nauticalperanaThe land of the free and the home of the braveJoin Date: 2016-05-25Member: 217491Members
i kinda like how the AI's have almost "human" personality's and are less formal and more friendly and are almost like selkirk's family and yet haven't crossed the line between man and machine
nauticalperanaThe land of the free and the home of the braveJoin Date: 2016-05-25Member: 217491Members
i kinda like how the AI's have almost "human" personality's and are less formal and more friendly and are almost like selkirk's family and yet haven't crossed the line between man and machine
nauticalperanaThe land of the free and the home of the braveJoin Date: 2016-05-25Member: 217491Members
i kinda like how the AI's have almost "human" personality's and are less formal and more friendly and are almost like selkirk's family and yet haven't crossed the line between man and machine
Now, wait just a moment. A virus might be able to function in cryostasis, but human cells can't. And since a virus is, by nature, dependent on the functioning of it's host cells, it can't progress in frozen host's, no matter what the virus might be capable of surviving.
Now, wait just a moment. A virus might be able to function in cryostasis, but human cells can't. And since a virus is, by nature, dependent on the functioning of it's host cells, it can't progress in frozen host's, no matter what the virus might be capable of surviving.
The carrar is a bacterium though isn't it, ergo it eats it's host and mutates it at the same time?
Now, wait just a moment. A virus might be able to function in cryostasis, but human cells can't. And since a virus is, by nature, dependent on the functioning of it's host cells, it can't progress in frozen host's, no matter what the virus might be capable of surviving.
The carrar is a bacterium though isn't it, ergo it eats it's host and mutates it at the same time?
I think it may have been referred to as that sometime in the story, but most recently he called it a virus.
Looks like some folks are getting lost in the fog here.
Some points to consider:
It's a virus. It's alien. It still functions in cryostasis. Nothing was ever said about it making progress in frozen human cells.
Also, these stories take place on an alternate timeline. All due care and attention has been taken regarding scientific plausibility, within reasonable (and somewhat flexible) factual boundaries. It is a work of science fiction, after all.
Most importantly: It's my story. I get to make the rules.
@sayerulz As long as there's no actual malice intended, I'm completely down with the odd snarky comment.
Nothing wrong with a little constructive criticism, although I am dead against needless nit-picking purely for its own sake.
Fair warning... Some astute readers may have noticed that I am indeed somewhat technically inclined.
To whit: Twenty-plus years in industrial water treatment, specialising in filtration systems and Legionella outbreak control. FAUI Qualified SCUBA diver and certified equipment service technician. Thermographer. Materials research NDT/destructive test technician. Underwater ROV owner/operator. Former freelance journalist & computer game reviewer.
My credentials are hereby established. Pray that I do not ask for yours. I am the living embodiment of 'Merciless'.
Wherever possible, I prefer to use real-world science to support plot points in these stories. Expect a little help from The Wonder Material Of The Future: 'Handwavium' occasionally, but only because some advanced concepts sound particularly cool and I'd like to incorporate them into the story.
Basically, all I ask is that you enjoy what I've written. If you don't, fine. Just don't dump on me to inflate your own feelings of self worth. Common courtesy is extended to all my readers, and I rightfully expect the same in return.
After all, it's my time and effort that I'm burning for free here. Please bear that in mind before playing the Troll Card.
Right now, the colonists are my paramount concern. As I made my nursing rounds, I took particular care to spend some honest face-time with each of them. The treatment itself took but a handful of seconds to administer, so I was able to address their individual concerns and outright fears at some length. Fortunately, I was able to offer far more than mere words of reassurance this time around.
The problem of Polyakov and Co. may have been put aside for a while, but it is far from forgotten. At some point, I'm going to have to retrieve them from the Lava Castle and make more permanent arrangements for them in Kaori-san no-shima. If it were entirely safe to do so, I'd happily leave them all to rot down there. However, each one of them is a potential time-bomb. My plan is to saturate the atmosphere of the entire facility with an Enzyme 42 aerosol, and since I'll be using the Gasopod toxin, I'll have to remove Polyakov and his mates first. Yes, I know this all sounds far too lenient, but I'll be damned if I'll leave them there to be digested by that stuff. I know how Gasopod cytotoxin works from first-hand experience, and I wouldn't wish that horrific death on anyone.
Even Polyakov.
Our prisoners will need to be revived from cryostasis, or the treatment simply won't work. The Kharaa virus is still active inside their bodies, perfectly capable of transmission to any living organism that comes into contact with them. Thawing them out and treating the infection is the only way to ensure that we obliterate every last skerrick of the Kharaa before leaving Manannán. If I read Father of Tides correctly, Sky Watcher and his cannon will blow Borealis out of the sky if even the slightest taint of Kharaa contamination is detected. I have already tried to prise the details of how Sky Watcher detects Kharaa contamination from Father of Tides, but it's plain that he has almost no understanding of Precursor technology.
"Sky Watcher smells Enemy. Burns them with sky-fire."
I'm guessing there's one Hell of a sensor suite at Sky Watcher's virtual fingertips. That's something I'd love to hand over to the TSF, along with synthetic versions of Enzyme 42 and its more potent Gasopod variant. Better yet, Alterra isn't going to get a single Credit from this deal. As far as I'm concerned, Alterra lost me completely when I found out about the STARFISH mining rig. If this makes life any easier for the Frontiersmen, I'm going to move heaven and earth to make certain it happens.
All in good time. For now, I have more than enough on my plate. Every day that isn't spent building Borealis brings us one day closer to hurricane season. Three months from now, the Argus satellite constellation will definitely be earning its keep. More delays are inevitable, but construction should be back on track in no time. If needs be, I can always build more construction drones and step up the pace a wee bit. If we can get most of the load-bearing assemblies secured in place before the weather turns rotten, nearly everything else can be completed underwater. The construction dock is designed with this particular contingency firmly in mind.
A week later, I found myself loitering about the shallows. From what I can determine, Gasopods communicate with a limited range of vocalisations. Try as I might, I found no clear meanings for any of their various grunts and squeaks. While it may have been possible to camouflage myself as a Gasopod, our conversation wouldn't have been terribly productive. I used the Warper image. As soon as I swam up to greet the herd, they panicked, instantly unleashing a blizzard of toxic gas pods.
"Speak with The Slow Ones."
Hmmm... Looks like Father of Tides has developed a sense of humour.
Straight off the top of my head, there are at least 127 other things I'd rather be doing now.
Harvesting Gasopod farts is not one of them.
Yes, I know they're not technically farts as such, although their chemical composition has certain similarities with the old-fashioned 'trouser cough' that we all know and love. Admittedly, the presence of fluorine and bromine came as a bit of a surprise, although it's easy to see how these elements have earned their place in this vicious hell-brew. The fluorine component of the cloud is converted into highly corrosive hydrofluoric acid upon contact with seawater, using an as-yet unknown catalytic process. Bromine is a powerful sanitising agent, making the emissions of these creatures something to be rightly avoided by any organism carrying the Kharaa virus. Even if you're not infected, swimming into a cloud of freshly-released Gasopod toxin is a really bad idea.
I discovered this fact very early in my stay on Manannán, inspiring an understandably healthy respect for Gasopods. Upon realising the gas-pod's potential as a weapon, I attempted to harvest some with a propulsion cannon's gravity snare, intending to use them as projectiles. It didn't take too many attempts before I gave this up as a particularly unwise notion. For a start, the pods are highly sensitive to hydrostatic pressure changes. If they rise or fall more than half a metre in the water, their walls will instantly rupture. You can probably guess what happens if you bring one of these pods into your base. Not pretty at all.
And yes, I found out the hard way.
Bearing this in mind, I whipped up a simple 'slurp-gun' to harvest the toxic cloud that they produced. Not much more to it than a metre-long tube containing a couple of axial compressors scavenged from airline tube segments, a membrane filter cartridge to remove seawater and a toxin holding tank. It's probably the safest way of doing it, all things considered.
It's far too easy to discount Gasopods as grotesque, slow and clumsy freaks of nature. However, I now believe that they occupy a far more important niche in Manannán's ecology. Their natural habitat is the Shallow Reef biome, and they are ideally suited to conditions in these protected areas. Their natural defence mechanism mainly serves to deter the incursion of larger predators such as Stalkers and Sand Sharks, incidentally creating a haven for food fish species to spawn and grow in relative safety. In regard to their role in this planet's ongoing war against the Kharaa, they are well equipped to sanitise the shallows quickly and effectively during an early infestation. If Warpers could be considered the fighter pilots in this conflict, Gasopods are definitely the bomber jockeys. Disrespect them at your own peril.
I'll say this for Gasopods; there's no apparent limit to the amount of toxin that each one can produce and release. My first five-litre sample container reached its full capacity after only two minutes, so I was able to complete the task with a minimum of disruption to their otherwise placid routine. I conjure these creatures warrant much further investigation, particularly from a behavioural viewpoint. There's an intelligence of sorts at work here. If there's any way of establishing a two-way dialogue, both parties may benefit from an amiable working partnership. Naturally, we'll attempt to synthesize the toxin if it's possible to do so, although getting it straight from the source is an acceptable alternative. The process of generating toxin doesn't appear to cause them any distress at all, although I'm sure that they would appreciate the gesture if we asked them nicely first. Given the Kharaa presence spreading through this sector of the galaxy, we're going to need all of the allies we can muster.
Practically all life on Manannán has been engineered for this exact purpose.
Julian1337331nailuJThe Grand Reef Gubtorial Election Or Something.Join Date: 2016-11-12Member: 223824Members
*Suddenly You Get A Message. It Reads: "Warning! The Rich Clan Main Airship Is Going To Crash On The Planet Known As Manannan. I Think. I Don't Know Just Evacuate." And Then You Hear An Explosion From One Of The 20 Bombs It Had. It Came From The Precursor Gun..?*
*Suddenly You Get A Message. It Reads: "Warning! The Rich Clan Main Airship Is Going To Crash On The Planet Known As Manannan. I Think. I Don't Know Just Evacuate." And Then You Hear An Explosion From One Of The 20 Bombs It Had. It Came From The Precursor Gun..?*
*Suddenly You Get A Message. It Reads: "Warning! The Rich Clan Main Airship Is Going To Crash On The Planet Known As Manannan. I Think. I Don't Know Just Evacuate." And Then You Hear An Explosion From One Of The 20 Bombs It Had. It Came From The Precursor Gun..?*
I typed in Rich Clan into Google and all I could find was a Clash of Clans... clan... three guesses what it was called.
So an odd question to @Bugzapper, but what has been your favorite part of Aurora Falls, or Borealis Rising, to write?
Tricky question.
Overall, I've enjoyed writing both stories. Some of the game's plot additions were slightly more difficult to incorporate into the story than others, but that's all part of the fun. I'm trying to remain more or less consistent with the plot, although certain liberties have to be taken in order to create something unique. I didn't want to make these stories into text versions of YouTube play-throughs. That would have been a horrific experience all round.
I'm only going by reader comments to obtain real-time feedback on the story's progress at the moment. Whenever I sense bums getting restless on seats (mine included), I'll step up the pace and write in an action sequence.
Hint: There's one coming shortly.
I always welcome constructive reader feedback, but please remember to keep all comments short and in some sort of context with the story... More or less.
Hope you're all enjoying the ride.
When I returned to Ulysses, I thought it wise to take two full decontamination cycles before entering the lab. Although I tried to stay up-current as far as possible while sampling the Gasopod toxin, there was still an unholy stench hanging about me. According to my olfactory sensors, the toxin was loaded with mercaptans; charming little organo-sulfur compounds that impart the delicate fragrance of garlic, manky old socks and rotten eggs to one's personal ambience. Even at a concentration of 150 parts per million, the smell was enough to make anyone want to punch out a Reaper. If this stretches my credibility beyond breaking point, bear in mind that the average human nose can detect butyl mercaptans at a concentration of 10 parts per billion. One might say that I was positively honking before doubling up on the old wash, rinse and spin-dry. Lovely.
I was planning to visit Héloise sometime later this evening. Love may be blind, but its sense of smell is in perfect working order. Something tells me that a dab of manly cologne won't be nearly enough.
JUNO and IANTO were still hard at work making the current batch of Enzyme 42 treatment derms and IV solutions, concurrent with their research on a synthetic version for mass production throughout human-occupied space. IANTO sniffed audibly as I entered the cramped lab module.
"Howay, troops! I have returned from the Bog of Eternal Stench, bearing gifts for all!" I crowed.
"That much is painfully obvious, Captain." JUNO said primly. "With all due respect, Sir, I strongly recommend that you repeat another two full decontamination cycles before leaving."
"That's a bit harsh, lass." I said defensively, "I'm registering a concentration of less than 0.5 parts per billion... Well below the olfactory threshold for humans. Still, if your pals won't tell you when you're a bit on the nose, they're no' your real pals. Consider it done."
It really was that bad. If we were going to use an aerosol version of the Gasopod toxin to disinfect the colony and Lava Castle base, something would have to be done about that horrible, all-pervading smell. It completely transcended 'annoying' and went straight to 'infuriating' without skipping a beat. Not too many folks give the myriad scents of life more than a second's thought, beyond what constitutes a 'good' or 'bad' smell. In fact, odours can exert a powerful influence over the human mind, typically triggering some sort of emotional response at an entirely unconscious level. If you ever want to recall a cherished lost memory, try smelling something associated with a specific life event. Believe me, it works. These minute details might seem trivial to the casual observer, although I assure you that my concerns about the toxin's smell are serious and entirely well-founded.
Most of the colonists have effectively reached their utmost emotional limits. Even the slightest irritant, whether it be social or environmental, could easily trigger an uncontrollable outbreak of violence. Some of them are now well enough to be getting up and about for short periods, and they are all fully aware of Polyakov's role in unleashing this epidemic. It wouldn't have taken anyone too long to join up the dots. Suffice it to say, the general mood around Kaori-san no-shima is rather less than amiable at the moment.
There's a definite undercurrent of anger in the air, something that can't be cleared up with another jolly ceilidh and a stirring, tear-streaked chorus of 'Auld Lang Syne'. Judging by some of the conversations I've been hearing lately, nothing short of feeding Polyakov and the Blue Meanies to a shoal of starving Biters would suffice. On that cheery note, I'd best be getting back to the colony and seeing what I can do to avert this situation. At the heart of it, they're good folks in there. I'd rather not see them all dragged down to Polyakov's level.
Héloise was wide awake when I entered the recovery ward. As I approached, she threw back the covers and unsteadily attempted to scramble out of bed. I waved a cautioning finger at her.
"You stay right there, milady." I said sternly. "You've been through a particularly rough patch lately, so you'd best take a quiet spell. Besides, it's not like there's anything happening at the moment."
"I'm bored, my dear Captain." Héloise pouted. "I want to go swimming with sea dragons again."
I smiled, gently taking her hand. "You and me both, love. However, you've still got some ways to go, and I won't let you burn yourself out again. DIGBY told me about the state he found you in, and I thoroughly agree with his decision to keep you bedded down for at least another 48 hours."
She smiled archly. "But not engaged in any activities that might be considered too strenuous... Pfui."
I chuckled. "Later, dear heart. In the meantime, is there anything else that I can do or get for you?"
Héloise nodded decisively. "A drink. I would like one of your Beached Reaper cocktails. Topside."
I frowned, albeit half-seriously.
"Not certain that's entirely a good idea, lass. However, as your consulting physician, there may be some therapeutic benefit to be gained from fresh air, sensory stimuli and a prudent measure of alcohol to put some colour back in your lovely cheeks. I shall consult with my learned colleagues."
Héloise eagerly wriggled herself into a sitting position, her upper body supported by a couple of extra pillows. There was a brief wordless interlude while I conferred with JUNO, IANTO and DIGBY. She regarded me with an almost childlike expression; something halfway between mock petulance and genuine expectancy. Actually, it would be perfectly fine to take her topside for a breath of fresh air, although there was a question mark hanging over the wee nippie that she fancied. There was no apparent data regarding adverse interactions involving Enzyme 42 and alcohol, so a certain degree of moderation is called for here.
Héloise had protested when I returned to the ward with a wheelchair, although her first attempt at standing unassisted ultimately convinced her of its utility. A precautionary scan I'd taken revealed a number of small lesions along her spinal cord. Nothing too serious and well on the way to healing completely, although their residual effects were immediately obvious. She would be wobbly on her feet for at least another week or so.
Margaritaville was a welcome relief for both of us. However, I made the mistake of bringing up a particularly sore point halfway through an otherwise pleasant discussion.
Idiot.
"You're not serious, surely?" Héloise said icily. "Bringing Polyakov back here would be a disaster."
"I am. I need to treat the infection that he and his team are carrying, otherwise the planet will never be free of the Kharaa plague. There is also an urgent need to decontaminate the Lava Castle base, and there's no way of doing that without killing them all. Their cryostasis pods will definitely malfunction when they're exposed to the Gasopod cytotoxin. It's an insanely powerful brew of chemicals."
Héloise leaned forward, her expression furious. "Not a problem, Chérie. Let them rot down there."
Even under a maximum security lockdown, Polyakov and Co. are a total liability. I briefly considered sending them all to Skull Island; most fitting company for the other toxic wastes we store there. That would surely end well. Mining explosives and fissionable materials do not play nicely together. He wouldn't have to do an Oppenheimer to get his own back, either. Ten tonnes of MDX would make a tidy bang, and when you throw in a few tonnes of viciously hot isotopes, life will become particularly uncomfortable for all parties concerned. I wouldn't put it past the bastard to use a dirty bomb against Kaori-san no-shima, either. After all, he had few qualms about fielding a Level V biological weapon against us. That settles it. Appropriate or not, Skull Island is definitely off the table. Permanently.
It has to be Kaori-san no-shima. Now all I have to do is convince Héloise and the other committee members that this is the right decision. That's going to be a full-time job in itself. Once the colonists find out that Polyakov and his team are back onboard, it's going to be flaming torches and pitchforks all round... Although it's more like magnesium flares and repulsion cannons in this case.
"Look, love. As far as I'm concerned, Polyakov has already used up all of his mulligans in one go. We can't leave them down there. Sooner or later, those cryopods will malfunction on their own accord. When those men start to thaw, the Kharaa virus will convert their tissues into a biomass capable of pumping out a tsunami of combat-ready Kharaa predators. Sure, they'll be confined to the Lava Castle for a short while, but that won't stop them. They'll adapt to aquatic life inside a couple of generations, and there's nothing on this planet that can fight them out of water, except Rock Punchers. Maybe. They simply won't be enough to stem the invasion. It's all up to us."
Héloise shuddered visibly. I wasn't certain if her mind's eye saw the inevitable outcome of this scenario, or her body recalled that fleeting contact with the Kharaa organism. There was something primal and obscene about the Kharaa; nightmare creatures springing from living flesh, a flesh still dimly aware of being consumed. Thankfully, we have found a way to avoid those final moments of horror.
If we had failed to discover the curative enzyme, I already have a contingency plan in place to spare the colonists from a truly miserable end. Not even Héloise knows about it. At the heart of the station, a nuclear dragon sleeps. When it finally wakes, I will burn with everyone else. Even now, the decision to incinerate Kaori-san no-shima still haunts me.
"Where are you going to keep them?" Héloise asked eventually. "Just knowing that he's alive would be enough to drive everyone here insane with rage. I trust you with all my heart, but the others will not understand why you are doing this thing... At least let me talk with them first."
I felt I was now treading slightly firmer ground with Héloise, much to my relief. There were some awful moments back there when she let the chain slip on her inner Guardian, and I wouldn't want to be standing between her and Polyakov when the last link ran out.
"I plan to lock them away in the Security complex. After making a few minor changes to their living arrangements, of course. Once JUNO and IANTO have prepared the decontamination compounds, I'll collect those ratbags from the Lava Castle and bang them all up tighter than a Peeper's freckle."
Héloise smiled grimly. "Bon. I'm coming with you."
SkopeWouldn't you like to know ;)Join Date: 2016-06-07Member: 218212Members
Am I the only one who is getting a very bad vibe about Heloise? I keep having the feeling that this is going to end up something like the Dark Knight Rises.
Am I the only one who is getting a very bad vibe about Heloise? I keep having the feeling that this is going to end up something like the Dark Knight Rises.
You're not the only one. If so, question is, is she brainwashed (I'm assuming that's the only reason she would stick with mcdiddlyface) enough to follow through, or will she see the light? Of course, that assumes mcdiddlyface is smart enough to plot something like that, which I highly doubt. She would have to be the mastermind I think, if that's the way this went.
A week later, still no joy on adapting the Gasopod cytotoxin to a more user-friendly version. JUNO and IANTO had successfully stripped away most of the more questionable compounds, although there were still serious issues with its extremely corrosive nature. Still, progress was being made. Rather than sit idly on my hands, I created a modified version of the Mk. V ExoSuit, specifically designed as a tactical delivery system.
The new ExoSuits Pasteur and Jenner are hulking great brutes. A Cyclops can only carry two of them, owing to the bulk of their integral chemical storage tanks. With a total capacity of 2,500 litres in mind, I had to juggle the suit's weight distribution specs considerably before accepting the final prototype design. There's not much point in building a bipedal mech if its first reaction is to pitch forward and face-plant. By the time I had finished tweaking this variant's design parameters, it was almost as agile as a Mk. V, although its top movement speed has been reduced by 50 per cent. Since we aren't planning to beat a hasty retreat anytime soon, I can live with those figures. Besides, the mere sight of one these things would give a Kharaa Onos a severe case of the runs.
These suits are definitely not pretty. You know how a standard ExoSuit looks a wee bit spindly and a touch top-heavy? Not these nasty buggers. They've been spending some serious time at the gym, and quite possibly dabbling with naughty chemicals as well. Tsk-tsk.
Anyway, I was rather satisfied with the end result. As well as the standard Mk. V's Gauss cannons, the suits also carried twin plasma flamers and cytotoxin sprayers. Two high pressure spray nozzles are mounted in the suit's fist turrets, and there's an array of aerosol dispersion jets arranged at strategic points over the suit hull. Aside from disinfecting a wide area while on the move, the mist system will also take care of anything attempting to engage the suits in close combat. Of course, there's only a very slight probability of encountering any actual Kharaa life forms while we're in the Lava Castle, but that's why I've gone all-out to ensure that absolutely nothing escapes from there. No matter how remote, probabilities have a sneaky way of biting you on the arse. Best to go in fully prepared for the worst.
The breakthrough came two days later. JUNO and IANTO had refined the cytotoxin's chemical structure to make it relatively harmless to human beings and native life forms, while retaining its full potency as an anti-Kharaa agent. When I say 'relatively harmless', I definitely mean it. Any human exposed to a heavy concentration of this aerosol would still become deathly ill, but at least they wouldn't melt into a puddle of goo afterwards. Its residual effects are drastically limited as a result of this tinkering, although that was ultimately a desirable outcome. This compound wouldn't be much use if no-one could use a habitat after decontamination. Seventy-two hours is an acceptable waiting period, although it's going to involve a bit of a juggling act at Kaori-san no-shima. The colonists can move into The Broch after we've sanitised it, then wait it out until their own quarters are ready for re-occupation. There's more than enough room to house them, although the level of accommodation drops a few stars from what they've become accustomed to.
The next day, Taranis, Red Dragon and Aegis set sail from The Broch. Héloise and I were piloting Pasteur and Jenner for this sortie, although we had to make the entire trip seated inside the ExoSuits. They were simply too large to board in the usual fashion while secured aboard a Cyclops, so we were obliged to 'suit up' before embarking.
Six ExoSuits rose slowly on the sub pen's freight elevator, breaking surface quietly. Call it a vestigial response if you want, but there was no denying the sensation of hairs rising on the back of my neck. To be honest, we weren't expecting any opposition on this side of the airlock. The other side, well...
As far as we knew, Polyakov and his thugs are still deep in cryostasis. After several previous attempts at setting up remote telemetry in the Lava Castle, I figured that boots on the ground are the only effective method of keeping an eye on this installation. Something out there was hunting down our recon drones and destroying the telemetry repeater stations faster than they could be replaced. My money is firmly on the Crabsquids, although I'm fairly certain that Lava Lizards might have also taken a serious dislike to our equipment. What few pieces we've found were comprehensively trashed, so either party could be the likely culprit. No great loss. The whole relay system was tenuous at best, in spite of being thoroughly EMP-hardened and armoured for working at extreme depth. Ingenuity always finds a way.
We're sending a small swarm of drones in first to scout ahead. To make detection slightly more difficult, they're disguised as Blood Crawler hatchlings. IANTO put a lot of time into refining their mimicry subroutines. As a result, they're practically indistinguishable from the real thing. Of course, they'll probably be attacked immediately by any Kharaa organisms in there (if any), although there's a decent payload of Gasopod cytotoxin inside each drone to give them a particularly nasty taste. That's just a contingency measure, of course. Sending in an entire army of drones loaded with the toxin might sound appealing to your average armchair warrior, although it's a haphazard and ultimately impractical means of dealing with a Kharaa infestation. This has to be a thoroughly targeted operation. There's no room for shortcuts, particularly when we're dealing with Baat Torgal's old research facility. Not looking forward to that one at all.
Once we were clear of the elevator, Aegis surfaced and extended a retractable boom carrying the replenishment hoses for Pasteur and Jenner's cytotoxin tanks. There is an additional 20,000 litres aboard Aegis, so there isn't much chance of running out of bug spray before the job is done. As soon as we have The Goon Squad safely aboard Red Dragon, we'll be able to couple transfer hoses directly to the base's primary atmospheric processors. That should take care of any airborne contaminants.
Six ExoSuits, six cryostasis transfer capsules. Our general plan is to evacuate the prisoners first, then unleash Hell upon every living organism inside the Lava Castle. By the time we're done here, the virus won't even have two protein strands to rub together. Consider this exercise as an extreme clinical trial of synthetic Enzyme 42.
I stared at the drone video feed in dismay. The Kharaa biofilm had erupted in great patches, covering every available surface inside the base. Its glistening grey-green taint was unmistakable. DIGBY had last inspected the base only two weeks ago and reported it as relatively clean. Significant atmospheric contamination had been detected throughout the base, although there wasn't much we could do about it back then. All of this has happened in the space of two weeks. Gorram, that's downright scary.
"IANTO, what d'you reckon happened here? - There's no way there's enough nutrients in the Lava Castle to trigger a growth surge like this. See what data you can pick up once we're inside, mate."
"Affirmative, Captain. My best guess is that the biofilm metabolised any materials it encountered."
Comments
The carrar is a bacterium though isn't it, ergo it eats it's host and mutates it at the same time?
I think it may have been referred to as that sometime in the story, but most recently he called it a virus.
Some points to consider:
It's a virus. It's alien. It still functions in cryostasis. Nothing was ever said about it making progress in frozen human cells.
Also, these stories take place on an alternate timeline. All due care and attention has been taken regarding scientific plausibility, within reasonable (and somewhat flexible) factual boundaries. It is a work of science fiction, after all.
Most importantly: It's my story. I get to make the rules.
But don't worry, I'm not done picking apart your story yet! Yes, writers everywhere will feel the minor irritation of:
THE SCIENCE NAZI!
Nothing wrong with a little constructive criticism, although I am dead against needless nit-picking purely for its own sake.
Fair warning... Some astute readers may have noticed that I am indeed somewhat technically inclined.
To whit: Twenty-plus years in industrial water treatment, specialising in filtration systems and Legionella outbreak control. FAUI Qualified SCUBA diver and certified equipment service technician. Thermographer. Materials research NDT/destructive test technician. Underwater ROV owner/operator. Former freelance journalist & computer game reviewer.
My credentials are hereby established. Pray that I do not ask for yours. I am the living embodiment of 'Merciless'.
Wherever possible, I prefer to use real-world science to support plot points in these stories. Expect a little help from The Wonder Material Of The Future: 'Handwavium' occasionally, but only because some advanced concepts sound particularly cool and I'd like to incorporate them into the story.
Basically, all I ask is that you enjoy what I've written. If you don't, fine. Just don't dump on me to inflate your own feelings of self worth. Common courtesy is extended to all my readers, and I rightfully expect the same in return.
After all, it's my time and effort that I'm burning for free here. Please bear that in mind before playing the Troll Card.
*drops mike*
The problem of Polyakov and Co. may have been put aside for a while, but it is far from forgotten. At some point, I'm going to have to retrieve them from the Lava Castle and make more permanent arrangements for them in Kaori-san no-shima. If it were entirely safe to do so, I'd happily leave them all to rot down there. However, each one of them is a potential time-bomb. My plan is to saturate the atmosphere of the entire facility with an Enzyme 42 aerosol, and since I'll be using the Gasopod toxin, I'll have to remove Polyakov and his mates first. Yes, I know this all sounds far too lenient, but I'll be damned if I'll leave them there to be digested by that stuff. I know how Gasopod cytotoxin works from first-hand experience, and I wouldn't wish that horrific death on anyone.
Even Polyakov.
Our prisoners will need to be revived from cryostasis, or the treatment simply won't work. The Kharaa virus is still active inside their bodies, perfectly capable of transmission to any living organism that comes into contact with them. Thawing them out and treating the infection is the only way to ensure that we obliterate every last skerrick of the Kharaa before leaving Manannán. If I read Father of Tides correctly, Sky Watcher and his cannon will blow Borealis out of the sky if even the slightest taint of Kharaa contamination is detected. I have already tried to prise the details of how Sky Watcher detects Kharaa contamination from Father of Tides, but it's plain that he has almost no understanding of Precursor technology.
"Sky Watcher smells Enemy. Burns them with sky-fire."
I'm guessing there's one Hell of a sensor suite at Sky Watcher's virtual fingertips. That's something I'd love to hand over to the TSF, along with synthetic versions of Enzyme 42 and its more potent Gasopod variant. Better yet, Alterra isn't going to get a single Credit from this deal. As far as I'm concerned, Alterra lost me completely when I found out about the STARFISH mining rig. If this makes life any easier for the Frontiersmen, I'm going to move heaven and earth to make certain it happens.
All in good time. For now, I have more than enough on my plate. Every day that isn't spent building Borealis brings us one day closer to hurricane season. Three months from now, the Argus satellite constellation will definitely be earning its keep. More delays are inevitable, but construction should be back on track in no time. If needs be, I can always build more construction drones and step up the pace a wee bit. If we can get most of the load-bearing assemblies secured in place before the weather turns rotten, nearly everything else can be completed underwater. The construction dock is designed with this particular contingency firmly in mind.
A week later, I found myself loitering about the shallows. From what I can determine, Gasopods communicate with a limited range of vocalisations. Try as I might, I found no clear meanings for any of their various grunts and squeaks. While it may have been possible to camouflage myself as a Gasopod, our conversation wouldn't have been terribly productive. I used the Warper image. As soon as I swam up to greet the herd, they panicked, instantly unleashing a blizzard of toxic gas pods.
"Speak with The Slow Ones."
Hmmm... Looks like Father of Tides has developed a sense of humour.
Harvesting Gasopod farts is not one of them.
Yes, I know they're not technically farts as such, although their chemical composition has certain similarities with the old-fashioned 'trouser cough' that we all know and love. Admittedly, the presence of fluorine and bromine came as a bit of a surprise, although it's easy to see how these elements have earned their place in this vicious hell-brew. The fluorine component of the cloud is converted into highly corrosive hydrofluoric acid upon contact with seawater, using an as-yet unknown catalytic process. Bromine is a powerful sanitising agent, making the emissions of these creatures something to be rightly avoided by any organism carrying the Kharaa virus. Even if you're not infected, swimming into a cloud of freshly-released Gasopod toxin is a really bad idea.
I discovered this fact very early in my stay on Manannán, inspiring an understandably healthy respect for Gasopods. Upon realising the gas-pod's potential as a weapon, I attempted to harvest some with a propulsion cannon's gravity snare, intending to use them as projectiles. It didn't take too many attempts before I gave this up as a particularly unwise notion. For a start, the pods are highly sensitive to hydrostatic pressure changes. If they rise or fall more than half a metre in the water, their walls will instantly rupture. You can probably guess what happens if you bring one of these pods into your base. Not pretty at all.
And yes, I found out the hard way.
Bearing this in mind, I whipped up a simple 'slurp-gun' to harvest the toxic cloud that they produced. Not much more to it than a metre-long tube containing a couple of axial compressors scavenged from airline tube segments, a membrane filter cartridge to remove seawater and a toxin holding tank. It's probably the safest way of doing it, all things considered.
It's far too easy to discount Gasopods as grotesque, slow and clumsy freaks of nature. However, I now believe that they occupy a far more important niche in Manannán's ecology. Their natural habitat is the Shallow Reef biome, and they are ideally suited to conditions in these protected areas. Their natural defence mechanism mainly serves to deter the incursion of larger predators such as Stalkers and Sand Sharks, incidentally creating a haven for food fish species to spawn and grow in relative safety. In regard to their role in this planet's ongoing war against the Kharaa, they are well equipped to sanitise the shallows quickly and effectively during an early infestation. If Warpers could be considered the fighter pilots in this conflict, Gasopods are definitely the bomber jockeys. Disrespect them at your own peril.
I'll say this for Gasopods; there's no apparent limit to the amount of toxin that each one can produce and release. My first five-litre sample container reached its full capacity after only two minutes, so I was able to complete the task with a minimum of disruption to their otherwise placid routine. I conjure these creatures warrant much further investigation, particularly from a behavioural viewpoint. There's an intelligence of sorts at work here. If there's any way of establishing a two-way dialogue, both parties may benefit from an amiable working partnership. Naturally, we'll attempt to synthesize the toxin if it's possible to do so, although getting it straight from the source is an acceptable alternative. The process of generating toxin doesn't appear to cause them any distress at all, although I'm sure that they would appreciate the gesture if we asked them nicely first. Given the Kharaa presence spreading through this sector of the galaxy, we're going to need all of the allies we can muster.
Practically all life on Manannán has been engineered for this exact purpose.
Uh.
Yeah. Okay.
I typed in Rich Clan into Google and all I could find was a Clash of Clans... clan... three guesses what it was called.
So, entirely irrelevant to the story in general. Just as I thought. Clan spam irritates me.
Tricky question.
Overall, I've enjoyed writing both stories. Some of the game's plot additions were slightly more difficult to incorporate into the story than others, but that's all part of the fun. I'm trying to remain more or less consistent with the plot, although certain liberties have to be taken in order to create something unique. I didn't want to make these stories into text versions of YouTube play-throughs. That would have been a horrific experience all round.
I'm only going by reader comments to obtain real-time feedback on the story's progress at the moment. Whenever I sense bums getting restless on seats (mine included), I'll step up the pace and write in an action sequence.
Hint: There's one coming shortly.
I always welcome constructive reader feedback, but please remember to keep all comments short and in some sort of context with the story... More or less.
Hope you're all enjoying the ride.
Thanks.
I was planning to visit Héloise sometime later this evening. Love may be blind, but its sense of smell is in perfect working order. Something tells me that a dab of manly cologne won't be nearly enough.
JUNO and IANTO were still hard at work making the current batch of Enzyme 42 treatment derms and IV solutions, concurrent with their research on a synthetic version for mass production throughout human-occupied space. IANTO sniffed audibly as I entered the cramped lab module.
"Howay, troops! I have returned from the Bog of Eternal Stench, bearing gifts for all!" I crowed.
"That much is painfully obvious, Captain." JUNO said primly. "With all due respect, Sir, I strongly recommend that you repeat another two full decontamination cycles before leaving."
"That's a bit harsh, lass." I said defensively, "I'm registering a concentration of less than 0.5 parts per billion... Well below the olfactory threshold for humans. Still, if your pals won't tell you when you're a bit on the nose, they're no' your real pals. Consider it done."
It really was that bad. If we were going to use an aerosol version of the Gasopod toxin to disinfect the colony and Lava Castle base, something would have to be done about that horrible, all-pervading smell. It completely transcended 'annoying' and went straight to 'infuriating' without skipping a beat. Not too many folks give the myriad scents of life more than a second's thought, beyond what constitutes a 'good' or 'bad' smell. In fact, odours can exert a powerful influence over the human mind, typically triggering some sort of emotional response at an entirely unconscious level. If you ever want to recall a cherished lost memory, try smelling something associated with a specific life event. Believe me, it works. These minute details might seem trivial to the casual observer, although I assure you that my concerns about the toxin's smell are serious and entirely well-founded.
Most of the colonists have effectively reached their utmost emotional limits. Even the slightest irritant, whether it be social or environmental, could easily trigger an uncontrollable outbreak of violence. Some of them are now well enough to be getting up and about for short periods, and they are all fully aware of Polyakov's role in unleashing this epidemic. It wouldn't have taken anyone too long to join up the dots. Suffice it to say, the general mood around Kaori-san no-shima is rather less than amiable at the moment.
There's a definite undercurrent of anger in the air, something that can't be cleared up with another jolly ceilidh and a stirring, tear-streaked chorus of 'Auld Lang Syne'. Judging by some of the conversations I've been hearing lately, nothing short of feeding Polyakov and the Blue Meanies to a shoal of starving Biters would suffice. On that cheery note, I'd best be getting back to the colony and seeing what I can do to avert this situation. At the heart of it, they're good folks in there. I'd rather not see them all dragged down to Polyakov's level.
"You stay right there, milady." I said sternly. "You've been through a particularly rough patch lately, so you'd best take a quiet spell. Besides, it's not like there's anything happening at the moment."
"I'm bored, my dear Captain." Héloise pouted. "I want to go swimming with sea dragons again."
I smiled, gently taking her hand. "You and me both, love. However, you've still got some ways to go, and I won't let you burn yourself out again. DIGBY told me about the state he found you in, and I thoroughly agree with his decision to keep you bedded down for at least another 48 hours."
She smiled archly. "But not engaged in any activities that might be considered too strenuous... Pfui."
I chuckled. "Later, dear heart. In the meantime, is there anything else that I can do or get for you?"
Héloise nodded decisively. "A drink. I would like one of your Beached Reaper cocktails. Topside."
I frowned, albeit half-seriously.
"Not certain that's entirely a good idea, lass. However, as your consulting physician, there may be some therapeutic benefit to be gained from fresh air, sensory stimuli and a prudent measure of alcohol to put some colour back in your lovely cheeks. I shall consult with my learned colleagues."
Héloise eagerly wriggled herself into a sitting position, her upper body supported by a couple of extra pillows. There was a brief wordless interlude while I conferred with JUNO, IANTO and DIGBY. She regarded me with an almost childlike expression; something halfway between mock petulance and genuine expectancy. Actually, it would be perfectly fine to take her topside for a breath of fresh air, although there was a question mark hanging over the wee nippie that she fancied. There was no apparent data regarding adverse interactions involving Enzyme 42 and alcohol, so a certain degree of moderation is called for here.
Héloise had protested when I returned to the ward with a wheelchair, although her first attempt at standing unassisted ultimately convinced her of its utility. A precautionary scan I'd taken revealed a number of small lesions along her spinal cord. Nothing too serious and well on the way to healing completely, although their residual effects were immediately obvious. She would be wobbly on her feet for at least another week or so.
Margaritaville was a welcome relief for both of us. However, I made the mistake of bringing up a particularly sore point halfway through an otherwise pleasant discussion.
Idiot.
"You're not serious, surely?" Héloise said icily. "Bringing Polyakov back here would be a disaster."
"I am. I need to treat the infection that he and his team are carrying, otherwise the planet will never be free of the Kharaa plague. There is also an urgent need to decontaminate the Lava Castle base, and there's no way of doing that without killing them all. Their cryostasis pods will definitely malfunction when they're exposed to the Gasopod cytotoxin. It's an insanely powerful brew of chemicals."
Héloise leaned forward, her expression furious. "Not a problem, Chérie. Let them rot down there."
Even under a maximum security lockdown, Polyakov and Co. are a total liability. I briefly considered sending them all to Skull Island; most fitting company for the other toxic wastes we store there. That would surely end well. Mining explosives and fissionable materials do not play nicely together. He wouldn't have to do an Oppenheimer to get his own back, either. Ten tonnes of MDX would make a tidy bang, and when you throw in a few tonnes of viciously hot isotopes, life will become particularly uncomfortable for all parties concerned. I wouldn't put it past the bastard to use a dirty bomb against Kaori-san no-shima, either. After all, he had few qualms about fielding a Level V biological weapon against us. That settles it. Appropriate or not, Skull Island is definitely off the table. Permanently.
It has to be Kaori-san no-shima. Now all I have to do is convince Héloise and the other committee members that this is the right decision. That's going to be a full-time job in itself. Once the colonists find out that Polyakov and his team are back onboard, it's going to be flaming torches and pitchforks all round... Although it's more like magnesium flares and repulsion cannons in this case.
"Look, love. As far as I'm concerned, Polyakov has already used up all of his mulligans in one go. We can't leave them down there. Sooner or later, those cryopods will malfunction on their own accord. When those men start to thaw, the Kharaa virus will convert their tissues into a biomass capable of pumping out a tsunami of combat-ready Kharaa predators. Sure, they'll be confined to the Lava Castle for a short while, but that won't stop them. They'll adapt to aquatic life inside a couple of generations, and there's nothing on this planet that can fight them out of water, except Rock Punchers. Maybe. They simply won't be enough to stem the invasion. It's all up to us."
Héloise shuddered visibly. I wasn't certain if her mind's eye saw the inevitable outcome of this scenario, or her body recalled that fleeting contact with the Kharaa organism. There was something primal and obscene about the Kharaa; nightmare creatures springing from living flesh, a flesh still dimly aware of being consumed. Thankfully, we have found a way to avoid those final moments of horror.
If we had failed to discover the curative enzyme, I already have a contingency plan in place to spare the colonists from a truly miserable end. Not even Héloise knows about it. At the heart of the station, a nuclear dragon sleeps. When it finally wakes, I will burn with everyone else. Even now, the decision to incinerate Kaori-san no-shima still haunts me.
"Where are you going to keep them?" Héloise asked eventually. "Just knowing that he's alive would be enough to drive everyone here insane with rage. I trust you with all my heart, but the others will not understand why you are doing this thing... At least let me talk with them first."
I felt I was now treading slightly firmer ground with Héloise, much to my relief. There were some awful moments back there when she let the chain slip on her inner Guardian, and I wouldn't want to be standing between her and Polyakov when the last link ran out.
"I plan to lock them away in the Security complex. After making a few minor changes to their living arrangements, of course. Once JUNO and IANTO have prepared the decontamination compounds, I'll collect those ratbags from the Lava Castle and bang them all up tighter than a Peeper's freckle."
Héloise smiled grimly. "Bon. I'm coming with you."
You're not the only one. If so, question is, is she brainwashed (I'm assuming that's the only reason she would stick with mcdiddlyface) enough to follow through, or will she see the light? Of course, that assumes mcdiddlyface is smart enough to plot something like that, which I highly doubt. She would have to be the mastermind I think, if that's the way this went.
The new ExoSuits Pasteur and Jenner are hulking great brutes. A Cyclops can only carry two of them, owing to the bulk of their integral chemical storage tanks. With a total capacity of 2,500 litres in mind, I had to juggle the suit's weight distribution specs considerably before accepting the final prototype design. There's not much point in building a bipedal mech if its first reaction is to pitch forward and face-plant. By the time I had finished tweaking this variant's design parameters, it was almost as agile as a Mk. V, although its top movement speed has been reduced by 50 per cent. Since we aren't planning to beat a hasty retreat anytime soon, I can live with those figures. Besides, the mere sight of one these things would give a Kharaa Onos a severe case of the runs.
These suits are definitely not pretty. You know how a standard ExoSuit looks a wee bit spindly and a touch top-heavy? Not these nasty buggers. They've been spending some serious time at the gym, and quite possibly dabbling with naughty chemicals as well. Tsk-tsk.
Anyway, I was rather satisfied with the end result. As well as the standard Mk. V's Gauss cannons, the suits also carried twin plasma flamers and cytotoxin sprayers. Two high pressure spray nozzles are mounted in the suit's fist turrets, and there's an array of aerosol dispersion jets arranged at strategic points over the suit hull. Aside from disinfecting a wide area while on the move, the mist system will also take care of anything attempting to engage the suits in close combat. Of course, there's only a very slight probability of encountering any actual Kharaa life forms while we're in the Lava Castle, but that's why I've gone all-out to ensure that absolutely nothing escapes from there. No matter how remote, probabilities have a sneaky way of biting you on the arse. Best to go in fully prepared for the worst.
The breakthrough came two days later. JUNO and IANTO had refined the cytotoxin's chemical structure to make it relatively harmless to human beings and native life forms, while retaining its full potency as an anti-Kharaa agent. When I say 'relatively harmless', I definitely mean it. Any human exposed to a heavy concentration of this aerosol would still become deathly ill, but at least they wouldn't melt into a puddle of goo afterwards. Its residual effects are drastically limited as a result of this tinkering, although that was ultimately a desirable outcome. This compound wouldn't be much use if no-one could use a habitat after decontamination. Seventy-two hours is an acceptable waiting period, although it's going to involve a bit of a juggling act at Kaori-san no-shima. The colonists can move into The Broch after we've sanitised it, then wait it out until their own quarters are ready for re-occupation. There's more than enough room to house them, although the level of accommodation drops a few stars from what they've become accustomed to.
The next day, Taranis, Red Dragon and Aegis set sail from The Broch. Héloise and I were piloting Pasteur and Jenner for this sortie, although we had to make the entire trip seated inside the ExoSuits. They were simply too large to board in the usual fashion while secured aboard a Cyclops, so we were obliged to 'suit up' before embarking.
The Doctors will be with you shortly.
As far as we knew, Polyakov and his thugs are still deep in cryostasis. After several previous attempts at setting up remote telemetry in the Lava Castle, I figured that boots on the ground are the only effective method of keeping an eye on this installation. Something out there was hunting down our recon drones and destroying the telemetry repeater stations faster than they could be replaced. My money is firmly on the Crabsquids, although I'm fairly certain that Lava Lizards might have also taken a serious dislike to our equipment. What few pieces we've found were comprehensively trashed, so either party could be the likely culprit. No great loss. The whole relay system was tenuous at best, in spite of being thoroughly EMP-hardened and armoured for working at extreme depth. Ingenuity always finds a way.
We're sending a small swarm of drones in first to scout ahead. To make detection slightly more difficult, they're disguised as Blood Crawler hatchlings. IANTO put a lot of time into refining their mimicry subroutines. As a result, they're practically indistinguishable from the real thing. Of course, they'll probably be attacked immediately by any Kharaa organisms in there (if any), although there's a decent payload of Gasopod cytotoxin inside each drone to give them a particularly nasty taste. That's just a contingency measure, of course. Sending in an entire army of drones loaded with the toxin might sound appealing to your average armchair warrior, although it's a haphazard and ultimately impractical means of dealing with a Kharaa infestation. This has to be a thoroughly targeted operation. There's no room for shortcuts, particularly when we're dealing with Baat Torgal's old research facility. Not looking forward to that one at all.
Once we were clear of the elevator, Aegis surfaced and extended a retractable boom carrying the replenishment hoses for Pasteur and Jenner's cytotoxin tanks. There is an additional 20,000 litres aboard Aegis, so there isn't much chance of running out of bug spray before the job is done. As soon as we have The Goon Squad safely aboard Red Dragon, we'll be able to couple transfer hoses directly to the base's primary atmospheric processors. That should take care of any airborne contaminants.
Six ExoSuits, six cryostasis transfer capsules. Our general plan is to evacuate the prisoners first, then unleash Hell upon every living organism inside the Lava Castle. By the time we're done here, the virus won't even have two protein strands to rub together. Consider this exercise as an extreme clinical trial of synthetic Enzyme 42.
I stared at the drone video feed in dismay. The Kharaa biofilm had erupted in great patches, covering every available surface inside the base. Its glistening grey-green taint was unmistakable. DIGBY had last inspected the base only two weeks ago and reported it as relatively clean. Significant atmospheric contamination had been detected throughout the base, although there wasn't much we could do about it back then. All of this has happened in the space of two weeks. Gorram, that's downright scary.
"IANTO, what d'you reckon happened here? - There's no way there's enough nutrients in the Lava Castle to trigger a growth surge like this. See what data you can pick up once we're inside, mate."
"Affirmative, Captain. My best guess is that the biofilm metabolised any materials it encountered."