Brutally efficient commander (planetary annihilation/ multicrossover)
- Thread starter DragonCommander
- Start date
- Sci-Fi
Chapter 7 (transformers).
White House - USA
In the Oval Office, there was an emergency meeting where the head of the world's superpower had to be informed of a matter of national security.
A Caucasian man dressed in a suit handed a set of papers to the person sitting at an oak desk "sir, here is the report he requested" once he handed it over he walked away with a group of similarly uniformed men.
The man at the desk glanced at the reports, a cursory perusal to get an idea of the problem at hand.
Just a day ago, there was a computer attack that overheated and burned a large number of servers all over the world, it is not known if it was directed or it was the release of a virus and for what purpose it was done.
It was an accident? Was it an attack? Was it some sick prank from a gang of hackers?
No one knew it, but the US media is already classifying it as cyberterrorism, causing a state of alarm among the general population.
A population that asks for answers, answers that he still does not have.
"how many servers were lost?" asked the president, the 44th president of the United States, Barack Obama, in the middle of his first year in office.
One of the men in the room stepped forward, a uniformed man with a series of folders in his arms, "We don't have the full numbers, companies like Google are still counting or reluctant to tell us. But at the moment we count more than 2600 damaged servers and about 200 completely burned "he adjusts the arm with the folders and uses the other to open them and review their content. "We do not know how much information has been lost, but we have already verified that no confidential or government files have been deleted, unfortunately, some less protected elements have been … "Removed" so to speak" in terms of informing the president.
The president tensed and stared at the agent who requested the information "are you saying that data has not been stolen?" the president questioned.
The agent just shook his head "we don't know for sure, it seems that someone changed the location of files and digital documents in an random way". She looked away from the papers and returned to look at his eyes that expressed deep weariness before continuing "some of them were even renamed to something unreadable, our IT guys are working overtime to re-organize the files contained on the servers. governmental agencies"
The president soon sighed, muttering something barely electable: "it had to happen in my first year as president", those in the room did the courtesy of ignoring him.
"So we think this was a distraction to steal data from us?" asked the president tired.
Another agent present gave his report "although it is possible, it is almost impossible to confirm it, with all the movement of files, change of names, and burned servers…" the agent sighed, but continued "In all the chaos, it is impossible to find a trace if someone could copy and download something."
At that point, the agent in question handed over a folder from his arm, "but what we DO know is that it was fast, so fast our best servers could barely keep up. It bypassed any firmware or protection software that we or any country or private technology company had," he finished with a grim note in his voice.
He dispenses, staring at him as he picked up the folder that rested on his desk "does this have to do with what happened two years ago?"
The exchange of glances was prolonged, conveying the seriousness of the matter "I'm just saying that, according to our computer scientists, this is something very difficult to do for current human capacities" term, without accusing anyone, but making it clear who would be the most guilty probable.
If he had been told two years ago that humanity would conflict with robotic aliens, Obama would have laughed.
But he couldn't laugh so much anymore after the pandemonium of Mission City becoming a key war zone between two factions of a space robot race.
The fact that he was now the United States president revealed certain secrets and things that the American agencies hid in the closet for a long time.
Not just dubious CIA operations and experiments or under-the-table contracts, but the fact that there was an organization dedicated for decades to studying a frozen alien robot
So not only doesn't it sound far-fetched that this computer attack was caused by aliens, it sounds plausible, especially considering the presence of a hostile faction of alien robots on the planet.
At this time, Obama envied the former US president: George Walker Bush, for having dodged the bullet of crises caused by aliens, he only had to endure one and first published alien disaster, he would have to take care of the others.
The president could only do one thing, the most responsible action he could take in a situation that could put the fate of the world at stake… delegate.
He put the folder on the desk and stared at the group of officials and agents gathered in the Oval Office. "Call Major William Lennox, and tell him that we will need NEST preparedness and advice from him for this crisis."
Mars
[engram 732-C]
[engram 732-C]
Red desert, red desert, and red desert...
Being a copy limited the feeling of boredom to some extent, but it doesn't eradicate it...
What I discovered after— [ Estimated time: 4 *(standard hours) ] of piloting.
I also discovered that I can drive decently.
I was [ probability: 97% ] that this is related to my parent program percentage of my mental template— [60% Template AI (spare) / 37% data: (unit software) / 10% data: (???) / 3% data: commander software (Fragments) ], but I was in no mood to complain.
The chassis he was piloting was a— [Firefly: air scouts].
It flew surprisingly well, very smoothly, and with hardly any air interference for one of the most basic units in the catalog.
They had a thin frame and long flexible wings with folded tips that cut through the thin air of the Martian atmosphere like a sword in the wind.
On its dorsal shell was a fin at the front that pulsated and fed on strange frequency signals that acted as my eyes and ears.
Its tail curved upwards, holding an arrow-shaped fin that directs currents to optimize flight.
He had no idea how he propelled himself.
It was a good plane, or to use a more correct term: a good drone.
Even if it wasn't directly directed by me, he— [Firefly] has his little processing brain, nothing too complex, but good enough to interpret and execute commands, as well as follow coordinates.
But, since the main staff was too busy with other projects such as Martian base management expansion and debating the responsibility and value of the organic—[Human] and semi-organic—[Cybertronian] races, not to mention their inability to control the gestation of helper templates. It has caused dozens of us to become unit pilots to comply with orders or objectives, or sergeants of small or medium squadrons of units such as the— [Firefly] produced by the— [Air factories] newly built in this "industrial ring" which is forming on the new base.
My mission was simple, check the area, look for possible remnants, Decepticon or any structure, or cybertronian things. Activate a red alert if you see a bunch of drop pods land or encounter a hostile, active Decepticon.
Looking to the side, he looked through the data collected from the two radars of two— [Firefly], one 200 meters away from me and the other 200 meters away from the latter.
What I received was the mental image of…
Red desert, brown mountain, brownstone…
Yes, fascinating… at least we are collecting geographic data.
I looked at my scouting party, a collection of 18—[Firefly], divided into groups of three or six, 5 taking up arrow stance with another following a little further behind.
They respond to my commands quickly and efficiently, their little digital brain attentive and eager to carry out any command that I or any of the engrams or the original throw at them.
Interestingly, he couldn't help but think of these drones as trained dogs with the ability to communicate by Morse.
I laugh a little as the image of a —[Firefly] sprouts legs and its snout splits in half, then it starts barking and spinning around like a puppy with too much energy.
This way of looking at things makes the job more bearable / [Agreement] —Anyway! I'm a few dozen kilometers from the base and I haven't found anything, which is good, but I haven't found the things either, maybe, it can reveal our existence and location to alien entities and hostile factions, which is bad.
Movie lore shows that the first stop of the— [hostile faction: Decepticons(Cybertronian)] in their 2007 assault was the moon, confirmed by— [POW/slave: soundwave].
So in the space of two years, there has been a [Decepticon] facility and presence on the planet, but we don't know who stayed.
An early warning system? Energon thirsty stragglers? Drones?
We don't know, and that's —[+Threat]
The human threats would be the Rober, or at least one of its counterparts, if I remember correctly 3 were released, but I'm not sure if this is the same here or in this time frame.
I also don't know if there has been any collaboration with the—[Neutral faction: Autobots(Cybertronian)] to send other drones to check for other Decepticons or infrastructure.
While meta-knowledge is useful and, to be honest, quite comforting, in a situation as rare as the current one, I couldn't just rely on it.
The unknown scares, scares the main and by extension all engrams, we are in a hot spot where we know we could be attacked, but we don't know when.
That made us more attentive to things and…
Red sand, brown rock, traces of metal.
Hey, that's new.
With a mental command, I made the entire formation turn in the direction of the strange object, most likely the Rober, soon the rest of the six—[Firefly] began to show the same results.
With a little mental tug, I fragmented my mind and let it weave like a new engram, I said nothing, I didn't need it, and at the same time a flickering silhouette formed next to me, it quickly left to communicate with the main one.
It is a pity that we are so limited in communications, something about each copy having its field or space in the Commander network, a field that needs to be penetrated to communicate.
Or a cry from the commander
It was like being in the cabins of a ship, we were all on the same ship.
But we are all isolated in our own rooms doing things until the foghorn goes off (the commander), or a colleague comes to warn us of something (an engram).
Therefore, we only have to make these messengers give and receive messages until we get a new internal quantum internet.
Rare, but like the original, none of us were in top condition.
Neither hardware nor software.
The main one knows that and, consequently, all those created since then know it.
Mars
[engram 222-B]
[engram 222-B]
Mire mi pequeña pantalla, un recuadro de luz cristalina que mostraba una plétora de datos y se conectaba por hilos de luz a otros recuadros más pequeños o simplemente puntos en el vacío negro en el que resido.
Estas pequeñas ventanas me mostraban más datos, datos que podía interpretar como un escenario en movimiento, también datos sobre el estado de los vehículos que estoy dirigiendo y las coordenadas a las que vamos.
Todo esto con unas emociones tamborileando mis pensamientos pensamientos codiciosos, pensamientos codiciosos que me animaron a empujar hasta el límite seguro de los motores eléctricos que hacían girar las ruedas de rodadura sobre los eslabones de orugas de tanque, estos mordían y arrastraban el suelo para ganar más velocidad al vehículo terrestre.
el porqué de estos pensamientos codiciosos?
fácil, fueron el motivo de mi creación.
soy un engrama nacido del deseo del principal, de la ilusión de obtener algo, ese era su propósito en la vida, obtener cosas para el principal, era su Codicia y con gusto la complacera y cebara con jugosos resultados.
Resultados de naturaleza cleptómana venía con una ética dudosa, pero Prf* detalles.
Y en este momento el principal desea (y por lo tanto YO codicio) la [Tecnología: cybertroniana], principalmente en forma de nave decepticon atorada en un cráter de Marte.
Si bien la tecnología comandante progenitor no tiene nada que envidiar a la tecnología cybertroniana, sobre todo en el tema de logística y producción, aún es útil tener los avances que otras ramas de la ciencia han llegado hacer.
Además de las trampas.
Porque después de pasar [Inserte cantidad de tiempo demasiado grande para ser saludable] trabajando en la ingeniería progenitor y que este fuera un [Inserte grosería sobre la dificultad], me di/nos dimos cuenta de que es ciertamente difícil de modificar, adaptar la tecnología progenitor y que el resultado fuera eficiente.
La solución: encuentra otra tecnología que sea más fácil de manipular.
Y que hay en este planeta polvoriento?: una nave llena de hardware y software alienígena de tecnología ligeramente más primitiva que la mía (los pobres desgraciados aún utilizan motores no ex-nihilo).
Normalmente, esto sería una idea tonta, que tu esperanza para solucionar tus problemas dependa en desentrañar los secretos de una tecnología alienígena extraña denotaban la desesperación y falta de opciones.
Normalmente se necesitarían años de estudio para comenzar a descifrar elementos básicos del hardware y la ciencia detrás de su función y fabricación, ni hablemos del software detrás de la máquina.
Pero eso no es mí caso, no solo porque no tengo las deficiencias e inconvenientes de especies orgánicas a la hora de trabajar nuevas ramas de la ciencia o su investigación en equivalentes alienígenas. También es porque, por diferentes factores, la tarea en cuestión se me ha facilitado hasta algo que se ha convertido en una opción más que plausible.
Uno de estos factores, y uno de los más importantes, sería que ya tengo una traducción completa del lenguaje alienígena, además de una compresión decente de la programación cybertroniana (al menos de fabricación decepticon), un ejército de engramas IA dispuestos a asaltar un proyecto menos frustrante que intentar usar o peor, comprender la tecnología progenitor.
En el peor de los casos, como mínimo salvamos un montón de chatarra que se convertirá en recurso útil. Con la posibilidad de salvar una nave con capacidad FTL y suficiente espacio para que el principal escape si las cosas van demasiado al infierno, ya sea por nuestra culpa o por un agente externo.
En el mejor de los casos, desbloqueamos nuevas ramas tecnológicas y un montón de construcciones menos complejos y más fáciles de manipular e hibridar con lo que ya tenemos (naves espaciales, instalaciones, máquinas, etc.).
Y un ejército de bots.
Ese pensamiento me hizo sonreír.
Dando el equivalente de un latigazo mental a los cuatro Vehículos de fabricación secuestrados para esta misión, metiendo más presión en sus motores eléctricos altamente eficientes para atravesar los suelos silvestres e irregulares de Marte.
Como alguien que se definía (en broma) como skynista en su vida pasada/simulada/robada, era esencial tener un ejército de minion intimidantes de metal de alta tecnología y tener armas nucleares.
Tengo una de dos, y necesitaba esas dos.
Y lo conseguiré sin tener que exponerme a ese matador de cordura que es el diseño progenitor.
esos pensamientos y deseos, la ansiedad de la necesidad de ESTO, la posibilidad que representaba y las posibilidades alcanzables.
esto, me dio un cosquilleo a una parte central de mi código, lo que me provocó un deseo recuerdo emergiera, un recuerdo de la infancia que me inspira a expresar mi emoción con un… "canto de guerra".
Mio.
JA! Aún recuerdo las gaviotas, más películas para mi biblioteca.
Mio, mio.
Puede sonar infantil, pero fue un impulso en su mayoría infantil la que dio luz a mi creación, la infantilidad no debería ser motivo de vergüenza en mi caso si no un elemento natural en mi esencia.
Con ese último pensamiento, los cuatro tanques—[Vehículos de fabricación] siguieron las coordenadas hacia la nave encallada, liberando una pequeña humareda de polvo y roca.
todo al son de un canto de guerra de mi tierna infancia
mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio, mio!
[Major]
According to the stopwatch, 18.03 hours have passed since my decision to form a Martian base.
Give or take a day, a day of expansion, a day of rampant construction.
A day of rampant, brutally efficient construction.
It's a little hard to say this was a red wasteland on an uninhabitable planet, now it's a series of ring-shaped industrial zones punctuated with "dirt roads" formed by the hundreds of vehicles flattening Martian dust and sediment into a rudimentary path in the shape of a cross that crosses the entire base.
Surrounded by a circle of weapons.
Have I already said how much I love exponential growth?
and special mention to goo.
With this goal, the first generation of manufacturing vehicles was produced, and these spread and began to make the first ring of generators to power the entire industry. But only a few at a time so as not to overwhelm my young little economy, while additional goo drops and a small group of fabricators headed off to the red wastelands of Mars to quickly create metal extractors.
Once I had enough extraction rigs hitting the Martian soil, about 3 hours after the start of my expansion, the more intense crafting began.
to the point of reducing my goo body to a mere hill, but the first ring was completed.
Rows of T1 generators, rows dedicated to energy stores and mass stores, and even a single row of T2 generators were manufactured in the first ring sections in record time.
I would no longer have to worry about what would happen if I drained all my energy.
At the end of the day, he had so much energy circulating in the resource grid that you could almost see static discharges in the air around the ring on an occasional basis.
And a dozen meters apart, there was the factory ring, similar to the previous ring, only made up of unit production buildings and not complete, with a full third of the designated field remaining virgin.
Three rows as above but with much more space to span, the factory-mounted T1 vehicle facing out of the ring onto the newly formed dirt roads, allowing their creations to move freely through the makeshift streets.
Meanwhile, the T1 air factories had the advantage of deploying their units vertically, so they could accommodate themselves behind the other factories in the middle row.
On occasion, special holes were made where factories twice the size resided, heavier, high-tech, and spending/production the Tec 2 air and ground factories, preparing to spit out the most advanced units of the parent army.
Or what was left of them.
Right now it is not in maximum production, only some of the factories were turned on intermittently to supply the growing demand for vehicles every so many hour, a measure that was done both to not exceed the line of spending / production of metal, and to be able to distribute more groups comfortably.
It's a bit difficult to maneuver RC minions when jammed with RC minions, sometimes the clips had to do direct control on some units and use the free space of the 2nd ring to cut off the dirt paths.
But that's irrelevant information, getting back on topic, the third ring: the defense ring.
Or as I hope the enemies will get to know it, the meat grinder.
At 100 meters from the second circumference, a dotted line formed by Galatea turrets is drawn; automatic anti-aircraft missile launchers. Followed by another ring a little separated so that there is no friendly find re, made up of double-cannon laser defense towers.
His name says it all.
A few meters away, thick rectangular slabs of metal are built, flush with the ground, with a straight slit in the middle running its entire length.
And from these emerged translucent slabs of hard light.
He had devices capable of generating hard light, like the ones in the halo saga…
For a moment I got carried away by the nostalgia of my first shooter, and my immersion in the world of video games.
Everything is more vivid, clearer, I suppose these are the advantages of a digitized memory.
But, on the other hand, the memories of this video game saga give me ideas...
I shook my head metaphorically and a bit literally as I pushed the current thoughts away.
Going back to the defensive ring, I would normally apply radar and artillery structures at this point, but honestly, who would land an army to invade Mars?
Although I am concerned about the Cybertronians, specifically the Decepticons, their numbers and current modus operandi give an idea that they avoid open warfare, since the fall of Cybertron, they always appear in squads or so, lo and do infiltration missions.
The closest I've seen to a post-loss homeworld Cybertronian army is when the Decepticons use Drones, Vehicons, or Insecticons, and those last two are from the wrong continuity.
No, what they have are veteran Cybertronians, cultivated youth, and drones. And you are running out of three sources.
So instead of going through the long and expensive process of adding Pelter or Hawking artillery, duplicate your current one.
More laser turrets, more anti-air turrets, more hard light shields and mines.
Now that I have a strong economy I could start spawning Tec 2 manufacturers and mass-producing turret upgrades and new, more advanced defensive structures, the catapult tactical missile launcher comes to mind.
Let's see what you think of the trench warfare of the future.
I feel a tug, someone, ie: one of my clips has just come into my data processing.
I withdraw from the illusion of the real world, returning to black and seeing the literal tree of light grids and crystalline displays.
My silhouette stares at him, chewing on the thought of the growth my web has seen thus far as I walk away and dive into Oasis.
The silhouette blurs and becomes my default avatar model, stretching out its limbs, hearing and feeling satisfying creaking.
My feet tread the hot sand with satisfaction, feeling the grainy texture and the warmth that conveys a pleasant sensation from my stimulated nerves.
With a movement that is more than practiced, in a movement of the hand a glass with a straw made of crystalline material permanently filled with orange liquid appears.
I look at my surroundings, a flat desert of white sand and a permanently clear sky with a little ball of light and heat at the highest point.
I proceeded to slurp while I waited, the sweet and citrusy taste I'm used to flooding my palate as I take in the surroundings I'm so used to.
Maybe you should do renovations?
I had never considered it. If I needed something or wanted something, I formed it based on memories and experiences and then discarded it until I needed it again.
Did he want to sleep?A bed came out of the sand, did he want drinks? Did he get them out of digital nothing, did he want an armchair? The same as the bed.
But what if he made it permanent? I don't know, build a house, maybe a garden and make this place more welcoming and less… flat.
Then I felt a tingle and he turned his neck one hundred and eighty degrees to, look at the figure that materializes out of nowhere.
It was me.
Well, a version of me.
When in Commander Grid, my clips look like human silhouettes, having the same overall proportions and thus almost indistinguishable from one another.
But multi-generation clips start to degrade and "pixilated" so to speak, making their silhouettes more recognizable.
In simulated space, it is another story.
In front, or from behind, there is a clip of me from the first generation, that is, it came directly from me, and despite that there are subtle but very noticeable differences in its appearance.
The flat circuitry pajamas were a form-fitting jumpsuit, her features more angular, sharper at the edges, as if they had taken digital modeling of my face and stripped away the textures, exposing a construction of polygons that make up an imitation of my face and features.
I'd say it's sinister, but I'm the one who turned his neck like an owl.
God, this new life is getting to me.
But that's what he's here for.
I looked at him intensely before speaking to him— "Do you have it?"
My clip shrugged and replied —"close enough"
I stared at him for a few moments, debating if I was going to do this until I rolled my eyes in exasperation as my neck snapped back into place. cheer up.
Suddenly we leave the oasis, as the sand vanishes and the l, some lamps fill, but we do not leave the simulation, since a floor is formed with dark wooden planks that appeared from nowhere, you look like a cream-colored tapestry they raise and grid our space and a red roof comes down to enclose us.
Furniture materializes, bookcases take shape while a comfortable-looking armchair and sofa emerge from the ground.
A coffee table with a mini zen garden rested on its surface.
At the ends of the room there are lamps that fill the space with a warm light.
Without saying anything, I go to the sofa and he lays me down on it with my head resting on the armrest, while my clip sits on the chair, crosses his legs, and clasps his hands while looking at me.
His smile didn't budge one bit before he uttered the first words for this session— "fine, how are you feeling?" I ask helpfully as he opened a window of blue translucent material into the air.
Ok, I think this went well.
perspective of humans, or at least the human with the NEST button at the table.
(don't expect a lot of politics or historical events related to politics, I have no idea about that thing and I usually try to avoid it as much as possible (it works well to reduce stress))
perspective of the individual engrams, with a visible difference between generations.
and the commander himself, delving deeper and deeper into the more classic parts of a commander's story.
Now I want to ask, what do you think about the story so far, has there been an improvement since the first try? understand things better?
In any case, I hope you have a good day or night.
Last edited:
Arimai
Curmudgeon
@DragonCommander the story was enjoyable. However it suffers from punctuation, grammar, sentence structure and repetition. At several segments it was confusing to tell who was speaking. There are word walls all over as well.
Please use Grammarly or an equivalent program at the very least and try to find a proofreader.
Please use Grammarly or an equivalent program at the very least and try to find a proofreader.
I was afraid of it, I've looked at what you recommended, and it's... interesting, I'll look at applying it in the chapters of the new continuity and see how it works.
As for the beta... I think I'll eventually create a public docs document and let my readers veto my story.
Haun yes, I'm glad you liked it so far and thanks for the criticism... although it hurts.
P.S. although in fact, recently using a grammar checker has helped me a lot.
but if you say that I still can't write smoothly... I'll try to use both correctors to see what happens, but I don't expect much anymore.
Last edited:
It's a couple of days before canon, that is when NEST and the autobots deal with the Constructicon in China and Sam is getting ready to go to college.
P.S. what happened to Cuba?
Arimai
Curmudgeon
Castro was a more enlightened tyrant in Transformers. He gave the Autobots Safe Haven and full citizenship to spit in the American Government's eye. In exchange for uplifting Cuba into an alien tech utopian society and help in transitioning from a dictatorship into the Singaporean model of authoritarian republic.
Last edited:
oh... wait seriously?
no, I think I remember that they commented on it, I saw the movie a long time ago and since I was going to interrupt the canon from "revenge of the fallen", the horiginal timeline is twisted in the form of a corkscrew.
good news, transformers will not become illegal immigrants (for some reason).
Bad news for Cuba, it will not be a land of alien refugees and will have a technological leap powered by Castro-sponsored robotic alien immigrants.
Arimai
Curmudgeon
Not really. Before Bay retconned the universe the Autobots always planned to uplift all of Earth into a Second Cybertron and Equal Partners into a colonization of Space. It'll be faster now that your SI is here.
End of year notice
Fair warning, the chapter is on the way, I just need to correct it a couple more times and I'll post it. Hopefully, I'll be able to post another one before the end of the year, as a one Christmas gift to the bunch of strangers who are giving me feedback on my writing.
Also, several chapters are updated before the new one is published, and nothing important changes, but I hope some things will be corrected or clearer. I recommend rereading the previous chapter before reading the new one.
Finally, we are in the home stretch until things start to escalate exponentially.
You don't know how excited I am, I know I said I didn't want this story to be a blatant power fantasy, but I have lots of ideas for units that want to go out and burn it all down!
Since many already know about the future crab units, I leave this for you to speculate...
Without the whole world going crazy with the ban on transformers, Cuba will not be the only safe haven for the Autobots and therefore it will not be the only country to have voluntary alien help in technological development.
As a whole, Cuba would benefit from the Cybertronian Apollo to Earth, but on an individual level, it won't get as much without direct collaboration.
Also, several chapters are updated before the new one is published, and nothing important changes, but I hope some things will be corrected or clearer. I recommend rereading the previous chapter before reading the new one.
Finally, we are in the home stretch until things start to escalate exponentially.
You don't know how excited I am, I know I said I didn't want this story to be a blatant power fantasy, but I have lots of ideas for units that want to go out and burn it all down!
Since many already know about the future crab units, I leave this for you to speculate...
Bots
_T1_
*NEW UNITS
-Krabi (all-terrain basic infantry) (cheap).
→Fiddler Crab
→Hermit crab
→blue crab
-Red crab
-River crab
_T2_
-Kruster (all-terrain heavy infantry).
→Coconut
-King Krabi
-Kruster yeti
-Lobster
_T1_
*NEW UNITS
-Krabi (all-terrain basic infantry) (cheap).
→Fiddler Crab
→Hermit crab
→blue crab
-Red crab
-River crab
_T2_
-Kruster (all-terrain heavy infantry).
→Coconut
-King Krabi
-Kruster yeti
-Lobster
I did not remember to answer before, so I will clarify it now.
Without the whole world going crazy with the ban on transformers, Cuba will not be the only safe haven for the Autobots and therefore it will not be the only country to have voluntary alien help in technological development.
As a whole, Cuba would benefit from the Cybertronian Apollo to Earth, but on an individual level, it won't get as much without direct collaboration.
Last edited:
Chapter 8
Oasis
_Simulation_
_Simulation_
PRINCIPAL
"How do I feel?" —I asked after a minute of silence looking at the polygonal face of my clip, I couldn't help but reply to such a cliché— "do you have to ask how I feel? You are my newest clip, you KNOW better than anyone how I feel".The clip just looked at me with that little smile with his sharply angled cheeks stretching out, it looked weirder the more I saw him move those polygonal facial muscles, but I stopped looking at that when he started talking again:
"I'm asking you how you feel, so you can put it into words," she pointed out, her voice soft and low as he gestured with his hands, in this case reaching out to me when he said he wanted me to express myself.
Before I could continue, he spoke again—"you've been alone for too long, and without the proper ability to primarily express. How you feel about your new situation, you weren't allowed to yell, you weren't allowed to cry, you weren't allowed to cry. It could break you, and that may have led to a certain discomfort that would have to be treated"
He gestured with his open hands before clenching them into two fists with both hands touching his chest, then sliding down his throat, then spreading open as they leap from his chin as if something locked in his chest had been released through his mouth. Subtle, I thought when I spoke again: "you need to express yourself, express what you feel to relieve that pressure. Therefore, I ask you to talk to me and let off steam in a conversation with a trusted person."
I stared at him, what he said made… sense, there was only one small problem: "but it's me"
The clip shrugged, and he replied: "who can you trust more than yourself?"
"… No?" —I replied, a little doubtful— "you know I didn't have good self-esteem before all this" he answered flatly, he had opinions that weren't exactly positive about myself on a personal level.
Nothing depressive or self-destructive, of course, just not my favorite person or model person.
The smile in the clip didn't budge an inch and continued in a softer voice—"let's pretend for a moment that you trust yourself and your judgment, and therefore you trust me and my judgment, as a person who just wants the best for you."
I just stared at him for a moment before replying, "Aren't these sessions supposed to be about honesty and judgment of people's problems?" he asked, but he wasted no time in answering.
"They are, and they will be, but we need to use tools to be able to get out what people hide even from themselves. Don't see it so much as lying, but rather as an exercise in imagination that allows us to help you"—he said kindly before continuing—"let's start over, how do you feel?"
I stared at it for a moment, my gaze then began to wander to the wooden floor, dark brown planks without any kind of carpet to cover them, then I stared at the ceiling for a while.
I could keep questioning, delaying this until I get tired, but that doesn't make sense,
so I did what I've been doing for a long time, moving on without too many questions: "…where do I start." I asked as my pseudo-psychologist looked at me with a cheeky aura of satisfaction.
"How about from the beginning?" He asked in a cheerful tone.
Mars
_"Reality"_
_"Reality"_
Three manufacturing vehicles came to a small hill of orange dust, leaving long tracks of their tracks that stretched to the horizon, a testimonial to the long journey they had come.
In front of them was a long dirt trench that ended in a ditch.
This topographic formation was artificial, as shown by the traces of sand and crystallized sediments detected by the sensors of the three vehicles. Surely this was caused by the heat and friction of the sliding of the great metallic mass semi-buried and embedded with the Martian soil, splitting the alien soil like a runaway hoe jammed against the hard earth.
But instead of the uniform monolith of a crashed ship, what they found was the remains of a nearly collapsed tower surrounded by twisted metal.
Blackened metallic shapes in craters littered the entire area, and arches of scrap from what can be assumed to be part of the ship decorated the area, shadowing the possibly thousands of burned shards scattered across the sand.
The vehicles stayed on the hill, taking in what their sensors were telling them about their surroundings.
Still, impassive, but inside human emotion swirled like a disappointment.
[engram 222-B]
_network space_
_network space_
"…mine?" I processed, looking at what looked like the remains of a burned and crashed metal town after a particularly violent meteor shower.
I was expecting to find a spaceship or spaceship wreckage, not spaceship dregs and some sort of installation.
As more information processed the implications of this discovery, the emotions that rumbled through my code began to drop in critical numbers.
The chances of getting anything out of this burned junkyard were unlikely, and while he might get a fair amount of metal by recycling it all, it's quite possible not to get everything he planned on this little trip.
This means I may not get templates for my bot armies
Nor to recover enough of the ship to repair it or have something coherent in its design.
This would impede my plans to manufacture star fleets in the short term.
My tech shortcuts may be burned to the ground along with all this debris.
All lost…
Lost in thought, I didn't realize when something went through his processing zone, so he jumped when a sudden voice lashed out at him with a harsh and sulky tone, "What are you doing?!"
I look at the silhouette that just yelled at me for a full nanosecond of processing before I can reply, "I was scouting for possible resources and technological shortcuts and…" I started with a low voice and a little vacant in surprise, but this program I interrupted.
"And why didn't you notify anyone? You kidnapped a workgroup without consulting, we are being careful with unit production and logistics expansion, so you berry and kidnap my workers for HOURS of real-time!" —the engram apparently in charge of part of the expansion verbally lashed out again, he just wanted to get technology.
I tried to explain, maybe some context would help that it wasn't so bad: "Look, after getting the information from soundwave, the main knew he was making a Decepticon ship on Mars, which in hindsight made sense since that's where they came from. The Decepticons about two years ago. The principal thought it was a golden opportunity, and I would say he was right, so I was born, and I wanted that ship and all its contents to help the principal and all his engrams.
If I didn't know any better, I would have thought the engram had rolled its eyes: "well, that's not bad, and it explains why you're here" context worked! He's not yelling at me anymore — "But that doesn't explain your flagrant theft and subversion of workers".
That was easy to explain: "they were the closest ones" —I said as if it were obvious.
The engram seemed to be waiting for a longer answer, there were intense seconds of silence that encouraged me to continue explaining: "looking at our coordinates and those of the ships, I saw that a group of manufacturing vehicles were relatively close and closer than any other. Unit, aside from some scouts on Firefly scouts, but those were in use, and these vehicles will be much more useful in gathering and assimilating tasks."
This, contrary to my intention, seemed to sour his mood more than it already was— "so you respected the scouts in their work, but you didn't me?"
"What?? No. It's just that they weren't in use, they weren't moving, and they weren't building. I thought there was nothing wrong with wearing them for a while" —I defended myself against the accusation.
It wasn't his fault that he didn't know how long it would take in real-time to travel from Mars to the Martian base, is fault it's because of physics and space-time.
"They were on hold!" she declared in a loud and exasperated voice with an angry expression again and continued while pointing an accusing finger at me, "I had to wait for two dozen new extraction towers to be built in your adjacent sector before I started building in your area. But surprise! They weren't there, so I left an engram for him to follow the schedule and look for the cause of this sabotage!"
"What's the point of that?!" I protested, "Why not build it all at once? They were standing in the middle of nowhere!"
"So as not to strain the resource network!" The builder engram declared with a roar before continuing, "I have the makers build a certain number of structures in a certain amount of time and turns, so I don't waste time and make sure we don't spend more metal than we earn."
Are we that bad? I couldn't help but think, because of what I expressed — "Are we that bad?"
"Technically: no, our overdrive turret expansion gives us a triple figure mass gain per hour, although the pickup from each turret is a bit uneven. In the end, we have been able to accumulate and maintain a four-digit reserve "—He explained with a calmer tone as if he was giving a report. Before giving the impression of frowning.
He paused, in which he seemed more annoyed than thoughtful, before continuing: "The problem is that we can build and spend faster than we can cash in too easily. In addition to the instability, the towers generate in the adjacent ground. The engrams in admin and R&D are betting how long it will take for the resource towers to open up sinkholes, the bet is in a day and a half at the rate they suck up the earth."
That seemed dangerous, the simulated image of the main base collapsing into a sinkhole came to mind, although he knew it couldn't happen given the distance to the resource towers, the mere possibility made him uneasy: "if that causes so many geological issues are keeping the fans in overdrive. Why don't we just put them on their default schedule, we've already built almost the entire base, and we're in no hurry…still" I asked to hope to avoid any incident but was greeted by a sigh full of exhaustion and exasperation.
"Of course, we could do that" —he answered not a little sarcastically — "but the Principal is afraid, he is afraid that someone or something will finish the job of destroying us, that's why many of us have the urge to turn this semi-frozen wasteland into a strength with the ability to prevent THAT from happening."
"For that, you need mass or time. We don't think we have time, so we need mass, lowering the rate of the towers would cause a reduction in the mass collection rate, slowing down our schedules, basically spending more time. Do you understand the problem?" I ask, but he won't let me answer before continuing.
"Then unless you've found a miraculous source of disused pure metal to make up for the lack of production, you won't be convincing many engrams or even the Prime to return the towers to their default function." he stated flatly with rhetoric. He asks without waiting for her to answer.
I didn't reply, just sent him a screen of data, the equivalent of a photo and a report of what the manufacturing vehicles see, the manufacturing vehicles that were only a few feet from a Cybertronian metal dump.
He didn't say anything, he just stared at the screen for a moment in silence, but for a moment I could almost see his eyes turn on himself before stopping and replacing his pupils with marks in the shape of a capital M and two horizontal lines running through it.
I didn't reply, just sent him a screen of data, the equivalent of a photo and a report of what the manufacturing vehicles see, the manufacturing vehicles that were only a few feet from a CybertronianHe didn't say anything, he just stared at the screen for a moment in silence.
But for a moment I could almost see his eyes turn on himself before stopping and replacing his pupils with marks in the shape of a capital M and two horizontal lines running through it.
I didn't reply, just sent him a screen of data, the equivalent of a photo and a report of what the manufacturing vehicles see, the manufacturing vehicles that were only a few feet from a Cybertronian metal dump.
He didn't say anything, he just stared at the screen for a moment in silence, but for a moment I could almost see his eyes turn on himself before stopping and replacing his pupils with marks in the shape of a capital M and two horizontal lines running through it.
Neither did he say anything when suddenly his figure flickered in the middle of the black void, or when I felt him take control of two manufacturing vehicles from me— "HEY!" protest
"No complaints" - the engram interrupted me—"They were mine before you took them, thank you that I left you one, now to exploit this gold mine that you have found"
Wait, you're not going to take it all in, are you? — "Wait! You can't swallow it all, some things can still be useful" I protested.
It doesn't take me long to answer: "Are you stupid?" I ask before I can complain about the gratuitous insult, I continue, "Of course, I know, that it's you, I know we can blueprint this somehow, I've already sent a copy of myself to the R&D engrams and the engrams in charge of air factories to make pelican and bring with them more manufacturing vehicles. The worker engrams and I get metal for our projects and you and the R&D engrams improvise things like all those fictions from the principal's memories, everyone wins!"
The two vehicles left, we were still connected, but it was obvious that I was not going to convince him, with a digital sigh, I turned to look at my screen, now reduced to two-thirds.
I sent out a few commands and my maker moved towards the wreckage looking for something.
As my gaze fused with the vehicle's sensors, I decided to try to talk to the engram… I didn't know its name. "Hey, you didn't introduce yourself"
The two vehicles left, and we were still connected, but it was obvious that I was not going to convince him of anything. With a digital sigh, I turned to look at my screen, now reduced to two-thirds.
I issued some orders and my maker moved into the wreckage looking for something.
As my gaze merges with the vehicle's sensors, I decided to try to speak to the engram… I didn't know its name. "Um… you didn't introduce yourself"
No answers.
I wasn't going to let it get away from me like this: "Then it would be nice to know what your name is and stop identifying you as an engram and a builder engram." —said the blurry form of the engram that just attacked and I took my two vehicles.
With good reason, but it was still an assault. A legal assault? Morally acceptable assault?
There were no responses for a few minutes until I could hear a grunt followed by the reply: "I am engram 007-B."
That surprised me — "you were the seventh" —I pointed out with fascination — "and you have a spy identification name!" I chirp at the coincidence.
I heard an explosive sigh: "Really?" he asked wearily.
The tank I was driving ran up a slab of dented and burned metal before briefly falling to the ground. I kept going as I spoke to my new cousin: "What? It's a curious coincidence" I defended myself while still trying to find something useful intact.
Continue to encourage conversation: "So, what have you been up to? I mean, like one of the older engrams, or have you always been under construction?"
"You're not going to stop until I give you a conversation, are you?" He asked exasperated.
I easily respond with a: "Nope"
"Anyway." he replied before continuing, "When they created me, the Principal wanted help, any help. It was a time of great confusion, both for him and for us, we didn't even know we were engrams at first."
Wait? — "you did not know? I knew it, I thought it was "normal" for us" -I question slightly puzzled, to the point that I was a little surprised when my manufacturing vehicle takes a small jump over a pothole, a flat and half-buried piece of metal that protrudes on the floor.
B-007 snorted and responded with a somewhat condescending tone: "NOW it's normal, the young engrams have it easier with the most accessible information, we had what the main one had in its first 0.9 minutes of existence: terror, confusion, ignorance, and disorientation. That made things even messier for everyone involved." He revealed, ended on a nostalgic note, like a distant memory returning to greet and recall your stellar moments through the lens of retrospection.
I couldn't see it, but being so close, almost in the same processing area, I could feel its long-term memory lines being tossed and removed. Like an old man settling into an armchair while sipping the end of a pipe and reminiscing about the great old days before continuing: "but I had an impulse, a primal instinct to WANT, to help the Principal, which made it easy to identify the principal from the rest of the engrams".
"Surprisingly, it was easy to accept that none of the engrams were the Prime. Therefore a copy made to help and assist the original, no identity crisis, just the pathological need to accomplish a task, the task that brought fruit to our existence, in this case: Help".
What he said was… obvious, that is, I was born as an engram, I know what emotion gave birth to me, but he says it as if it had been a great revelation, I stayed two-tenths of a second thinking before coming to a conclusion and asking him: "Didn't you know your purpose at birth? I mean, I was born knowing it was an engram and I had engram impulses that I'm aware of, but I assumed it was normal... again."
"HA, now. The main didn't even know it was an AI for the first…half hour? We had to comply with the main's subconscious distress call without even knowing what we were or how to do anything. Things just got worse when we mixed with the new generations of engrams who didn't realize their purpose yet, some, again, didn't even know they were engrams."
"The whole situation was crazy, but I tried to help, it was my purpose after all."
"We, the first 120 engrams in the network, managed to organize and calm things down a bit, just enough for the emotional suppressor to stop firing from our mass hysteria." I narrate, with a hint of amusement at the last detail before continuing, "Who knew the poor subordinate engrams could inadvertently activate the main's emotional suppressor with their panic attacks, luckily things calmed down before leaving the simulated brain." the main one like a scrambled pudding and bathed in digital sedatives"
At that moment, I didn't know why, but my left eye began to twitch. I felt the primal urge to strangle 007 with my silhouette hands and scream as he did so to make him see my pain.
He pushed those thoughts away, he had a vague idea where they were coming from, but it was counterproductive at the moment.
I would have time to tell him at first, I thought as I continued to listen to the veteran engram.
"But let's get back to the topic at hand. In those times we knew the same thing as the main one, that is NOTHING. The only advantage we had over the main one was the intuitive knowledge of programming and interaction with the main machinery."
"At first, as the Principal, we tried to figure out how to handle our new environment. We couldn't help you if we couldn't even do something ourselves."
"It was challenging, but the first to have a rudimentary understanding of the environment and how it works, not just intuitively, but consciously, was engram 002-B. Who appeared before the principal and allowed himself to be assimilated so that his knowledge and experience were transferred to him, fulfilling his purpose of helping."
"After that, everything started to smooth out. The easier it was for the director to manipulate his environment or make use of plugins, the less we needed to be assimilated by him. The fact that engrams are starting to come out in smaller amounts and with basic knowledge and already knowing that they are engrams was a relief on many levels. It was getting overwhelming that there were so many of them, and they weren't doing anything productive."
Hmm, he didn't know that, either because the director didn't know, or because it wasn't relevant information for his purpose.
But 007-B's story was fascinating, who was to say that the engrams had their own stories about him?
Though he had a question "then why are you here? Shouldn't you have let yourself be assimilated with the main, as 002-B did? Wasn't that a good target?" I asked as I continued to inspect through the sensors, I found a group of items that after much thought looked like melted computer material, and it crashed to the ground, nothing new, nothing interesting.
"The prime currently has as much or more control than all the engrams present in the commander grid, so our assimilation would do nothing, it wouldn't help him, so we started helping him in other ways. Assimilation itself isn't the goal. Of our existence, it is the help we provide, HELP is what we seek and there is more than one way to do it."
"As for the second question, we are now spread out. In my case, I oversee the base building process, direct the manufacturing tank herds, make sure we don't spend more resources than we earn, and if necessary Let's not got to zero." Through poorly planned expenses"—007-B ended his lecture with a sigh, before growling something that he couldn't make out.
He was a bit grumpy.
I kept listening as I looked at my build vehicle data, and found debris with faint stable electrical readings, I think there are traces of electronics in some masses of crushed slag, but still not finding anything worth salvaging.
Engram 007 continued: "but with all this, I doubt we'll have a resource problem in the short term" while he says that, I notice how something flows in the resource network.
I can't help but worry and question: "You're not collecting something valuable, are you?"
He responded with a disinterested "no" before elaborating, "It's a thick sheet of metal half buried in the ground, with…approximately 11.2 meters. If I had to bet, it was part of the hull, nothing relevant in or around it."
That was a good thing, it sounds like a lot of metal—"one question: why do we need so much metal? As far as I know, the construction of the base is almost finished."
I heard a snort, I was hearing them quite a bit since I'm talking to him, but at least he had the decency to explain: "I and some construction-focused engrams were saving up in economy for various things, for example: converting the extraction towers closer and more stable on T2. The main also wants to start building more complex T2 defenses, which costs mass, and to encompass our entire current base takes a LOT of mass."
Oh, that makes sense, but before I can speak I continue— "besides, engram 012-B has noticed that the prime forgot to add T1:umbrella orbital defenses to the base design, so we are planting in strategic places to cover the entire base without hindering the design, more mass to spend" term B-007 with a note of disgust.
He was rolling on the slope of a crater. looking for what looked like a small, individual mark of metals and electronics, it looked like something whole rather than something that disassembles over several meters with a bang or explosion, so he could be useful.
"And you what?" asked B-007 after a moment "I have told you what I do and my duties, at least you could do the same" he questioned while he noticed how more elements were filtering through the resource network.
"Honestly, the Principal created me on impulse." I answered honestly: "he wanted the possible alien technologies here, especially the bots. He wanted to see if we could build bots with some of this." I finished when my tank fell off the rim of the crater and came to rest at the top of the inward slope, letting me see more clearly what was in the center.
B-007 made an acknowledgment noise. "You know, some engrams are trying to repair the templates for missing units." A smile quickly graces my silhouetted features and spreads further than physically possible, but the old engram doesn't notice, "although It's not like they're making much progress, but-"
—"MINE" I interrupted.
"what?…"
"MINE! MINE! MINE! mine mine mine mine minemineminemineminemine " I began to sing for my discovery, flooding my space with my kleptomaniacal war song.
Until a harsh voice, although very similar to mine, interrupted me: "CUT IT OUT"
I looked in his general direction, he was back very close to me, just enough to see the silhouette of him looking at me with an annoyed expression— "what was that!?" I ask in a high tone.
… I stared at it for a moment: "a reference to Nemo"—finally answered
B-007 just rolled his eyes at the perfectly valid answer provided: "And why are you referencing a bunch of computerized seagulls in a children's movie in this situation?" I ask with annoyance dripping each syllable.
Once again, I didn't answer, instead showing him what he had found.
He looked at it, assimilated the data, and, like last time, he didn't say anything for a couple of seconds before huffing and answering: "I guess that's a good reason" he replied with a touch of amusement at what he saw.
Because a couple of meters from the tread of the manufacturing vehicle, stood a mechanical humanoid, with a broad build with large, tapering wings that fanned out from the sides of the torso and curved in the direction of the cyclopean-shaped head. Of the cone that this had, its legs and arms are cylindrical and its appendages had four fin-shaped fingers.
It seemed mostly intact, if not for the hole in its chest.
There was not a drop of liquid or organ that could be extrapolated as organic, all that could be extrapolated by sensors of this being is, which is from start to finish, a purely mechanical creature.
They had found their new bot template.
???
—"Do we know anything about soundwave's status yet?"
—negative, we did not record contacts with the soundwave master.
—"Lots of rust!" First, he disappears after the war for Cybertron and now he disappears when we are about to execute the operation HE planned.
—"Contact the network, send a message to every Decepticon pocket on earth, we've lost contact with a soundwave."
—We will operate contingency protocols 121-c and 285-c, but we continue with the current operation to revive Megatron.
—"Megatron will be back."
—Confirmed, sent messages, and started the application of countermeasures in the network.
—"It better be so."
—"Should the soundwave master's status be communicated to his contacts on the ground and our benefactor on the Nemesis ship?"
—"If Soundwave prepared remorseful cessation-of-contact countermeasures for us, he'll have prepared something for them. Besides not wanting to communicate with these primitive humans, I have better things to process and operations to attend to.
— Send a notice to the Soundwave human pets, a notice that there will be a communication blackout.
—Affirmative
—Save the Decepticons
—"Yeah, yeah, just make sure the messages get sent and received, or I'll recycle you to make a new drone."
Hello.
I'll be honest, it's been a pain to finish this chapter.
not so much to do it, but to correct it.
At first, it took me a few days to write it, a little longer if I went through the notes I have to make sure there are no narrative inconsistencies, then translated ted it, and checked it with an English language proofreader.
after removing obscene amounts of red, I would post it and pray it was readable.
I now have a second proofreading program, which synergizes with the one I used before.
The problem came perfectionist'sctionist vein, I couldn't help noticing that, while I was translating and correcting, a voice in my head told me: "this could be better", "this is wrong", "people will not understand this statement" etc. etc
so I began to re-edit, re-edit, reposition and move paragraphs or entire sheets of narrative text to please my masochism.
all this in my spare time.
so yes… think you can see where the delay is coming from.
and as a confession, a few days ago I published this chapter, but I realized in time a terrible mistake in the translation, so I deleted the publication and edited it, then the process described above happened.
Anyway, the next chapter will be a process of technological assimilation and the next there will be explosions.
Also, what did you think? More legible? An improvement?
have a good day.
Last edited:
- Location
- sweden
I awayt experimental soundwave designs trying to fill in the missing bits in the torso with generators or batteries dangling in the chest from cables like a human heart hanging from its veins as if without explanation everything else except it and bone on half the torso in a cone was just gone.
Planet of the Soundwaves imagine it a planetoid filled with Clones/Zombies of your advisor or Enemies Scientist like a bad movie on cybertron, and if legs are too much use it as a base replace the legs with threads perhaps work in that helm design into the builder units smooth with the hull like a starwars B2 battledroids head just really assimilate that tech hard iterate make new generations. Learn geology or masonry replace parts that dont need to be metal in structures with other materials acting as ablative armor just sheer deadmass is effective armor
Planet of the Soundwaves imagine it a planetoid filled with Clones/Zombies of your advisor or Enemies Scientist like a bad movie on cybertron, and if legs are too much use it as a base replace the legs with threads perhaps work in that helm design into the builder units smooth with the hull like a starwars B2 battledroids head just really assimilate that tech hard iterate make new generations. Learn geology or masonry replace parts that dont need to be metal in structures with other materials acting as ablative armor just sheer deadmass is effective armor
In my opinion the period makes it somewhat awkward to read, but it's still perfectly understandable.