What concerns me is who thought it was a good idea to carry around that much antimatter....
I mean, what would one even use that for?
Fuel. De Ruyter was equipped with an antimatter/deuterium reaction drive. Kind of important to have some on board.
Antimatter is the quick and dirty way of hitting FTL velocities. Dark matter is considerably more user-friendly.
- Just don't dump 10 cubic metres of seawater into it while the engine's still hot.
FTL must take an utterly, mind-bogglingly, impossibly, stupidly large amount of power to need enough antimatter to blow up a star system....
To be absolutely precise, I awoke in the sickbay. There was a moment of utter confusion. The very last thing that I vaguely remember was having done a lot of things that I'd rather not remember. Cautiously, I worked myself up into a sitting position. JUNO and IANTO appeared by my bedside.
"Good evening, Captain. I trust that you are feeling well rested?" IANTO inquired.
"I feel perfectly splendid, IANTO." I said cautiously. "However, something tells me that I should still be feeling absolutely wretched. What happened?"
JUNO leaned forward, smiling gently. "You have suffered a moderately severe emotional breakdown, Captain. Fortunately, we were able to maintain complete control of the situation, in spite of our most obvious physical disadvantages. You were able to experience full emotional catharsis, totally uninhibited by any need to maintain an outward façade of rigid self-control."
IANTO continued. "We were extremely concerned at first, although it soon became apparent that this behavioural mode had served you well as an emotional safety-valve. To be perfectly candid, Sir, this was an experience that you have resolutely denied yourself over the past few months. There was always a distinct possibility that an adverse outcome may have occurred, although we considered that any psychological benefit obtained far outweighed any potential physical risk."
I was completely mortified. I fell back on the pillow, eyes clenched shut. I groaned with embarrassment.
"You mean you simply sat back and let me go completely barking mad?"
"There's rather more to it, Sir." JUNO added hastily. "However, that is essentially what happened."
"So how in the Hell did I get here? I was completely polluted for most o' the time back there... I could'na even find my way to the privy after a few heavy bevvies, let alone the bloody sickbay."
IANTO and JUNO exchanged awkward glances. Almost guilty-looking, in fact.
"Your MAM brought you here, Sir." IANTO explained.
"You what? My dear mother's buried back on Mars, if you don't mind." I snapped indignantly. "Did you use some kind of holographic Head-ology or something similar to get me to follow you, JUNO?"
"Nothing of the kind, Captain. IANTO is referring to your Mobility Assistance Module."
Under IANTO's command, the mechanism strolled briskly into the sickbay. At first glance, it appeared to be a standard exo-frame myomer interface harness. However, there were some subtle differences that only an engineer could spot. Exo-frames were notoriously mechanistic in their movement, but this one moved with an almost fluid grace. Secondly, it did not possess much in the way of muscular and skeletal amplification systems. Normally, there would be compact but powerful hydraulic rams attached at all major joints, as it was originally designed to provide its wearer with phenomenal lifting and carrying capacity. This model was far more sleek. And apparently, it had been my sole means of getting around over the past few days.
Not that I was actually aware of it at the time, of course.
FTL must take an utterly, mind-bogglingly, impossibly, stupidly large amount of power to need enough antimatter to blow up a star system....
FTL travel is still highly theoretical, but you're essentially right. The energy requirement would be ridiculously huge.
Still theoretically speaking, several tonnes of antimatter would do terrible things to property values in a solar system, assuming a 100 per cent efficient matter-to-energy conversion of the planet. The resultant shock wave and disrupted orbital dynamics would simply finish the job.
What concerns me is who thought it was a good idea to carry around that much antimatter....
I mean, what would one even use that for?
On wether or not it was the main characters fault, it seems to me that, even if you know what decision someone is going to make, it is still their decision. Ultimately, Tomar had nothing stopping him from just leaving. He had been warned, but he chose to ignore that. The fact that Selkirk knew that was what would happen does nothing to change that fact that the one responsible is still the one who ordered the ship to attack.
The thing is, if Selkirk dies, then the Starfish will be used and millions, probably billions or trillions of animals will die.
"Aye, I like that. It's a reet canny piece of work. And the two of ye made this from scratch, ye say?"
"Yes, Captain. We were unable to provide any physical assistance while you were... incapacitated. JUNO and I found it necessary to apply a creative approach to your particular problem. Using the basic myomer frame and harness fabrication template, we modified the design with technology mostly derived from your emotional recreation interface device -"
"Och, don't tell me you had to scavenge vital parts out of poor Inflatable Ingrid? Frankly, I'm shocked, Sir. Completely shocked and horrified. She was my absolute favourite." I said half-jokingly.
IANTO shook his head emphatically. "No, Captain. We merely duplicated 'her' servo systems and articulation mechanisms to suit the specific requirements of your mobility device. I assure you that the human interface device in question remains in perfect working order."
JUNO chimed in. "It was absolutely essential that your body obtained some physical exercise, even though you were in a medically-induced coma at the time."
I swung my legs out of bed and rose rather unsteadily. The exo-frame thoughtfully handed me my dressing gown. I was about to thank it and stopped halfway, noticing an impish grin on IANTO's face.
"Oh, aye. I can see where that might cause further medical problems. Bed-sores, atrophy of musculature, fluid on the lungs and such." I said casually, cinching up the gown's belt.
JUNO pushed her face close to mine and fixed me with a stony glare. "Not only that, Captain. Your quarters were left in a truly dreadful condition. We simply decided that it would be an extremely therapeutic experience for you to clean up your own bloody mess... With all due respect, Sir."
"Fair enough." I said ruefully. It's been quite a while since I earned a proper telling-off.
I have a vague memory of being caught short during my 'lost three days'. Did I really pish in one of the corners, or was it one of the planters? The sink? Wastebasket? Desk drawer? Oh, nooooooo...
Och, ye dirty wee nyaff.
Still, all of that sordid business was water under the bridge now. I desperately needed something substantial to eat, having been on an exclusively liquid diet (in one form or another) for the past week. JUNO, IANTO and I strolled cheerfully down the corridor and headed towards the galley, with an unoccupied exo-frame trotting faithfully along behind us. I'll need to review today's base surveillance footage later on. I want a framed picture of that particular scene. It was bonkers.
After dining, I took a long, hot shower. As I dressed, I reflected upon what JUNO meant about me 'cleaning up my own mess'. I looked around and confirmed that my quarters were absolutely spotless. Yes, I do recall making an unholy mess of this room, much to my eternal shame. What was JUNO on about? Was she being philosophical or psychological this time? I was completely baffled.
And then, the realisation suddenly hit me.
My MAM made me clean up my bedroom. I had absolutely no say in the matter.
It was time to see what remained of the planet following De Ruyter's savage attack. Unsurprisingly, all surveillance drones in this sector had been utterly destroyed, so it was necessary to fabricate another squadron. I could have visited each impact site personally, but something told me that my presence would be exceedingly unwelcome among Manannán's surviving sentient population.
The scene was depressingly familiar, right across the board. I have seen entire reef communities erased from existence without leaving a trace. The impact shockwaves alone would have killed millions of creatures, fatally rupturing internal organs in larger organisms and instantly obliterating those of a more fragile constitution. I flew my drones through an ocean littered with the floating corpses of Reefbacks, Gasopods, Stalkers, Bone Sharks, Sand Sharks and Reapers. The destruction seemed almost absolute.
However, tiny pockets of life had miraculously survived. Tomar's boundless rage had spared a small percentage of creatures in some areas, and the ocean was now saturated with a rich soup of organic nutrients. Life would find a way once more. Of my sub-surface installations, only The Broch still remained intact. The area around Reef Base was nothing more than a cratered, sterile wasteland. Of the base itself, nothing remained at all. The Jelly Shroom cave had completely collapsed under De Ruyter's ferocious bombardment, leaving a Cyclopean central crater in the devastated sea floor. Given sufficient time, this area would recover most of its former diversity of life, although the secret world of the Crabsnakes was sadly lost forever.
That was a colossal tragedy in itself.
Curiously, what I saw on that day entirely failed to feed my depression. In fact, I felt a growing sense of renewed purpose and hope quicken inside me. The hand of Death had touched almost everything down here, yet life still remained. Diminished almost to the brink of extinction, yet still firmly resolute in its purpose and miraculously unbroken. I felt particularly hopeful, since it was highly unlikely that any further human interference would take place on Manannán for some time, at least. If the Torgaljin colony fleet was waiting for Tomar's report on current planetary conditions before proceeding, there was a very strong possibility that this fleet wouldn't arrive at all. Hopefully, I might even be rescued soon, long before this becomes a problem.
And yet, the burning question remained.
What was it about this planet that brought out the very worst in human nature?
It was capable of sustaining human life. It had all of the requisite resources to ensure its prosperity.
These conditions were not unique. There was an overabundance of liquid water, but that was all.
Was it surely that simple? The galaxy was swarming with worlds that could easily match Manannán in terms of its physical properties, resources and considerable potential as a human colony. That may have been cause enough to send another wave of the human Diaspora to Manannán, although there were no readily apparent reasons to justify the insane actions of someone such as Tomar.
What secret could this planet possibly hold that made it worth killing and dying for?
I had to find out. Far too many had died needlessly here for that question to be swept lightly aside.
In all good conscience, I could never rest easily until I knew this secret with absolute certainty.
The scene was depressingly familiar, right across the board. I have seen entire reef communities erased from existence without leaving a trace. The impact shockwaves alone would have killed millions of creatures, fatally rupturing internal organs in larger organisms and instantly obliterating those of a more fragile constitution. I flew my drones through an ocean littered with the floating corpses of Reefbacks, Gasopods, Stalkers, Bone Sharks, Sand Sharks and Reapers. The destruction seemed almost absolute.
Bugzapper,i would love for a confrontation between alexander and the sea emperor.Maybe it starts with the warpers actively stalking him and eventually,attacking him because in their eyes,he basically commited genocide x10
Maybe have him receive the agent signals?
E.g"Target located/:observe/switch mode engaged"
And then switching to something more aggresive like
Before the warpers actually attack his base or him.You could have one warp in,then after alexander escapes or defeats him,several more warp in then end the chapter.
Anyways,an excellent story and i look forward another chapter.
My eyes ached. I had been studying the material obtained from recovered PDA logs and AI transcripts for more than nine hours, hungrily searching for something out of the ordinary. The Magellan logs were particularly uninformative for the most part, presumably because they already had something to hide. No official acknowledgement had been made of the circumstances surrounding the Warper's death, and Joubert's incomplete autopsy report merely treated the incident as another unfortunate encounter with the local wildlife.
Paal Torgaljin's logs were even less enlightening. However, this didn't come as much of a surprise. It's a poor sort of corporate CEO who blurts out potentially devastating company secrets in clear text or voice recordings. Then there was that encrypted data block still lurking in IANTO's memory. I conjured that would be the most likely place to start digging. I had JUNO and IANTO working jointly on the analysis of a particularly cryptic string of words that had appeared as a text message. Although some of the words looked vaguely foreign in origin, none of them actually made sense in any known Terran language. My next thought was that this message had been encoded using a specially designed Torgaljin cipher, although my AIs soon put that idea to rest.
The search had hit a major brick wall.
"Some of these words must mean something." I muttered in exasperation. "There's a couple of obviously dodgy ones like 'gertrupop' and 'trankeboop' that might exist in some obscure regional variant of Afrikaans, but the rest actually look like genuine foreign words. Sort of, anyway. This sentence can't be entirely composed of gibberish, surely... You'll probably need to broaden your search parameters to include fictional languages such as Nadsat and StreetSpeak. Might as well try searching through the Klingon, Pak'ma'ra, Noldorin and Goa'uld lexicons while you're at it."
"Is there any language that you might consider particularly significant, Captain?" JUNO inquired.
"I honestly haven't a clue, JUNO. Belters speak a curious lingo that borrows from every tongue under the sun. Look, here's one that sounds a bit familiar... I'm pretty sure that I saw this word in a book I read as a kid. It was called Watership Down. It was a story all about a tribe of talking rabbits. They even had their own specific language called 'Lapine'. It wasn't a bad yarn, either. Not the sort of soppy stuff you'd normally expect from a story about talking rabbits. Ah, yes. The spelling they've used here is slightly different, I think."
"This spelling discrepancy could be explained by semiotic drift, Captain. Many words in the English language have changed their spelling and meaning over a period of time. I have located the text of that book in my files. What is the specific word that you recognize?" JUNO prompted.
"It meant 'the food of Princes', something that was considered a delicacy among rabbits... 'Flayrah'."
Suddenly, IANTO interrupted. "Code word 'FLAYRA' accepted. Decryption sequence complete."
JUNO and I exchanged puzzled looks.
"What just happened, IANTO?" I asked warily. "Are we about to get blown up again?"
"You have provided the code word required to gain access to my encrypted files, Captain."
I was gobsmacked. "Bloody hell. Talk about hiding something in plain sight... I got myself all wound up thinking that the entire sentence was a coded message, only to discover its sole purpose was to mask a single, naked code word. That's some seriously Byzantine logic at work."
"An interesting subterfuge. To anyone curious enough to examine it closely, that sentence would appear to have been encoded using a highly unorthodox keyless substitution cipher. In fact, it defies any attempts at decryption simply by virtue of being nothing more than a string of nonsense words. Wheels within wheels, so to speak." JUNO observed.
"I'll put this one down to pure serendipity. It had us well stumped, in spite of our innate cleverness and snappy dress sense. IANTO, could you give me an quick overview of the file's contents, please?"
IANTO took control of the monitor. "As you can see, the file is comparatively small. Only one point five gigabytes in total. Most of the information contained here relates to the Torgaljin colonization plan for Manannán, being primarily concerned with logistics, resource requirements, cost projections and project management activities. However, there are a number of smaller entries of far more immediate interest. Personal hyperwave communications between Paal Torgaljin and senior corporate executives, research reports and so forth. I have identified all entries of relevance and collated them into a concise summary for your convenience, Sir."
Obviously, IANTO had a slightly different interpretation of the word 'concise'. Six hundred pages.
I was reluctant to ask IANTO to condense the information into a single page of bullet points. The last time this request was made, I had to use a quantum microprobe to read a technical report one joker had ion-milled into the head of a pin.
Lesson learned: No-one enjoys writing executive summaries.
It was pretty heavy reading, to say the least. Most of the Torgaljin field research appeared to be concerned with 'bio-mimetic engineering'. From what I could gather, they were working on a means of extracting alien DNA and fusing it with human DNA to confer various favourable genetic attributes such as increased strength, faster reaction times, mimetic body camouflage and dermal armour. The implications were staggering. If the Torgaljin were able to settle here without Terra's knowledge, they would have open licence to tinker with their genetic makeup, effectively remodelling themselves into a race of super-soldiers.
Give them a few centuries of uninterrupted development time, allow Torgaljin Corporation to quietly consolidate its position on Manannán entirely free from Terran Government influence, and they would constitute a serious threat to anyone who opposed them. In anyone's book, access to this level of technology would provide them with a decent head-start on forging a powerful stellar empire entirely from scratch.
That wasn't the worst of it. Their DNA transfusion technology could also be applied to construction materials, equipment and cybernetic systems. I remember having a particularly good laugh at their efforts with the Plumb Tree, although now that joke had acquired distinctly ominous overtones.
Rather than start tearing out my hair in sheer terror, I continued to read quite calmly. There was one tiny detail that prevented me from flying into a blind, headless-chicken panic.
I was still beavering away at it as the sun rose. I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder.
Gasping in shock, I whirled around to see MAM standing patiently behind my chair.
JUNO appeared. "Captain, you are pushing yourself too hard again. Please retire to your quarters."
I sighed wearily. "Aye, you're absolutely right. There's nothing here that can't wait until the morrow. I'll be bedding myself down presently, although I might as well have some breakfast before I turn in."
JUNO nodded. "Of course. I shall prepare it for you. What would you prefer to eat?"
"Something fairly light for now, JUNO. Two fried eggs on toast and a mug of tea, if you don't mind."
"Certainly, Captain. Your meal will be ready upon your arrival in the galley."
"Thank you, JUNO." I said gratefully. She was absolutely right. I could feel that woozy, unreal sensation that accompanies sleep deprivation starting to sneak in.
At this rate, I'd be lucky to make it through the meal without face-planting in my plate of fried googies.
I awoke sometime in the late afternoon, feeling reasonably refreshed once more. My circadian rhythms were slipping out of kilter again, and I would have to turn in sometime later this evening to retain some rough approximation of proper time-sense. It was easy enough to accommodate Manannán's nine point five-year orbital period, mainly because one day slipped so easily into the next. There's no real shock to the system with the passing of a 'year' here, either. The seasons were so long and drawn out that there were no apparent transitions to be seen. Individual days on the other hand, were a different matter. For much of my life, a 24-hour day was always the accepted norm. Even aboard Aurora, the days were divided into eight-hour shifts. Manannán's 16-hour days always left one feeling cheated. It seemed that there was never enough time to accomplish anything of significance.
The following morning, I boarded Ulysses and headed out to the location where Reef Base once stood. It broke my heart to see such complete devastation first-hand. Still, this was the area that I had finally selected as the site for the De Ruyter monument. In a way, it was fitting that I finally laid some of my ghosts to rest here, of all places.
"I'll be outside for some time, JUNO. There are final duties to attend to. You and IANTO may join me, if you wish. Please keep me informed of any proximity alerts within a one hundred metre radius, biological or otherwise."
The monument was a simple broad cairn, standing 10 metres high. After attaching a laser-etched commemorative plate, I floated facing the monument for some unknown length of time, silently contemplating all of the events that had brought me to this moment. JUNO and IANTO's holographic projections hovered in mid-water, respectfully standing vigil at my side.
To the memory of the crew of Torgaljin Commercial Frigate,
'De Ruyter', CV-3372.
Two hundred souls set sail on The Voyage Eternal. Day 113, 2172 C.E, UTC Sol III.
The return trip to The Broch was made in absolute silence. I was piloting Ulysses alone. Something had been taken from me today, and I wasn't entirely certain what it was. It was a curious sensation. Neither hot or cold, light or dark. Some indefinable, unknowable quantity had simply left the room, never to return. Five minutes out from dock, I cut Ulysses' power and sat alone in the dark.
I cried.
There was no single discrete reason I could find to explain these tears. It was an expression of generalised grief centred on the Universe itself. Simply too much of Everything, served all at once.
It took me a while to regain my composure. I walked aft to the heads, entered the compartment and closed the door. After leaning against the hand-basin for a full five minutes, I ran the tap and sluiced ice-cold water over my face. Towelling off, I caught sight of my own face in the mirror.
Its expression could only be described as 'tired'. Not physically tired, but weary of the whole game.
We are all merely pieces to be shunted around some cosmic game board. Some are taken, some are lost needlessly, some are sacrificed according to an inscrutable plan, yet some still remain when the game is over. Tomar was right, in his own calculating way. This will always be the way of things.
The board has been scattered in a fit of infantile rage, although The Pawn remains standing.
A minor miracle.
My mind was much clearer now.
I desperately needed to lift my spirits, and I could think of no better way than a good, old-fashioned Scottish ceilidh. Ostensibly, it would be a wake for all who had fallen in the cause of colonising this planet, but it was also a wake for the gravely wounded planet itself. Although I'm no believer in things of a magical nature, I was certain that giving some positive energy back to the world would do no harm. I'll have to explain this business to JUNO and IANTO first. After all, they're invited too.
"Ulysses holding station at west docking portal, requesting entry."
"Welcome home, Captain. You are cleared to proceed." JUNO said.
To their credit, both JUNO and IANTO were delighted by the idea. I explained that the ceilidh was a communal celebration, first and foremost. It was more a musical evening than anything, although it might also feature country dancing and bardic recitations. Any misgivings they may have had regarding the presence of alcohol were simply waved away. After that last episode, I had no intention of waking up in sickbay a week later. I might have a wee nippie or two to relax my vocal cords, but I was definitely staying off the heavy bevvies tonight. I didn't want to miss a single thing.
I showered and dressed, then proceeded to the Rec Room. MAM had obviously been pressed into service as tonight's waiter, as there was a side table already laid out with a large selection of choice nibbles and delicious-looking finger food. The most surprising addition to the room was another table with four seats. I scratched my head for quite a while over that one, but sat down regardless.
It wasn't long before JUNO and IANTO walked into the room. I noticed the difference immediately.
They were no longer holograms. They had fashioned lifelike android bodies for themselves.
"Good evening, Captain." JUNO said, "We wanted to make this evening particularly special for you."
IANTO smiled, pulling back JUNO's chair so that she could be seated. An archaic but gallant gesture, harking back to a far simpler time. "We felt that a physical presence would allow us to assist you more directly in future. Although it may seem that we have exceeded our mandate in reaching this decision without your permission, please be assured that we only have your best interests in mind."
"No permission was necessary, IANTO. In fact, I'm overjoyed that you have taken this step yourselves. I was considering asking your permission to construct physical bodies that you could use whenever the situation requires more than a single pair of hands. That's absolutely brilliant!"
"On behalf of us all, thank you, Captain. Our most recent crew member will be along shortly. He has been preparing something special for your entertainment." JUNO added, smiling knowingly.
I barely had time to register my complete astonishment. Another android marched into the Rec Room wearing full Highland piper's dress regalia. He saluted briskly, and then commenced playing. The tune was a very old one, vaguely recognized from my early youth. It was a stirring piece, yet somehow sad and wistful. I dredged deeper in my memories until its name finally came to me.
'Highland Cathedral'.
At the end of the piece, I stood and saluted the piper. "That was magnificent. What is your name?"
"I do not have an actual name, Captain. You already know me as MAM. That is my designation."
"Oh, no. You deserve a proper name. You're one of the crew now."
"Thank you, Captain. I will respond to whatever name you may decide upon." The android replied.
I thought for a minute, and one name leapt right out at me. Digby. Captain Dan Dare's batman.
"Your new designation... Sorry, your name is 'Digby'." I said, reaching out and shaking his hand.
There was a brief moment of silence as the android consulted its data banks.
"Reference source found. New designation is accepted." DIGBY assumed a more humanistic manner once more, and I was able to examine his face in detail. Again, the AIs had created a facial design and body type that appeared quite human, without crossing that fine line that set them apart as being obviously artificial. DIGBY was solidly built, although not excessively muscular. His broad, honest face seemed to lack animation at the moment, although there was a certain calm dignity about it.
All up, he seemed like a pretty decent chap.
"Thank you DIGBY, and welcome aboard. Please be seated." I motioned toward the empty seat.
"Thank you, Captain." DIGBY said.
I tapped my glass lightly with a knife, summoning their attention. "Let the festivities commence!"
I rose from my seat and walked around to the front of the table. All three were watching attentively.
"Welcome to our ceilidh, one and all. Seeing as this is your first time, I'll explain what's going on. Tonight, we'll be performing our 'party pieces' for the entertainment of other guests, who will in turn regale us with their own performances. It's a traditional Scottish past-time, also enjoyed by other Gaelic folk throughout the galaxy. It's basically a little piece of home. There are no real rules governing what anyone performs. Your choice of performance material is entirely at your personal discretion. It can be traditional or modern, serious or funny. The sole objective is simply to enjoy oneself. It's the closest thing that Scots have to karaoke. Just take a look at my music files, mute the vocal tracks and supply your own vocals. I'll kick things off, although it's going to be mighty hard to top DIGBY's performance. I'm definitely up against some stiff competition tonight."
I started with 'Forever Autumn'. Something bittersweet at first, mainly because recent events were still too raw and painful to simply let slip. JUNO followed with 'Orinoco Flow'; a flawless recreation of Enya, with a playful touch of Kate Bush thrown in for good measure. IANTO's first piece was 'The Highwayman', rendered in four distinct vocal styles. I started to sweat nervously.
There's no way known I can match this level of performance.
DIGBY stepped forward once more, and I had that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. He squared up theatrically, then launched into a hilariously overblown recitation of 'The Ghoulie of Kirk Douglas'. My jaw sagged. I slumped helplessly over the table. Tears ran down my face, and my sides ached with truly uncontrollable laughter.
As the Irish would say, we got a fine craic going on. It felt like I had a proper bunch of mates again.
We wound up the ceilidh at one a.m. Sang 'Auld Lang Syne', as was right and proper on such occasions. We bade each other goodnight, and then I turned in for a peaceful night's sleep.
The night was a glorious success. A fistful of diamonds couldn't buy an experience like that.
Over breakfast the following morning, I outlined my plans to the crew.
"First off the bat, we're going to need to rebuild our base facilities. There will be an increased number of sites to accommodate the hatcheries and plantations we'll need for the main operation. We've got a huge salvage job ahead of us, and I'm going to need all hands at the pump."
IANTO appeared to consider my words carefully before replying. "Captain, I would strongly advise proceeding with caution. Entire ecosystems have been destroyed, and it will not be a simple matter of merely refilling the devastated areas with a random assortment of farmed organisms. There are many discrete environmental factors to consider before embarking upon a large-scale rehabilitation program such as the one you propose. With all due respect, Sir."
"Exactly, IANTO. That's why I'm putting you in charge of evaluating the effected zones and designing tailored ecologies closely matching the originals in terms of diversity, population density and terrain coverage. We'll also need to launch monitoring satellites to keep track of our progress. I don't know how that's going to sit with the Warpers, but we can at least try to get a few birds in the air."
I forked in the last mouthful of scrambled egg and toast, chewed on it and continued.
"JUNO is responsible for all base operations. She will assist in any field operations as required, as will you all." I took my last swig of tea. "DIGBY, you're with me, mate. Okay troops, let's crack on."
Shortly before we headed down to board Ulysses, a thought occurred to me.
"Just a quick question... Are your new bodies waterproof? This could be a slight problem."
JUNO replied. "Absolutely, Captain. Our synthetic dermal sheathing is pressure-rated to 2,500 metres. This was a primary consideration during the initial design phase. We will not require breathing mix cylinders, of course. This may cause you some small degree of visual dissonance at first, although we will be wearing helmets and suits to facilitate communications."
I nodded. "Yes, it would be a mite disconcerting to have you folks swimming around without diving gear, but I suppose I'd eventually get used to it. Thank you for your concern, though."
"Think nothing of it, Captain." IANTO said. "We have also redesigned certain items of your underwater equipment to make them more efficient and significantly increase their defensive capabilities. All suit types are now equipped with holographic emitters, enabling face-to-face communications, 3D tactical displays and adaptive camouflage. The revised suits are also equipped with an integral electrical defence field, although its capacitor recycle time still requires some fine tuning. I shall demonstrate these functions for you later, if you wish."
I was highly impressed. "Wa-hey, that's utterly brilliant! You've certainly been a busy little bunch of Elves while my lights were out, haven't you? That deserves a gold Elephant Stamp, at the very least."
To my delight, the new suit fit like a glove. There wasn't even that annoying snuggie around my fork any more. It was a distinct pleasure to wear this suit. DIGBY and I were collecting samples from one of the outlying arms of the safe shallows. We had to be very careful here, as it bordered on one of the Grassy Plateau biomes. That meant lots of Biters. I wasn't particularly worried, but we would have to collect a few live specimens of those nasty little sods as well. I tried to persuade IANTO that Manannán could surely do without quite as many Biters as before, but he was adamant. The Biters also get to make a grand come-back. That also meant reintroducing Bleeders and Crashes, as well.
Gorram it.
It was gruelling work, but we managed to swing along at a pretty decent pace. A central collection point had been established for the samples, and every so often, an automated drone would come whizzing towards us to pick up what we had collected so far. Once the sample transfer module was fully loaded, the bulk cargo freighter would head over to IANTO for implantation in either a hatchery dome or propagation trays. This whole business had the air of a community garden's working bee.
To pass the time more pleasantly, I chatted with DIGBY. Being a newly-minted AI, he was full of wonder and inquiry. To anyone else, he might seem like a bit of a 'thickie'. I saw him in a considerably different light. His heuristic intelligence was fully formed and appeared to be operating normally, although his cup was effectively empty. I was only too happy to start filling it.
"Forgive me for asking, Captain." DIGBY said hesitantly, "I am aware that you held a service to commemorate the De Ruyter's crew yesterday. Although these people were attempting to kill you, you actively tried to prevent their destruction. You experienced significant emotional distress to the point of actually grieving their deaths. I cannot entirely comprehend why you would do that, Captain."
"Aye, I gave water to the dead." I admitted. "It struck me that some good folk died alongside the bad when De Ruyter went down. Far too many lives have been needlessly lost in the name of this planet, and there was no way I could prevent it from happening again. Even if they came in peace, the outcome could well have been the same. Who else would mourn their passing but me?"
"I believe that I understand more clearly now, Captain." DIGBY said gently. "You are a truly remarkable man, if you don't mind me saying so. It will be a privilege to serve at your side."
"Thank you DIGBY. Mind you, I don't always get it right, although I'm always willing to hear what you, JUNO or IANTO might have to say. None of you have steered me wrong yet. Bear in mind, a captain's only as good as the crew under his or her command. You may rest assured that you have joined an excellent and highly capable crew.
No captain worth his salt could ask for better."
The following morning, our operation was effectively locked down. Another hurricane was brewing, and this one looked like an absolute stinker. Topside winds were already gusting at Beaufort 7 and the worsening sea state made all shallow water work well nigh impossible. I futtered idly around The Broch for a while, briefly considered watching a few old films to pass the time, but eventually gave that up as a stale idea. I wanted to do something with my hands. Eventually, JUNO noticed me pacing around like a caged lion and gently suggested that I try something more creative than usual.
Somewhat reluctantly, I sat down at my workstation and activated a graphics program. I started doodling on the tablet. Purely random stuff at first, including one that looked like a first-draft comic strip of life in the base. I filed the half-completed image for a later rework, then started on another. This one was starting to develop into a hieroglyphic frieze, a sort of 'Bayeux Tapestry meets Tutankhamen' kind of deal. All false modesty aside, it was starting to look pretty damned good.
I saved the original drawing and started on a fresh panel. This time, I was telling the story of how I came to be stranded on Manannán. After years of using holographic CAD systems, the stylus and tablet felt almost primitive. It didn't matter. I was enjoying myself immensely. Occasionally, I'd call one of the AIs over as they passed by, seeking their opinion on what I had done so far. Their feedback was valuable, as it was rather tricky to create a logical story of this complexity without using a huge amount of words. I also incorporated a sort of 'Rosetta Stone' panel right at the beginning, converting the Anglic alphabet into binary code, although I wasn't entirely certain that any particular alien species would be able to decipher it. Couldn't hurt to leave it in, I guess.
The object of the exercise was simply to tell our story, warts and all. There was a brief twinge of concern when I considered the possibility that this work might be poorly interpreted. It wouldn't do to have an alien race treat a simple story as some kind of ancient holy relic; particularly one that might wage pointless bloody wars over piddling minutiae of precisely how each image should be interpreted. That would make a rather poor statement for posterity. Best to make the story's message completely clear and entirely unequivocal.
It was my plan to decorate the base of the Aurora monument with this story. As soon as we had the regeneration project back on track, I would spend some of my spare time transferring this artwork to the obelisk's nanocrete plinth. Holographic storage media was supposed to remain incorruptible for several centuries. I was planning on this little yarn sticking around for several millennia. At least.
"I am Ozymandias, king of kings. Look upon my works ye mighty, and despair."
It was three days before that hurricane burned itself out. I fancy its duration and intensity might have had something to do with some damned fool riddling the planet with kinetic energy weapons, blasting gigatonnes of extra water vapour into the atmosphere. Tomar's fond parting gesture to us. We were safe enough in The Broch, although there wasn't much to profitably occupy our time down here. I introduced the AIs to the joys of binge-watching early 21st. Century films and TV series, along with an oddball cable program called 'Mystery Science Theatre 3000', or 'MST3K', as it was known to its original fans. Not entirely certain how JUNO and IANTO honestly felt about it, although DIGBY took to the series like a duck to water. I'm really starting to like that guy.
The artwork for the frieze was complete. I had devised a method that allowed me to fuse inlays of various metals to the laser-etched nanocrete, creating some rather effective coloured highlights for selected images in the series. This method had been used sparingly during the construction of the memorial obelisk, although I found myself daunted by the prospect of hand-colouring over 150 separate panels. According to my calculations, they would cover about 75 per cent of the monument's plinth. Secretly, I was hoping that no more thrilling heroics would take place anytime soon. We fine artistes are a sensitive, shy and retiring lot. Stop laughing. I'm being serious now.
What I actually needed was a project where I could really throw the spanners about. The ExoSuit was as good a place as any to start, so I took a long, hard look at its design specs. Naturally, I tut-tutted scornfully, frowned severely and made massive changes to its basic design parameters.
"Only 500 metres? Och, ye cannae be serious. It's 2,500 minimum, or I might as well be diving in me skiddies. Let me see... There was something about turtles in that hidden Torgaljin log. Hmmm, yes. Chelonian hull plating, DNA transfuser bio-mimetic technology hull upgrade. Aye, that's a bit more like it!"
It was too late. I had the bit firmly between my teeth by now. Next came the aloxide outer hull sheathing for increased temperature resistance. I would have preferred adding a solid layer of Zirconium-14 alloy plating under the aloxide, purely on the off-chance that I happened to be mucking around near any open magma vents. However, we cut our coat according to the cloth we're given. No Zirconium-14.
Next, that mucking great drill-bit has to go, right from the start. You've just gained twice your lifting capacity in one shot.
Both arms now terminate in two streamlined turrets, each capable of housing several useful tools at once. Dual heavy repulsion cannons for serious defence, one laser cutter, one habitat builder, one welder, two graviton lifter beams and two precision manipulator claws. Toss in a Terraformer if you like. The suit also has its own heavy-duty EDF to discourage any uncomfortably close encounters.
That's what I consider a balanced basic load-out.
The ExoSuit has to be nuclear powered. No two ways about it. Unless you want to be toting around enough power cells to run an unmodified Gen I Cyclops, you had best embrace the miracle of safe, controlled fission. If you enjoy hopping out at 2000 metres-plus to swap out the copper-tops, be my guest. You have about five minutes of life support max when the bunny finally dies. I'm going with The Glow. Enhanced thrusters, emergency ascent system and decent-sized integral storage lockers?
Yes, please.
This is how you design a Gen II ExoSuit. Accept no substitutes.
This story is great and i like the development but could you turn down the Scottish a bit?.Its a bit annoying that at the start,Alexander was speaking English without the Scottish tone added in.Most of the time he speaks normally but why does he suddenly have to go
"Och,ye cannae be serious" and "Och,you dirty wee nyaff"
I presume that's how some Scottish people speak but i don't think going full Scottish helps the story in any way other than making me re-read the sentence and adding in a bit of "AYE I'M SCOTTISH LOOK AT HOW I SPEAK YE?".Him saying "Aye" is pretty good but the above sentence goes a bit overboard with the Scottish thing.
Also,when are Warpers going to join the story and when is the Sea Emperor thing starting?No Mesmers,Shocker,Crabsquid,Warper or Sea Treader encounters yet.They also haven't gone down to the Jellyshroom abandoned base.There is a lot of potential in this story that you have substituted with developing Alexander's character a little bit too much.Maybe focus on these things?Also about the AI,i think you might be adding in a bit too much of them.IANTO and JUNO are enough to make a compelling cast with them interacting with creatures,the environment and Alexander.I don't think adding DIGBY and god knows how many more AI is going to help other than making the story convoluted with a bunch of characters.
I guess the point i'm trying to make is that you should stop developing Alexander,JUNO and IANTO's character so much and focus on the Subnautica part instead,as the story has been extremely slow after De Ruyter gets downed.You could develop DIGBY's character with showing how he reacts to the creatures and enviroments or behaviours of certain characters instead of stopping the story for a feast.
If you think this post is hating or my tone is aggressive and i have offended you,i apologize.This was meant to be constructive criticism.
Edit: changed Irish to Scottish.Sorry if i offended anybody by mixing up the two
@DefectiveDelfin - it's scottish. If he was lapsing into Irish it's be all "ter be suire, tis a fyne daiy topside", and "bloddy feckers" though I'll admit the languages share the same roots.
Also - I'm pretty sure it comes out when he's stressed or when he wants to play at something.....
@DefectiveDelfin - it's scottish. If he was lapsing into Irish it's be all "ter be suire, tis a fyne daiy topside", and "bloddy feckers" though I'll admit the languages share the same roots.
Also - I'm pretty sure it comes out when he's stressed or when he wants to play at something.....
@rhys_elcins thanks,i'm going to edit it.Although yeah its okay for him to do it but personally,i find it extremely annoying when he forms sentences that are 90% Scottish lingo, because it's a bit hard to understand.(E.g what is Nyaff?)
I find it amusing that some people consider anything posted in a public forum fair game for 'constructive criticism'.
Allow me to address your manifold concerns, DefectiveDelfin.
Alexander Selkirk is a Martian. Born of, and raised by Scottish parents who emigrated to Mars. Not even remotely Irish.
He can speak clear and fluent Anglic (Normal English) whenever the situation demands. Whenever he lapses into Full-Blown Caledonian, there's usually a fairly good reason for it... Whenever he's excited, delighted or just plain pissed-off, usually.
Warpers have already joined the story. Likewise, other Subnautica creatures will be mentioned as Selkirk happens to encounter them. There are still areas on the planet that he has not visited yet. Blood Kelp and Koosh Zone spring immediately to mind.
It's not entirely his fault that the creatures in question failed to swim past his mask or Cyclops observation dome.
He has most certainly visited the Jelly Shroom Cave. I can attest to that.
The AIs remain. They still have a major role to play. This is non-negotiable.
All characters evolve over the span of a story. It's a cunning trick foisted on an unsuspecting public by all unscrupulous writers.
'Stopping the story'? - The AIs walked in with new android bodies and participated in an event that helped Selkirk deal with the fact his actions contributed to the death of 200 Torgalijin operatives.
How is that 'stopping the story'? You have to ease up on the throttle occasionally. Non-stop action can get old. Fast.
Tell you what... If you'd care to go back and actually READ the story, I might be inclined to hear you out.
It's hard enough trying to write the damn thing and keep people vaguely interested in what's going on, without having to explain some of its more unfamiliar aspects and lingo every second page. I recommend consulting either Google or Urban Dictionary.
Not at all helpful that the game itself is still being swapped and changed around as I'm writing it, either.
Imagine if J.R.R Tolkien tried writing LOTR 'on the fly', like I'm trying to do here.
Every bloody post would be along the lines of "Are we in Mordor yet?" "When are the Orcs going to come in?" "I want to see Frodo use The Ring more!" etc, etc.
Once again. Read the story before commenting.
I hate to slap folks down like this, but I can't abide a lack of basic comprehension of narrative masquerading as 'constructive criticism'. Guess I drew the short straw.
Everyone else... Things will start to pop again in fairly short order. (Hint: 'ExoSuit') Stay tuned.
Personally i love how we've seen Selkirk's personality develop as well as JUNO's. Im very fond of AIs and how they would come to interract with us if they were to be a part of our everyday life
this fascination of me of AIs began a few years ago with Star Trek with Voyager's Doctor who started up as a piece of equipment and developped to become a vital part of the crew in both professional and social interraction departments.
Suffice to say, i cant wait to see how this story will turn out! keep up the good work Bugzy
Comments
FTL must take an utterly, mind-bogglingly, impossibly, stupidly large amount of power to need enough antimatter to blow up a star system....
To be absolutely precise, I awoke in the sickbay. There was a moment of utter confusion. The very last thing that I vaguely remember was having done a lot of things that I'd rather not remember. Cautiously, I worked myself up into a sitting position. JUNO and IANTO appeared by my bedside.
"Good evening, Captain. I trust that you are feeling well rested?" IANTO inquired.
"I feel perfectly splendid, IANTO." I said cautiously. "However, something tells me that I should still be feeling absolutely wretched. What happened?"
JUNO leaned forward, smiling gently. "You have suffered a moderately severe emotional breakdown, Captain. Fortunately, we were able to maintain complete control of the situation, in spite of our most obvious physical disadvantages. You were able to experience full emotional catharsis, totally uninhibited by any need to maintain an outward façade of rigid self-control."
IANTO continued. "We were extremely concerned at first, although it soon became apparent that this behavioural mode had served you well as an emotional safety-valve. To be perfectly candid, Sir, this was an experience that you have resolutely denied yourself over the past few months. There was always a distinct possibility that an adverse outcome may have occurred, although we considered that any psychological benefit obtained far outweighed any potential physical risk."
I was completely mortified. I fell back on the pillow, eyes clenched shut. I groaned with embarrassment.
"You mean you simply sat back and let me go completely barking mad?"
"There's rather more to it, Sir." JUNO added hastily. "However, that is essentially what happened."
"So how in the Hell did I get here? I was completely polluted for most o' the time back there... I could'na even find my way to the privy after a few heavy bevvies, let alone the bloody sickbay."
IANTO and JUNO exchanged awkward glances. Almost guilty-looking, in fact.
"Your MAM brought you here, Sir." IANTO explained.
"You what? My dear mother's buried back on Mars, if you don't mind." I snapped indignantly. "Did you use some kind of holographic Head-ology or something similar to get me to follow you, JUNO?"
"Nothing of the kind, Captain. IANTO is referring to your Mobility Assistance Module."
Under IANTO's command, the mechanism strolled briskly into the sickbay. At first glance, it appeared to be a standard exo-frame myomer interface harness. However, there were some subtle differences that only an engineer could spot. Exo-frames were notoriously mechanistic in their movement, but this one moved with an almost fluid grace. Secondly, it did not possess much in the way of muscular and skeletal amplification systems. Normally, there would be compact but powerful hydraulic rams attached at all major joints, as it was originally designed to provide its wearer with phenomenal lifting and carrying capacity. This model was far more sleek. And apparently, it had been my sole means of getting around over the past few days.
Not that I was actually aware of it at the time, of course.
FTL travel is still highly theoretical, but you're essentially right. The energy requirement would be ridiculously huge.
Still theoretically speaking, several tonnes of antimatter would do terrible things to property values in a solar system, assuming a 100 per cent efficient matter-to-energy conversion of the planet. The resultant shock wave and disrupted orbital dynamics would simply finish the job.
E=mc2 is the key principle here.
The thing is, if Selkirk dies, then the Starfish will be used and millions, probably billions or trillions of animals will die.
"Yes, Captain. We were unable to provide any physical assistance while you were... incapacitated. JUNO and I found it necessary to apply a creative approach to your particular problem. Using the basic myomer frame and harness fabrication template, we modified the design with technology mostly derived from your emotional recreation interface device -"
"Och, don't tell me you had to scavenge vital parts out of poor Inflatable Ingrid? Frankly, I'm shocked, Sir. Completely shocked and horrified. She was my absolute favourite." I said half-jokingly.
IANTO shook his head emphatically. "No, Captain. We merely duplicated 'her' servo systems and articulation mechanisms to suit the specific requirements of your mobility device. I assure you that the human interface device in question remains in perfect working order."
JUNO chimed in. "It was absolutely essential that your body obtained some physical exercise, even though you were in a medically-induced coma at the time."
I swung my legs out of bed and rose rather unsteadily. The exo-frame thoughtfully handed me my dressing gown. I was about to thank it and stopped halfway, noticing an impish grin on IANTO's face.
"Oh, aye. I can see where that might cause further medical problems. Bed-sores, atrophy of musculature, fluid on the lungs and such." I said casually, cinching up the gown's belt.
JUNO pushed her face close to mine and fixed me with a stony glare. "Not only that, Captain. Your quarters were left in a truly dreadful condition. We simply decided that it would be an extremely therapeutic experience for you to clean up your own bloody mess... With all due respect, Sir."
"Fair enough." I said ruefully. It's been quite a while since I earned a proper telling-off.
I have a vague memory of being caught short during my 'lost three days'. Did I really pish in one of the corners, or was it one of the planters? The sink? Wastebasket? Desk drawer? Oh, nooooooo...
Och, ye dirty wee nyaff.
Still, all of that sordid business was water under the bridge now. I desperately needed something substantial to eat, having been on an exclusively liquid diet (in one form or another) for the past week. JUNO, IANTO and I strolled cheerfully down the corridor and headed towards the galley, with an unoccupied exo-frame trotting faithfully along behind us. I'll need to review today's base surveillance footage later on. I want a framed picture of that particular scene. It was bonkers.
After dining, I took a long, hot shower. As I dressed, I reflected upon what JUNO meant about me 'cleaning up my own mess'. I looked around and confirmed that my quarters were absolutely spotless. Yes, I do recall making an unholy mess of this room, much to my eternal shame. What was JUNO on about? Was she being philosophical or psychological this time? I was completely baffled.
And then, the realisation suddenly hit me.
My MAM made me clean up my bedroom. I had absolutely no say in the matter.
Just like old times.
The scene was depressingly familiar, right across the board. I have seen entire reef communities erased from existence without leaving a trace. The impact shockwaves alone would have killed millions of creatures, fatally rupturing internal organs in larger organisms and instantly obliterating those of a more fragile constitution. I flew my drones through an ocean littered with the floating corpses of Reefbacks, Gasopods, Stalkers, Bone Sharks, Sand Sharks and Reapers. The destruction seemed almost absolute.
However, tiny pockets of life had miraculously survived. Tomar's boundless rage had spared a small percentage of creatures in some areas, and the ocean was now saturated with a rich soup of organic nutrients. Life would find a way once more. Of my sub-surface installations, only The Broch still remained intact. The area around Reef Base was nothing more than a cratered, sterile wasteland. Of the base itself, nothing remained at all. The Jelly Shroom cave had completely collapsed under De Ruyter's ferocious bombardment, leaving a Cyclopean central crater in the devastated sea floor. Given sufficient time, this area would recover most of its former diversity of life, although the secret world of the Crabsnakes was sadly lost forever.
That was a colossal tragedy in itself.
Curiously, what I saw on that day entirely failed to feed my depression. In fact, I felt a growing sense of renewed purpose and hope quicken inside me. The hand of Death had touched almost everything down here, yet life still remained. Diminished almost to the brink of extinction, yet still firmly resolute in its purpose and miraculously unbroken. I felt particularly hopeful, since it was highly unlikely that any further human interference would take place on Manannán for some time, at least. If the Torgaljin colony fleet was waiting for Tomar's report on current planetary conditions before proceeding, there was a very strong possibility that this fleet wouldn't arrive at all. Hopefully, I might even be rescued soon, long before this becomes a problem.
And yet, the burning question remained.
What was it about this planet that brought out the very worst in human nature?
It was capable of sustaining human life. It had all of the requisite resources to ensure its prosperity.
These conditions were not unique. There was an overabundance of liquid water, but that was all.
Was it surely that simple? The galaxy was swarming with worlds that could easily match Manannán in terms of its physical properties, resources and considerable potential as a human colony. That may have been cause enough to send another wave of the human Diaspora to Manannán, although there were no readily apparent reasons to justify the insane actions of someone such as Tomar.
What secret could this planet possibly hold that made it worth killing and dying for?
I had to find out. Far too many had died needlessly here for that question to be swept lightly aside.
In all good conscience, I could never rest easily until I knew this secret with absolute certainty.
"Nooooooooooooooooo..............!"
The Jelly Shroom cave remains intact in your dimensional plane. There is no need to panic, Rhys.
I have yet to gain mastery over Reality. My powers are not yet complete.
Maybe have him receive the agent signals?
E.g"Target located/:observe/switch mode engaged"
And then switching to something more aggresive like
"Target analysed/all agents mobilised/:hunt/switch mode engaged"
Before the warpers actually attack his base or him.You could have one warp in,then after alexander escapes or defeats him,several more warp in then end the chapter.
Anyways,an excellent story and i look forward another chapter.
Paal Torgaljin's logs were even less enlightening. However, this didn't come as much of a surprise. It's a poor sort of corporate CEO who blurts out potentially devastating company secrets in clear text or voice recordings. Then there was that encrypted data block still lurking in IANTO's memory. I conjured that would be the most likely place to start digging. I had JUNO and IANTO working jointly on the analysis of a particularly cryptic string of words that had appeared as a text message. Although some of the words looked vaguely foreign in origin, none of them actually made sense in any known Terran language. My next thought was that this message had been encoded using a specially designed Torgaljin cipher, although my AIs soon put that idea to rest.
The search had hit a major brick wall.
"Some of these words must mean something." I muttered in exasperation. "There's a couple of obviously dodgy ones like 'gertrupop' and 'trankeboop' that might exist in some obscure regional variant of Afrikaans, but the rest actually look like genuine foreign words. Sort of, anyway. This sentence can't be entirely composed of gibberish, surely... You'll probably need to broaden your search parameters to include fictional languages such as Nadsat and StreetSpeak. Might as well try searching through the Klingon, Pak'ma'ra, Noldorin and Goa'uld lexicons while you're at it."
"Is there any language that you might consider particularly significant, Captain?" JUNO inquired.
"I honestly haven't a clue, JUNO. Belters speak a curious lingo that borrows from every tongue under the sun. Look, here's one that sounds a bit familiar... I'm pretty sure that I saw this word in a book I read as a kid. It was called Watership Down. It was a story all about a tribe of talking rabbits. They even had their own specific language called 'Lapine'. It wasn't a bad yarn, either. Not the sort of soppy stuff you'd normally expect from a story about talking rabbits. Ah, yes. The spelling they've used here is slightly different, I think."
"This spelling discrepancy could be explained by semiotic drift, Captain. Many words in the English language have changed their spelling and meaning over a period of time. I have located the text of that book in my files. What is the specific word that you recognize?" JUNO prompted.
"It meant 'the food of Princes', something that was considered a delicacy among rabbits... 'Flayrah'."
Suddenly, IANTO interrupted. "Code word 'FLAYRA' accepted. Decryption sequence complete."
JUNO and I exchanged puzzled looks.
"What just happened, IANTO?" I asked warily. "Are we about to get blown up again?"
"You have provided the code word required to gain access to my encrypted files, Captain."
"An interesting subterfuge. To anyone curious enough to examine it closely, that sentence would appear to have been encoded using a highly unorthodox keyless substitution cipher. In fact, it defies any attempts at decryption simply by virtue of being nothing more than a string of nonsense words. Wheels within wheels, so to speak." JUNO observed.
"I'll put this one down to pure serendipity. It had us well stumped, in spite of our innate cleverness and snappy dress sense. IANTO, could you give me an quick overview of the file's contents, please?"
IANTO took control of the monitor. "As you can see, the file is comparatively small. Only one point five gigabytes in total. Most of the information contained here relates to the Torgaljin colonization plan for Manannán, being primarily concerned with logistics, resource requirements, cost projections and project management activities. However, there are a number of smaller entries of far more immediate interest. Personal hyperwave communications between Paal Torgaljin and senior corporate executives, research reports and so forth. I have identified all entries of relevance and collated them into a concise summary for your convenience, Sir."
Obviously, IANTO had a slightly different interpretation of the word 'concise'. Six hundred pages.
I was reluctant to ask IANTO to condense the information into a single page of bullet points. The last time this request was made, I had to use a quantum microprobe to read a technical report one joker had ion-milled into the head of a pin.
Lesson learned: No-one enjoys writing executive summaries.
It was pretty heavy reading, to say the least. Most of the Torgaljin field research appeared to be concerned with 'bio-mimetic engineering'. From what I could gather, they were working on a means of extracting alien DNA and fusing it with human DNA to confer various favourable genetic attributes such as increased strength, faster reaction times, mimetic body camouflage and dermal armour. The implications were staggering. If the Torgaljin were able to settle here without Terra's knowledge, they would have open licence to tinker with their genetic makeup, effectively remodelling themselves into a race of super-soldiers.
Give them a few centuries of uninterrupted development time, allow Torgaljin Corporation to quietly consolidate its position on Manannán entirely free from Terran Government influence, and they would constitute a serious threat to anyone who opposed them. In anyone's book, access to this level of technology would provide them with a decent head-start on forging a powerful stellar empire entirely from scratch.
That wasn't the worst of it. Their DNA transfusion technology could also be applied to construction materials, equipment and cybernetic systems. I remember having a particularly good laugh at their efforts with the Plumb Tree, although now that joke had acquired distinctly ominous overtones.
Rather than start tearing out my hair in sheer terror, I continued to read quite calmly. There was one tiny detail that prevented me from flying into a blind, headless-chicken panic.
I also have access to this technology now.
Gasping in shock, I whirled around to see MAM standing patiently behind my chair.
JUNO appeared. "Captain, you are pushing yourself too hard again. Please retire to your quarters."
I sighed wearily. "Aye, you're absolutely right. There's nothing here that can't wait until the morrow. I'll be bedding myself down presently, although I might as well have some breakfast before I turn in."
JUNO nodded. "Of course. I shall prepare it for you. What would you prefer to eat?"
"Something fairly light for now, JUNO. Two fried eggs on toast and a mug of tea, if you don't mind."
"Certainly, Captain. Your meal will be ready upon your arrival in the galley."
"Thank you, JUNO." I said gratefully. She was absolutely right. I could feel that woozy, unreal sensation that accompanies sleep deprivation starting to sneak in.
At this rate, I'd be lucky to make it through the meal without face-planting in my plate of fried googies.
I awoke sometime in the late afternoon, feeling reasonably refreshed once more. My circadian rhythms were slipping out of kilter again, and I would have to turn in sometime later this evening to retain some rough approximation of proper time-sense. It was easy enough to accommodate Manannán's nine point five-year orbital period, mainly because one day slipped so easily into the next. There's no real shock to the system with the passing of a 'year' here, either. The seasons were so long and drawn out that there were no apparent transitions to be seen. Individual days on the other hand, were a different matter. For much of my life, a 24-hour day was always the accepted norm. Even aboard Aurora, the days were divided into eight-hour shifts. Manannán's 16-hour days always left one feeling cheated. It seemed that there was never enough time to accomplish anything of significance.
The following morning, I boarded Ulysses and headed out to the location where Reef Base once stood. It broke my heart to see such complete devastation first-hand. Still, this was the area that I had finally selected as the site for the De Ruyter monument. In a way, it was fitting that I finally laid some of my ghosts to rest here, of all places.
"I'll be outside for some time, JUNO. There are final duties to attend to. You and IANTO may join me, if you wish. Please keep me informed of any proximity alerts within a one hundred metre radius, biological or otherwise."
The monument was a simple broad cairn, standing 10 metres high. After attaching a laser-etched commemorative plate, I floated facing the monument for some unknown length of time, silently contemplating all of the events that had brought me to this moment. JUNO and IANTO's holographic projections hovered in mid-water, respectfully standing vigil at my side.
'De Ruyter', CV-3372.
Two hundred souls set sail on The Voyage Eternal. Day 113, 2172 C.E, UTC Sol III.
I cried.
There was no single discrete reason I could find to explain these tears. It was an expression of generalised grief centred on the Universe itself. Simply too much of Everything, served all at once.
It took me a while to regain my composure. I walked aft to the heads, entered the compartment and closed the door. After leaning against the hand-basin for a full five minutes, I ran the tap and sluiced ice-cold water over my face. Towelling off, I caught sight of my own face in the mirror.
Its expression could only be described as 'tired'. Not physically tired, but weary of the whole game.
We are all merely pieces to be shunted around some cosmic game board. Some are taken, some are lost needlessly, some are sacrificed according to an inscrutable plan, yet some still remain when the game is over. Tomar was right, in his own calculating way. This will always be the way of things.
The board has been scattered in a fit of infantile rage, although The Pawn remains standing.
A minor miracle.
My mind was much clearer now.
I desperately needed to lift my spirits, and I could think of no better way than a good, old-fashioned Scottish ceilidh. Ostensibly, it would be a wake for all who had fallen in the cause of colonising this planet, but it was also a wake for the gravely wounded planet itself. Although I'm no believer in things of a magical nature, I was certain that giving some positive energy back to the world would do no harm. I'll have to explain this business to JUNO and IANTO first. After all, they're invited too.
"Ulysses holding station at west docking portal, requesting entry."
"Welcome home, Captain. You are cleared to proceed." JUNO said.
To their credit, both JUNO and IANTO were delighted by the idea. I explained that the ceilidh was a communal celebration, first and foremost. It was more a musical evening than anything, although it might also feature country dancing and bardic recitations. Any misgivings they may have had regarding the presence of alcohol were simply waved away. After that last episode, I had no intention of waking up in sickbay a week later. I might have a wee nippie or two to relax my vocal cords, but I was definitely staying off the heavy bevvies tonight. I didn't want to miss a single thing.
I showered and dressed, then proceeded to the Rec Room. MAM had obviously been pressed into service as tonight's waiter, as there was a side table already laid out with a large selection of choice nibbles and delicious-looking finger food. The most surprising addition to the room was another table with four seats. I scratched my head for quite a while over that one, but sat down regardless.
They were no longer holograms. They had fashioned lifelike android bodies for themselves.
"Good evening, Captain." JUNO said, "We wanted to make this evening particularly special for you."
IANTO smiled, pulling back JUNO's chair so that she could be seated. An archaic but gallant gesture, harking back to a far simpler time. "We felt that a physical presence would allow us to assist you more directly in future. Although it may seem that we have exceeded our mandate in reaching this decision without your permission, please be assured that we only have your best interests in mind."
"No permission was necessary, IANTO. In fact, I'm overjoyed that you have taken this step yourselves. I was considering asking your permission to construct physical bodies that you could use whenever the situation requires more than a single pair of hands. That's absolutely brilliant!"
"On behalf of us all, thank you, Captain. Our most recent crew member will be along shortly. He has been preparing something special for your entertainment." JUNO added, smiling knowingly.
I barely had time to register my complete astonishment. Another android marched into the Rec Room wearing full Highland piper's dress regalia. He saluted briskly, and then commenced playing. The tune was a very old one, vaguely recognized from my early youth. It was a stirring piece, yet somehow sad and wistful. I dredged deeper in my memories until its name finally came to me.
'Highland Cathedral'.
At the end of the piece, I stood and saluted the piper. "That was magnificent. What is your name?"
"I do not have an actual name, Captain. You already know me as MAM. That is my designation."
"Oh, no. You deserve a proper name. You're one of the crew now."
"Thank you, Captain. I will respond to whatever name you may decide upon." The android replied.
I thought for a minute, and one name leapt right out at me. Digby. Captain Dan Dare's batman.
"Your new designation... Sorry, your name is 'Digby'." I said, reaching out and shaking his hand.
There was a brief moment of silence as the android consulted its data banks.
"Reference source found. New designation is accepted." DIGBY assumed a more humanistic manner once more, and I was able to examine his face in detail. Again, the AIs had created a facial design and body type that appeared quite human, without crossing that fine line that set them apart as being obviously artificial. DIGBY was solidly built, although not excessively muscular. His broad, honest face seemed to lack animation at the moment, although there was a certain calm dignity about it.
All up, he seemed like a pretty decent chap.
"Thank you DIGBY, and welcome aboard. Please be seated." I motioned toward the empty seat.
"Thank you, Captain." DIGBY said.
I tapped my glass lightly with a knife, summoning their attention. "Let the festivities commence!"
"Welcome to our ceilidh, one and all. Seeing as this is your first time, I'll explain what's going on. Tonight, we'll be performing our 'party pieces' for the entertainment of other guests, who will in turn regale us with their own performances. It's a traditional Scottish past-time, also enjoyed by other Gaelic folk throughout the galaxy. It's basically a little piece of home. There are no real rules governing what anyone performs. Your choice of performance material is entirely at your personal discretion. It can be traditional or modern, serious or funny. The sole objective is simply to enjoy oneself. It's the closest thing that Scots have to karaoke. Just take a look at my music files, mute the vocal tracks and supply your own vocals. I'll kick things off, although it's going to be mighty hard to top DIGBY's performance. I'm definitely up against some stiff competition tonight."
I started with 'Forever Autumn'. Something bittersweet at first, mainly because recent events were still too raw and painful to simply let slip. JUNO followed with 'Orinoco Flow'; a flawless recreation of Enya, with a playful touch of Kate Bush thrown in for good measure. IANTO's first piece was 'The Highwayman', rendered in four distinct vocal styles. I started to sweat nervously.
There's no way known I can match this level of performance.
DIGBY stepped forward once more, and I had that sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. He squared up theatrically, then launched into a hilariously overblown recitation of 'The Ghoulie of Kirk Douglas'. My jaw sagged. I slumped helplessly over the table. Tears ran down my face, and my sides ached with truly uncontrollable laughter.
As the Irish would say, we got a fine craic going on. It felt like I had a proper bunch of mates again.
We wound up the ceilidh at one a.m. Sang 'Auld Lang Syne', as was right and proper on such occasions. We bade each other goodnight, and then I turned in for a peaceful night's sleep.
The night was a glorious success. A fistful of diamonds couldn't buy an experience like that.
Over breakfast the following morning, I outlined my plans to the crew.
"First off the bat, we're going to need to rebuild our base facilities. There will be an increased number of sites to accommodate the hatcheries and plantations we'll need for the main operation. We've got a huge salvage job ahead of us, and I'm going to need all hands at the pump."
IANTO appeared to consider my words carefully before replying. "Captain, I would strongly advise proceeding with caution. Entire ecosystems have been destroyed, and it will not be a simple matter of merely refilling the devastated areas with a random assortment of farmed organisms. There are many discrete environmental factors to consider before embarking upon a large-scale rehabilitation program such as the one you propose. With all due respect, Sir."
"Exactly, IANTO. That's why I'm putting you in charge of evaluating the effected zones and designing tailored ecologies closely matching the originals in terms of diversity, population density and terrain coverage. We'll also need to launch monitoring satellites to keep track of our progress. I don't know how that's going to sit with the Warpers, but we can at least try to get a few birds in the air."
I forked in the last mouthful of scrambled egg and toast, chewed on it and continued.
"JUNO is responsible for all base operations. She will assist in any field operations as required, as will you all." I took my last swig of tea. "DIGBY, you're with me, mate. Okay troops, let's crack on."
"Just a quick question... Are your new bodies waterproof? This could be a slight problem."
JUNO replied. "Absolutely, Captain. Our synthetic dermal sheathing is pressure-rated to 2,500 metres. This was a primary consideration during the initial design phase. We will not require breathing mix cylinders, of course. This may cause you some small degree of visual dissonance at first, although we will be wearing helmets and suits to facilitate communications."
I nodded. "Yes, it would be a mite disconcerting to have you folks swimming around without diving gear, but I suppose I'd eventually get used to it. Thank you for your concern, though."
"Think nothing of it, Captain." IANTO said. "We have also redesigned certain items of your underwater equipment to make them more efficient and significantly increase their defensive capabilities. All suit types are now equipped with holographic emitters, enabling face-to-face communications, 3D tactical displays and adaptive camouflage. The revised suits are also equipped with an integral electrical defence field, although its capacitor recycle time still requires some fine tuning. I shall demonstrate these functions for you later, if you wish."
I was highly impressed. "Wa-hey, that's utterly brilliant! You've certainly been a busy little bunch of Elves while my lights were out, haven't you? That deserves a gold Elephant Stamp, at the very least."
To my delight, the new suit fit like a glove. There wasn't even that annoying snuggie around my fork any more. It was a distinct pleasure to wear this suit. DIGBY and I were collecting samples from one of the outlying arms of the safe shallows. We had to be very careful here, as it bordered on one of the Grassy Plateau biomes. That meant lots of Biters. I wasn't particularly worried, but we would have to collect a few live specimens of those nasty little sods as well. I tried to persuade IANTO that Manannán could surely do without quite as many Biters as before, but he was adamant. The Biters also get to make a grand come-back. That also meant reintroducing Bleeders and Crashes, as well.
Gorram it.
It was gruelling work, but we managed to swing along at a pretty decent pace. A central collection point had been established for the samples, and every so often, an automated drone would come whizzing towards us to pick up what we had collected so far. Once the sample transfer module was fully loaded, the bulk cargo freighter would head over to IANTO for implantation in either a hatchery dome or propagation trays. This whole business had the air of a community garden's working bee.
To pass the time more pleasantly, I chatted with DIGBY. Being a newly-minted AI, he was full of wonder and inquiry. To anyone else, he might seem like a bit of a 'thickie'. I saw him in a considerably different light. His heuristic intelligence was fully formed and appeared to be operating normally, although his cup was effectively empty. I was only too happy to start filling it.
"Forgive me for asking, Captain." DIGBY said hesitantly, "I am aware that you held a service to commemorate the De Ruyter's crew yesterday. Although these people were attempting to kill you, you actively tried to prevent their destruction. You experienced significant emotional distress to the point of actually grieving their deaths. I cannot entirely comprehend why you would do that, Captain."
"I believe that I understand more clearly now, Captain." DIGBY said gently. "You are a truly remarkable man, if you don't mind me saying so. It will be a privilege to serve at your side."
"Thank you DIGBY. Mind you, I don't always get it right, although I'm always willing to hear what you, JUNO or IANTO might have to say. None of you have steered me wrong yet. Bear in mind, a captain's only as good as the crew under his or her command. You may rest assured that you have joined an excellent and highly capable crew.
No captain worth his salt could ask for better."
The following morning, our operation was effectively locked down. Another hurricane was brewing, and this one looked like an absolute stinker. Topside winds were already gusting at Beaufort 7 and the worsening sea state made all shallow water work well nigh impossible. I futtered idly around The Broch for a while, briefly considered watching a few old films to pass the time, but eventually gave that up as a stale idea. I wanted to do something with my hands. Eventually, JUNO noticed me pacing around like a caged lion and gently suggested that I try something more creative than usual.
Somewhat reluctantly, I sat down at my workstation and activated a graphics program. I started doodling on the tablet. Purely random stuff at first, including one that looked like a first-draft comic strip of life in the base. I filed the half-completed image for a later rework, then started on another. This one was starting to develop into a hieroglyphic frieze, a sort of 'Bayeux Tapestry meets Tutankhamen' kind of deal. All false modesty aside, it was starting to look pretty damned good.
I saved the original drawing and started on a fresh panel. This time, I was telling the story of how I came to be stranded on Manannán. After years of using holographic CAD systems, the stylus and tablet felt almost primitive. It didn't matter. I was enjoying myself immensely. Occasionally, I'd call one of the AIs over as they passed by, seeking their opinion on what I had done so far. Their feedback was valuable, as it was rather tricky to create a logical story of this complexity without using a huge amount of words. I also incorporated a sort of 'Rosetta Stone' panel right at the beginning, converting the Anglic alphabet into binary code, although I wasn't entirely certain that any particular alien species would be able to decipher it. Couldn't hurt to leave it in, I guess.
The object of the exercise was simply to tell our story, warts and all. There was a brief twinge of concern when I considered the possibility that this work might be poorly interpreted. It wouldn't do to have an alien race treat a simple story as some kind of ancient holy relic; particularly one that might wage pointless bloody wars over piddling minutiae of precisely how each image should be interpreted. That would make a rather poor statement for posterity. Best to make the story's message completely clear and entirely unequivocal.
It was my plan to decorate the base of the Aurora monument with this story. As soon as we had the regeneration project back on track, I would spend some of my spare time transferring this artwork to the obelisk's nanocrete plinth. Holographic storage media was supposed to remain incorruptible for several centuries. I was planning on this little yarn sticking around for several millennia. At least.
Pffft. Yeah, right.
The artwork for the frieze was complete. I had devised a method that allowed me to fuse inlays of various metals to the laser-etched nanocrete, creating some rather effective coloured highlights for selected images in the series. This method had been used sparingly during the construction of the memorial obelisk, although I found myself daunted by the prospect of hand-colouring over 150 separate panels. According to my calculations, they would cover about 75 per cent of the monument's plinth. Secretly, I was hoping that no more thrilling heroics would take place anytime soon. We fine artistes are a sensitive, shy and retiring lot. Stop laughing. I'm being serious now.
What I actually needed was a project where I could really throw the spanners about. The ExoSuit was as good a place as any to start, so I took a long, hard look at its design specs. Naturally, I tut-tutted scornfully, frowned severely and made massive changes to its basic design parameters.
"Only 500 metres? Och, ye cannae be serious. It's 2,500 minimum, or I might as well be diving in me skiddies. Let me see... There was something about turtles in that hidden Torgaljin log. Hmmm, yes. Chelonian hull plating, DNA transfuser bio-mimetic technology hull upgrade. Aye, that's a bit more like it!"
It was too late. I had the bit firmly between my teeth by now. Next came the aloxide outer hull sheathing for increased temperature resistance. I would have preferred adding a solid layer of Zirconium-14 alloy plating under the aloxide, purely on the off-chance that I happened to be mucking around near any open magma vents. However, we cut our coat according to the cloth we're given. No Zirconium-14.
Next, that mucking great drill-bit has to go, right from the start. You've just gained twice your lifting capacity in one shot.
Both arms now terminate in two streamlined turrets, each capable of housing several useful tools at once. Dual heavy repulsion cannons for serious defence, one laser cutter, one habitat builder, one welder, two graviton lifter beams and two precision manipulator claws. Toss in a Terraformer if you like. The suit also has its own heavy-duty EDF to discourage any uncomfortably close encounters.
That's what I consider a balanced basic load-out.
The ExoSuit has to be nuclear powered. No two ways about it. Unless you want to be toting around enough power cells to run an unmodified Gen I Cyclops, you had best embrace the miracle of safe, controlled fission. If you enjoy hopping out at 2000 metres-plus to swap out the copper-tops, be my guest. You have about five minutes of life support max when the bunny finally dies. I'm going with The Glow. Enhanced thrusters, emergency ascent system and decent-sized integral storage lockers?
Yes, please.
This is how you design a Gen II ExoSuit. Accept no substitutes.
"Och,ye cannae be serious" and "Och,you dirty wee nyaff"
I presume that's how some Scottish people speak but i don't think going full Scottish helps the story in any way other than making me re-read the sentence and adding in a bit of "AYE I'M SCOTTISH LOOK AT HOW I SPEAK YE?".Him saying "Aye" is pretty good but the above sentence goes a bit overboard with the Scottish thing.
Also,when are Warpers going to join the story and when is the Sea Emperor thing starting?No Mesmers,Shocker,Crabsquid,Warper or Sea Treader encounters yet.They also haven't gone down to the Jellyshroom abandoned base.There is a lot of potential in this story that you have substituted with developing Alexander's character a little bit too much.Maybe focus on these things?Also about the AI,i think you might be adding in a bit too much of them.IANTO and JUNO are enough to make a compelling cast with them interacting with creatures,the environment and Alexander.I don't think adding DIGBY and god knows how many more AI is going to help other than making the story convoluted with a bunch of characters.
I guess the point i'm trying to make is that you should stop developing Alexander,JUNO and IANTO's character so much and focus on the Subnautica part instead,as the story has been extremely slow after De Ruyter gets downed.You could develop DIGBY's character with showing how he reacts to the creatures and enviroments or behaviours of certain characters instead of stopping the story for a feast.
If you think this post is hating or my tone is aggressive and i have offended you,i apologize.This was meant to be constructive criticism.
Edit: changed Irish to Scottish.Sorry if i offended anybody by mixing up the two
Also - I'm pretty sure it comes out when he's stressed or when he wants to play at something.....
@rhys_elcins thanks,i'm going to edit it.Although yeah its okay for him to do it but personally,i find it extremely annoying when he forms sentences that are 90% Scottish lingo, because it's a bit hard to understand.(E.g what is Nyaff?)
Hmm. 'Constructive criticism', you say.
I find it amusing that some people consider anything posted in a public forum fair game for 'constructive criticism'.
Allow me to address your manifold concerns, DefectiveDelfin.
How is that 'stopping the story'? You have to ease up on the throttle occasionally. Non-stop action can get old. Fast.
Tell you what... If you'd care to go back and actually READ the story, I might be inclined to hear you out.
It's hard enough trying to write the damn thing and keep people vaguely interested in what's going on, without having to explain some of its more unfamiliar aspects and lingo every second page. I recommend consulting either Google or Urban Dictionary.
Not at all helpful that the game itself is still being swapped and changed around as I'm writing it, either.
Imagine if J.R.R Tolkien tried writing LOTR 'on the fly', like I'm trying to do here.
Every bloody post would be along the lines of "Are we in Mordor yet?" "When are the Orcs going to come in?" "I want to see Frodo use The Ring more!" etc, etc.
Once again. Read the story before commenting.
I hate to slap folks down like this, but I can't abide a lack of basic comprehension of narrative masquerading as 'constructive criticism'. Guess I drew the short straw.
Everyone else... Things will start to pop again in fairly short order. (Hint: 'ExoSuit') Stay tuned.
Peace out.
this fascination of me of AIs began a few years ago with Star Trek with Voyager's Doctor who started up as a piece of equipment and developped to become a vital part of the crew in both professional and social interraction departments.
Suffice to say, i cant wait to see how this story will turn out! keep up the good work Bugzy