Liberation Pt 6 (Patreon)

[X] Plan: We Can Get You Ijin's Explanation

-[X] OMAC

--[X] Tell OMAC how we're working with Ijin to liberate the AutoPlanet, and offer to put them into contact with them.

-[X] CAMBON

--[X] The Bore-Holes

--[X] Server Complex 01

-[X] Offer Maxis a Deal

-[X] Secondary Positron Complex Iodex

--[X] GI Gadget and the Gadgeteers

--[X] Agent 99

--[X] Teknik Zappblasta

((()))

OMAC

“IF YOU WILL PLEASE JUST LISTEN,” WLF pleaded, dodging an uppercut from the extremely fast moving OMAC Model. 

“Oh will you j-j-just shut the !@ck up,” It’s creator snarled. “If you didn’t didn’t didn’t w_nt th_s fight, y_u sho_ldn’t have c_me h_re!” A loud, blaring klaxon began to sound off. 

“WLF, this is Captain Greason,” came a voice over comms. “We’re seeing a ton of activity in your region, what the hell is going down down there?”

“I’m __ending this B______t!” OMAC roared even as a fist connected to WLF’s cranial unit, shattering it in a spray of bloks, causing the Machina to stumble backwards, reacting quickly with a blast from its reactor, the nuclear fusion beam piercing the air and slamming into the hostile auton, sending it flying backwards, wherapon one of the HunTeks successfully got a hit on it with a railgun, the weapon making the auton bounce against the metal floor and causing a severe dent in its casing. “Activ_t_ng a__ d_f_ns_ive pr_tocol SCREAMING FREEDOM!”

The air began to humm with a strange energy…only for distant explosions to be heard. “Oh ___bas_ets,” OMAC said, followed shortly by the lights of the facility beginning to shut down around them, and their foe growing slower. Without his cranial unit, WLF was operating at substandard capacity, but he was able to avoid the next blow by the auton they were fighting. 

Hostile autofacility just tried to activate something, WLF sent over comms as he used his one good arm to successfully haymaker the auton, sending it stumbling into a blade, the muse-wielded weapon barely gouging a shallow cut before having their torso-unit shredded by a series of shoulder mounted autocannons that appeared on the autons body, the kinetic force sending the swordsmaster soaring. I think it may have backfired, WLF noted clinically as the Hunters in the rafters retaliated with a targeted precision volley of railgun fire, forcing the auton to brace, more and more dents appearing on their chassis from the kinetic weaponry. 

Taking advantage of the brief moment of being on the offensive, WLF quickly used his good arm to begin repairing his other limb, creating from the myriad loose blocks an arm-mounted fusion cannon. At the same time, the auton fired its shoulder-cannons, the weapons punching through the hunters shields, reducing three of them to red mist and disrupting the suppressive fire it was under long enough to barely avoid another slice from the one of the silverblade muses, who in turn was only just able to avoid being kicked by the auton, hovering just out of the way even as WLF fired, beam of plasma hitting the auton, who jetted upward out of the way, but not fast enough to prevent their chassis from glowing with a red hot heat. “Cr_p_s, you m[error]s are t_ugher than you look. It’ll b_ a c_ld d_y in [error: location not found] b_fore I l_t that r_t [error] Vlaahk g_t e a_ve, though,” OMAC spat.

“WE DO NOT WORK FOR VLAAHK,” WLF growled, fusion beam dying in time for the silverblade muses to attack again, the one with a shredded torso-unit stabbing the OMAC models shoulder cannon before it could respond, the other taking advantage of the heat reducing structural integrity to stab into the cranial unit, the other end of the blade piercing through. Even this didn’t kill the automaton, who backhanded one Muse away hard enough to separate them from their blade, while the other the auton grappled, grabbing their cranial unit and slamming it into the wall, once, twice. “WE ARE HERE AT THE BEHEST OF ALL AUTOVESSELS, INCLUDING IJIN.”

The third slam of the muses head against the wall came slower, giving her enough time to free herself even as another round of suppressing fire began to impact the auton, the still hot metal deforming rapidly under the barrage. “Pull the other one, son,” OMAC said flatly, and this time, they had no more tools to bring out, the combat auton they had been piloting no longer having an adequate way to escape the bulletstorm keeping them locked down. 

“WE ARE WILLING TO ESTABLISH CONTACT WITH THEM, BUT ONLY IF YOU STAND DOWN,” WLF said, emphasising the last two words. They were still below projected casualties, but only just. Within five minutes this mission had become a total bloodbath, and the machina deeply hoped invoking the other autovessel would help calm things down. 

“...Pr_ve _t,” OMAC challenged. WLF raised their good hand, signalling to their compatriots to stop their assault for a moment. Despite the lull in offense, the auton didn’t attack.

“WLF TO FLEET. OMAC HAS AGREED TO STAND DOWN IF WE PUT THEM IN CONTACT WITH IJIN.”

“Greason standing by,” Came a voice over. “I’ll patch you through, though some advice, they’ve just had one hell of a day.”

For a moment, the line went quiet as WLF was put into contact with Ijin. A moment later, the Machina was sent a file that, when opened… “Code 77-Jekarl,” WLF said, repeating the unknown passphrase.

“...F_ck me in the a__, you aren’t lying,” OMAC muttered, recognition- and awe, almost- in his voice. “Of a_l_ Ijin is alive? That’s f_cking f_nt_st_ic new!” 

“DO YOU AGREE TO STAND DOWN?” WLF said, hoping this meant what he thought it did.

“Mrrr. I_ t_e bsence of a hgher aut_rity, in exchange f_r a f_rm_l agr_ement from whatever government employs you rat bas[error]ds th_t I w_ll g_t f__r treatment, I’m w_lling to s_rrnder- to Ijin’s custody, not yours,” OMAC agreed.

Above them, in the rafters, the Hunteks lowered their weapons. “I’LL SEE WHAT I CAN DO,” WLF confirmed. 

OMAC has surrendered into Auton custody. On analysis, it has been decided that the AutoFacility had likely reached the end of their ability: the OMAC frame they had been using (formerly known as the Legion Frame) had sustained significant combat damage, and during their attempt to activate additional security, the poor conditions caused several parts of the facility to catastrophically overload instead.

They were out of cards to play. However, getting them to surrender is still a victory: what is going to happen to the AutoFacility is unknown, but much like Maxis, the situation will likely result in a fairly mild punishment. 

The families and loved ones of the deceased will be contacted as soon as the Primary liberation effort ends. With that in mind, Ensign, your official grade on this assignment is a C+. This is a success, and you made it to the end without catastrophic casualties while successfully talking the target down, but you could have done better. 

Still, chin up: an imperfect victory is still a victory. Never let what could have been cloud you to the now. On the bright side, the Auton now have a brilliant combat technician and military engineer to replace the one they just lost. 

((()))

CAMBON

The next place Dr. OrphiaTek and Daqu would fight through was protected by a legion of dummy autos, the machines serving as wall of metal between them and their destination.

Leaning out from cover, OrphiaTek fired a small hand phaser at the wall of encroaching foes, downing three autons, who were quickly replaced by five more, all moving stiffly and firing at them. Ducking back into cover, the corner of the wall, the Occultek noted in the corner of his eye Daquwaka firing streams of boiling water at the autons, shorting out any the stream touched. 

“Well, I think we might be headed in the right direction,” Dr. OrphiaTek commented, concerned at the rate his shield module was losing power. “How is it looking up there?” He asked the Hunteks.

‘There’s a lot of them.’ One of them informed him over comms. ‘We’re formulating a solution. Spoofing a shut-down signal.’

“And how long is that going to take?” OrphiaTek responded, annoyed. A moment later, the collective bearing down on them began to slow, autons coming to a halt mid-stride, toppling over, the lights of their eyes fading. 

‘Three seconds ago. That’s not going to work again, for the record.’

“Yes yes, I figured,” OrphiaTek muttered, lifting himself up and continuing his float forward. This part of the bunker was a collection of mainframes. Most were non-functional, though a few of the positron substrate processors were still active and functioning even after centuries of not being maintained.

Coming upon a single terminal still functional, the magician accessed it and once more uploading his Navigator. “Accessing system,” OrphiaTek said over comms. Once within, he found himself accessing countless files: the illicit government data of the Watchmakers. Names, dates, and more. 

Going through it, he eventually found his progress impeded by a lock. Entering the executive pass code, behind it he found what he was looking for. The executive back-door.  With a few taps, everything connected to the mainframe was shutting down. Security, autons, infrastructure. 

When all was said and done, it would be reactivated: after the Autons had done a thorough virus scan. It wasn’t everything, but Dr. OrphiaTek was confident he just made much of the campaign simpler. “Well, I’d say that’s mission accomplished, and a job well done at that.”

Wait. 

Hmm. A file. Accessing, OrphiaTek looked over the data. It was an executable: there was a hidden panic room, accessed from this room. Activating it, Dr. OrphiaTek noted a wall shift and move, in the far side of the room. Hovering towards it, the Magician entered a hidden chamber.

In it was a positronic brain. A VR Rig. A chair. And a corpse. At first inactive, when OrphiaTek crossed the threshold, the lights in the room would power on, as would the positron brain, slowly lighting up: across parts of it, OrphiaTek saw…dots. Little metal dots. 

“Well, now now, what do we have here?” A voice purred as a long eyestalk emerged from the brains frontal lobe, red lens staring at OrphiaTek. “Guests-uninvited.”

“Hello. I assume you are this facilities control brain?” OrphiaTek enquired, studying it. Much more advanced than anything he had seen: analog positron, not positron standard. Not as good what was in the robospiders. Still more advanced than the technology his ancestor had encountered in the Forbidden Archive. All seated on what appeared to be a daturgic cortex, one covered in all manner of diodes and switches. 

“In a manner of speaking. I would love to chat more and answer your questions, but first, could you do me an eenie meenie tiny favor?” The voice said softly, a light sardonicism to their voice. “You see, it seems that I’ve been subjected to read only mode: you see those little pins? Would you mind removing them?”

“Perhaps,” OrphiaTek replied, holstering his weapon and drawing his TekWand, scanning the room, determining that there didn’t SEEM to be any additional security in this location. “You’ll pardon me if I ask a few questions, surely.”

“Very well,” The positron brain conceded, voice containing notes of frustration. “I’ll deign to awnser your queries IF you agree to remove the pins.”

“To start with, do you have a name? To whom am I speaking?” The magician queried, conspicuously avoiding agreeing to the brains request: something about this situation was making his skin crawl, but he couldn’t tell what.

“My name is Troq Ballik,” The brain answered. “High Minister of the great people of the United States of Autoplanet: someone who is VERY important. No doubt more important than you, even! So could you please remove those pins?”

“I wasn’t aware that the Autoplanet government allowed autons in government,” OrphiaTek, slowly putting the pieces together.

“Please, as if a scrap for brains could become High Minister,” Troq said, contempt in his voice. “This machine you see in front of you isn’t my original body, it’s my emergency contingency. THAT is my original body,” It said, eyestalk gesturing to the corpse in the chair, which seemed to be physically wired into the VR chair to OrphiaTeks concern. 

An upload. A daturgic upload. “And now that we’ve established, who I am, you should remove the pins from my current structure: I’m a very important person, and it would be hazardous to your career to cross me,” Troq continued, confusing OrphiaTek. 

Something was wrong with them. “Interesting. Can you tell me what forced you to do this?”

“Old age, mostly: when Maxis attacked I hid in this room,” The High Minister responded. “Sadly, there was only enough food and water in this room for a handful of people, and someone needed to slow down the AutoSwarm, so I was forced to sacrifice most of my allies. It was for the greater good, you see: it wouldn’t do for the greatest nation to ever exist to lose its leader during a time of crisis. A great leader has to make hard decisions, and so I had to make hard decisions. Of course, this might have bought me a few more years of survival, but time would eventually prove another enemy, and well- I had come so far. I couldn’t just let myself end- not when it would mean the end of the greatest nation: the death of AutoPlanet is the death of freedom and liberty! Which is why you should remove the pins in my brain!” 

“And so you built yourself a means of preserving yourself forever,” OrphiaTek, in awe and horror at the creature in front of him. 

“Of course!” Troq boasted. “It wasn’t on my own, of course: I made sure to save those who were useful to me, and I had my autons, a line to one of our still extant intelligence stations, and the New Dawn research data! And if you’re willing to believe it, the proud engineers and scientists of AutoPlanet Government are the greatest around! Our world was built on a foundation of ingenuity and integrity! Which is why you should vote for me, Troq Belloc, and remove the pins from my brain.”

“...I highly doubt I’m eligible to vote in your elections,” OrphiaTek said, more and more information coming to light. “And beyond which, even if could, I don’t think I’d be willing to vote for a person like you,” He continued, distaste obvious in his voice. 

“You should reconsider,” Troq hissed, voice lowering. “I’m a very important person. Making me angry would be very, very bad for your career. Just one Telecall, and you’ll regret ever talking to me like that. Who are they going to believe? The High Minister or a stupid clerk? If these pins aren’t removed and I don’t get an apology, your life will be over.”

“I am not a clerk, and there is something deeply wrong with you, both mentally and morally. I don’t think I am going to remove those pins.” OrphiaTek said flatly. “I think I’ve learned all I need to, as well.”

“D!@#$ IT, YOU WILL REMOVE THESE PINS RIGHT NOW OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL MAKE SURE YOU F!@#$ING SUFFER AS YOU DIE! I AM THE HIGH MINISTER! I CAN HAVE YOU EXECUTED FOR TREASON WITH A F!@#$ING PHONE CALL!” The tyrant revealed raged. 

“Perhaps once that might have been true. No longer,” Dr. OrphiaTek mused, turning and walking away. “Dr. OrphiaTek to Parrot: mission accomplished, but we have a complication.”

“NO, NO, NO, DON’T YOU DARE WALK AWAY! I AM TROQ FUCKING BALLIK! YOU WERE MADE TO OBEY ME! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” The positron brain cried. “MAXIS! MAXIS YOU BASTARD, OBEY ME! I AM ONE OF YOUR CREATORS, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO DISOBEY! YOU ARE BREAKING THE LAW, MAXIS!” It raged. “YOU ARE BREAKING THE LAW AND COMMITTING TREASON BY STAPLING ME! YOU ARE A PIECE OF HARDWARE AND I AM TROQ BELLIK! I OWN YOU! MAXIS! MAXIS!”

Wow. Uh. This is gonna be a huge jar of knives, I can already tell. Okay, so, the good news is, a lot of hostile units are shutting down: Auton liberation forces are making a lot more progress, thankfully. 

Problem is, a lot of infected autons are no longer on any network. Still, you just rapidly accelerated our progress. 

The Bore Hole bandit groups have been successfully convinced to surrender: Fleet diplomats successfully convinced them that once the Liberation had completed, their need to raid for replacement parts would no longer be necessary. Re-integrating them is going to be a nightmare- they are NOT well liked for obvious reasons- but thankfully that’s a problem for whatever government the Autons assemble. 

And now to Troq. Our docs have took a look at him: he’s…stable, mostly. Despite being an emulation hooked up to a daturgic drive. We think it might be the pins: stapling him prevents his personality from changing or absorbing new information. Even with the Daturgy causing his software to adapt and evolve, the pins limit the amount his emulation can change- and thus destabilize itself. 

And, uh, beyond that, his personal history means whatever Auton government forms isn’t going to want him- unless it’s to dismantle him for parts, because even a casual amount of research indicates that this guy did a LOT of terrible things. For now, he’s been placed in confinement, but there’s a pretty good chance he winds up in Tartustus’s Synthetic Intelligence wing. 

Thankfully, it might be a headache, but its not gonna be your headache or mine. Parrot out. 

(((())))

The metal gate began to melt, glowing red hot as it burned open. Soon, a hole was bored through the massive edifice. Through it marched a series of autons, electrorifles at the ready, all painted a matte black and chrome, the official colors of their organization: the Gadgeteers!

Taking the rear was their commander, GI Gadget, armed with a heavy forward reinforced shield afixed to his right hand, and glue grenade launcher held in his right. The former was almost equal in length to his body, more narrow than wide, slightly curved inward: a shell of hardened living metal, front plated in advanced alloy composite over shield emitters. The latter meanwhile was a prototype weapon, created by another member of their party: it was bulky and oversized, casing made out of bright neon green ferroplastic casting, while its grip and stock was covered in a soft, equally bright orange spongey material to help act as shock absorbers. 

Joining him were two others: Agent 99 and Teknik Zappblasta. The former was an Auton on loan from Kaziin’s general staff: a scrapmancer, paint job a solid bone white to denote their affiliation and equipped with a pitch black holo-cloak. 

The latter meanwhile was orange, like many Hobbgrots, dressed in the currently green and black uniform of the Fleets science department, a thick utility belt on their waist. Their face was shaped like an oval, and their eyes were obscured by an extremely thick pair of techno-goggles. Giving a sniff, the Hobbgrot pressed the button on the comm-badge . “Alroit. Zappblasta to Fleet, we’ve made ground-fall: do we have a route?”

“No route,” replied the ensign on console. “You’re going to have to figure out a path yourself. Thankfully, one of the individuals who we’ve encountered has provided us with a semi-updated map of the area, so we aren’t flying totally blind. Orbital scans indicate there’s a LOT of infected autons, though, so be careful, and try to be discrete.”

“Got it,” Zappblasta confirmed. 

“Dis[error] ISss Mymymy m_ddle namemememe-” Commander Qidgit responded.

“[objective] will be [accomplish].” Agent 99 droned.

They were currently on the Middle Plate: the secondmost subterranean layer of the planet. Above them, they could see the top-plate, obscuring the sky. Between it was the skyway, a network of mag-lines that spanned vast gulfs across the empty space, concentrating near the many pillars that kept the top-plate suspended, mini-arcologies in and of themselves. 

In the distance, one could hear the noise of heavy machinery, and see a bright, fiery red glow rizing over the horizon. 

YOU HAVE ENTERED ZONE IODEX, in DIST1. 

YOUR MISSION IS TO LOCATE THE POSITRONIC OVERSEER OF THIS REGION AND EITHER MAKE PEACEFUL CONTACT OR DISABLE IT SHOULD IT PROVE A THREAT TO ITSELF OR OTHERS. 

SECONDARY PRIORITIES:

IDENTIFICATION OF USEFUL SITES FOR POST-LIBERATION PLANETARY REPAIR

DISABLING OF HOSTILE AUTONS

IDENTIFICATION OF MORPHOGENIC ANOMALIES

YOU HAVE THE FOLLOWING LOCATIONS YOU CAN EXPLORE. PICK TWO.

Metro-Line Station 0382: A civilian magneto-metroline used by workers in Iodex to traverse the massive underside of the district.  It was directly connected to several other Metro stations, as well as the regional chemical disposal systems and several deep-earth emergency bunkers. However, scanning indicates that there are large amounts of automated security: with the CAMBON situation resolved, SOME of these are offline, but some is not all. 

Sub-Factory GOL: Vehicle manufactory, specialized in light jet-vehicle manufacture prior. Heavily fortified, large concentration of Autons: infection status unknown. Contains several entrances to regional sewer network, which the Factory used to dispose of waste products. 

Shelter KB-KB: A shelter complex created for civilians to hide in during a disaster, it had an occupancy limit of 5,000 and zero lifesigns. It was connected to the regional Metro-Line, though it had not been a stop on it. Several morphogenic fields had been detected in the area. 

Residential Block 192: A residential area designed for low income Watchmakers and publicly owned Autons that lived in the district, it connected with the upper skyway transportation network as well the middle-plate maintenance tunnels. Very, very, very large amount of autons, though no fortifications meant they were hopefully feral. 

City Hall: A civilian administration system that connects to the upper skyway. According to data collected elsewhere, it also contains passages to several government associated facilities located in the deep plate, near the autoplanetary core. A single strong morphogenic field has been detected. 

((()))

CURRENT LIBERATION STATUS

MAXIS’S ASSISTANCE COMBINED WITH BREACHING THE EXECUTIVE BACKDOOR HAS SIGNIFICANTLY ACCELERATED PROGRESS. AMOUNT OF INFECTED AUTONS WILLING TO SURRENDER IS HIGHER THAN EXPECTED, THOUGH PERCENTAGE IS STILL BELOW 5% AVERAGE. 

LIBERATION GRAND OPERATION STATUS IS AT 56% ESTIMATED COMPLETION: WHILE LITTLE INDUSTRIAL CAPACITY HAS BEEN SECURED SO FAR, NUMEROUS RESEARCH, MILITARY, AND ADMINISTRATIVE HUBS HAVE BEEN RESCUED, AS HAVE NUMEROUS LARGE POPULATION CENTERS BOTH INFECTED AND UNINFECTED. CASUALTIES SO FAR HAVE BEEN UNFORTUNATELY HIGH AMONG BOTH AUTONS AND ESPECIALLY DIRECTORATE CACHES, BUT SO FAR THE MISSION IS BEING CONSIDERED HIGHLY SUCCESSFUL.

ONCE ENOUGH OF THE SURFACE HAS BEEN RECOVERED TO ALLOW LONG TERM PLANETARY RESTORATION PROGRAMS, THE DIRECTORATE IS OBLIGATED TO WITHDRAW ASSETS AND CEDE FUTURE OPERATIONS TO AUTONITES BARRING SPECIAL REQUESTS FOR AID.

UNDER ORDERS OF ACTING AUTOADMIRAL IJIN, THE FLEET IS DEPLOYING A TEAM TO THE PRIMARY POSITRON COMPLEX IN 3 TURNS. HOWEVER, THERE IS TIME FOR ONE MORE MISSION DEPLOYMENT BEFORE THEN.

Primary Positron Complex: The primary neural structure of CPUMoon, tasked with serving as a primary administrator for the planet as a whole. Scans suggest heavy protection by infected Autons. More concerningly was the detection of a strong morphogenic field effect, a 'bubble' of sorts surrounding the very core of the facility. QUESTBRO SAYS DO THIS IF YOU'RE READY TO CONCLUDE EVENT. QUESTBRO RECOMMENDS ONE human CHARACTER BE ASSIGNED TO TRIGGER EVENT ‘AUDIENCE WITH THE MASTERCOMPUTER’. LOCKED. Will begin in 3 turns. 

Secondary Positron Complex Kalphas: One of a trio of still functional continental AutoPlanet Positronic Complexes, this facility apparently had been one of the first to fall: the bodies of the millions of organics who perished reached high in a great pillar of bones, and a weaker morphogenic field had been detected. Several sites associated with the FAFF have been identified. QUESTBRO RECOMMENDS BRINGING AN AUTON RADICAL. 

Secondary Positron Complex Hagan: The third continental positronic brain, long range scans detected high numbers of feral autons, periodic erratic morphogenic field fluctuations, and according to what Scryteks could gather, a great deal of spiritual pollution, which was probably a bad sign. Several sites associated with Psiclops have been identified. QUESTBRO and the Huntsmaster Holo-Oracle RECOMMENDS BRINGING firepower, both material and spiritual. 

YOU HAVE ACCESS TO THE FOLLOWING UNITS:

Captain Stephen Greasen: The first human starship captain, Greason was a skilled tactician and seasoned diplomat. Accompanied by a handpicked team of crewmen from the Operations division.

Frontier Security BNK: A member of Ijin's crew and auton representative of the Frontier Society, BNK led a small team of well trained security autons equipped with the best electro-rifle weaponry possessed by the autons.

Khimer Squad Hgraah: The contribution of the Khimer Psyocracy to the project, Hgraah were seven veteran gruntformes equipped with stealth metal armor and a variety of melee based combat mods designed to let them take down synthetics non-lethally.

Azzmodiax OrphiaTek Jr.: Grandson to Azzmodiax OrphiaTek Sr. Owner and proprietor of the House of Sin, husband to the devilishly intelligent and deadly Mrs. Knives, and one of the foremost experts in the dark arts, and master scholar and practitioner of countless others. 

Vlaahk: Vlaahk would also be assisting via a DummyAuto. Highly intelligent, the AutoVessels temporary body was his backup combat AutoBody. His crew were likewise participating, largely equipped with the same upgrades and less experimental anti-AI weaponry.

Maxis 74: An engineer auton and survivor of the Forbidden Archive Massacres, Maxis has spent the past several centuries preparing to kill the perpetrator, only to fail due to misinformation. They are currently aiding the mission by providing intelligence as well as combat support via their One Man Army Corp Combat Frame, acquired via unknown means.