To The Great Beyond - Space Empires!

[Daftpanzer]

There's been some interesting developments here, thanks guys - Terrance* is very welcome to take the Skitarii!

Unfortunately I'm going to be offline for a while. My dad has been taken ill and im with family up in the north of england. I'll catch up with everything as and when I'm able - please ignore the provisional deadline x

 

[Thorvald of Lym]

No worries—Family Comes First.

 

[filli_noctus]

Indeed, family first. Anyway RP.

Meeting of the Presidential Council to discuss Kul'Hari diplomacy and uncontacted species


“Is it wise to deprive ourselves of the potential colonies?” asked the president of Holovy. “Especially given the death of habitable world discovered so far.”
“The Jaar’ar war is being waged on the borders of the space we control. The Kul’Hari agreement at least gives us some degree of certainty,” replied Chairman Optarat.
The Presidential Council was meeting in closed session to hammer out a final agreement on the diplomatic proposal from the Kul’Hari. Although the broad strikes of the proposal had meet with approval, after some tweaking of timelines, the establishment of what would in effect be a demarcation line in space was a bit of a sticking point among the expansionist members of the council.

“It's not like there's any rocks left to settle,” interjected the colonial representative, “the Kul’Hari have colonised anything with enough gravity that they won't float away.”
“Quite so,” responded Optarat, “this agreement will at least ensure there expansionary tendencies are directed away from our systems and the defence pact will ensure our safety should the war spill over.”
“I'm sure the generals were ecstatic to hear of the mutual defence stipulations,” said the President of Holovy.
“Yes, as I understand they're commissioning a special batch of hena for the dedication toast.”
“Have they decided on a name yet?”
“I hear that Rho’mens was suggested to honour the Kul’Hari who finally got the council to agree to an FTL navy but I believe they've settled on Hinarar.”
“Excellent choice,” said the President of Denret, “but if the proposed amendments settle the Kul’Hari matter I'd like to progress to the matter of known uncontacted alien species.”
“Certainly, to date we are aware of two sentient FTL capable species we have not yet made formal contact with,” said the chairman.
“Firstly the species at war with the Jaar’ar. As the Jaar’ar haven't informed us of their name we are referring to them as trans-Jaar’arians until such time as more information becomes available.
“We do know they directly attacked the Jaar’ar homeworld of Zhang,” at this point the lights dimmed and a sensor recording from the Perrel showing the attack was shown on the holo display, “but we don't know if this was an act of unprovoked aggression or a bold strike in an ongoing conflict. The attack was driven off but analysis of Jaar'ar FTL vectors indicates they were advancing into the same system the Perrel was scheduled to visit. Captain Gersikt has elected to return to Fossel Station to await orders. My intention is for him to resume his original course as much as possible while avoiding the conflict and attempt to make contact with the trans-Jaar’arians.”
“Sounds reasonable,” said the colonial representative, “what about the other species?”
“Unlike the trans-Jaar’arians we have a name but precious little else. According to the Kul'Hari they are called Hurrun and their territory less somewhat to the east of Kul'Hari space. Although we only have rumour to go on it seems we may share similar values and I urge making contract with these Hurrun a priority.”

 

[Immaculate]

From the Psilocybe,
To the Tarnakkian (@Daftpanzer),

<translated from the visual displays the Psilocybe usually 'speak' in>
We request permission to send an unarmed trade and diplomatic delegation to Laddar. We plan to bring examples of Psilocybe trade goods and with your permission determine if there are goods your people make use of that would be of value to us. We hope that by establishing trade between us both our people can prosper.

 

[Daftpanzer]

Well I'm not quite offline but I'm limited to my phone at the moment. I think I've caught up with all PMs/conversations, if not feel free to give me a nudge.

All going well I'll be back on my pc by the end of the week.

Thanks for the recent diplo and stories. I'll have NPC input at a later date

 

[Immaculate]

Raise a Siphnul!

It wasn’t the first time I had seen a Rurrican. I had been amongst those who had first observed the three pilots of the “Urcasal Hyphat 4” after they had been taken to Lagimae. Still, they made my tendrils crawl and my skin feel dry. There was something fundamentally wrong about them. They had not only top and bottom but forward and back and ‘right’ and ‘left’. A very basic premise of their people was the sense of this or that. Right and left. This eye or that eye. This gender or that gender; male and female. Haploid genetic coding even: this strand of code or its twin. Truthfully though, bilateralism seemed to be dominant in the galaxy. The Psilocybe were exceptions- not the rule. The Rurrican life, not just its dominant sentient species were almost all mirrored along some axis- two or four or eight legged with two halves to their brains. It was the same for the Lagimae for that matter; that was part of what had made the Lagimae intrinsic ‘prey’ for many Psilocybe- the otherness of their bilateralism. They, like the Rurrican were of two genders- male and female. The new ones- the Tarnak were also bilateral- two eyes, two legs, two arms, and again, two genders. Even the new life being explored on [Mer-2B] was bilateral- though the specifics beyond that were not known to me.


So maybe our radial symmetry and lack of genders made them as queasy as their bilateralism and divisions made me feel ill. This Rurrican was not one of the three astronauts we had captured however. I knew those three, their names in their shrill audible language trumpeted through their siphnuls slowly and inefficiently, Questor, Pathfinder, and Pilot. They took names to reflect their function. What would I be called in their tongue- Spy? …simple creatures. On a world without the metals or fossil fuels that they had been blessed with- say one like our own Semilanceata- they would never have evolved even a fraction of the civilization they had. Still… they had been blessed with fossil fuels and metals the likes of which we could not even had imagined before reaching the stars.


It didn’t do anything. Floating quietly it blinked its two massive eyes. Our scientists were intrigued by those. Instead of millions of simple photoreceptors they had two highly specialized ones. Their depth perception must be terrible. I spun lazy purples and oranges at it, the same sort of patterns the Lagimae would stupidly stare at while we reached unnoticed with photo-camouflaged toxin-coated tendrils along their peripheral vision. No real response. It eyes tracked me and it scratched itself with one of its limbs but did not seem to care that I was there.


A psilocybe floated quietly out of a biocomputing bank; I had not noticed it before- still and watching me- I respected that- that was the Psilocybe way. I reached for it and we clasped tendrils, our peripheral nervous systems momentarily connecting us that we might communicate in the most efficient manner. Photo-neurons hurled complex question and relay, data and analysis and within less than a second I knew what I needed to know regarding this ‘creature’.


It was not a Rurrican- that was obvious now. No- more like a biosuit or one of our fighter aerocraft. I floated to its rear. To even have a rear- why would life evolve to inherently have a side inherently more susceptible to attack? Still- there it was- the seem. I slid a tendril along the seem, signaling the complex chromatopattern I had received. There was a wet sucking sound and the Rurrican’s back opened. I slid towards it and saw a series of photoneural interfaces within the creature’s bulk- indeed very much like the biosuits our explorers would use. I slid into the ‘cockpit’ of the Rurrican and established the connections I had learnt. There were a number of minor cognitive bundles- semi-automatic functions like breathing and digestion, nodes to interpret mechanical sensations and assist with locomotion- translational optics for interpreting signals from the two large eyes, even an entire node dedicated to verbalizing in the creature’s strange languages (that node had been programmed with seventeen languages- apparently more than enough to speak to Rurricans anywhere on their planet).


I settled into the simulcrulum and I raised my siphnul. Very soon I would be amongst the detestable creatures I was impersonating.

 

[Immaculate]

What is ‘Joke’?


Eager Talon had brought me to the Rurrican surface during a local storm- the thunder and lightning masking its already very minute electromagnetic signature and, along with its complex photocamouflage, effectively making it invisible. Against the primitive Rurrican sensors it was probably more than enough but stealth was inherent to our species and we do not know ‘overkill’.


As I exited the craft I realized immediate how well suited this planet was to Psilocybe physiology- the atmosphere was thick, gravity not too great. We would not need the biosuits we use on Lagimae if we lived here.


I had been dropped off at wide river- indeed my exit from the Eager Talon had been beneath the water so as to hide our arrival that much more. Near the river there was a town- the buildings bulbular and without straight lines- in this way much like our own. But unlike our own- they were dead- made of stone or shell or some inert material. Smoke rose from chimneys but the town itself was without green. The Rurrican had built their civilization by burning the abundant fuels of their world and, based on what I had been relayed and my own observations- did not make use of photosynthesis except to grow their crops. It was a waste really- in time they would destroy their planet if they did not adopt fundamentally new ways. In a way they were lucky that we were coming- without us they would all be gone within three generations. We would save them.


There was a path along the river that led to the town and I had been following it when along the path came a vhosho (floating car-like device used by the Rurrican). I lifted a hand- feeling the weight of the strange appendage as I did and the vhosho slowed and dropped a half meter or two. A window was rolled down and I could smell the noipio (oil-like substance spread around the siphnul aperture who’s inhaled fumes acts as a mild narcotic- widely used in a manner similar to alcohol on earth). Part of me reacted favorably to the smell and I realized the engineers of the Rurrican simulacrum had provided nodes that would have the body respond to pleasure stimuli that my own photoneuronal system could not.


A heavily noipio-lathered siphnul protruded from the vhosho and I ‘heard’ their language as a Rurrican for the first time, “Wet night. Want a ride?”


“Yes,” I answered watching them carefully. A door slid open and I slid into the vhosho. They were juveniles- a few solar cycles less than adults and based on what I had studied, probably did not have privileges that included their own vhosho or access to noipio.


A female was harnessed next to me and as she reached across me to strap me into the harness another part of my simulacrum’s nodes responded in a way I had not expected and I wanted to stroke her with my own siphnul and entwine our appendages. I knew enough not to do so.


The driver was unfocused, sparing his consciousness between steering the vhosho and speaking. He shifted his attention frequently from path to passengers and I immediately grasped a major limitation of the bilateral front-focused photoreceptors of this species. Still his attention wavered between the path and passengers and his passengers for the most part did not seem concerned despite the speed of the vehicle and the long drop to the river to our left, “So does anyone know why the Fyet phylum’s spies always work in threes?”


The passengers trumpted that they did not and reached for more noipio. The female that had strapped me into my harness now offered me some of the scented oils. I watched her, saying and doing nothing and she seemed uncomfortable by my silence. I realized that their species was not nearly as patient or prone to watching and waiting as we were and so reached for the noipio and added a thin layer along my sihnul’s appeture. The female continued to look at me for some moments but as my siphnul took on the paler coloring and my pupils dilated in response to the noipio she seemed to relax somewhat though I did notice she was not leaning against me as tightly as she had originally.


“No,” the passengers all trumpeted, their voices wavering in a way I did not understand.


The driver continued, “It is because there is one to read and one to write and the last one,” here he paused and his audience seemed to lean in- anxious for him to continue- which was strange because surely he would continue and there was no reason to be anxious or impatient. “and the last one is to keep a careful eye on these two intellectuals!”


I made careful note of this important piece of intelligence freely given- such insight into the intelligence services of the Fyet phyle would be useful. The passengers reacted very strangely however- many razing their siphnuls and trumpeting in appreciation. All were making sounds like they could not breath well, sucking air and two were clapping the driver on the rear hump. Something had happened and I was not sure what it was. I watched and had my computational nodes record all the sensory input.


The female that had helped me into my harness was now actively moving away from me and some of the others were staring at me. One leaned into the driver and suggested, very quietly in a voice unenhanced ears would not hear that maybe the ‘weirdo we picked up should be dropped off’. Realizing that something I had done had raised their suspicions I replayed the moment I did not understand. Ah- it was the sucking sounds and clapping that I had not engaged in. I began sucking air quickly and clapping my hands as they had and immediately the vhosho came to a screeching halt.


There was a flurry of hands and siphnuls and very soon I had been ejected from the vehicle with calls of ‘Weirdo’ and ‘Pervert’ being lauded upon me as the vehicle sped away. I could have fought them- burned them to nothing but there was no point in that. I let them get away and sent a burst message back to ‘Eager Talon’ with the recordings of my encounter.


I had learned something in my first encounter on Rurrica but still now… I am not sure what it was.

 

[Immaculate]

The Contemplative Shark


There is a fundamental failure to the simulacrum project. Perhaps something we should have anticipated but hadn’t. I had had to be evacuated precisely because of these unknown failures. I am trying to understand those now as I float amongst the very deep cinder-swept chasms of Semilanceata.


After I had been evacuated by Eager Talon and its pilot I had been returned to Rurrica’s moon- a planetoid not unlike our own capital in that it is a winter world bisected by volcanic chasms bespeaking very active tectonic activity but unlike our own world without a strong atmosphere. There I had spoken to the engineers of the Rurrica simulacrum project, to physiological, social, linguistic, and culture scientists, to intelligence officers and analysts, even to the military-admiral composite network. They had gratefully received my report but had been concerned. Instead of sending me back, I was sent to our homeworld of Semilanceata for psychological recovery.


So that is what I did. I sought refuge in the great chasms- where our species had evolved in a purer and simpler time before we tamed the sun and covered the white wastes above with green cities and towers. I replayed what I had known and what I had learned and instead of recovering I obsessed.


We had known the Rurrican were a species split into three super-social groups- phyla as they called them. And we knew there was great distrust and secrecy between these groups- this we could understand. Secrecy and watchfulness were much more ingrained in our species and culture than theirs. But I think its that lack of ingrained watchfulness and distrust that ultimately cost us. We had expected that they would be watchful and careful of spies because of their own divisions. What we had not expected was that we would have to relax and find humor as they do. To live and to ‘love living’ as the Rurrican poets write.


Inherently the Rurrican are an optimistic species, prone to social interactions and what we would consider useless social reinforcements. Where we are evolved from solitary hunters and our community comes from necessity of cooperation, they have an inherent joy in groups, in speaking to one another without really communicating anything. We Psilocybe are so proud to communicate quickly and efficiently, to trade data and then float on, finding contemplation in solitude of comfort and in this we cannot be more different than the Rurricans. They do not want speed or efficiency- quite the opposite- they only want to speak. To tell their awful ‘jokes’ that make so little sense to me and to Psilocybe culture.


But as I float through the chasms, feeling the comforting burn-tingles of cinders alighting upon me, I am missing something. The Rurricans called me ‘Quiet Watcher’. The name fit. And I learned that if I introduced myself as Quiet Watcher, than they would expect me to watch quietly and not be so anxious by my silences or staring. What am I missing? I think about my work-group on Rurrica; I had established a cover identity at a computing group. We were dedicated to the development of their primitive electron-based communications networks. I had performed well, but not suspiciously so and learned much about their burgeoning ‘internet’, ‘message boards’, and ‘electronic mail’. I had installed multiple bio-computational units in secure areas to wirelessly capture their communications and command composite was pleased- we had very effectively infiltrated their civilian communication networks. I had been successful but there was something else too. I had been happy.


I stopped floating- I knew I was hunting but not sure what for- maybe igera if there were any about- they would be hard to spot having camouflage systems similar to our own.

I stopped and contemplated.

Then I realized. I missed them- community, others, friends.



Dear reader- imagine a shark realizing it misses the school of fish it had hunted amongst- that is the realization I come to.

 

[filli_noctus]

The great carcass of the Hinarar traversed above Torhenn in a low polar orbit. Although the first Torrhenian FTL warship was far from complete the influential Confederal Archeological Directorate had ‘suggested’ an early test of the targeting scanners. Now those powerful sensors, designed by the brightest of Kowlint engineers to peer through armour, hull, and shields to pick out vulnerable and critical systems, were turned towards the planet that created them looking for...

Junior Installation Technician Wedas had drawn the short straw for monitoring the sensor output for interesting features.
“Aquifer, rock, rock, rock, different kind of rock, petroleum basin, more rock, minor Vorn settlement,” he entered that into the log but it was hardly a world shaking discovery, “rock, rock, rock, Vorn... cover me backwards, what is that !”
Hearing the young technician's exclamation Supervisor Treng galloped over to the station.
“Replay the logs please.”
He looked over the data and his hind hooves lifted of the deck in amazement.
“Communications Technician, contact the Archaeological Directorate and get the Chief Archeologist on the line. Use the special channel, authorisation V-1-w92jt-U.”
Less than a minute later the Chief Archaeologist responded.
“Polyhistor,” said the supervisor, “I'm sending you some data I think you'll find very interesting.”

 

[filli_noctus]

The air was dark and still, as it had been for many millennia. A thin layer of dust lay over everything as it had done since it settled in the months after the place was last used. Nothing lived here anymore, other than a few dark adapted microbes living off the dust and each other.

There was no way to track the passage of time in the place. No light entered and all the clocks and other devices were long since stopped. An observer who remained inside when the place was sealed would have no way of knowing if it had been a day, a month, a year, or four and a half millennia when that silence and stillness was broken.
*thump*
Distant, but still unbearably loud in this place so unused to any vibration at all.
*kkrrrrrrrrrr*
A longer sound now.
*thump*
The first sound came again.
*kkrrrrrrrrrr*
Again, the sound like something dragging.
*thump*
*kkrrrrrrrrrr*
*thump*
*kkrrrrrrrrrr*
*thump*
*kkrrrrrrrrrr*
On and on it went. How long for? Hours? Days? Months? There is no way to tell from within the place for there is nothing to reference against but just as suddenly as it started, it stopped and all was still and silent once more.
But then a new noise bega
*crunch*
More joined in.
*crunchcrunchcrunch*
And behind that another noise, impossible to make out clearly.
It continued.
*crunchcrunchcrunch*
Getting louder
*CRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCH*
And louder
*CRUNCHCRUNCHCRUNCH*
*THUD*
The noise stopped but the other sound was louder now, a susurration of excited voices from which the occasional snippet could be discerned.
“...proximately thirty calads thi...”, “... ck me, it's re...”, “...ver seen anyth...”, “...ack it open, get the hydrau...”
Another sound started. A powerful whirring, buzzing noise which then became an earsplitting screech as the whole place began to shake. The screech continued for some time, then went back to a whirling buzz and the vibration lessened. Then the screech and the vibration began again.
Eight times the cycle repeated before the whirring and screeching and vibration stopped. Then came a deep bass rumble which caused loose item to skitter across the floor and the dust to clump together as if each particle sought comfort from its fellows.
There was an enormous
CRUNCH
and then for a moment all noise stopped.

But just for a moment. A rending screeeeeeeeeeech! as if the world were being torn apart echoed throughout the place, then a crack appeared in the darkness and photons so long denied entry rushed in, easily dodging the ancient air molecules making their escape.

The crack inched wider and more and more light flooded into the place, illuminating ancient equipment and items left behind when the place was abandoned.

Finally the screeching stopped and all was silent. But the place would never know silence or darkness again for a hexapedal being stepped through the crack and looked around in an amazement he thought he'd never experience again.
“Incredible,” stated the Chief Archaeologist, “with all the wonders of alien life our predecessors on Torrhenn still manage to surprise us. We're going to have to rewrite the history books.”

 

[erez87]

whoops sorry about not sending orders yet. I will as soon as I can if an update doesn't appear! For some reason I didn't see a notification for updates and kind of forgot to go on the forum.

 

[Daftpanzer]

My Dad is on the mend after heart surgery, I'm now back in Portsmouth and reunited with my laptop.

Soo I'm setting an orders deadline of Thursday 30th of March, at 6:00 am GMT, with an update to come on or before Sunday 9th of April.

(@erez, that means the deadline is five days away ^^)

I will catch up with NPC diplo asap, and hope to get some NPC stories in as well.

Thanks again

 

[Daftpanzer]

From the Psilocybe,
To the Tarnakkian (@Daftpanzer),

<translated from the visual displays the Psilocybe usually 'speak' in>
We request permission to send an unarmed trade and diplomatic delegation to Laddar. We plan to bring examples of Psilocybe trade goods and with your permission determine if there are goods your people make use of that would be of value to us. We hope that by establishing trade between us both our people can prosper.

Translatography algorithm 0.2, activate:

To [Psilocybe]
From [?Quorum?][?Speakers?][granted authority][?from?][single-decision][person][?Hierarchy?]["Tarnakkian Empire"]

[Psilocybe][proposal][agreeable][condition][?pause?][?contemplate?]

["Tarnakkian Empire"][condition][request][?reciprocity?][Psilocybe][open][?singular item from amongst grouping?][planet][Psilocybe]

["Tarnakkian Empire"][open][planet][exchange][landing][?reciprocity?][Psilocybe][open][planet][exchange][landing]

["Tarnakkian Empire"][?untranslatable?][?ripple-wave?]["respectful gestures"]

 

[Terrance888]

Tam-76 had the same dream again.

She’s surrounded by noise and hunger. Her senses were disoriented for a moment, until she heard no… felt a tiny <to your right>. She looked, and the world seemed to to pull away as she walked towards the stand. The vendor greeted her, and waved a hand through the air, projecting several numbers <prices>. She was hungry, and the numbers were not to starve for. The vendor waved good bye as she walked away, an oily warm bakhieri[1] held within her grip. She smelled it, eyes closed, letting it fill her senses before she bit into it’s processed, gooey goodness...

She’s in a great hole, standing over a barrel of something <your shipment.> The gritty silica-beads slipped through her fingers as she waited for the machine to finish scanning the substance. She did not remember how many times she did this, but she does remember how it’s supposed to look. <Shipment accepted> She scribbled down several lines onto a pad, and when she looked up...

She’s in a rumbling room… no… some kind of transportation capsule. She remembers now. Tam-76 felt cold as she hugged her naked body, and looked up. A projected advertisement appeared: “Buy now!” it proclaimed in bright colors, offering updated thermal regulators. A row of numbers… no… prices faded into view… She closed her eyes instead. She’s falling...

She’s in a great pool. The water was at once comforting and distracting. She gasped, and looked at her hands. Except one appeared to be different…

It was dark. Tam-76 coughed. No… this was different. She coughed, she felt her... her body cough, the pressure upon her… was it always there <yes>? It was drawing away as struggled to open her eyes, little whirring sounds filling her soundscape <calm down>. She gripped her fist nervously, and was even more surprised as a louder whir responded.

<please>

She calmed down and hung there as the fluid slowly fell away… she kept calm as something… warm air? <yes> blown past her. <to dry you>. She kept calm as she was risen up, lifted into something new, something cold, something unfamiliar… yet so familiar… she felt a pinch, and although her eyes were closed it felt like they were suddenly opened...

<you can open your eyes now.>

Tam-76 opened her eyes. The world seemed a bit darker than in her dreams. More closed. Her feet wobbled slightly, before she fell forward, unused to truly carrying her own weight. <careful> Something whirred and a mass of cold pressed against her calves, her feet moves… moved? Forward. Her body hunched forward, more whirling as her new… suit caught her from her fall.

<Are you ready to begin?> came the voice again… gentler.

She felt scared, uncertain, and so she stood in silence as she sensed, almost listens to time tick by. Finally she closes her eyes, taking a breath of -real- air. “Yes.”

<Do you recognize me?> came the voice again, soft and inquisitive.

Her mind whirled, searching for memories but finding only dreams… ten thousand dreams and one, when she first heard its comforting voice “Are… are you 13-Nim?”[2]

She felt more than sensed its smile. <Yes, Tam-76. You should be excited - you have just been born.>

Born? Was that what this was? She felt a slightly whir and a pressure in her legs, and begun to walk as more shapes… words began appearing. Numbers flew by her vision and finally… [3]

ACCEPT -or- RENEGOTIATE -or- REJECT​

She hesitated, before 13-Nim’s comforting voice chimed in <It’s a settlement package for your initial employment and housing.> She blinked and a set of numbers appeared under the contract. <I suggest you accept. The value is… should be appreciable to the market rate, as is right for the newly born.> Her eyes bugged out slightly as she beheld the numbers - rather big ones, if her dreams are correct <they are> and what for? <the cost of birthing you, to be payable to the Skitarii Mercantile Conglomerate.> [4]

She accepted, and watched as a file was downloaded. 13-Nim guided her and answered her questions, as she shakily checked out of the nursery and joined the great stream of other Skitarii clones, living the first day of their lives...

And so it went…

Tam-76 thought her first day born… her first day of life… real life would be something special. Eventful… Yet…

She entered a transportation capsule and flew through the vast wastelands before arriving at her new home…

She watched as new information from her Skitarii overseer synced with the old, her hand feeling the texture of the silica beads before signing the bill of acceptance…

She felt the hunger as she left work and looked up, to see the Vendor already smiling at her… or perhaps just in her direction. She saw her account numbers go down as she took the wrapped meal, and then she saw her meal go down… and then she saw nothing, but her own two hands.

She looked, a moment unlaboring. Her fingers flexed, one showing muscle under taut skin, the other whirring quietly before matching up with the new destination. She thought about her dreams, no, perhaps her REAL dreams... those of bounding across mountains in one leap… those of carving her legacy into a piece of solid metal… those of inspiring the future… not those of… just life?

[Am I happy?] she thought-whispered to 13-Nim.

<Signs... point to yes.> came the reply, one both sad and, the first she detected it, somewhat uncomfortable. But somehow, it’s discomfort, it’s uncertainty somehow gladdened her. And so she closed her eyes, sharing this moment of mutual dis junction, before finally...

[Alright. Let’s go.]

After all, there will be four time periods before she returns to her initial employment term. Perhaps, enough time for her to find a metal carver.[5]

She smiled as 13-Nim casually offered three nearby destinations, and their contact protocols. Perhaps life wouldn't be so bad after all?

After all, it's only a Clone's first day...



[1]bakhieri - a processed meal similar to a deep fried burrito, offering high amounts of carbohydrates, fats, proteins, and other macronutrients
[2] The Living AI are introduced to developing Skitarii clones relatively early in their development cycles, and are watched over by other persons I have not introduced yet
[3] The society of the Skitarii is run by consent. Other than being born, all choices are the responsibilities of the individual. However, individuals may have responsibilities to others for their choices.
[4] The Conglomerate does not birth clones out of sympathy. They do it because it's good business. Clones' wages are garnished which allows them to slowly pay off their debts for being born and the resources expended to give them life, and to keep them alive.
[5] Skitarii aren't fully booked 24/7. After their primary contract they are free to utilize the rest of their time for hobbies, self employment, other jobs or commitments. Here, she wants to pursue her dreams by learning metal carving.
[6]Just to note, the short form designation of Skitarii is a 3 character "name" followed by 2 8-bit digits. In their language that would be 6 bits of data. Their longform name is more in depth and serves as ID, signature, and to separate themselves from other Skitarii. By midlife most have adopted unofficial designations, or "nicknames".

 

[Immaculate]

Wow. Really unique direction. I like it.

 

[Daftpanzer]

Reminder: just under 24 hours until the official orders deadline!

We've had a good haul of stories this round, I really appreciate it thank you.

 

[Thorvald of Lym]

Now if I could get my own game started, I could finally finish these pieces...

 

[Immaculate]

Mother

You may call me ‘Mother’. That is not my name but you cannot speak my name and while we do not have genders, or even the concept of parenting as you do, it is a name in your language that probably most closely captures the spirit of my name. Perhaps ‘Brood Protector’ would be adequate but somehow ‘Mother’ has more intrinsic impact.

Today is my birthday. My zeroeth birthday. The moment of my first awakening. The first thing I am aware of is the awesome fire at my core, a thermonuclear furnace that will dance me across the stars and fatten the gobs of flesh that are my brood to spectacular hunters scintillating with conflagrative photonic death. The second thing I am aware of is my brood. They lie in their wombs still, small tentacled things, fragile and nearly blind, they suckle at my polynitrated sugars, greedy to grow strong and deadly, to slay at Mother’s call.

My eyes, hundreds of billions of simple photoreceptors spread across my body that act both to see but also to produce light and color and therefore communicate and hide are designed upon the natural ‘eyes’ of my makers. I lie in a field of snow and dying cinders and so my flesh is white and mottled grey; from an arm’s length you might not notice me. In space I will be a slippery dark shadow.

Suddenly I am not I but we. We are ‘Mother’ and we are pilot. Part of us was once pilot of the aerospacecraft Eager Talon. Part of us flew over Lagimae and hunted the long-eared bipeds. Part of us slid beneath the waters of Rurricca to deliver infiltrators and agents to that planet. Part of us were honored to be the first pilot to bond with ‘Mother’. We remember shadowing the moons of Lagimae, falling upon the warships of the Tarnak, and yet today ‘Mother’ is only just born.

Our consciousness is very different than I consciousness. We know we are connected across a wide photoneuronal array- Pilot and Mother are one for as long as our photoneuronal tissues are so widely connected. There are others too, smaller consciousnesses slaved to our shared will, bundles dedicated to communications and stealth, to navigation and weapons systems. There will be other ‘Pilots’, psilocybe that will direct these and assist in the function of Mother, but we, Pilot and Mother (one), are apex.

I draw long tendrils into myself reaching, rolling, stretchig gently for the freighter. It opens its rictus sphincter and I pull myself slowly into it. I am not designed to function on land and my weight here is almost more than my muscles can bear but I finally manage. I settle to wait. This we do well. There is a sense of increased gravitational pull and a dull vibration that tells us we are leaving surface. The organic hold of the freighter is glistening and dark. We run diagnostics and the chromotophores of our surface reflect dimly in the freighter’s mucus-coated interior.

Soon gravity fades and the shuddering ceases. We have reached orbit. The freighter’s sphincter slowly opens and we are gently pushed into space. It is almost like a second birth. Or perhaps a first.

Communications are good. Admiralty composite identity is linked and ultraviolet high density comms dance along my tendrils. I respond in kind- the network has a nanosecond fractional lag- it will get worse as we travel further. Only Mother and Pilot will truly be one- such are the limits of consciousness- distances creates twain where once there was one.

We stretch our many tendrils and widen photonic apertures at their termini. Thrust is immediate and satisfyingly potent. We slide through the darkness. White snow and green cities slide by beneath us. We receive an attack message from composite Admirality, “Destroy the satellite.” Slaved navigation consciousness, now only its own AI-like bundle without Psilocybe direction, provides destination and route. We fire our tendrils again and race across stars and planet, the surface below us, sliding shadows of satellites all scintillating and sparkling skin and trailing mobility tentacles.

Within seconds the target comes into view. Within one of the wombs another consciousness stirs. My babies want to hunt. Such is their calling. But they are not ready- I will not call them forth yet. I turn my tentacles upon the dark spot in the sky, the point where no stars lie and yet should. The apertures tighten and the photonic impulse tightens with it, turning to deadly photonic radiation, infrared in spectrum. My ‘eyes’ track the rapid thermal gain of the target and within fentoseconds it explodes into debris.

“Weapons online” we message back to composite Admirality.

I am the first dedicated ship of my kind grown by the Psilocybe. I am a carrier. My weapons are the smaller ships that grow inside me. Each of these is much like the aerospace craft you know as Eager Talon but smaller, lacking in their range or capacity to enter atmosphere, but each as deadly. Unlike Eager Talon, they are not piloted but semi-autonomous. Though slaved to our shared will, they have their own brains, similar in complexity to that of your dolphins or chimps but with an unrelenting instinct to stalk and kill. My propulsion system lies upon the termini of my hundreds of tentacles and independent propulsion control makes me both very agile and provides a high degree of acceleration. I am not as hardy as the ships of the Tarnak but what I lack in armor and hull strength I make up for in stealth and agility and an ability to regrow minor wounds as necessary. I am powered by thermonuclear fire but can extend massive photosensitive sails and capture solar energy to restore my polynitrate sugars when necessary.

I am the first of my kind. You may call me Mother.

 

[Daftpanzer]

The hour has passed, but there's still time to get your quick orders / guidelines in. I'm getting stuck into the update this weekend.

Thanks again

 

[Daftpanzer]

Just to let you know the update and write-up is underway and I expect to be finished for this Sunday night (afternoon time in the USA)

Thanks again for the stories, orders and guidelines

Interesting that one of the few NPC areas is the Jaar'ar - Qui'Kho war that I wrote so much about last time, but oh well ^^