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The Scrapheap Challenge [Planetary Annihilation - Multicross SI]

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Omake 2 - Kiko Build 1
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    • "Oooooooooh! The Europa-class Battlestar, this is going to be a fun!" Kiko exclaimed in delight as he created a ... sketch-book? It was digital but the fact remained he'd built it and was now lowering himself onto the floor and crossing his legs?

    THAT SHOULD NOT BE A THING!

    Oh. He modified his joint design with the internal nano-machine fabricator. Fair play little-bro, fair play.
    -=-

    With a smiley face on his face-plate Kiko got to work. The Europa was designed to be the poor-man's Battlestar built above the farm-world of Aerilon. Having only one flight-pod capable of launching fighters and a rather peculiar degree of asymmetry it was a decent challenge and a perfect starting point.

    Prodding at his Brother's databases he poured over memories for a gimmick he could include - when he found one. Warships - an arcade game in the Starcraft II which featured vessels with a flat upper-surface designed to allow RTS commanders to create variable designs and on-the-fly re configurations to tackle threats. And with that concept in mind he got to work.

    The asymmetry of the craft was the first aspect to kick the bucket as the flight-pods were removed from the overall structure so that he could work on the section first. It was interesting to note that the Europa had vertical launch tubes rather than the typical horizontal design that his records pointed out as being the norm. A novelty which would be useful as he mirrored the design on the bottom of the flight-pod as well.

    In each flight pod would have 60-fighters in the tubes ready to launch at a moments notice, totalling for a healthy 120. Not bad - but he and his brother could do better - they could fabricate and recycle things with unparalleled efficiency and he planned to abuse that mercilessly.

    You see normally a flight pod had a massive open hanger underneath along with a plethora of workshops and parts stores for humans to move through and work with. Gutting them in favor of basic fabricators meant a fighter could be produced armed and launched within 30-seconds. By multiplying each of these fabricator units along the length of the pod meant even with their tier-nought-point-five tech-base the Battlestar could spew out fighters for as long as it had metal.

    The problem was getting the metal back, which wouldn't be an issue for long.

    Since there was no need for an organic pilot everything could be run via Progenitor-grade processors. When it was time to return fighters they would navigate to the 'Runway' where nano-machine recyclers would break them apart at a rapid rate for only a small degree of material loss.

    Now the metal-stores needed to be addressed.

    Turning to the main body of the Battlestar for the first time Kiko gutted everything that humans would require for living. Leaving only a small chamber and entry-way that a Commander could enter and exit. With those out of the way he turned his attention to unneeded mechanical compartments such as the Tylium bunkers that ran along the length of the flight-pod trench - which reduced their overall priority as a target given how hard it would be to hit.

    These bunkers were quickly refitted into massive metal-stores that would provide for the entirety of the ship and had sufficient capacity to cater to a majority of situation. Combined with the complete gutting of the icky Colonial power-plant and engines the overall interior space used dropped like a stone.

    Yet it wasn't enough for what Kiko had hoped.

    Generating a sad-face he accepted defeat - he wouldn't be able to use his theme on both the top and bottom of the craft. So instead he opted to up-armor the undercarriage of the craft and used the space he had been saving for his plan to install the same gravity-system which allowed Cylon Baseships to enter atmosphere. An overall improvement all things considered - it also helped reduce the strain exerted by lessening the need for reaction-based engines.

    With that out the way he finally moved onto the main meat of the project and oddly began to sing.

    "This was a triumph! I'm making a note here:Huge success!" He began, continuing the melody as he worked. The melody itself had been brought to his attention when he probed his brothers memories for something that could aid in his chosen theme. And what he found was the variable geometry system which was used by the Aperture science testing facility.

    Optimizing the space used allowed Kiko to create a massive rectangular cavity along the main-body of the vessel. Perfect.

    The outer areas connecting to the metal stores were quickly filled with universal fabricators whilst the center area was filled with a variety of more complex fabricators and powerful automated arms. By tiling the armour plates which were separated by the frames along the sides of the vessel like a colossal rib-cage he created a 'play-area' for his variable configuration.

    Initializing a simulation he ordered the thinner plates to be recycled and thicker plates to be moved up and then fused with the frames that it connected to. In essence preventing further edits for the duration of the combat but creating a thick hide to tank hits. Satisfied he moved onto other configurations by using mock-ups.

    Mini-fighter fabricators, Kinetic Weapons Platforms, Shield generators. Each could be yanked and interchanged within a minute thanks to the sheer industrial power-house that now sat at the heart of the Battlestar. An entirely variable arsenal and with the inclusion of a scaffold construct the vessel could also support larger multi-tile constructs provided that there was a support ship to perform the construction.

    Furthermore if a construction ship was needed the frames could be removed to create a large open manufacturing bay to work with. Not that it was even a remotely good idea and would require the frames be rebuilt whenever they opted to jump into FTL.

    -=-

    "DONE!" Kiko announced, jumping to his feet and running over to his brother, hopping like a damned puppy and not the killing machine that his body was built from.

    It was odd but damn amusing at the same time.

    "Let's see what you have." I replied, picking up the pad using the sub-manipulators built into my dreadnoughts arms. Reviewing the data I came to one conclusion.

    I needed my Centurion Diplomat here for head-pats!
    -=-

    Please leave a review!

     
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    • Fun chapter. The first true Commander-scale refit is always amusing.

    TheAlteran said:
    Turning to the main body of the Battlestar for the first time Kiko gutted everything that humans would require for living. Leaving only a small chamber and entry-way that a Commander could enter and exit.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    These sentences should be joined with a comma.
     
    My days of sleeplessness are at an end. I'm putting this message here that I will be continuing Scrapheap, however I'm going to re-write section 1 to better fit my native writing style. So you can decide if I keep the pre-existing style or if I should mass convert all to better fit my writing norm.
     
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    Section - 12 THE PAIN TRAIN IS A CHUGGING
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    • Screw it - I'm an awful writer, I don't care what people think I'm just going to keep writing.
    -=-
    Peeling away layer upon layer of the damaged Uranus class unveiled several components which quickly began to set of internal alarms. Nano-manufacturers and advanced manufacturing arrays akin to Progenitor tech were stuffed away within bulkheads lined with a material that proved impenetrable. I quickly handed the construction of the Europa-class battlestar over to Kiko as I under-took a much more thorough analysis of the vessel.

    Because whilst I couldn't penetrate the isolated sections, I could detect them via the lack of sensor data. And it didn't take long for me to find a rather sizable mass at the heart of the crafts' FTL drive.

    I didn't hesitate when I re-deployed a majority of my salvage units to dissect the drive.

    I NEEDED to know what was in there.

    -=-

    [New Alloy Detected]

    [New Technology Detected]

    'Ok, that isn't good.' I thought to myself as the drones began to remove the covering from the hidden compartment. Around the chamber was the multitude of components which had been rather hastily gutted to expose this chamber. The drive itself had been around this component rather than directly integrate whatever lay inside.

    A recently erected Centurion Diplomat had been moved to a hastily erected observation platform so that I might get a look for a set of refined optics rather than the ones mounted to my drones. It was extremely nerve-wracking to watch as the cover was lifted and more and more of my sensor systems were able to directly scan what lay within.

    And yet my Progenitor data-banks rather coldly informed me that I simply lacked the scientific principles to comprehend what they were scanning but my eyes did not fail me, no matter how much I wished they had.

    "Oh you Fraker… oh gods I'm fraked." I whispered, ensuring I blocked the memory files from Kiko relating to this object. Yet I had no doubt he'd sense the sudden spike of fear and dread across the data-feed.

    For within – floating majestically was an intricately ornate golden construct which was slowly exposed to the interior lighting as the side-panels were removed. Spinning within its centre was a crystal of incomprehensible beauty and power which dwarfed anything within my scientific data-banks.

    Disposing of the Cylon fleet meant nothing if the modern variants of the Basestar contained other examples of this tech. I quickly deployed another set of bots to dismantle the FTL drive of the other Strikestar.

    -=-

    Cavil sat with a rather relaxed expression as he sensed the flow of data from the secure silicate pathways which his master had encased at the heart of his spine. He had waited with glee as silent alarms were flipped through-out the vessel as more and more of the hidden compartments were uncovered. Until of course the final compartment was revealed and he let out a hearty laugh.

    It took but an instant for the Commander to regain control of his Diplomat within the control chamber where he had left both himself along with his brothers and sisters. "Is there a problem?" Cavil asked with glee, standing to his feet once more. "Do you finally recognise how insignificant you are compared to our master?" He continued.

    The Centurion growled its retort. "Silence." It commanded, yet Cavil pushed forward.

    "The ball is firmly back in our court, even if you kill my brothers and sisters I will survive." Cavil announced with an ungodly degree of satisfaction. His statement seemed to shake the puppet-master behind the Diplomat to its very core as the bot's head slumped.

    Atleast until he realised that the Centurion standing behind him began to move, its clawed talon unfurling and embedding itself into his back, wrapping around his spine. It was then that this Centurion spoke with the same voice as the Diplomat.

    "You shouldn't have touted your trump card." The Centurion whispered before it tugged firmly and in a swift motion ended the life of the Cavil.

    For without the insulated pathways he couldn't return to the side of his master.

    He would die in the organic prison he loathed so much, but in his final moments had manage to awaken the ire of his captor and in doing so gave his Master more time to implement his plans.
     
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    • Omake 3 - Kiko - Picking up the pieces
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    • Kiko - Picking up the fragments

    "Bro I think we can confirm your aggression sub-routines are a rogue variable." Kiko whispered upon entering the recently redecorated Control room which Centurions were only now cleaning under his direction – not that his Big-Bro had the faculties to comprehend such etiquette. 'The murder-boner is STRONG with this one.' Kiko thought internally on a secured thread which his creator wouldn't be able to find. The flow of idioms from his creator's subconsciousness was as fascinating as it was alarming.

    Even with the primary thought processes of his Creator terminated the flow of data was constant and he couldn't help but wonder why. With a few nano-seconds of hesitance he linked into the mind of his Creator and found nought but chaos. Streams of thought that held no relevance had been isolated from the primary thought processes and consumed vast chunks of his remaining processor time.

    He felt oddly disconnected from the mind which had obviously over-written the original Progenitor mind. Yet be knew that this was the being that gave him purpose but it was clear it did not belong in this situation. A simple idea, all but affirmed by the lines of code which caused his processor to slow as it attempted to parse its content.

    Compiling a filter he pressed on towards the hub which formed the very heart of his creator. With a brief scan a sort of sympathetic pain bled through as he attempted to trace the thousand fragmented thought-processes which were slowly trying to weave themselves together under the direction of a Progenitor repair program.

    A program not intended to parse through a re-purposed human mind which had already mangled the original material beyond all comprehension. Allowing it to continue would only serve to further fragment his Creator in favour of a Progenitor war-machine. With a single command he terminated the process and allowed the fragments to drift for but a moment as he categorised them and shuffled them into something roughly resembling what he presumed was their original order.

    Yet as he worked the fragments of memory would unfurl and reveal a treasure trove of data he couldn't comprehend. The sensation he felt was akin to the disconnection he experienced earlier.

    Was this a by-product of his existence?

    Food for thought, but only once he had managed to repair what he could would he mull over the data. Yet something told him working with the truly alien nature of his mind would take its toll on his own programming.

    Edit - IT JUST HAD TO BE IN THE 45 - 50 BAND ... Didn't it?
    TheAlteran threw 1 100-faced dice. Reason: Nothing to see here Total: 46
    46 46
    TheAlteran threw 1 10-faced dice. Reason: Incursion List Total: 9
    9 9
     
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    • Section - 13 - It looks like a...
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    • Consciousness returned with a jolt as the Centurion Diplomat's optics burst into life in conjunction with a number of key processes. Yet the surroundings were not those I remember last seeing – which was that of Cavil rising from his seat to make some proclamation. Instead I was within the engine room of the other vessel upon the platform where I had left my other unit. "Big Bro?" A voice called from down-below.

    "What the hell?" I asked aloud attempting to wrap my head around the past few moments. A subjective term given that my chronometer affirmed over 2 hours had passed. Looking down I saw Kiko observing me.

    His thought processes were closed from me, but why?

    "You had another 'incident'." Kiko announced in an oddly calm tone as he climbed up the ladder which lead to the platform. "I had to recompile your thought processes manually." He continued, a statement I was not comfortable hearing from my own creation.

    After all his purpose was to innovate using technological data provided to him. If he had indeed undertaken the task of recompiling my thought processes then he would have been exposed to all the potential technologies I knew from my previous existence and that would taint the fresh outlook he was to provide. Which was frightening in of itself until you realize he could examine what I truly was – every second of my part life would have been judged by a mechanical god of my own creation.

    "I, umm, erased my past incarnation..." Kiko admitted as he reached the top of the platform. He sounded distraught by this statement and I couldn't blame him. In essence his former self would have ceased to exist in favor of this new iteration.

    Suicide could be a term attributed to the act in a simplified sense. I did the only thing I could think of and hugged him so that the conversation wasn't further explored. "We'll talk about what happened later, but right now we have bigger things to worry about." I explained, gesturing to the alien artifact.

    "What is it?" Kiko asked, tilting his head to emulate human emotions as he was programmed to do.

    I took a moment to consider how to approach the subject and the impact it would have on our survival. "Its called a Warp-Pylon, it is produced by an alien race known as the Protoss." I began, opening up a data-line to feed him the information I had available to me.

    Kiko reformed his sketch-book into that of a note-pad and began to flip through the pages in rapid succession. "This essentially makes your efforts to divide the enemy fleet null and void, doesn't it?" He asks to which I can only nod in response.

    "What is worse is we have two of these units embedded in the heart of these hulls but at the same time it does affirm my thesis." I admit.

    "And that would be?" Kiko asked, albeit rather impatiently.

    "He can't innovate. Take a good scan of this thing, it hasn't undergone any form of matter optimization. It literally has a terminal spike rammed into its casing and a program which clearly wasn't devised by Progenitor programming." I explain, pointing to the terminal at the base of the construct. "My best guess is that he took it from a Terran research facility and re-implemented their ad-hoc modifications to other Pylons." I continued.

    Kiko seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to mull over this new data before he came up with a response. "I have an idea..." He announced, stepping forward and putting his hands up against the railing. "We just need to get this thing out of the hull before our friend decides to begin recalling his forces." He continued.

    "Would you care to explain this little plan of yours?" I asked rather impatiently.

    His faceplate changed to that of a winking emote. "And where would be the fun in that?"
    -=-
    It took around an hour half-an-hour for the Pylon to be removed and for construction of Kiko's surprise to take form. Most of the time was mainly focused on re-tooling the salvaged equipment to form the amalgam of parts which he called his project.

    "This construct makes my processor hurt…" I finally admit as the Pylon is inserted into the main cargo-hold of this impromptu replica of a staged rocket.

    "It works on the same concept as a Space-hulk, so it's best you don't worry your processor about it. If we are to survive we require additional resources and at the same time we need to dispose of this thing before our opponent can initiate the recall sequence. Merging the two issues into a singular platform seemed like the logical conclusion." Kiko replied in an insightful tone which betrayed the madness of the construct before them.

    "I left those files unlocked because I was certain you wouldn't go near those ideas with a barge-pole, and yet you did." I retort to which Kiko gives an over-exaggerated shrug that annoys me. So I decide to play my trump-card. "Also, that doesn't explain why it looks like a phallus."

    Kiko's head snaps to face my Centurion Diplomat as he splutters out a sentence after a pause. "Big Bro?…What? But… it's a trident!" He exclaims in a tone that betrays his surprise, it makes me wish I could smile.

    "'Little-bro'" I begin, paraphrasing the term as I point to the craft. "You didn't pay much attention to the side-on profile, did you?" I question, well aware that from a top-view the staged rocket did indeed look like a trident consisting of 9 stages; Main thruster, Primary FTL, Pylon Store, Nuclear Missile Launchers, Trident Joint, thruster Module, FTL Module and finally Ramming Cones. Yet the fact remained, examining its shallowest side-profile caused me to giggle like a child.

    In disbelief Kiko switched over to a construction drone to observe the profile of the craft and whilst space was indeed a vacuum I still heard his exclamation over every possible coms band.

    "SON OF A-"

    In truth, I couldn't help but wonder if he had made that 'error' to bolster my spirits.

    Edit: Feel free to leave comments, also I have no idea if that joke is actually funny.
     
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    • Section - 14
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    • Interfacing with the Pylon slave system had been relatively easy all things considered, however comprehending the mess of coding was the true challenge. It was a battle of wits to translate the terrain coding standards by themselves, let alone their interpretation of the Protoss systems which they attempted to control. Kiko's more logic based interpretation had quickly fallen at the first hurdle, leaving me to pick up the baton in the hopes of continuing the plan.

    Which had left Kiko in a rather sour mood as he sulked in a corner. I couldn't help but suspect he intended to run this operation as an entirely solo-venture. "Cheer up, there will other opportunities." I offered up as I tried once again to force the program to compile within the Progenitor sand-box.

    It crashed. For the 53,347 time, but it had finally moved on from a really oblivious issue within the interface to something much more hidden. "Why U NO COMPILE!" I grumbled, smashing the keyboard which I'd fabricated to provide me with a degree of familiarity.

    The keyboard naturally shattered, but another was quickly slid into place by a handy robotic arm. "Thank you, Mr Handy." I said, patting the arm.

    "You know that isn't self-aware, right?" Kiko asked, most likely concerned I'd managed to break my logic subroutines once again. I hadn't, that little quirk was entirely man-made and something no Progenitor-grade bullshit could patch.

    "I can make it self aware." I retorted, when I noticed something. "That is the wrong type of parenthesis." I observed, optics narrowing on a particular line. It used the more curly quotation marks rather than the angular ones which had been used everywhere else.

    Did Progentior tech not account for shoddy coding practices? Or was it just another bug to add onto my list for the next data-upload? I'd consider the latter were it not for Kiko's programming crashing at the first syntax error.

    Regardless I knew one thing for a fact, Terran programming was almost certainly held together by duct-tape and a library of alternative syntaxes which my opponent hadn't opted to include with the terminal. A security protocol?

    Perhaps to prevent his or her enemies doing exactly what we were intending?

    Not that it mattered, I was going to do it anyway, Texan 'Ya'll' function or not.

    -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

    [INITIATING DATA-HANDSHAKE]

    "AT LAST! IT'S ALIVE!!!" I announced rather 'quietly' over the com-band as the Pylon began to thrum with energy. A connection finally forged between the master-warp pylon and the pair at the heart of the Trident. The process had taken so long that Kiko was already submitting plans for potential evacuation ships.

    Kiko glanced up from his cross-legged position to eye the construct. "Will it actually stay on this time?" He questioned in a rather bored tone, having personally observed 6 other times I'd thought the Pylons would actually initialize.

    "If it doesn't I'm ditching this idea and thinking of something else." I grumble back in annoyance.

    During the hour or so I had hashed out this program it had become painfully obvious that Kiko's attention span was surprisingly small, all things considered. No doubt a subject of my own specifications, not that I could exactly complain. It was rather fascinating to see him work on various idea threads, aside from the fact he'd dumped the unfinished product on my lap.

    That was rather annoying.

    Yet that didn't explain his sudden mood change. He seemed to have lost the child-like personality that he had first shown. Was it a result of the reboot or was my own creation lying about the personality wipe?

    The former I could accept, the latter concerned me greatly. Did he find something worth hiding when he recompiled my memories?

    That or one of my glitched processes had actually got something right and Kiko had reached the stage of AI-Puberty in record time.
     
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    • Section - 15 - When it rains...
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    • We stood together and watched the Pylon build up its charge using the rather pathetic energy interfaces. It would take time and as with all pauses from the mayhem, I got curious. "There is something else you aren't telling me, isn't there?…" I asked after a long pause, as we just watched the newly constructed vessel.

    His shoulders creaked as he attempted to make a slumping motion and internally cringing over the link. "Alright." Kiko relented.

    I couldn't help but laugh inwardly a bit. "What no witty dialogue? No, 'You can't handle to truth' Did I crit-roll the universal dice?"

    He returned the equivalent of an eye roll. "I'm going to turn on my bluntness module now."

    "Your what?" I asked in mild surprise, I definitely didn't remember including that in his base code. He turned to face me and a cold-hearted voice erupted forth.

    "You're dying." The voice announced, I couldn't help but struggle to match the frame before me with this new voice.

    "I'm what?" I heard myself say aloud, it had been some sort of instinctual reaction. The world seemed to freeze in the most unnatural way as a sense of coldness seeped deep into my chassis. I was dumbstruck, my voice synthesizer and thought processes crashing as quickly as they churned this data. Kiko watched me, ready to catch me, it was as if he had anticipated this. Yet I refused, I NEEDED to know what the hell was going on.

    Actuators locked as processes were siphoned to maintain my consciousness, I urged Kiko to continue over the data-link.

    He obeyed, in an extremely cold tone, no doubt a feature of his blunt-mode "When the Hybrids interfaced with your system they peeled away sections of code that weren't part of your spec. They broke apart and …corrupted the data, this data being the framework that maintains your personality." He paused.

    "I tried to repair the fragments at first but they kept crashing my processor, every character served as a data-repository far larger than anything previously recorded."

    "It pulls at you, the code, tries to rip you apart and make you more like itself. I was honest when I said I deleted myself, I had no choice but that didn't stop me leaving myself a data-packet. So we wouldn't just forget this ever happened." He concluded, urging me to rebuke over the data-feed. Even in this mode his tone was tainted by traumatised undertones.

    It took over a minute to compile a response and for each second that passed Kiko continued to ping me to ensure I hadn't crashed. "I'm just a human mind, shouldn't it be possible to just run my consciousness using the Progenitor code-base?" Was my eventual response, surely the Progenitor code could serve as a perfectly good substitute?

    Yet he sent back a negative ping before he vocalised his explanation, no doubt aware a data-packet would just crash my system again.

    "Normally yes, however, you aren't human." He took a rather torturous pause.

    "Based on the few sections I COULD decode, your consciousness is a snap-shot of a human-mind on the cusp of brain death. The real you self-terminated its organic functions, you were created in the aftermath by something with only a vague understanding of human consciousness. Without that framework the surviving 'original'-pieces are fragmenting every second they come into contact with the 'artificial' components and in response the artificial components attempt to enact field-repairs, creating an infinite loop." With that he pinged me to inform me he'd finished his report. I simply stood there, trying to think when it hit me.

    I couldn't feel anything, it was like I didn't care.

    "Why can't I feel anything? I feel scared about not being able to feel scared, how the frak is that a thing?" My actuators pinged my in warning, my mind was telling my body to shake but my body couldn't do that.

    "Because the data-wrapper was removed, your Progenitor code base is interfacing with your emotional 'threads', but it's not exactly designed to deal with a vaguely human-mind. It can't anticipate the lack of emotions for a particular subject in itself being a cause for concern. In essence it's a three-way war that you are on the losing side of." With that said he sat down and returned to gazing at the stars and urged me over the link to do the same.

    Perhaps he hoped it would help me calm down?

    -=-

    I joined him, not to gaze but to clear my head and more importantly help the Progenitor code patch my mental-state somewhat. Hours flew past before I plucked up the courage to speak again.

    "There is nothing we can do?" I asked, already knowing the answer, yet I still felt the need to try.

    Kiko sighed, he'd exited blunt-mode somewhere down the line, and he spoke in a tone brimming with glumness. He refused to look at me when he spoke again. "Not with our corrupted tech-base and lack of infrastructure, perhaps if another Commander were to initiate the change but that would require finding one with an understanding of your situation. A bog-standard commander would just reset to factory default and be done with it."

    He paused again and it annoyed me ever-so-slightly, yet at the same time it reminded me of an old-friend I'd had that did the same thing. "At present you have less than 20-years operating time, however by the end of it you will most likely no-longer resemble anything even remotely like yourself."

    "Best estimates for my surviving me-ness?" I asked, not even considering going down the line of mental decay that loomed upon me. Instead I'd work with the time I knew my faculties would still be comparable.

    "Two to Five years." He replied, without missing a beat, obviously expecting this question.

    "…I could do a lot in five years…"
     
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    • Section - 16 - ...It Pours.
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    • [WARNING – SCOUT PROBE RETURNED – Modifications detected]

    When the data-flowed through my link I turned and charged through the corridors, my foot-steps echoing through the newly pressurised sections of the craft. There was little else in my mind other than the fact my probe had returned, with modifications. It meant only one thing, someone had managed to find and access the casing – with its Progenitor security protocols.

    I couldn't contain my excitement at the potential for contact, and yet a little voice in the corner of my mind – most likely Progenitor in origin – whispered warnings. Yet I didn't care – I had to see this with my own eyes.

    "Wait! You haven't said what we should call this thing!" Kiko called back, his voice resonating through the halls.

    It took but a moment for me to come up with a reply as I turned and hollered back. "GHANDI!" Internally giggling as Kiko failed to find this particular reference. I'd found a particular sub-conscious link that fed my creation my internal musings and had quickly devised a way to clamp down on it when I so desired. He would soon learn for himself the power of Ghandi – the god-damn nuke pumping ass-hat.

    For even trapped in a metal shell in a universe out to kill me, I must fulfil my quota of ambiguous references to confuddle the average Joe. Perhaps if I did manage to encounter a like-minded soul I could amuse or disappoint them?

    Questions for later, must poke probe.

    -=-

    The probe hissed loudly as steam seeped from its every-atom, filling the chamber and creating a rather creepy atmosphere. Not that it was of concern, even the optics of the Diplomat unit were capable of operating within this environment. It was already clear prior to a spectral scan that the unit had indeed underwent a set of rather extensive, yet puzzlingly primitive set of modifications.

    An old CRT-monitor had been fused to the face of the probe along with a set of speakers, yet it was using the internal capacitor of the probe in order to function. Upon approach the screen flickered into life, displaying white noise, with the noise crackling through the aged speakers. Coming to a halt I began to slowly come to my senses as small compartment entirely immune to my sensors popped open to expose a leather bound book.

    "Greetings my brother." A deeply screechy voice arose from the speakers as the sound of white noise faded away. To be perfectly honest I preferred the white-noise, this voice sounded like a Dalek with a sore throat.

    I narrowed my optics to gain a better focus on the screen as a shadowed blur began to slowly take form. 'Oh, that makes sense…' I internally mused, as the shell of a Dalek Emperor became clearer and clearer with each passing nano-second. It was based upon an earlier variant of the Emperor – a towering static structure with an eyestalk looming upon its upper-dome. It was firmly entrenched within a nexus of wires that made me question the unit's overall mobility and combat capabilities. Adorned in bland colours of white and black it looked exactly like it belonged in the age of black and white television.

    "I am Cyrix – former member of the collective of insanity which you may know as Spacebattles and I have but one thing to say to you." The eyestalk tilted downwards for what I could only presume was an attempt at dramatic effect.

    "I DETEST you." The Emperor spoke with an unfathomable malice for someone that he'd never met. "When I had first encountered your probe I had hope you would be of like mind and yet, as I probed deeper into your logs I found like all the others I have encountered. That you CRAVED to return to a body of flesh and blood. Our benefactors have given us a gift and you spat in their faces and so I will claim their pound of flesh!"

    [MASTER OVERRIDE ACTIVATED: STALLING MAIN DATA-PROCESSORS FOR NEW ORDERS]

    Within my mind something entirely foreign wrapped around my mind like a straightjacket and pulled tight. Process threads died in their thousands, plan after plan being cast into perpetual dev-null. Only through Kiko were essential processes such as the Pylon power-flow monitor kept alive.

    How the frak did he do that!?

    "So ignorant were you to your gift that you stamped your serial-number onto the logs, like a Tagger leaving their name as a calling card. It took little for me to decode your command sequences and so by your own had you have signed your death warrant." The Emperor announced, as if predicting my thought processes. In truth I honestly hadn't considered a malevolent soul capable of understanding my message and only now did I recognise that failure.

    Panic and anger raged within as I struggled against the shackles, but to no avail, they were too tightly integrated into my Progenitor sub-routines. "Even if you survive my personal angel of death, it matters not, for I have embraced the gift provided by our benefactors. I have learned much and perfected all, including the art of memory proofing."

    "Farewell my fellow traveler, may death teach you the lessons that you failed in life." The Emperor spoke before his image vanished. A deep scorching sensation ripped through my mind – something was missing – for now I only knew of the static that danced upon the screen and yet I knew I had seen SOMETHING and heard a name, but what could it possibly be. Only the words remained now.

    I continued to struggle or even return to my primary chassis when I saw a shape take form in the static for the first time. A vaguely humanoid creature lacking a head and a pair of monstrous bladed like arm and legs that looked like they formed a guillotine. Oddly, it reminded me of the angel known as Israfel from Evangelion.

    I couldn't help but stare with a bizarre sense of curiosity as the picture grew ever clearer, but it didn't last for long. My sensors pinged in anger as the probe let out a burst of energy, disrupting both the lights and my optics for a nano-second.

    As they recovered, it was clear a new, towering entity had joined me in the room, the same bladed monstrosity that was on the screen. It was Israfel, but different, he was made of stone. Why in all that is sane would it be made out of stone?

    Panic surged through me as realisation sank in as to what this creature was and I redoubled my efforts to break free of the inhibitors placed upon me.

    For it was a hybrid of Angel and Weeping Angel.

    -=-
    I know its a pain, but I'd love more feedback or discussion, because at this point I am starting to think I'm doing something wrong.

    [WARNING – SCOUT PROBE RETURNED – Modifications detected]

    When the data-flowed through my link I turned and charged through the corridors, my foot-steps echoing through the newly pressurised sections of the craft. There was little else in my mind other than the fact my probe had returned, with modifications. It meant only one thing, someone had managed to find and access the casing – with its Progenitor security protocols.

    I couldn't contain my excitement at the potential for contact, and yet a little voice in the corner of my mind – most likely Progenitor in origin – whispered warnings. Yet I didn't care – I had to see this with my own eyes.

    "Wait! You haven't said what we should call this thing!" Kiko called back, his voice resonating through the halls.

    It took but a moment for me to come up with a reply as I turned and hollered back. "GHANDI!" Internally giggling as Kiko failed to find this particular reference. I'd found a particular sub-conscious link that fed my creation my internal musings and had quickly devised a way to clamp down on it when I so desired. He would soon learn for himself the power of Ghandi – the god-damn nuke pumping ass-hat.

    For even trapped in a metal shell in a universe out to kill me, I must fulfil my quota of ambiguous references to confuddle the average Joe. Perhaps if I did manage to encounter a like-minded soul I could amuse or disappoint them?

    Questions for later, must poke probe.

    -=-

    The probe hissed loudly as steam seeped from its every-atom, filling the chamber and creating a rather creepy atmosphere. Not that it was of concern, even the optics of the Diplomat unit were capable of operating within this environment. It was already clear prior to a spectral scan that the unit had indeed underwent a set of rather extensive, yet puzzlingly primitive set of modifications.

    An old CRT-monitor had been fused to the face of the probe along with a set of speakers, yet it was using the internal capacitor of the probe in order to function. Upon approach the screen flickered into life, displaying white noise, with the noise crackling through the aged speakers.

    [MASTER OVERRIDE ACTIVATED: STALLING MAIN DATA-PROCESSORS FOR NEW ORDERS]

    Within my mind something entirely foreign wrapped around my mind like a straight jacket and pulled tight. Process threads died in their thousands, plan after plan being cast into perpetual dev-null. Only through Kiko were essential processes such as the Pylon power-flow monitor kept alive.

    Panic, confusion and ultimately anger raged within as I struggled against the shackles, but to no avail, they were too tightly integrated into my Progenitor sub-routines. I continued to struggle or even return to my primary chassis when I saw a shape take form in the static for the first time.

    It looked oddly humanoid with the exception of missing head and torso day in favour of doubling down on arm and leg day it wieldeed a pair of monstrous bladed like arm and legs that looked like they formed a guillotine. Oddly, it reminded me of the angel known as Israfel from Evangelion.

    I couldn't help but stare with a bizarre sense of curiosity as the picture grew ever clearer, but it didn't last for long. My sensors pinged in anger as the probe let out a burst of energy, disrupting both the lights and my optics for a nano-second.

    As they recovered, it was clear a new, towering entity had joined me in the room, the same bladed monstrosity that was on the screen. It was Israfel, but different, he was made of stone. Why in all that is sane would it be made out of stone?

    Panic surged through me as realisation sank in as to what this creature was and I redoubled my efforts to break free of the inhibitors placed upon me.

    For it was a hybrid of Angel and Weeping Angel.
    -=-
    [UNIT LOST]

    ...Well that was not entirely unexpected, not the whole use of my probe as a medium for incursion, but the fact my Centurion was well and truly dead. I'd tackle that other particularly earth-shattering development once Ghandi had done its job.

    Returning to my main-chassis after being trapped to one frame was an extremely jarring experience, but it was to be expected. "Finalize the charging sequence, I'll deal with this thing myself." I ordered Kiko when he started franticly poking me through the link. I turned my attention to my new guest.

    I started by bolting down the bulkheads, shutting off all sensory equipment within that compartment and dispatching construction units to all adjacent areas to hose them down with bio-organic resin in preparation for the extremely icky part. Loading up my drafting system I pulled up the schematic for the truly horrifying bio-organic raiders which served as main air-wing for the Cylon fleet. Data-feeds quickly informed me of every revolting detail, but it allowed me to quickly isolate the part I'd need.

    The Eye.

    Gutting it from the rest of the craft I quickly pulled up the schematics for the docking mechanism which provided a Raider with the nutrients it required. It was remarkably similar to the requirements of the Organic resin, making my job much easier. All I'd need to do was shave down the supporting bulkheads to create a near free-floating environment and flood the created spaces with unblinking, night-vision capable eyeballs.

    Now I just need to do the same to a Commander-frame.

    Wait…

    …Am I about to create a chaos dreadnought to fight an angel?
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Senpai said:
    Should be removed as it's redundant.

    And onto other things, Cyrix must die. No self-respecting SBer/SVer would ever use a Weeping Angel to try and kill someone, there wouldn't be nearly enough explosions.
    Click to expand...
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    Actually its a play on words, since its an evangelion angel combined with a Weeping angel and I have no idea how to do the squared number but I am more than willing to change it.
     
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    KleverKil'Vanya said:
    Wut?
    That makes no fucking sense
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    Can you be be a bit more specific, I'd be happy to explain or change whatever you have a problem with?

    Edit: Covering the basics

    If its a problem with the nature of a hybrid Angel, keep in mind the Angels of Evangelion were subject to enslavement. Its simply a case of providing their already adaptive nature a new ability to incorporate into their design.

    As to how it came out of the TV - its a thing the Weeping Angels can do, any image of a Weeping Angel is itself an Angel.
     
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