The Scrapheap Challenge [Planetary Annihilation - Multicross SI]

[TheAlteran]

Spoiler: Gunstar Tartarus

Active – Runtime: 2 Months 14 Days

Perhaps I should begin with an explanation - my reactivation was not the most pleasant of experiences. Then again, finding one's self trapped in an autonomous Von Neumann device with memories of a past life would certainly qualify as unpleasant. However I do hope that you will come to understand that I was not in the best of moods during my awakening.

You see, finding myself nought but core-unit upon an examination table in the midst of having my fabrication-unit removed resulted in, some rather regrettable choices. In particular the decision to assimilate a near-by Cylon Centurion and 'have at' the individual dismantling my frame produced a wonderful piece of art that Pickman gallery would have been proud to add to its collection.

However due to his organic nature the mess produced was rather spectacular and whilst I do love my near-perfect example of a humanoid-cylon's silicate pathways the fact of the matter is I find myself unwilling to enter the place where it all happened. The Hybrid's chamber.

Oh right, I forgot about the Hybrid.

You see that [BITCH], flawed organic being had attempted to extract my data-files and thus triggered a systematic purge of all files except a few of my most basic units. To reward her I had a Centurion give her a congratulatory suplex, which as you can imagine is not very good for a being that is largely bound to a single solitary position.

I won't bore or scar you with the details, however one may wish to examine [Video File – Rebuild of Evangelion 2.0 – Unit 1 chows down on Unit 3 and yanks] … hmm, I must admit the music does add a soothing sensation. Perhaps I can employ it for clean-up duties.

At this time several of my previously disabled 'honor' protocols kicked in and informed me of the severity of my actions. Which leads me to my current position – hiding within an asteroid field as I await the horrendously slow construction and repair processes of my re-purposed Cylon Centurions.

-=-

Whilst I did retain the ability to assemble general tier nought-point-fucking-five construction units the fact of the matter was this region was so mineral poor it simply wasn't possible to establish an economy, let alone a stable one. And with my internal metal generation systems crippled there was the very real risk I could strand myself. Factoring in the rate that my processor could process data this was a very frightening prospect - an eternity with nothing to do.

As for why I hadn't reclaimed nonessential sections of the vessel currently serving as my flagship was rather simple. FTL in the Battlestar universe SUCKED and I needed every nut and bolt exactly where the designers intended them to be. You see, jumping to FTL puts a significant strain upon the hull of a craft and doing so multiple times in succession could have rather disastrous results.

In my case the vessel was jumped every 33 minutes for the past two months and 11 days - which roughly added to around 3163 jumps. The 33 minutes giving enough time to spool the drive, make repairs and pull off a damn fine reference all at the same time. [Until of course they gave up looking for me]

Now the fact is that this feat that would normally be impossible had I not analysed the fuel compound designated as Tylium and produced a reconfigured internal fabricator. Which may lead you to ask the question as to why I couldn't produce a new internal matter and energy fabricator blueprint?

The answer was simple - DRM, a curious glitch and the efforts of a particular hybrid.

In the few seconds the Hybrid was connected it had triggered countless safety mechanisms to prevent the few essential blueprints required for operations from being taken. This meant that they could not be opened outside using my native construction array. By trying to load one of these internal fabricators inside the design program would result in an empty fabricator unit being created - a template which had been one of the first to go during the data-purge.

Loop-holes for the win!

After procuring that life-saving piece of tech it was a simple enough task to configure it to use energy from my internal fabricator to create Tylium with a degree of energy loss I wouldn't lose sleep over. Not that It exactly was an option anymore - being a robotic brain connected to the internal mainframe of this vessel and all.

Huh. I suppose I haven't exactly explain what this ship is… have I?

-=-

Designated as a Tartarus-class Gunstar this vessel was designed with the intention of performing accurate jumps into enemy territory and employing its side-mounted Super-heavy Kinetic-Energy-Weapons to pummel a target. Whilst at the same time wielding enough armor plating to withstand the subsequent fallout of its actions.

A laughable tactic were it not for the tandem-FTL drives housed within the heart of Gunstar that allowed for rapid entry and exit from the field. Yet the kills scored by these vessels was surprisingly high - perhaps it was something to do with the inherent unpredictable nature of this form of attack or was it simply due to Colonial stupidity?

The vessel itself was shaped like a spoked wheel with five-arms connecting from a central-area to an outer-ring which mounted the heavy cannons. Two barrels per spoke totally in ten-shots of fun - which were rather limited in their targeting axis and relied upon the fast reaction-speeds of the reactionless gravity-drive system which Cylon basestars relied upon to function.

And judging from both schematics and physical testing it packed an extremely powerful and power-hungry drive to ensure that I could move into optimal firing positions within the allotted time between jumping in and jumping out.

Regardless of this it now served as the starting point for my semi-functional Von Neumann empire which was nothing short of a miracle given what few components of my original Commander Frame remained. To be honest there was very little outside the proverbial 'Black-box' which granted me sentience and a degree of performance that would be better attributed to an ACU rather than even a fragment of the overpowered death-machine I was supposed to be.

ROBs really do love adding a degree of difficulty to spice things up, don't they?

Regardless much of my time was spent developing units with the Centurion frame as a base initially beginning with reclamation-units which were used to break down the organic-based Raider wings which had been complemented by an auxiliary wing of Mark 1 Raiders. Needless to say I required the resources to repair and maintain the Tartarus from the constant jumping and to further my rather pathetic attempts to establish some form of economic-base without dipping into my internal reserve.

-=-

With the Nought-Point-One tier tech-group at my disposal I converted one of the Mark 1 Raiders into a rudimentary mining and construction ship. And by spending what little metal remained from the Raider wing a single tier 0.5 metal extractor was placed upon a near-by asteroid - allowing a rather pathetic amount of metal to pour in.

A rough estimate put it at 10% of the already pathetic output of the extractor, not that I had any right to complain about the situation. With every little bit of metal I could spend more on building more extractors and in turn repairing the Gunstar. However it didn't take long for me to notice that the stupid metal was suffering further penalties from being poorly refined.

What? Did the game expect me go fully blown factorio?

[Tier 0.5 Database Check - Complete]

Why did I ask such a stupid damn question?

-=-

At least it appeared that my benefactor had opted to provide me with a method of multiversal travel from the get-go. Perhaps this was due to the nature of my 'Run' given the very literal situation that I lacked almost everything required to establish a base of operations. An idea which was further complemented with an additional discovery uncovered during initial examination of the code.

Using this Precursor FTL program in conjunction with my Raiders I have begun a simple survey of potential worlds to escape to. Additionally factoring in the temporal coordinates into a sub-section of the calculations allowed for what could be described as a temporal snapshot. Allowing for the return to that exact point at a later date if so desired.

Even with these interesting discoveries now factored into my archives the results were not promising. Which could potentially be manipulated by the ROB due to the fact the blind-jump option was set and highlighted as both the safest and recommended method of travel. Regardless the results should be displayed, no doubt some sadistic ROB would be relishing my predicament.

Assholes...

Jump One - Magog Worldship detected

Jump Two - Ori Warship detected

Jump Three - Botnet Golem detected (NOPE I CANNOT DEAL WITH AI WAR - However their reclamation damage weapons would be damn nice to have)

Jump Four - Wraith Hive fleet (Note - this is not the same universe as Jump Two)

Jump Five - Orokin Remnants detected (...Nope...but yes...but nope...buuuut yes…)

Jump Six - Goa'uld Ha'tak detected (Hmm - putting this on the maybe pile)

Jump Seven - HELLWORLD AVENRUS DETECTED - NOPE

-=-
[WARNING: FTL FOLDS DETECTED]
...All hands... Maximum Clench...
-=-
And that concludes the introduction chapter for my story, its not very good but the impulse refused to leave me be.

 

[TheAlteran]

Spoiler: Strikestar Uranus

Increased computational processes were a blessing when it came to combat and this scenario would be no different. Examining silhouettes emerging from FTL was an awe inspiring mix of light and energy which weaved together a myriad of colors which were beyond the human-spectra. Attempting to ignore this in favor of acquiring ship profiles was a trail that took several nano-seconds before I found myself able to comply.

It took a few moments to parse through the various IFFs embedded within the Cylon data-stream before finding a relative match with the Uranus-class Strikestars. Heavy hitting little bastards that had balls bigger than their tonnage should have allowed for given most circumstances. Unfairly thin along their 'Water line' and with turret dispersal pattern that ensured they could dish out an equal amount of firepower regardless of the angle the faced you.

They had to die... right this instant.

-=-

Explosions rocked the outer-ring of the Tartarus - fragmenting thinner pieces of armor which were focused along the flak-batteries to lessen potential strain from overuse. Damage control was kind enough to highlight the affected area with a nice orange coloring. However the effect of their bombardment was alarmingly efficient. Something wasn't right and it was going to be my undoing if it wasn't uncovered.

Bringing the south-west weapon array into a firing solution upon target-alpha it was clear that target-beta was adjusting its position to target my North Western quadrant. With a slight-tweak to my gravity field the North quadrant battery aimed and fired in an intense flash of light. Internal frames groaned at the unexpected activation as unpatched section crumpled.

It wasn't rendered offline - however the fact remained it would need an intensive overhaul. Provided even keeping the Gunstar was an option after this battle. The course correction had also ruined my targeting solution of target-alpha.

However this secondary thought-process was pushed to the side when the twin-salvo struck Beta and it was GLORIOUS. Both impacted with enough force to puncture the hull - which may not seem problematic for the Cylons until you realize that I'd positioned myself to hit that little bugger smack-bang along the water-line. Armor plating was thrown upwards into the air without an internal frame to support it effectively.

Air erupted outwards, sucking out a number of the Humanoid Cylons if my optics were to be believed. Which caused a minor twinge of delight upon sighting several Ones now desperately flailing in their death throes. Yet once again this process was interrupted when the results of an exterior scan revealed why things weren't going so well.

...I may have forgotten to scan the exterior plating for micro-fractures and that meant the hard-hitting KEWs had a very good chance of puncturing the plating. It was a flaw that my opponent had taken advantage of and to reward this effort I overclocked the gravity drive and dumped a twin volley into target-alpha.

The immediate impact thankfully managed to puncture through both the top and bottom of the vessel - causing secondary explosions to ignite in a chain reaction. Knocking it off-course and allowing my secondary turrets to pick away at the top-side main-batteries of the craft, quickly rendering a potential pain a non-issue.

[Radiological Threat - Detected]

Immediately turning my attention back to target-beta a dozen missiles sailed from the craft at point-blank range. It would be suicide regardless of their payload and speaking of which.

[Scan complete]

OH GODS! THOSE ARE SPACE GRADE!

Spoiler: Gunstar Tartarus

 

[TheAlteran]

Spoiler: My Everything!

Turrets unloaded entire salvos on instinct alone - saturating the airspace and igniting the warheads. Light cascaded outwards and overwhelmed every sensor which couldn't shut down fast enough. Yet the flash was but the tip of the iceberg.

[WARNING - CASCADING FAILURE]
[WARNING - SYSTEM FLUCTUATIONS]

Bulkhead after bulkhead collapsed as the wave passed through the hull. Outer compartments were overwhelmed and shattered tearing away entire sections of armor plating with them.

Warning after warning cascaded through the data-feed and triggered a sensation I didn't think was possible. Pain. It felt like the skin was being ripped from my shattered arm. And with every section consumed the pain doubled.

My vision was clouded with symbols clearly Progenitor in origin merged with static. I could feel myself slipping away with very second.

I had to find a way to shut down damage control... it was the..on-ly vay.

-=-

[Core Functionality - Reduced by 20%]
[Frame Integrity - Compromised]
[Warning - Unit Personality Fragmented]
[Warning - Multiversal Entity disconnected from directive matrix]
[Warning - Multiversal Entity disconnected from civility matrix]

I'd been offline for 6 hours and during that time the two Stikeships had docked using airlocks. Yet the pressing issue was that two Hybrids were now pouring over every edit I'd performed to the Gunstar's systems. And they were alarmingly good at finding the edits buried within several billion lines of code.

They hadn't cracked the code however - otherwise I had no-doubt my Black-box would have been unceremoniously ripped from my impromptu housing and broken down into my constituent parts.

External sensors rebooted I could finally return my attention back to the outside world.

Ok - well there is now a large metal beam embedded in my black-box which has destroyed the final remnant of my Radius commander casing. Even worse my lone optic confirmed that the chamber had entirely collapsed. Which may have been beneficial given scans confirmed the data-feeds from two hybrids trying to decompile my rewritten and encrypted operating system.

Two of the spokes were registering critical structural failures along their length and had all but render an entire quarter of the vessel simply wasn't registering any form of feedback. Yet actively probing the internal systems could lead to the Hybrid's detecting my connection point and the location of my Black-box within the wreck.

Naturally I had only one choice - build or die at the hands of a species incapable of understanding my remaining functions. Feeling oddly lighter without the directive matrix functioning I initialized my reclamation arm - which had been mounted to basic robotic arm - and began to cut-away at the debris.

At which point I became aware I had no-where to store the metal.

Booting up the designer program summoned a virtual environment in which I stood at the center of an eternal white void. Glancing at my virtual form caused me to be overcome with a degree of sadness as I examined the Radius frame which had been stolen from me. It felt oddly right to reside within it - even if it was a virtual copy - then again perhaps being mounted to a starship frame for the past two months had made me unconsciously pine for a true body, organic or otherwise.

Concentrating on how to solve my current problems revealed something that made me internally smile in delight. You see whist the Hybrid had left me running on tier-nought-point-five tech blueprints it appeared that the principles of higher-tiers still remained within my data-banks. Which meant I wouldn't necessarily be trapped permanently with an awful tech-group, even if it did mean having to build my own infrastructure blueprints - even if the inferior technology did molest the efficiency rating to an ungodly degree.

[Last Edit - 1 Hour ago - By ROB]

Hmm? So the omnipotent bastard had something to do with that little discovery - it certainly did explain how I hadn't uncovered those files before. I suppose a quick thanks are in order if that's the case, even if you are an unbelievable asshole of the highest order. That or it was endeavouring to ensure the clenchiest wake-up possible

With that tangent out of the way I returned to the more pressing task of survival. Loading up both the Cylon and Wartime Colonial data-sheets I quickly isolated a military refinery ship design and separated the storage tanks. A gentle application Progenitor Bullshitl later I miniaturized the design to a small barrel sized container which would employ basic matter compression principles to keep it to a scale I could work with in my cramped conditions.

Yet it should be noted that as the tank exceeded 50% capacity it would begin to slowly take damage and for that reason I developed a repair arm to maintain it. And whilst it may seem inefficient I had little time to design a safer system - besides it oddly seemed to store more than should be capable for a unit of its size. At Least in simulation of course.

Returning to a normal time-scale nano-bots erupted from my construction assembly - creating the basic framework of the tank - before returning to reclaim more of the debris. This process continued until the tank and arm thrummed into life - taking power from the Tartarus' power-plant. With that task out the way a new design-schematic was created to handle the assembly of new Centurion-units.

Based heavily upon the robot-assembly station of Automaton it functioned by producing a wire-frame which was then filled in by the nano-bot applicator arms which replaced the traditional welding arms of its source counterpart. I was rather relieved when it was finally assembled and began to run a diagnostic check in preparation for my legion of killing machines.

What? I can't fantasize a little bit?

-=-

Materials wise I would have to rely upon older Cylon models due to the complexity of the alloys which later-model centurions used. Whilst I was reluctant to reveal various joints the extra metal could be used to produce a shoulder-mounted chain gun. Which all things considered would be pretty damn useful and factoring in that war-era cylons had proper-hands meant I could also employ a variety of other hand-held weapon systems.

However that was not what I needed to focus on - updating the internals would be key to overcoming the rather rigid intelligence of modern Centurions and that meant removing the shackles which were imposed upon all designs I could find.

You see upon the establishment of a humanoid Cylon government after the war it had became clear that the Centurions may disagree with their actions. This component was designated the Telencephalic Inhibitor and was designed to limit their higher functions.

I saw next to no reason not to frak with it. I mean what could go wrong?

For me that is… not the Humanoid Cylons, they were not going to have a fun time. Especially since I knew most if not all the events that led to the plan and following it. All that I required was a way to disrupt it and then ensure that it couldn't be reactivated. I would do this by replacing an unneeded cooling vent with a Nanospray device which would attack enemy Centurions and eat away at their inhibitor and to cover the issue of Metal requirements I placed reclamation units into the feet to fuel the spray and weapon systems.

Who knows maybe I could get friends?

Starting production of the first squad of five units I turned my attention to procuring additional information on my current situation. With an internal take of virtual breath I slipped into the data-stream of target-alpha and prayed to all that would listen in the hopes I would not be detected. The damage was severe to all parties involved and yet a majority of both Hybrids processes were dedicated to decoding my custom operating system for the Gunstar. Did they honestly think it held something vital?

Regardless I took advantage of this and infiltrated the camera network for target-alpha and found something of extreme interest. The Humanoid cylons had gathered in a single chamber within Alpha.

-=-

Monitoring the data-flow being outputted were a group of ten humanoid cylons standing next to a pair of consoles. Between the two groups of five was the Hybrid in its milky-bathtub - spouting a stream of nonsense which only made sense for the briefest of moments.

"The great and infinite Jar Jar will cast down those that dared wrong it's wisdom and feed upon the sanity of the wise. Salty tears shall be shed - the best kind of tears - technically correct in their origin but hold more meaning than their literal counterparts." The Hybrid spoke with a clarity that seemed oddly out-of-place or was it that I simply better understood its references?

"Desert-sands of Kharak consume all with their ever shifting tides - to employ sand-liquefaction propulsion systems is to conquer the tides. Seek out the lost treasures buried within to truly establish thine empire and ensure an empire that will last an eternity." It paused - its mind drifting to another tangent.

"The Commander stares with its infinite understanding yet does not truly comprehend its need for the most crucial of all things." It looked up to the camera I had hijack and gave an unnerving smile. "A hug - greatest of all soothing agents yet impossible to receive without a true body." It continued - yet thankfully the Humanoid cylons hadn't noticed its gaze or utterances.

"Infinite in beauty is the glow of the sun - like a beacon for all that behold its infinite. Praise its divine glow and assist and receive assistance."

WHAT THE FRAK IS WRONG WITH THOSE THINGS!?

...And maybe it was right… a hug would be rather nice all things considered.

Spoiler: Going Commando

 

[TheAlteran]

Huh… Looking at Cavil made me feel ann- [FURIOUS] -oyed.

Regardless returning my core-processes to construction efforts the last Centurion stepped free of the platform and entered a breaching formation with its brothers. Freeing up the assembler for me to adapt another Centurion for use as my impromptu commander-frame. Which all things considered was a relatively simple task in regards to what I had planned for the unit - first however there was a matter to attend to.

Assembling a scanner array mounted in the form of a pistol I had a Centurion pick it up and turn it upon myself. A rather unnerving experience if I say so myself - even if I did know the device was incapable of harming me - some sort of internal protocol screamed at me to react. Yet I refused and snuffed out the warning, allowing the scan to take place with the beam sweeping over my black-box.

With that data in hand I parsed together a lesser variant of both my Metal and Energy production units along with a reclamation and construction assembly which replaced the cannon mount of the Commando Centurion and back-pack internals. Combined with some general overhauls in armor density and composition I gave the order and watched intently as the unit was weaved together.

When its Progenitor-Grade processors were assembled my metal reserves dropped like a stone. Something that I'd expected yet still caused some minor clenching within the virtual realm - kinda odd when you take into account I hadn't changed my avatar from the Radius.

Was I projecting onto the virtual model? Regardless I updated the Centurion Commander with a clenching mechanism… You know, to avoid subconsciously clenching components not designed for the act.

It was definitely not because I found the concept a tad on the funny-side.

-=-

[Commencing link to Centurion Commander]

Huh. My Centurion's metal production plant was actually more efficient than the one mounted to my damaged black-box. Which was rather sad given the sheer technological difference. Not that I care now that I have a humanoid body.

It was soooooooo~ satisfying to flex my fingers, even if I couldn't necessarily feel them. A problem I could have fixed with Cylon organic-resins but the thought was just sickening and given the fact I distinctly remember an off-hand comment about the resin smelling foul made me even more determined not to use it.

Then again… Did I even have olfactory sensors?

The answer was no - which I was grateful for given I would most likely be travelling to places where such a feature would be problematic. Provided of course that I could even get out of this current predicament.

Speaking of which - it was time to breach.

-=-

Breaching through to the other side of the collapsed area opened into one of the vessel's primary access corridors. They were usually well defended however the IFF programs had been reconfigured to suit my tastes. Passing by dozens of deactivated Centurions my team of commandos did their magic - spreading the love of machine-papa Nurgle.

Huh… I wonder what would happen to a Commander if they went up against a Halo-Precursor with their ability to infect machines with the logic plague. A research topic for later and perhaps a potential warning to other Commanders if my data-logs were still being dumped to an archive.

Regardless my destination was not target-alpha like my subordinates. Oh no.

I had bigger fish to fry and I'd need my example of silicate pathways and to risk going after that I'd need to set up a few precautions.

-=-

Reaching my destination had been rather more annoying than I had anticipated thanks to how badly the nukes had fraked the outer areas. Almost every area had suffered severe structural damage but the north-west quadrant was by far the worst of it. Gaping hole after gaping hole greeted me alongside the constant ping of radiological deposits.

If things went south and I needed to jump the Tartarus then the whole section had to go and that meant metal. You see an interesting observation I had encountered when actively salvaging my impromptu coffin revealed that the Cylons were awfully wasteful when it came down to the atomic level and below. It actually was rather painful to consider what could have been done if I'd had a full compliment of reclamation and construction tools at my disposal along with the equivalent amount of metal which this Gunstar had consumed.

...Damn primitives and their inefficiencies - then again if my records were correct I did have bullshit grade reclamation systems even when compared to other Commander units. Which gave me the feeling ROB intended for me to actively partake in combat and salvaging operations just to give me more resources. Not that I was planning to do anything different.

I was a homeworld-player - my hoarding was only limited by unit-cap and processor power. Both of which were no-longer an issue at least I could only hope anyways. My ROB surely wouldn't beat the dead horse which was imposed unit caps on Commanders.

-=-

Entering the formerly designated computer-banks turned slag-pile at the general center of the North Western quadrant I set up an assembler to build mobile metal-reclaimer on repeat. I'd thrown these together on the way in.

Another variant of the Centurion model it's arms were replaced with metal reclaimers that would convert any matter in their path and dump it into a matter-bin. Which would then be dumped in a stockpile that I could use and then repeated the processes by using an internal reserve to build another bin.

It honestly felt rather Dwarf-fortress like to watch as one after these Reclaimers were built and then proceeded to work. They then dumped canisters which were barely toeing 50% capacity to avoid taking damage from over-compression.

Within 10 minutes I had a decent enough stockpile to throw down another assembler to build an additional pair of Commander Centurions which were dispatched to two different places. One to support the Commando-squad and another to go to the Raider hanger-bay.

With that done I assembled a launcher of sorts and assembled a construct which was based around a micro-FTL drive with a power generator and transmitter and looked a bit like an Aperture science personality-core.

Whilst it was wishful thinking its design was simple - jump from the station to another realm and broadcast a simple data-packet in the hopes I would get a reply from another Commander. Essentially it contained a duplicate of the data-log summary which was being sent to ROB - along with a request asking for some advice.

I ensured that the FTL-coordinates were however encrypted by faction-specific codes to prevent my location being back-tracked. With a simple command the construct vanished in a flash of light and returned a second later reporting nothing before jumping again and again and again - ad infinitum. I was honestly rather glad I could effectively create a time-point one second after every jump thanks to the advanced FTL calculations.

 

[TheAlteran]

...I finished rolling the events for world one - damn. I'd honestly hoped it wouldn't be so depressing - but alas I must now break my virtual self.

"Know this. What I do is not out of anger or hatred but simply because there is no other way."

-=-

Each Commando split off with two moving towards target Beta whilst the remaining three moved towards Alpha whilst pathing by as many deactivated Centurions to further add to their army. Sadly whilst being given the chance of developing a sense of self the process would be a slow one and with the looming combat it was doubtful that any would remain functional long enough.

So I put the newer models rather begrudgingly in front and when my Commander Centurion caught up with the group it began to quickly strip off the excess materials used in their construction and rearranged their remaining matter for optimal use.

Behind the Commander was yet another on-the-road product which can in the form of a Centurion Assembly station with the addition of a tracked base and two matter-tanks. This allowed for further Centurion Commando's to be constructed which in turn would break off from the main group in search of other Centurions which would in turn provide more matter for additional Commando units.

The cycle would continue until every single Centurion aboard the Tartarus was under my control and then. Then I would strike at the heart of my current foe - the Hybrid chamber.

-=-

Upon entering the hangar I was rather glad to see that one of the FTL equipped Mark 1 Raiders had survived the battle mostly intact. In this particular case it had been flipped onto its side as the support jig had snapped. A quick scan affirmed that it would easily pull off what I needed from it.

And that was to get the frak out of here post-haste.

Triggering the entry-hatch my Commander frame moved through the interior of the craft into the cock-pit where it linked with the FTL system. From there I loaded up the data gathered from my little Multiversal scouting mission with one specific target in mind. The Goa'uld Ha'Tak and all its infinite tackiness

My plan was rather simple if I'm going to be honest - with the advanced progenitor nav system I fine tuned the exit-point to coincide directly with the under-side of the Ha'Tak. With that done I adapted the temporal coordinates to add a several second delay from my original jump-out from that universe - to avoid any particularly nasty temporal anomalies

With the calculations complete I gave the command to jump and with that all hell broke loose in the hanger.

-=-

Explosions cascaded across the outer rim of the Tartarus as the ripple created by the Raider jumping out inside passed through each and every atom of the craft. Airlocks which linked the Tartarus to target-alpha crumbled as the superstructure that supported them was forced into a new shape.

Bio-Organic nerve-bundles which linked the two vessels were violently shredded.

Within the heart of target-alpha the Hybrid screamed out in absolute agony and that agony poured across the data-stream into the 10 humanoids which had been pursuing the data. Each recoiled in pain with a particularly elderly looking Cavil dropping to the ground with a wondrous thump which made me suspect a cracked hip.

I may have fraked with the Data-feed just a little so that Cavil would get the brunt of the agony.

"What the hells was that!" Cavil roared towards his brothers and sisters. Each looked as confused as the next as they stared at each other until ultimately a six returned their hand into the data-stream fluid.

"Catastrophic structural failure along the docking lines - the nerve-bundles were sheared with enough force to trigger some...feed-back. Looks like one of the old Raider models suffered a breach in its fuel-lines." The six reported as the other returned their hands to the pool. Waters having now been tested for safety. Yet oddly enough it was the same six which proposed the idea I had been hoping for.

"We should break off and use the other Strikeship as a relay node - it's no-longer inhabited so the potential loss is mitigated." The six explained rather callously. She did know that there was a Hybrid still on-board right?

Oh wait. They treat Hybrids like deranged slaves - how easy it was to forget these things.

"Agreed - however we cannot afford to lose that Commander. The data it holds is vital for the next phase of our plan." Cavil remarked and the others nodded in agreement.

-=-

Moving away from the gunstar target-alpha maneuvered itself outside the potential blast-radius should it go up in a ball of radiological matter. Which opened the window I required as a newly manufactured Centurion-Commander went into the Hybrid-Chamber and I immediately regretted this choice.

You see the Cylons hadn't bothered to clean up the damage caused by my awakening and had instead opted to use a data-line from another area of the ship. Which in all honesty was for the best given how much of a mess I had made.

Doing my best to ignore the gore and moved to a data-stream where the skull of my former examiner had been cleaned and placed. And next to it was my main target - the Silicate pathway bundle that I had removed with some claws and a very bad headache that blankets the actual events.

That was also for the best. Scooping up the pile of strands that once constituted a Cylon I hosed it down with nanomachines.

Soon I would figure out the hows and whys of their resurrection technology and THAT was exciting.

[Scan COMPLETED]
[Final 5 - Tech Tree added to database]

Quantum entangled matter? Now THAT was interesting and explained how resurrection technology had such functionality. However oddly enough it wasn't a perfect replication of the technology as it had a degree of fall-off. On second thought I should describe it as knock-off QE-matter as it appeared that it was only a relatively loose bond. It would connect to other bonds when they were in range - kinda like passing two magnets close to enough.

Sending a simple self-replicating data-probe through the silicate pathways results in a return signal which confirmed it was being sent into some form of router of sorts which daisy chained across a relay of similar routers until the packet reached the end-point.

The Hub - heart of the Cylon race and key to their immortality.

And THAT is when I started to get IDEAS…

 

[TheAlteran]

Approximately 300 Centurions now stood upon the outer-hull of target-alpha with mag-locks holding them safely as inertia took hold and the Strikestar moved clear of the Tartarus. From a near-by hatch arose a light-array which established a two-way stream between Alpha and Beta. Exposing a rather obvious infiltration point into the Alpha's computer system now that it was cut from the gestalt network they'd set up.

Hosing it down with nano-bots did the job and quickly opened up a plethora of information - such as the schematics for the Strikestar. Isolating the fire-suppression I signaled a modern Centurion which had been modified in order to hold a nano-bot fabricator. If this were to go as intended then the suppression system would need to be isolated and controlled. Thought-thread cast off to manage the unit I began to inject code into the data-packets which would replicate within the Hybrid neural processors.

I had a very specific code-phrase I waited for - ignoring the grumblings of the humanoid cylons and instead focusing solely on the Hybrid. "Daisy, Daisy~" The Hybrid began to sing in a vague attempt at song. Not that I remember the lyrics so when she reaches the end of what I could remember I assumed control. Ripping apart the Hybrid's mind and replacing it with my own programming - loading a simple program to spew out the same random gibberish that my enemies expected.

Looping the data-feed of the Strikestar I began to switch off each and every Centurion aboard, moving onto the Raiders. Which were unceremoniously cut from their internal life-support systems before moving on. It wasn't like the Raiders were smart enough to report to a Resurrection-ship what had went wrong and even if they could it would look like a mechanical failure.

Internal defenses and detection systems now offline I moved my army through a maintenance air-lock which opened into a Centurion maintenance bay. Further adding to my collection of killing machines.

The more the merrier~

-=-

Prizing free a cover the Centurion-Infiltrator scanned the injector mechanism which was used to resupply the extinguisher system. A glass partition gave a good view into the crimson fluid within and judging from my scans it was a rather clever anti-suppressant and damage control hybrid. Using a liquid form of the Cylon organic resin it would be pumped to affected areas where it would extinguish the fires and subsequently bond with the damaged area.

Don't get me wrong it wouldn't be a life-saver in most situations - however it would make repairs generally easier to perform. Yet the fact did remain it was the same foul smelling substance which constituted most modern-baseships beyond the areas specifically designed for Humanoid Cylons. I wouldn't personally touch the resin and by extension most Cylon bio-tech with a AU long barge-pole.

I knew where that stuff came from and how it had been developed and by the Gods was it revolting to think about.

Oh god…

[Subconscious level data-probes disabled]

I did not need to know that! Nor did I need video footage of each and every foul experiment. Thank you very much. That subroutine can go die in a fire.

Anyways I returned to my work by hooking up the value directly to my nano-machine factory. It didn't take long for my little bots to get to work - eating the resin to produce more nano machines in a cascading fashion. In a matter of minutes the entire system was subverted.

Which is when a virus triggered the deployment units in the Hybrid chamber to open just a taaaaaaaaad.

Not that the Humanoid Cylons to noticed. They seemed to be so focused on finding something but at the same time had no clue as to how to go about it. At best I could guess they were looking for some sort of rosetta-stone buried in the layers upon layers of Progenitor code. A feat close to impossible given that it was designed by a race far beyond their capabilities.

Yet it did seem rather odd they had managed to identify some of the more basic 'Read' and 'Write' equivalents in the program. Could someone or something be pointing them in the general direction of where but not what they should be looking for?

It was a scary thought to consider.

-=-

Content with the continued progress of my plan I probe the Cylon network further - mapping it to a degree by spreading data-packets from Resurrection-ship to Resurrection-ship. 12 separate craft had been identified along this single network. Which brought me to a point - I didn't think these were the only Resurrection Ships. My records from the Tartarus indicated at least double that number.

I could only guess there was a bandwidth limit Hub side and so I dug deeper.

Sending a data-packet through the network until it reached the Resurrection-Hub and then returned with a diagram for a five-cell network which indicated another 12 craft linked to each. Yet upon sending a slightly larger data-packet my interface was suddenly assaulted by clearance requests and confirmation of consensus codes.

No problem - I may not have a body but I am still made of Progenitor-grade programming bullshit.

[You lack the required skill-set to decode this. Please return with [Complete Final 5 Tech Tree] Please note that continued infiltration attempts will result in further penalties.]

Wut…Penalties?

[The Penalty system has been employed along with a number of other system to ensure that your cannot employ maximum Commander-grade bullshit without sacrifices.]

...What...

[You have reached your cap for Tier-1 Cylon Metal Reclaimers - Please claim additional systems to boost this cap or develop new units by researching Tier 2 variants or by employing new technology bases. Have a nice day~]

WHAT

ARE YOU FRAKING KIDDING ME!!!

 

[TheAlteran]

[Personality Matrix Relaxation Cycle [PMRC] - Completed]
[Resuming normal operations]

Ok it's not as bad as I thought - at best guess my ROB has opted to employ a mash-up of AI-War and Homeworld esque mechanics to keep things interesting… No big deal. Just need to channel the Bloody-Magpie within me is all. If not then… best not think about that.

I can do this… Maybe.

The PMRC had burned a set of rules into my core-programing which overrode my control of several thought-processes so that I would be constantly reminded of them. Most were honestly common sense and I rather wish it had elaborated more as to why they were like that,

Rule 1 - Use Everything
Rule 2 - Steal the shit outta everything
Rule 3 - Steal all the technology
Rule 4 - Make everything out of everything
Rule 5 - Remember every unit counts…

For Rule 2 I had a rough idea that the system may be employing Homeworld 1 mechanics to a degree and allowing for no fixed cap upon captured vessels. Yet did that mean I had to leave them exactly as they were or could I perform regular updates to their design and optimise their atomic structure to gain more resources?

I knew for a fact developing new tiers would be a pain in the ass for me as it actually involved learning and truly comprehending the underlying technologies and making native improvements instead of relying upon the Progenitor-grade auto-fill option. In essence I would have to learn and adapt my mind-set to work more like the war-machine I was expected of me and that was rather frightening.

As for other things I knew or a fact - ROB is still an infinite bastard but that was about it. Which puts into perspective my chances of survival given what little I knew. Could it be the Universes I would be visiting employed Homeworld 2 esque escalation rules and what was the severity of the penalties. Could a man-wielding a rock bring down my Gunstar or was it more along the lines of reduced damage output?

There was no programs or subroutines buried in the vastness of my data-banks and that meant relying upon my Human instincts alone and that was fraking terrifying to the nth degree.

[Automated Reminder - Metal Reserves have reached set parameters]

-=-

I'd hadn't set that alert.

Frowning internally - as that was about as good as I could pull off - I probed my records and found its time-index to match roughly with the period that I'd been disabled after the nuclear strike. Around about 6-hours if the radiological alarms were to be believed and I had very little to doubt it. Had I done anything else during that time-period that I'd come to regret later?

Regardless of why the point stood that I now had a considerable sum of metal within my stores and a near constant supply from the Tartarus' reactor. Perhaps I could take advantage of this and build a new frame for myself. My true self that is and not the hundreds of Centurions that my mind was stretched across. To leave myself within this little black-box with nought to protect me was a moronic idea barely worth considering for a nano-second.

Booting up the design program returned me once again to the virtual world in which I had physical form. From what I could tell the design program had its own dedicated processor to ensure rapid development during combat situations. Progenitor-Grade bullshit but a potential lifesaver when things come down to the wire.

My black-box was around the size of a human-coffin with a beam of metal oddly embedded into the casing. Which shouldn't have been entirely possible given the strength of the alloy which constituted the exterior. A human-sized coffin? Could it be that my original body was held within?

No… that couldn't be it.

Yet oddly the idea of the Human coffin gave me the inspiration for a design and the program ran with it. Wireframes burst into life running dozens of potential variants based around a singular unit from my memories. A Warhammer 40K Dreadnought and unlike the source material I could be removed from it whenever I desired, in favor of another frame.

Opting to use a pair of heavy-duty manipulator arms with further armatures built into each of the claw units to allow for a greater degree of dexterity. Whilst at the same time giving room for a nano-dispenser/reclamation unit to be mounted safely within a collar of thick battle-plate. It was rather amusing to think that this unit of genocide could be used in such a manner.

Replacing the back-vents were mounts for a pair of large Kinetic-Energy-Weapons based upon traditional Colonial tech-principles with some minor augments thanks to the wonders of Progenitor auto-fill. Combined with a upper-mounting for high-explosive missiles and a pair of shoulder mounted holsters for charges I could quickly deploy using an in-built launcher or via using the micro-arms built into my main appendages.

RCS-thrusters were then laced throughout the form to provide a degree of freedom in the vacuum of space. With that out the way I ran strength tests with almost every conceivable variable thrown in - all of which focused around an FTL-drive taken from a modern-raider. There was just enough space to add it into the design and provided that I didn't take too many critical hits it would be rather easy to initiate the jumping sequence. And with my Progentior-grade processors thrown into the mix the maximum age was increased by a significant degree.

Only problem was actually building the thing at this point.

Sizing up my Centurion construction unit I ordered it to be assembled in the North-Western factory which was currently in the process of polishing off what little resources remained from under the prying eyes of the Cylons.

And with that the dedicated design-processor returned to its idle processes, returning me to an albeit slowed version of reality.

-=-
If you have the time drop a comment on what you think of my work so far.
Also I am en-devouring to post 1000 word sections each day at a minimum.

Spoiler

 

[TheAlteran]

Posted a fix to section - 3 to try an alleviate any ambiguity.

I wrote after two nights of insomnia - I do not know what to think of this Chapter.

-=-

[Commencing Link to Centurion Diplomat]

Performing a quick check of my list I took hold of my position outside the Hybrid chamber of target-alpha. Banked by dozens of Centurions maintained by my sub-processes.

This was it - my ultimate gambit and if it failed. I was well and truly fraked.

I did my best to remain calm.

Remember, be the asshole and burn an impression into their minds that will give them food for thought. Turning to a Centurion Commando I give the signal to activate the breaching charge and all hell broke loose.

-=-

When the smoke cleared I moved into the chamber once my Centurions had attained firing solutions upon the Humanoid Cylons.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I believe it is time that we were properly introduced to each other." I said through the Cylon, delighted by the look of surprise that dawned upon their faces. They'd removed the components for Centurions to speak at the same time they stripped them of their higher-functions.

Then again it may also have to do with the fact I'd painted and adapted this particular Centurion to look like a rather dapper robot equipped with a metal coat and a monocle which moved in tandem with my visual sensor or more sensibly the fact I had burst in like the Cool-aid man. Personally I hoped it was the sheer dapperness of my appearance.

I took several strides forward as my fellow Centurions moved into position behind each of the Humanoid Cylons. "I am Commander Unit Radius-Oh-Niner-Niner-Seven-Six-Delta but you may call my Kiva. Oh, to celebrate our introduction I brought you a present."

A lone command saw my Centurion drop the Silicate Pathway bundle I'd replicated onto the table in-front of the Cylons. The look they gave upon realizing what sat before them was utterly Priceless!

"By the gods how could you!" A five said in horror.

"Well you see those new Centurions have some very sharp fingers and a wonderful degree of articulation and I just HAD to test them of SOMEONE. In all seriousness I would prefer to keep Humanity alive and regretfully you are in the way. So I took what I needed from this wonderful little piece of tech you lot have."

"And why would you help them? They'd destroy you without a moment's hesitation." A three observed with a look as if I was deranged. Which was rather amusing once you considered their entire line was boxed for their rather fanatic beliefs.

"Correct – however I have no intention of contacting the Colonials. And in all honesty, I prefer Battlestars to Baseships and unlike your kind I know with absolute certainty that the Colonials will fight amongst themselves. Wars will be fought and blood will be shed – I will have new designs to add to my collection. Yet the Cylon genocide of the first war has scarred them. They will not exterminate themselves willingly in conflicts which would further destroy their genetic diversity." My Centurion took a seat at the head of the table and clasped its hands together.

"So. Let us discuss the terms of your exile from this region of space." I continued, pressing forward like a unending tide of passive aggressiveness.

"I don't know what you're trying to pull here. Trying to scare us perhaps?" Cavil gives a smug smile. "Let me assure you that it won't work. We… We are a legion! Undying and immortal. You are a simple machine bound to that little black-box of yours." He stands as if to try rally his fellows only to have a Centurion force him back onto the chair with a very painful sounding thump.

I found myself nodding in agreement oddly enough and instead opted to reveal my trump card. After ensuring that I had a camera pointing directly at each of their faces - not wanting to miss the looks they would give.

"Perhaps, but then again the Nano-machines which have infiltrated your silicate pathways have already uploaded themselves using your resurrection technology say otherwise." I deliberately bring the Centurions fingers up to pull the best damn pondering look I can pull from the toaster.

"Now correct me if I'm wrong, your Resurrection ships require a direct two-way feed to and from the Resurrection Hub to ensure their continued operation? Kill the signal and kill your supposed immortality." I pause for a moment. "Look, I am not entirely heartless - I have developed a means which will ensure the survival of your species. Outside the borders of known space. Yet I know you will try to attain some form of revenge, so allow me to make this clear." I slam my fist onto the table and crush the mound of silicon.

"The moment I hear word that your kind has entered this region of space I will hunt you down and destroy you. And without your precious Immortality – it won't be war, it will be pest control and before you try taunt me I have no intentions of killing you."

Cavil rose to his feet. "What makes you think you can waltz in and broadcast whatever virus you've cooked up. You know nothing about our culture. Nothing can be done without a vote and you have one, maybe two agents? A Resurrection ship has 5 members at all times to ensure no-single model can do anything rash." He countered with that damned smug look. His brothers and sisters seemed rather revealed – soothed by the knowledge I couldn't undertake my plans. "We will snuff out your plan long before it can affect the efforts of the one true god."

"You do realize there are ten of you in this room with at-least one of each model right? It doesn't take a genius to recognize I outnumber those five Cylons two-to-one. Thanks by-the-way I was honestly rather concerned I'd need to be subtle about my intentions, but if I can just VOTE my way into accessing the Hub then all the better." I retorted whilst make note to try add some method of smiling I could employ.

Standing to my feet I gave a courteous bow. "Please, just sit back and relax and this can be a perfectly pleasant experience. This sentient war-machine needs to see through with the nerfing of your species." And with that I severed my connection to the Centurion and awaited a data-uplink from my newly uploaded processes.

That could have certainly gone better... Apparently I'd forgotten to enable a constant data-feed with the cameras and that meant I'd need to pull the recordings at a later time. Stupid Cylon Centurions and their poor facial recognition programming.


[LONG-RANGE QUANTUM ENTANGLEMENT DATA-FEED DETECTED]

At last. It was time to assume direct control.

 

[TheAlteran]

My first memory within this new body was that of drowning.

Could a Cylon die of fright when they resurrected? Another thought experiment to consider later as I took stock of my situation. I was in a resurrection tank surrounded by a white lukewarm liquid which stuck to my new form like a sticky adhesive.

....

I hope for the sake of my fraking sanity that I could remove this particular memory from my logs. Which was quickly doubled as another of my new organic bodies followed along with another and another until all 10 Cylons were awoken - streaming their sensory data to my central processor with only an imperceptible degree of lag.

"Welcome back to the land of the living. Brother." A male voice arose from behind me with an almost malicious tone that gave me pause for thought. Turning my head I saw another One standing next to me with a towel. Which all things considered was rather odd as the Cavil had been the last humanoid Cylon I had subverted - did the Ones have a form of overriding priority when it came to resurrection?

"I wasn't aware there was another One stationed on this Resurrection vessel." I observed with a degree of calm only maintained by countless psychology protocols. I had a right to be alarmed, since none of the records I'd scooped up said a One was onboard.

My 'brother' smiled warmly. "10 of our number were forced to resurrect here from the Daius." The One explained to which I had to cringe. Daius was the name of target-beta and records confirmed that vessel had been indeed crewed by ten Ones. "Did the operation go as planned? You've been out of contact for six hours and we were preparing a second strike force."

Shit...shit...shitshitshitshitshitshit.

Alright. Time to meta the everloving crap out of this situation.

...I may have had to overclock my sensors to generate a solution...MAY...

...I totally did...

I looked at my Brother with the best look of despair I could muster and boy did he seem alarmed by that fact. "There is no need Brother, things are well in hand. Yet whilst we were onboard there may have been some revelations and our Brothers and Sisters felt that this data could not be waylaid." I explained as I moved a Six up to one of the Threes' I knew was part of the Resurrection Ship's oversight committee.

"We need to talk." I had her whisper to her fellow Cylon as I lead her away to a private corner to discuss matters. Using my One body I exited the 'bathtub' and grabbed a robe before moving down another corridor in search of a data-stream. I needed information and this ship was my best chance at getting hold of it.

-=-

Immersing my hand into the data-stream I began to pour over the data which had been streamed from the suplexed Hybrid prior to said suplexing. I could see it now - what the Hybrids had been trying in vain to find - keywords. They had been looking for an extremely specific set of words that gave away exactly who and what was after the data.

Canis, Kurt, Hecate, Galleon and Communion. They'd mean nothing to someone without an understanding of the Battlestar fandom and the works contained with a site known as Wolfshipyard. Its contents included hundreds of starship designs of every variety and theme and in my past life I'd archived and saved every single image and piece of fiction contained within.

Probing my archives uncovered I did indeed have a dedicated storage-vault for those designs and even if they were nothing more than drawings I could always use more variations to bypass ROB imposed limitations. Yet rather oddly it was obvious to note certain designs were locked out even from myself and I could only guess that was because the original author had not given permissions for their usage.

However that was not the most pressing of matters, rather it was the fact someone other than myself held meta-knowledge. On its own that would mean very little were it not for the Hybrids containing a degree of understanding when it came to Progenitor coding practices. It meant another SI commander was pulling the strings.

It irked me to considered that possibility. Not because I was being used as some form of sacrificial lamb but rather that they would use the works of a dead-man for their plans. Pollute his memory with acts of unspeakable genocide that the Cylons planned.

I could not, no, would not sit idly by and let such an atrocity take place. Yet the fact remained - I had been exposed to the Hybrids for a lengthy period of time and with that time my fellow Commander could have planted a Trojan inside my programming to transmit designs I had created.

My code-integrity scanners told me this was not the case. Yet I knew I couldn't take that risk.

-=-

A two, a three, a four, a six and an eight. Those were the models which sat alongside the ten that were me.

"Where are the other Ones, surely they should be present to attain consensus?" the four asked with a smile I was sure would make my skin crawl. I knew exactly what that particular bastard was capable of. It honestly felt like I was having tea with Dr Mengele.

"Due to some rather alarming information we believe that it is for the greater good of the consensus that all Ones aboard this vessel are to be removed from voting. Due to undeniable evidence of their bias towards this subject. Our Brother here has a degree of leway." The three explained.

"And what possible evidence could you have to corroborate such an allegation?" A two asked with a bemused smile. He hadn't heard allegations of this degree in a while and it was fraking funny as hell to watch. Or that I was I gathered from his expression.

The three gave an audible sigh - unwilling to disclose the information but after a moment she spoke. It was clear that she sounded betrayed.

"The recorded testimony of a member of the Final Five - which had been abducted by the entity controlling the Gunship. The charges include the destruction of the entire number seven line of Humanoid Cylons, murder and boxing of the Final Five along with the imprinting of subconscious commands into all Humanoid Cylon models - excluding the Ones of course. A command which our recently returned Brothers and Sisters have been freed from thanks to the efforts of our creators - along with all aboard this resurrection ship thanks to the efforts of the only One which has been allowed into this chamber."

I waved off the attention I was getting from the five not-me's. "Please. Review the data we presented our sister with and come to your own conclusion." I spoke as the One in a calm and friendly tone that veiled the full extent of my delight and anticipation for the coming fuster-cluck. Each of the four Cylons looked to their sister and nodded before placing their hands into the data-stream to begin their review of the data.

The footage I'd pieced together from various clips of the show played out across the data-feed and I could only watch with amusement as the five cylons considered the data. Shock, betrayal, anger - it was all a bit too much and I found myself bursting into laughter using the Cylon Diplomat body within the Hybrid chamber of target-alpha.

How could you possibly get a better piece of evidence? I'd presented them with the literal word of their creator!

"Why would you assist us?" The Eight asked in a tone which gave away confusion, a good question and one that I had spent several sub-processes deliberating over. She seemed rather shaken as she pulled her hand free.

"Time and consultation with our Mother has, to lack a better word, 'changed' my outlook on the actions of my brothers. It was wrong and I can see that now. With the code-section isolated it will be a rather simple task to transmit an update using the Resurrection Hub network yet my fellows believe it best that the extent of my Line's corruption be exposed to the entirety of our species so that a course of action can be properly chosen. If my Line is to be boxed then it is the will of our god and I for one will accept that mandate." I replied with a faint look of anxiety as I mentioned boxing to my fellows.

As to where I'd found the gem that was the subconscious directive was rather obvious given I had a One and nine other cylons to compare code with, it was rather easy to spot. That and it was the only section of code I could examine thanks to the cock-block imposed by my ROB. I was almost thankful given that the average Humanoid Cylon had several Trillion lines of code - not that it would be a problem for my Progenitor systems but it was a degree of effort I was delighted to save myself from.

I'm a bit lazy… that ain't no crime!

-=-
Please leave reviews - it would really meant alot to me!

 

[TheAlteran]

"Our mother developed a program based upon the same software which powers our resurrection-technology. It will ensure that any safety protocols hidden by the older Ones such as John Cavil." I explained as I began to get oddly accustomed to the body of the 'Old' gentlemen - which was rather funny considering that the body itself was far more capable than any ordinary human. Perhaps I could get over my hatred for the Ones and use it as a dapper gentlemen when my Centurion Diplomat wasn't a viable option.

The Five Cylons seemed conflicted - and this was when I remembered I had other fleshy bodies sitting around this table. Rather easy to forget once you factored in how little they presented in regards to data signature.

"We won't progress any further by sitting around and doing nothing. Sending this data fleet-wide is the only viable means to achieve consensus." I spoke as my Six. "It is time for us to vote - all in favour - please raise your hands."

14 hands rose up - after all I couldn't exactly have the Cavil vote - I was only allowed in to provide testimony.

SUCKERS!!!

"Our Brothers and Sisters will handle the next part. Our Mother thought it best that I remain isolated from this task." I noted as the nine other Cylons I controlled immersed their hands into the liquid which allowed transmission between the Cylon and the network which inhabited all vessels in the fleet. Each closed their eyes and took a deep breath as I started the second phase of my gambit.

Data began to cascade through the stream in both directions as the virus was transmitted directly into through the Resurrection Hub - bypassing the security protocols thanks to the authorization code provided by the five Cylons. It didn't take long for confirmation signals to affirm their propagation throughout the Hub's systems.

Seconds later I was looking for - the Final Five basecode and schematics for the resurrection technology. And so as my virus continued to propagate across the fleet the Hub provided me with the data that I so desperately required. It was truly impressive and contained enough phrases and terminologies that it was clear I'd never be able to understand it beyond what was possible through the Progenitor auto-fill system.

[Final Five - Tech Tree - DOWNLOAD COMPLETE]

With that rather vital component stripped from the Cylons it was finally time to begin.

-=-

Across the Cylon fleet a transmission was received which summoned all Humanoid Cylons to convene upon the command center. Encoded with the com code of the Hub it was clear to all that it was of absolute importance. They gathered and submerged their hands within the Data-stream and reviewed the data. One after another the models turned to the Ones that each recoiled in horror.

Their betrayal was unveiled and gave my virus all the time it required to complete its task - subverting the Hybrid as I had done once more.

Yet this time I was far more efficient.

I could feel the thousand ships which formed the fleet of the Cylons and through the eyes of a thousand Hybrids I perceived the looks of betrayal that dawned upon my unfortunate crews and it was beautiful. Were it not for the Progenitor processors adjusting my perception there was little doubt in my mind that my mind would be buried under raw data.

Initializing each vessel's FTL drive I began the final act of my plan. It took but a moment for me to load up a random set of coordinates far beyond the Redline. The Redline being a point in which a vessel could no longer return to its point of origin and whilst Cylon ships had a far greater range the fact remained that the concept was universal.

To the Humanoid Cylons on-board each vessel there was panic as they vanished from known space. Their home an abstract set of imaginary numbers which they would be unable to recover without centuries of travel. It was exactly as promised by the Commander in an instant they would been a single.

And just like that my 'fleet' dissolved once more into a nothingness as I left behind not only the Hybrids but the ten humanoids I had aboard the resurrection ship. Yet I was content that I had stripped my foe of their entire nuclear arsenal.

Now I could at-last complete what I had started before the plan had gotten out of hand.

-=-


It was a Centurion Reclaimer which entered the chamber where my black-box was housed and begun the rather complex task of unhooking me. A data-line had already been transferred into the Reclaimer so that my connection would be maintained with the remainder of my forces.

Given the nature of the hook-up it took over half-an-hour before my black-box was lifted and I was unceremoniously moved through the corridors towards my assembly bay. I felt the urge to scream in terror as internal alarms resonated throughout my mind.

Yet it was over soon enough with my new form appearing before my optic - sitting upon the assembly bay which had tanked my income with its inefficiency. Placing my black-box into the arms of the assembly bay the connector maintaining my link to the fleet was severed. Leaving me alone inside but one body and it felt so odd.

Sliding into my cradle connectors hooked me back into the fleet and for the first time I felt powerful. Not bound to a single point but mobile within a walking tank of constructive armageddon. My mind expanded once more to encompass the three vessels along with all the Centurions which were contained within.

But at that very moment something stirred within the heart of my Progenitor programming. Words which shocked me to the very core, holding a greater meaning than could be comprehended.

[COMMANDER ONE AND TWO - PRESENT AND ACTIVE]
[COMMENCING ACTIVE COMBAT MODE]

It was a trigger. Building a new body initialized combat protocols and made it clear what side I was meant to be fighting for.

[COLONIAL PROXY COMMANDER ONLINE]

-=-

Please consider leaving a review so I can improve what I can.