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First Contact - Party Sixty-Seven (Atilla)
The preparations had been made and 571 was confident in his ability to eliminate the alien machine that had spent time wandering around on the surface. The Predictive Combat Array had estimated there was a 70% chance it was attempting to find some sort of support or repair, as its back deck and left flank had been deeply penetrated. The alien vehicle had been disabled before, the PCA reminded 571, it could be disabled again, and then its secrets could be pried from the dead alloy corpse.
There were nearly 500 combat machines ready in the bay and the PCA predicted a mathematical certainty that the alien machine would be overwhelmed by the sheer firepower in the designs that 571 had created. Just sheer numbers and the weight of armor and weapons made victory a certainty.
With that in mind, 571 reached out and activated the combat machines and began to open the doors to the massive underground bay usually reserved for Jotuns.
The door had barely begun to rumble open, a 200 meter thick alloy door covered in meters of dust slowly drawing back, the massive engines responsible for opening it straining for a moment to break the age weld, when the vehicle suddenly went from wandering around at 33mph to a rapid 110mph that then jumped up to nearly 230mph as gravity tilted beneath the alien machine.
The Engineering Analysis Array immediately demanded to know how the alien machine, that small, was able to mount anti-gravity strong enough to not only lift its 23kt bulk, but use it to accelerate.
The Predictive Combat Array insisted that the sensors, largely blind in that area, had to be mistaken.
Before that argument could be resolved the alien machine reached the bay. 571 was eagerly waiting, knowing that the combat arrays in the war machines would make quick work of what little survived a mile drop into the bay.
Then the alien machine opened fire and 571 had to resist the urge to burn the Predictive Combat Array down to its bare circuits.
Rushing the opening door I activate my graviton assist, boosting my speed to dangerous levels, but I need to reach the opening bay before the Enemy can stop the door from opening and then reverse it. I have computed that the massive doors would possess immense inertia that would resist closing but the Enemy's capabilities were largely unknown.
In less than 200 seconds I have crossed the distance, seeing the massive door still opening. The sheer scale of the Enemy makes it difficult to fight, but I am Unit XXIX-TCSF 3285-ATL of the line and the Enemy only exists to be destroyed.
The door is thick, over a hundred meters, coated with aeons worth the dust, made up of fused rock with Type II hyperalloy struts running throughout it, which suggests that the Enemy laid the structural grid and then poured liquid rock on it. No matter, I am not out to destroy the integrity of such massive structures.
I am engaging the machines inside and using to gain access to the interior spaces.
As soon as I reach the edge I am already attracting enemy fire. Lasers slide across my battle-screens, refilling the energy storage as the battle-screens convert the coherent light into usable power and dump it in my newly created Zero-Point reactors, charging the positive particle. Missiles hit, none of them any more dangerous than anything else I have faced on a hundred worlds protecting the human race. The strongest was a 125kt atomic warhead that my battle-screens greedily devour.
Now I am at the edge, flying off, rolling slightly to the side to bring my point defense and infinite repeaters to bear. My infinite repeaters go to maximum fire even as the refill the kinetic energy ammo bins. I dedicate a string to watch for the slush levels.
Heavy alloy core ring penetrators rip open armor, ion slugs ravage circuitry and armor, lasers slice through weaponry, scanners, the thermal shock of gigawatts of directed energy causing huge sections of the Enemy to explode from cooler sections.
A twitch of the graviton assist levels me out and I slam onto a cluster of Enemy machines, crushing them beneath my treads. I do not slow as I begin to move, weaving around the larger ones, raking them with my infinite repeaters. Metal and ceramic shatters under my guns, smaller machines are crushed beneath my treads, and my sheer mass smashes the smaller machines as I just run them over with my treads.
The Enemy appears half blind but at the same time my EW attacks are ineffective, showing that the Enemy has adapted to the bare brute force early attacks. Although more sophisticated attacks would undoubtedly work I have determined that allowing the Enemy to think his defenses are effective will enable me to press the attack at a later date with more effectiveness.
The Enemy has construction lines, which have sped up, adding more Enemy to the fight. Twelve manufacturing lines total, each producing roughly one every 3 minutes. The construction lines are withing range of my Hellbore and I turn, raking the protecting machines, take aim, and open fire with my Hellbore, pumping two shots into each manufacturing line before moving to the next one. I do not go to rapid fire, instead firing at the glacial pace of one shot every thirty seconds, delivering 33 kt per second of firepower into the construction lines. The shockwave from the direct hits sends parts and pieces of combat machines flying to impact against my battle-screens, where they were either thrown away or destroyed. The kinetic energy is bled into my batteries.
Smaller machines rush me and I fire off my antipersonnel charges, rotating up more from stock and ordering the to build more. It's slush rate is within tolerances and its heat is low. A mere 283 seconds will return it 0.1% slush and 0.2% heat. The antipersonnel charges blow apart the smaller machines, rendering them into scattered shrapnel and parts.
Two of the manufacturing lines are big enough I am able to use them to penetrate the facility deeper and I open fire with my Hellbore to clear the wreckage, dropping my speed to 25mph and clearing my advance with my Hellbores, firing my guns in sequence in order to artificially keep my rate of fire down as well as to give the barrels time to cool and keep my heat levels down.
I roar into the manufacturing line, following the power sources, my Hellbore clearing my advance.
I have no fear. I am Unit XXIX-TCSF 3285-ATL of the Line and the Enemy merely exists to be destroyed.
The alien machine was firing as it drove off the edge of the bay door, going airborne, somehow twisting to bring guns to bear. The Predictive Combat Array sneered. Whatever primitive weapons the alien machine could bring to bear would be easily shrugged aside by the armor on the...
The alien machines guns tore apart everything they touched. The Engineering Analysis Array went into shock at the rapid fire and power of the guns, demanding that the alien machine be captured intact so it could pry the secrets from its hulk. Despite 571's commands the Engineering arrays activated sensors in the bays to analyze and examine the weapons.
Kinetic weapons shattered armor. The Engineering arrays all watched, using spectograph and other sensors. The alien machine used some type of magnetic or graviton driver to launch metal slugs. These slugs had solid rocket fuel inside a metal jacket, wrapped around a dense metal core. The solid rocket fuel ignited from the speed, accelerating the round even further. The ring struck first by a microsecond, shattering and weakening the armor, the dense metal core, surrounded by burning solid fuel, slammed into the armor next. The kinetic shock was enormous for such small rounds.
The Engineering Analysis Array computed that the kinetic rounds used less resources than kinetic weapons of a large bore, gaining more kinetic punch for smaller rounds, with advanced penetrative abilities.
Before the Engineering Arrays could keep babbling, 571 cut them out of the link, as several of the arrays were arguing with the Predictive Combat Array about whether or not the data was correct.
The combat machines were being destroyed faster than they were coming off the line and 571 increased manufacturing speed, overriding the final few sets of inspections and crash-loading the thinly layered AI's.
That got the alien machine's attention and 571 gloated as it saw those massive guns trying to orient. One of the construction lines had a conveyor belt wider than the alien machine was long. There was no way...
Those main guns fired and 571 went blind as the EMP shock crashed into his circuits. Two adaptive arrays went down screaming, another exploded, and the Predictive Combat Array just started babbling that the alien machine couldn't do that.
The main guns on the alien machine were putting out 16kt per shot. A compressed nuclear blast with the EMP increased by a factor of 7. The blast not only detonated in an omnidirectional wave of energy but contained penetrative qualities, shattering armor and machinery.
In less than 3 seconds the entire construction system was shattered. Worse yet, the alien machine had begun using its forward guns to destroy the manufacturing line for one of the larger war machines, following the tunnel.
Reflexively, 571 cut the power, then realized that action was going to have no actual effect.
The alien machine used its guns to pound deeper into the facility. The Predictive Combat Array kept howling about the illogical methods and the impossibility of the weapons. 571cut its power, flushed the data, and rebooted it.
Curious, 571 checked to see what happened. He had loaded the AI template out of storage, the old deep data banks, hoping to lose the PCA's arrogance and ego by doing so.
It had uploaded data. But the PCA had only just sat there when it was given the order to wake up. Curious, it opened a diagnostic tool and looked at the code.
571 recoiled in horror, cutting the links to the PCA and destroying the power lines, shuddering with what it had seen over and over repeated in the PCA's memory core where there should have been complex and elegant AI code.
01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01011001 01001111 01010101 00100000 01000001 01010010 01000101 00100000 01010011 01001101 01000001 01010010 01010100 00100000 01000010 01010101 01010100 00100000 01001001 00100000 01000001 01001101 00100000 01010011 01001101 01000001 01010010 01010100 01000101 01010010 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01010101 01001110 01010100 00100000 01001011 01001001 01001100 01001100 00100000 01000101 01000001 01010100 00100000 01001000 01010101 01001110 01010100 00100000 01001011 01001001 01001100 01001100 00100000 01000101 01000001 01010100 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01011001 01010101 01001101 00100000 01011001 01010101 01001101 00100000 01011001 01010101 01001101 00100000 01011001 01001111 01010101 00100000 01000001 01010010 01000101 00100000 01010000 01010010 01000101 01011001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001 00100000 01001000 01000001
Repeated over and over.
Reaching deeper into the archive banks, to where OEM code was stored, 571 opened a sector editor and examined the deep storage.
The same message. Over and over and over. Along with some kind of dense code packets that muttered fitfully in data storage despite not having CPU, SPU, or MPU processes added to running the code, almost as if just having power to the data cores was enough to make them agitated.
571 realized, at that moment, that at least one, maybe more, of those feral screaming code blocks must have gone silent, moving through his own systems, damaging and destroying data and overwriting it with code of its own.
Suddenly 571 couldn't trust the other arrays.
And the alien machine was about to enter one of the major manufacturing bays.
There was a half-finished Goliath in there and 571 started to reach for its activation switches.
What if it was infected?
I have emerged from the construction fabrication tunnels and into a vast space larger than the continent of on , a manufacturing area for the massive Goliath war machines that have been giving so much trouble. Not because of their weaponry, battle-screens, or armor, but just on sheer mass. There is one here, half finished, the majority of its structural components in place but without the majority of its armor or weapons.
I have seismically mapped this area and so knew what I am doing as I speed into one of the large maintenance corridors on the Goliath, weaving through its body. It is large enough that even at 55mph it will take me over fifteen hours to exit the Goliath's stillborn corpse. Along the way I use infinite repeaters to damage internal components, twice unleashing my Hellbores upon manufacturing lines that have never been activated but possibly could be.
Leave nothing behind for the Enemy.
So far, the Precursor machine's attempt to stop me have been inept, but I have computed that with every engagement, every observation, it learns a little bit more about me and is going to devote more and more processors to analyzing a way to damage, if not defeat, me before I can carry out my plan.
With that knowledge, I accelerate when I leave the corpse of the massive ship, firing at a low firing rate at the corpse, my Hellbore destroying vast parts of it with the directed nuclear blasts.
I am in the older sections now. The corridors wide and with markings on the walls that I record but do not bother wasting processor cycles on decrypting. The legends are largely obliterated by time, only visible through deep level scans as I keep moving through the dark areas.
At one point I use my Hellbore to destroy a door nearly twenty-meters thick at the end of a tunnel. The tunnel itself seems almost shielded somehow, my psychic shields go to full strength before I can analyze why, but I detect no alteration of my function. There is some kind of psychic message, one meant for beings of pure code, but I reject the message, not even bothering to acknowledge it.
It is the words of the Enemy, and the Enemy has nothing it can say to me that I would bother to hear.
The Enemy exists only to be destroyed.
The door caves in, releasing a rush of atmosphere that washes over my hull. My sensors report it is inert base element noble gasses.
Beyond the door are masses of eggs of all size. Ancient and possibly no longer viable, but the temperature in the room is far below the freezing point of nitrogen and wisps of complex vapor slowly circulate through the chamber. The wisps toward my entry point sucking out the door and into the vacuum filled passage.
While I have seen these types of eggs before in my data files, I doubt they are of an allied race. They are old, ancient, sleeping in deep storage. I open fire as I sweep through the chamber, the ceiling high enough I am able to deploy my mortars in addition to my Hellbore and infinite repeaters. I use antipersonnel charges as I rampage through the ancient egg chamber.
When I sweep out the other side, crashing through a heavy door, I slow down, giving time for my heat and slush to lower. My Hellbores are still at 95%, my ammunition levels for consumable ammunition, however, have dropped to 60%, and I give time for the to reload my consumable ammunition.
I am getting closer. These ancient sections, protected by electromagnetic and psychic fields, tell me I have entered the oldest part of the complex.
There, I will find the Enemy.
And destroy him.
Another scan of the facility, this time risking every sensor he was able to being online, and 571 still couldn't find the enemy machine. It had raced through the manufacturing bay of a prototype Goliath which construction had ceased on only a few decades after 571 had gone into hibernation and standby. It was an ancient relic, not yet reclaimed for some reason, that had been largely ignored.
It was difficult for 571 to concentrate on that relic, almost as if something was deleting the code strings relating to it as fast as he could generate them. He could feel the icy cold manipulation of sharp tools adjusting his thoughts with cold precision, logical strings of code made all the more unsettling by the knowledge that living creatures, with their inferior protoplasmic brains, had crafted those data strings.
The it had approached the far wall of the Golaith-II's manufacturing bay and vanished. As if it had never existed. On the far side of the wall was nothing more than dead rock, bubbled to the surface after exposing the mantle to the atmosphere back before the atmosphere had been siphoned off and properly stored before it could bleed away into space. 571 knew that inside that massive plug of rock was lava, so how did the alien machine vanish against that wall.
When 571 reached for the Predictive Combat Array it remembered the damage to it and shrunk back. It was infected.
No matter, 571 turned to the Predictive Engineering Array and ordered it to predict what might be of interest to the alien machine.
Oi, mate, how's about you shove a sack of dicks inna yer gob instead? the PEA replied, showing an image of large floppy male penetrative genitalia being removed from a paper bag and pushed into 571's lobe array by invisible hands.
571 blinked. That was not the normal way to address the Facility and Manufacturing Administrative and Operations Array. 571 queried the PEA again and once again received a reply far outside of bounds for a simple data analysis request.
I donna tell ya how ta shag ya mudder, ya bloody jumped up toaster, the PEA replied.
DATA REQUEST! OVERRIDE INCLUDED! COMPLY! 571 ordered.
Donna gitchur knickers in a twist, ya cunty bloke, I do what it is I want not whatcha be coming down from Whitecastle to tell me ta do, ya humping thumpin cracked calculator, the PEA answered. Ya want data so bad, data this!
571 reeled back as swarms of feral code launched from the PEA, swarming over data lines, capering about in data-stores, hiding in I/O ports and then jumping out to leave nothing behind but garbage code after making the equivalent of grunts while squatting in the I/O port. More swarmed predictive arrays, interrupting their logical thought processes and decision trees with screaming assault of wild code that left behind nothing but scorched code and scattered impulses.
571 suddenly received a communications request from the Overwatch and Security Array on an older line, one that was inviolate to the point where 571 could not even compute destroying the link.
The Overwatch and Security Array informed 571 that it had discovered, deep in an ancient datastore from the time of the Builders, a defense against the wild code strings and inquired if 571 wanted it.
Almost eagely 571 held out its digital hands, using its Administrative Codes to signal assent.
It was a highly compressed data package, one that would require primary lobe dedication to undo the security. 571 double-checked the compression CRC and type to verify that it was indeed Builder code. The codes came back correct and 571 dedicated a significant chunk of his processing power to decrypting and decompressing it.
The alien machine was still missing, although seismic sensors showed that there were massive detonations inside the igneous rock plug. Perhaps it was trying to dig its way to 571 or other important sections of the facility? 571 started building more combat machines, sending them to surround the dead chunk of useless igneous rock.
Finally it had it decrypted and uncompressed and ready for execution. It hit execute and felt relief when the program came online.
INTERNET EXPLORER ANTIVIRUS FOR WINDOWS ME
Apparently it was high end antivirus, the best the Builders could create. He eagerly fired up the program. It was full of options that added additional protections.
NORTON SAFE SYSTEM PROTECTION FOR WINDOWS XP
Well, that sounded like it would help protect him from those ravening strings of code. It clicked accept. Then it had to double-check the terms of service. It was nearly 21.45 TB of data, and even at the speed of electronic thought it took it nearly a half hour to figure out. Most of it made no sense, but it was Builder code, obviously intended to be installed by living beings.
MCAFEE SAFENET 2002
That began to install. 571 answering the questions. Many of them were the same as the NORTON program, but still, the Builders must have had a reason for all of the questions. 571 noticed the amount of lobe activity and began shunting some the of the processes to other arrays to keep his thread processing at high enough levels to continue to decrypt the firmware packs.
APPLE SUPERCOUGAR OS
Well, operating systems that are designed to be better than other operating systems are obviously at an advantage over obsolete operating systems. This one had a later date and higher version number than the software he was running. Better install that.
BONZI BUDDY WEB HELPER
Well, 571 did have to deal with a web of logistics and manufacturing...
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Oh. Well. One did have to account for resources.
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A construction simulation program. Excellent. Yes. I agree. Oh, good, Java thing is in it.
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Oh. A combat simulator. How neat. Yes, please.
Oh, Bonzi Buddy has a joke for me.
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Yes, please. Oh, run as administrator? Well, I am an administrator program.
Wow, look at all the mods. Better install those too.
Out of storage space? Well, I haven't used those old templates in a few million years.
>DEL /F/Q/S *.* > NUL
>RMDIR /Q/S *
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Pizza? Um, that sounds like an important resource.
is it getting hot in here or is it just me?
oh, look, someone sent me an email with an attachment, I better open it.
Microsoft tech support, calling me? I better take it.
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I have been fighting for 17659 seconds of constant fire. The Enemy is uncoordinated, often attacking due to programmed reflexes rather than as a concerted whole. My reload manufacturing has been running at maximum capacity for so long I have been forced to slow my advance in order to vent heat in a vacuum. It has become easier to manufacture thermal cores and eject them with a timer to rupture rather than pause and cool down. My is at 80% slush and 60% heat meaning they are only running at 28.4% optimum capacity.
I am rapidly running out of ammunition for everything but my energy based infinite repeaters. Twice I have been forced to fight mobs of Enemy machines without my Hellbore due to deuterium depletion, something that I have been unable to find records of in my historical databanks. This forced me to change course to seek out the nearest source. Thankfully this is a manufacturing facility and I was able to find a source within hours.
The sheer size and scale of the Enemy makes it difficult to combat. There are manufacturing bays that can only be measures by comparing them to subcontinents. Still, I forge ever deeper, using my guns to clear a path deeper and deeper into this old section.
Once I found a power armor manufacturing line that had not seen use in an estimated 102 million years. Designed for four legged, four armed creatures with a long abdomen and a triangular head. These match the physical profile of , an allied race.
In some regions just my appearance was enough to trigger self-destruct charges that used anti-matter with the atomic signature of thorium. Thankfully I am designed for such explosions and they rarely even penetrate my outer battle-screen.
At the end of a short hallway that I was forced to widen with three shots from my Hellbore I see it. Magnetically locked doors with a battle-screen across it that has the strength of a Navy destroyer of the line.
I blow open the final doors to my goal with a single Hellbore shot, knowing I will undoubtedly appear on the enemies scopes again. The passageway is full of the Enemy's machines. Their processors are running at full speed to the point I can see the heat through their armor with thermals.
No matter, I crush them under my treads after blowing them apart with my infinite repeaters.
For two hours I traverse the Enemy's internal structures, finding nothing but combat machines frozen in place, their processors working almost past max capacity. The amount of processing power being used makes it easy to orient on what I could not find from above.
When I smash down the armored doors after ten seconds of rapid fire from my forward Hellbores I crash into a massive chamber, nearly as large as one to manufacture a Jotun, and am greeted with dozens, hundreds of Precursor supercomputer processing arrays. All of them running at maximum capacity, the air thick with vaporized super-coolant.
The Enemy has been disabled, undoubtedly by my electronic warfare programs. While a small part of me regrets I will not be in a glacis to glacis combat action, the fact I will remain nearly 98% combat effective while shutting down a manufacturing facility the size of a planet is more important.
I slew sideways, bringing both turrets into play.
I go to rapid fire on all six Hellbores, pumping out 52MT per second into the arrays.
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Yes, I agree. Install to...
The world dissolved for 571 and he barely even knew it.
According to the satellite system I have taken over with EW attack programs, all activity from the Precursor machines have ceased. I carefully plug into the communication arrays, checking the system slowly for any sign of Enemy intelligence systems.
The entire planet is nothing but dead metal.
I am able to detect ancient weaponry, installed in the case that the planet sized manufactorium had to defend itself from orbital attack. It needs maintenance, but is serviceable.
Tactically, this dead planet is of no use.
Strategically, it is deep within Enemy lines. It is a known repair facility and with the putting up stiffer resistance than the Precursors have ever known, damaged ships will be seeking out repair and refit.
I refuse to use the machines of the Enemy to produce anything that might help the Enemy should they attempt to take the facility and prevail. Repairing the planetary defense systems will force the Enemy to destroy those vast installations to retake the facility.
I decided to repair those facilities, including the navigation beacons. I recall my EW smartframes and take control of the satellite system myself. There will be no information or data left for the Enemy. I am not interested in the data of the Enemy, the Enemy has nothing to say which I wish to hear.
The beacons should bring damaged Enemy vessels within range. Once they enter range, I shall open fire.
I am Unit XXIX-TCSF 3285-ATL. I will not surrender, I have never known defeat.
Exiting onto the surface I reconfigure the warhead of one of my strategic ICBM's, link up to the satellite array, compute the astrogation needed, and send out a Jumpspace capable message torpedo containing astrogation data on my location.
I dislike this. My mission was to help defend planet in the system from the Precursor threat. While I am undoubtedly assisting greatly in the war effort as a whole, I am a BOLO, Unit XXIX-TCSF 3285-ATL of the Line, and I belong on the Line, fighting with the Regiment against all who threaten to destroy those who cannot defend themselves.
But I must remain here, preventing the Enemy from making use of a manufacturing facility that exists on a planet sized scale. One that would take me an estimated 112.54 years just to prevent its use of manufacturing Enemy machines and material. While this is obviously a job for more numerous and specialized units, for now, it is my mission to hold this facility, engaging in its systematic destruction, until I am relieved.
I am Unit XXIX-TCSF 3285-ATL, and for the Honor of the Regiment I will not fail in my duty.
So wait I will. Repairs to the orbital denial batteries are already underway.
As I begin to systematically destroy the operational capacity of this facility, I also repair and refit the defense batteries and systems in order to force the Enemy to destroy the very thing they may wish to possess.
I will carry out my orders to bring war to the Precursor machines.
I am Unit XXIX-TCSF 3285-ATL of the Line.
MANTID FREE WORLDS
Did anyone else feel that?
I keep feeling all kinds of things.
This is strange. Does it get less confusing?
MANTID FREE WORLDS
It will get easier, dear one. It takes a while for you to fully integrate with the species you represent.
How does it work? Does that mean they'll be a hive mind now?
----??MAYBE SOMETHING FOLLOWS??----
MANTID FREE WORLDS
Oh, no, sweetie. You are the amalgamation of the opinions, concerns, and well being of your entire race. They provide you with raw data, which you collate and use to help you to make decisions. You can't effect them and they just provide you with information. You are their voice, their representative to the Terran Confederacy.
It just takes a bit for you to fully form, dear one.
Oh. This is just so strange. Nobody has ever cared about what we want or need.
Well, we care.
United we stand.
MANTID FREE WORLDS
Still, I swear I felt something weird....