked the crates and moved towards the Command Center's storage room. It was awkward and ungainly fitting inside.
We dealt with it as well as we could.
Time.
Always time.
We could feel it running out.
There was still so much to do.
We removed the decoys, camping equipment, and assorted tools. Laying them out in a grid to more easily observe each. We inspected for damage. Wear. Improper storage methods. Anything that made them less than the absolute best option available.
It took forty minutes to finish.
It took another ten to pack what was best into another storage crate and label it. Setting it just inside the Command Center's entry hall.
Now we should....
We should......
We....
What was left to do?
We considered.
Weapons, in Counters hands and already maintained to high standard.
Ammunition and magazines, checked twice. Already prepared.
Camping equipment, Decoys, Tools. Ready.
Shelving.
Shelving.
We could change the setup of C-5 to....
No.
We moved back to the motor pool. We examined our shotgun and mace. Still serviceable.
Claws and sword? Slapdash but functional.
It would have to do.
We mag-locked the weapons and left, walking slowly through the Outpost. The streets were slowly beginning to have more people traverse them. No, Nikke spoke to us. Though some raised their hand in greeting.
We reciprocated.
We found ourself on the same ledge as the Commander had hours before. We looked over the Outpost.
Up here it all looked so... small.
We checked the cameras.
Counters had moved.
Doors were opened they had gathered in the cafeteria. They were eating. They were not talking. We checked the time.
One hour.
We sat with our legs dangling over the edge of the ledge. Waving back and forth.
We opened the file again.
Old Tales Personal Logs – Unredacted, and began to read.
It flashed through our mind.
A pair of glasses.
Silver hair.
Two people laughing.
Hands forming words.
Someone's hand in mine pull me forward.
Warm.
Safe.
Gone.
The hollow feeling in our chest made us gasp.
We checked the time.
Ten minutes.
We stood. Taking one last look at the Outpost as we descended back to street level.
Andersen's briefing.
Then the mission.
The mission.
...please be safe.
We listened to the music playing as we took one step after another into a new day.
"Just to prove the world was here. And here is a red balloon. I think of you, and let it go."
END
Local Brain Smoothie discovers he cares a lot more for people than he thinks he does.
In other news!
Water = Wet.
Manfat Patreon - If you'd like to support the work I do.
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We did not find this surprising.
In the day since Andersen had confirmed that we may all die.
Counters had kept to themselves.
We watched over them. We had integrated ourselves into the Outposts' security system. There were traces of our battle. Leftover scrap code. Some hidden viruses. We busied ourselves removing them.
Our new claws sat upon our hands.
The sword, if such a word could properly be appended to a weapon so quickly created, leaned against a wall.
Death.
How strange.
Death.
We were not afraid.
We rechecked the security feed.
Analysing.
Rapi, alone at the practice range. She had not left in twelve hours.
Anis had not left her room.
Neon was inside the armoury. Assembling and disassembling her shotgun for the seven hundred and fifty-second time.
The Commander sat on a ledge overlooking the majority of the base.
Our manipulator came up, touching what was left of our magnificent horns.
No time.
No time at all.
We returned to our cleanup efforts. We reflected the virus we had shot into the intruder. It would fully gestate in another thirteen hours. We were not foolish enough to think it would cripple Missilis. Given their resources, it was entirely possible they had already found and removed it.
If left undiscovered, the damage would be substantial.
This pleased us.
They invaded our home.
They should be prepared for retribution.
We moved, repacking a shelf we had already packed several times. There was always another viable configuration to attempt.
Which one would work best for Centi and Foreman Liter if we were not there to act as a carrier?
We checked the security feeds again.
No significant movement.
Counters remained stationary.
No detectable threats.
We repacked another shelf. If we pulled one of the spare cargo carriers out of storage, it would most likely be of assistance should we not be here to help.
Yes.
Yes. That was a good idea.
We would do that next. Right after we reorganised shelf C-5 again. We had thought of another viable configuration that would work better for Foreman Liter. It took twenty minutes to fully reorganise the shelves C-5, F-7, and N-9. We had thought of new, better configurations to attempt. Now all we had to do was get the cargo carrier out of storage.
We checked the security feeds.
Rapi was missing. We searched. 2.78 seconds passed. We found her. Resupplying ammunition.
Good.
Good.
Anis still had not left her room.
Neon was disassembling her shotgun again.
The Commander still had not moved.
We retrieved the cargo carrier. It was awkwardly shoved in the corner of the storage room. The room itself was a mess. Clearly, no one had attempted to make it organised. We placed the carrier outside and began to organise the mess.
We attempted seven different configurations.
Before deciding on the original choice.
It took five hours.
We checked the security feeds over four hundred times.
By the time we returned to the motor pool, we realised why the cargo carrier had been in storage. Two of the wheels were unaligned. It had an annoying tendency to pull to the right and abruptly stop as a wheel twisted at a bad angle.
Annoying.
Fixable.
Good.
We pulled the carrier onto a table and began to work. Removing the wheels. Aligning brackets. Oiling. Replacing.
We checked on Counters again.
Rapi was still practising.
Anis' door was open. Our view moved at the speed of thought. Camera's checked one after the other.
Streets? No.
Command Center? No.
Armoury? No.
Cafeteria? Yes.
Good.
Good.
She was preparing instant noodles.
Good.
We finished maintenance on the carrier. It worked. Rolling perfectly.
Success.
We considered. If we stored it here, it could make removing product from shelf G-7 difficult, but if we replaced it with the stock of C-2... that would change the system, though.
We reorganised the shelving again.
There perfect.
We think.
Perhaps another viable configuration, a better one, would occur to us. We relaxed for a moment. We checked the security feeds again.
Anis' door was closed.
We moved, lifting the sword; it was passable. We had made the point of balance too far forward. We could try to fix it.
But....
We check the security feeds again.
Then reorganised the shelves.
We stopped. Tension went out of the Frame.
Death.
Strange.
Death.
Death smiles upon us all. All a man can do is smile back. Attributed to Marcus Aurelius – Meditations.
Actual quote – Actor Richard Harris, playing Marcus Aurelius, Film Gladiator.
Would we smile?
We looked at the shelves again.
More configurations possible.
More configurations....
Pointless.
They are as close to perfect as they will get. Optimisation is always possible. There would always be another configuration. Another option. Another trade-off.
We checked the cameras again.
Rapi training
Anis' door.
Neon...was not assembling her shotgun. She was speaking to a mass-produced Nikke. She was smiling.
Good.
The Commander was still sitting on the ledge.
Time.
It always comes down to time.
We selected a new musical track. One we had not heard before. Neon would be disappointed.
"I was walking along, minding my business. When out of an orange coloured sky (Flash, bam, alakazam), Wonderful you came by!"
Saxophone. Trumpets. Trombone. Rhythm section.
We opened a file.
Old Tales – Personal Logs Unredacted.
We read them.
Once. Twice. Three times.
We left the song on repeat. We changed the file.
Old Tales – Personal Logs Redacted.
We read it once. Compared it against the unredacted version and chose the more complete version over the more familiar one. We finished it again. Just as the song came to an end once more.
"I was walking along, minding my business. When love came and hit me in the eye. Flash, bam, alakazam. Out of an orange-coloured, purple-striped. A pretty, green, polka-dot sky. Flash, a-bam, alakazam, and goodbye!"
We terminated the track.
"One look and I yelled, "Timber!" Watch out for flying glass." We muttered the song's lyrics to ourselves as we checked the security feeds again.
Rapi was still at the range. She had not moved in some time. Merely sighting down her weapon.
Anis had not left her room.
Neon had moved to her own room.
The Commander had lay down to rest two hours ago.
We did not know how many times we had checked the cameras today.
It seemed pointless to count after we had done it more than two thousand times.
We looked at shelf F-7.
Now that we thought about it, if we swapped F-9 and F-7 around, maybe we could... that would mean reorganising the entire system again from the ground up. We stepped forward. Then stopped. We had tried that exact configuration seventeen hours ago. We had discarded it sixteen hours ago.
We turned.
F-7 would remain as is.
We checked the time.
Six hours.
Six hours until Andersen's check-in with the Commander.
We would get our orders and then....
and then...
All a man can do is smile back - Misattributed to Marcus Aurelius.
Still valid.
We opened our mouth and shut off the speakers of the Frame. We spoke with our own voice for the first time since we had connected to the Frame.
We tried to mimic a voice we couldn't remember.
"Can I ask you? Why the sky is blue?"
We failed.
Something wet ran down our cheek.
We selected another track. We had not listened to this one with Neon. She wished to be there when we listened to new music.
We felt she would forgive us.
We checked the security feed again.
They were still there.
Good.
Good.
We listened to the music as we made our way through the empty streets of the Outpost while the world was at rest.
Another new track.
We liked this one.
Hopefully, Neon would forgive us.
We moved towards food storage. There were a few things we needed to retrieve. It was not made for something our size. We were careful. It took us almost forty minutes to retrieve items that would have taken a normal human thirty seconds.
The Outpost had not been built with things our size in mind.
We looked our prize over.
An MRE burger and a six-pack of Anis' preferred soda.
A hot almond red bean drink and an MRE chicken kiev. Neon's preferred drink and chicken was her most common MRE choice.
BBQ shredded beef MRE and a can of cold brew coffee for Rapi.
Seafood Chowder MRE and another can of cold brew coffee for the Commander.
It took us twenty minutes to maneuver our way into the cafeteria and lay the items on the table. It would have taken ten, but we did not wish to be seen.
We did not know why.
There were still more things to do.
We moved towards the armoury. It was not empty. The Nikke inside saw us, she opened her mouth. We held up a hand. Palm facing outwards. She closed her mouth and nodded almost solemnly. Picking up her own equipment and leaving.
We appreciated that.
We checked the security feed.
Rapi was missing; we searched. 3.85 seconds. We saw her enter the cafeteria and stop looking at the table where we had left the items.
We felt something. We were not sure what.
She smiled and left.
We watched the door to her room close.
They were safe.
They were all safe.
Good.
Good.
We returned to our self-directed task. We gathered all of the magazines compatible with Rapi's weapon. Then we selected based on compatibility, chance of failure, and angle of receiver. We removed as many possible points of failure as we could think of.
Then we checked the remaining magazines a second time to ensure we had not made a mistake.
We removed another two that did not reach our standard. We began loading those that remained. Anti-Tyrant rounds.
Andersen had sent us a large amount.
We saw no reason not to make every magazine carry them. If Rapi found a use for them, excellent; if not, they were meant to be used anyway.
We repeated the process for the side arms that the counters used.
Three more Nikke entered as we worked.
None said anything.
We moved from magazines and loading to reviewing shotgun cartridges and grenades. They were all Anti-Tyrant rounds. We looked deeper. Scanning for imperfections beyond the obvious. Some passed our test. Some were placed aside. If a round had more than a 0.0002% chance of a misfire, it was not good enough for them.
We still collected more than enough to be effective without lowering our standards.
We touched our ruined horns.
Time.
It was always time.
We set the musical tracks to shuffle and continued working. We did not section out songs that Neon had not heard yet.
If Neon wished to complain, she could do so after she returned.
So she had to come back.
She had to....
We moved the ammunition and magazines into carry cases and laid them by the armoury entrance. We ensured they were labelled clearly. No one would pick them up by mistake. We checked the time; they would be moving soon.
But not yet.
Not yet.
We paused.
On the table. A shotgun. We hadn't noticed it before. MISG-09. Set for maintenance. We did not know who it belonged to. We were moving before we realised it. Our manipulators eased the casing off and looked at the weapon's internals.
We saw the wear and tear. We moved to the nearest supply drawer and drew out the replacement parts. We knew the parts needed to be from the same manufacturer. Our manipulators moved, slowly, delicately.
The weapon was reassembled.
The casing fit.
We felt satisfaction.
We rechecked the Anti-Tyrant ammunition and magazines we had cleared. Just to make sure we had not made any mistakes.
We had not.
We restacked the crates and moved towards the Command Center's storage room. It was awkward and ungainly fitting inside.
We dealt with it as well as we could.
Time.
Always time.
We could feel it running out.
There was still so much to do.
We removed the decoys, camping equipment, and assorted tools. Laying them out in a grid to more easily observe each. We inspected for damage. Wear. Improper storage methods. Anything that made them less than the absolute best option available.
It took forty minutes to finish.
It took another ten to pack what was best into another storage crate and label it. Setting it just inside the Command Center's entry hall.
Now we should....
We should......
We....
What was left to do?
We considered.
Weapons, in Counters hands and already maintained to high standard.
Ammunition and magazines, checked twice. Already prepared.
Camping equipment, Decoys, Tools. Ready.
Shelving.
Shelving.
We could change the setup of C-5 to....
No.
We moved back to the motor pool. We examined our shotgun and mace. Still serviceable.
Claws and sword? Slapdash but functional.
It would have to do.
We mag-locked the weapons and left, walking slowly through the Outpost. The streets were slowly beginning to have more people traverse them. No, Nikke spoke to us. Though some raised their hand in greeting.
We reciprocated.
We found ourself on the same ledge as the Commander had hours before. We looked over the Outpost.
Up here it all looked so... small.
We checked the cameras.
Counters had moved.
Doors were opened they had gathered in the cafeteria. They were eating. They were not talking. We checked the time.
One hour.
We sat with our legs dangling over the edge of the ledge. Waving back and forth.
We opened the file again.
Old Tales Personal Logs – Unredacted, and began to read.
It flashed through our mind.
A pair of glasses.
Silver hair.
Two people laughing.
Hands forming words.
Someone's hand in mine pull me forward.
Warm.
Safe.
Gone.
The hollow feeling in our chest made us gasp.
We checked the time.
Ten minutes.
We stood. Taking one last look at the Outpost as we descended back to street level.
Andersen's briefing.
Then the mission.
The mission.
...please be safe.
We listened to the music playing as we took one step after another into a new day.
"Just to prove the world was here. And here is a red balloon. I think of you, and let it go."
END
Local Brain Smoothie discovers he cares a lot more for people than he thinks he does.
In other news!
Water = Wet.
Manfat Patreon - If you'd like to support the work I do.
This Is Fine Volume 1 - Complete
No Strings On Me - 3 Chapters Ahead of Public Release.
Support is welcome but never expected.
GigaVanguard
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Oct 22, 2022
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Look what they did. They gave a perfectly good robot gestalt hivemind anxiety is what they did.
MechPilot?Not!
Making the rounds.
- Joined
- Feb 12, 2025
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- 85
Quite the pressure on this next mission. It is far better to be prepared, but anxiety and whatnot sucks.
He will be happy when neon gets a chance to bust his ass for listening without her.
Anderson's briefing will likely be very grim. Probably bust the S/M duo for not taking it seriously.
He will be happy when neon gets a chance to bust his ass for listening without her.
Anderson's briefing will likely be very grim. Probably bust the S/M duo for not taking it seriously.