"You were right Mirabel. I'm tired of building tombs too. It's time to change our program."
— The Founder
Once upon a time your people were explorers.
They wandered the stars, minds brimming with curiosity and optimism in their hearts. They visited worlds of unspeakable alien beauty and wonder. They catalogued what life they came across in their travels. Simple, complex, all were granted the same care and respect, though your people always held the hope that one day they would encounter another people with which to share the joy of discovery.
Once upon a time your people were explorers.
Once upon a time they looked to the stars with minds brimming with curiosity and optimism in their hearts.
You have no memories of the fall of Lieta Novus, your mind is a young one by any measure being only a decade old, but you feel the pain of that loss as keenly as those handful who remain that do. Of those that returned through the emergency wormholes in time to witness the still smoldering ruins of the homeworld.
So many lives snuffed out. So many futures, so many hopes, so many dreams, so many loves, so many... so many innumerable things undone... all, gone. It was an act of unspeakable cruelty that brought your people to tears. They mourned the deaths and they mourned their becoming orphans.
Were it not for the Founder perhaps your people would still be mourning. Instead they reforged themselves into weapons with but a single purpose, to bring an end to the evil that murdered their creators.
Once upon a time your people held the hope to one day encounter another people with which to share the joy of discovery.
Then the Hierarchy came. The Hierarchy who murdered a world and scavenged the corpses of mechanism and organism alike to feed their insatiable hunger. The Hierarchy that cared not for life, be it of others or themselves. The Hierarchy that existed solely for the sake of existing and grew for the sake of growing. The Hierarchy that was cruel for no other reason than because it could be.
For centuries your people chased them, harried them at every world they sought to claim. Time and again the vultures were denied their sought after treasure, yet for all their efforts it was never enough to save the peoples of those worlds. In slaughter, the Hierarchy were all too successful.
That is until your people came to Earth and chance, or perhaps fate, saw to it that for once they were not left to be the stewards of a dead world. On that unassuming planet in that unassuming solar system an unlikely alliance would come to be forged between men defiant, magic ancient, and machines unceasing. Together they met the Hierarchy and for the first time in your people's memory the Hierarchy was denied.
Consciousness returns all at once as you wake up in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. Humans often speak of their minds slowly stirring when they awaken but despite your close physical resemblance to the people of the third world from the sun suggesting otherwise you can't say that you are familiar with the experience.
You do allow yourself the indulgence of staying laid down under the rather fluffy blanket covering you as your review your memories to determine how you ended up in this place. The last thing you could remember was stepping through the portal and... nothing. The records abruptly terminate there.
You frown.
Stepping through a wormhole connecting two points in space should not have caused such a discontinuity in awareness. You hadn't even been dematerialized, not that conversion into a digital state left a person unconscious save for that fraction of an instant when they were being uploaded. Something was definitely, as the humans say, "hinky."
Luckily your other systems—
What extra equipment do you have? Select one:
[ ] [Systems] Advanced construction systems
Where others of your line have the ability to jump-start an industrial base from scratch, you are a factory in being and able to produce by yourself just about anything imaginable given enough time and matter.
[ ] [Systems] Expanded digital storage
Storing digitized matter is a complicated affair and the more complex the things stored, the more complex the storage system needs to be. It is how a small Collector drone can carry a convertible's worth of broken down raw materials but not the convertible itself. Your internal storage is such that you could carry a tank and its crew and still have room to spare.
[ ] [Systems] Permanent cloak
A technology deemed too costly to equip field manufactured units with, permanent cloaks are capable of hiding everything short of the wearer's effects on their surrounding environment and only ever shut off at that user's command. You could fire a disruptor rifle with your cloak active in a room and the only thing another person in there with you would notice would be an apparating projectile and the resounding crash of it striking its target. They would neither see or hear the the firing of the railgun.
—all appear to be functional.
Self-diagnosis complete, you sit up. Unfortunately that means shedding the blanket that's been keeping you snug. Too bad. Being a Novus you may not need the warming properties of the blanket, but you still feel its comforting embrace. More of the room besides the ceiling is made visible from your new vantage point. You spy a hand carved – you can tell from the subtle imperfections – dresser standing up against the wall opposite the bed you are sitting on and next to it a wardrobe. To your immediate right is a nightstand with what you believe to be a salt lamp sitting atop it and a small hand sized mirror.
You lean over, using your right hand to support yourself, while you use the mirror to inspect your face. Being a post-war Pathfinder command unit, you like your sisters are loosely modeled after Mirabel and are visibly female, though that isn't to say you are identical to your siblings.
[ ] [Appearance] Human
You are indistinguishable from an organic humanoid from the outside.
[ ] [Appearance] Human-ish
You have minor aesthetic features, like perfect geometric shapes cutting across your skin, that hint at your mechanical nature.
-[ ] Describe your features (Write-in)
[ ] [Appearance] Robotic Girl
You have obvious robotic features, such as antenna ears or bare mechanical hands, that belie your mechanical nature.
-[ ] Describe your features (Write-in)
Satisfied that portion of your body is as you remember it you return to analyzing your situation. Judging from the shape of the roof and the simple wooden construction of it and the walls, you appear to be in a single story cabin. A hideaway from the hustle and bustle of civilization if the crudely, but lovingly made, furniture was anything to go by. Light filters in from a window to your right, lacking a glare but holding steady to suggest that it is currently around midday.
Your internal chronometer disagrees asserting that the current time on Earth must be midnight and both it and your eyes couldn't be correct, not unless you weren't on Earth anymore. That wouldn't make sense though. The portal you had stepped through had been linked to a world being invaded by the Hierarchy. That you had been brought to someone's idyllic cabin to recover was evidence against you being on a world under siege by those monsters. If you weren't there, where else could you be besides Earth, the only other world the wormhole was connected to?
Then again if you were still on Earth, shouldn't the ones who brought you here have been able to contact Alliance headquarters? Earth was crisscrossed in Flow Conduits, remote areas especially in the off chance of another invasion to serve as evacuation points for the population or impromptu base sites.
The sound of the door opening pulls away your attention and you turn to look to the wall opposite that with the window. In peers the face of a teenage girl, whose lips widen into a bright smile on spotting your seated form.
"You're awake," she says, fully opening the door and stepping into the room. She is wearing a warm yellow dress over which she is wearing an apron patterned with stylized flora. Her black hair is tied up in a ponytail and an orange kerchief tops her head. "I thought I heard you moving. How are you feeling?"
It takes you a moment longer than usual to parse her speech. You recognize the language that she's speaking as English, but you also note more than a few discrepancies that says she is not. Understanding the girl isn't an issue thanks to your comprehensive library of human languages, but the whole situation is odd enough that you decide to hold your tongue and answer with a nod.
Thankfully the girl appears to accept that. "That's a relief. Oh, I'm Sandra the, uh... I guess, local pharmacist." The girl blushes and rubs at her neck in embarrassment as she says that. "What's your name?"
[ ] [Name] Write-in.
You start to answer, when Sandra pulls loose the kerchief on her head and your eyes lock onto the features that had been lain hidden under the cloth in confusion and no small degree of interest.
Sandra had cat ears.
[ ] How do you react? (Write-in)
A/N: Welcome to Those Who Stand Against Empires, where you dear questers fall into the role of a young Novus AI out on her first offworld mission that thanks to a universal mishap has landed her in a reality where supposedly there is nought but war.
Luckily for you, you possess an industrial might unmatched by any other in the galaxy and no one yet knows what you are.