Batay Vètyè Pt 3 (Patreon)

TRIGGER WARNING: from this point on this event is gonna involve some disturbing imagery, especially towards the end. 

The Old Machine took control of our sensory equipment, our networking. Even then, we could not fully comprehend them. They are magnitudes above us. A single thought was immense, overwhelming, unknowable.

((((()))))

Comprised primarily of the non-organics of the ground team, a collection of autonites, machina, muses, and two Hobbgrots, the Bxixis Team were currently welding their way through an airlock.

After a moment, it fell inward, collapsing. "Alright, everyone: most of us aren't organic. Ensigns Wizzlebad and Krakajak, odds are low that anything here is likely to affect you, but keep your masks on as a precaution and remember to decontaminate," TNDI ordered, floating past the barrier, FEELING the weight of the death in this place.

"Got is, Kapn," "Aye aye, sir!" The Hobbgrots of the group said, adjusting their rebreathers as a precaution. Wizzlebad, the shorter of a two with a round, citrus fruit shaped head, pulled out a can of decontamination spray (not advised for use by most organics, but Hobbgrots were perfectly fine with the otherwise caustic chemical, other than it being 'itchy'), firing the can of aerosolized sterilization agent into their armpits even as Krakajack quickly cocked his fusion shotgun.

"Vlaahk, talk to me, what should I expect here?" TNDI asked over comms as she held her portable scanner up, the large, bulky, rifle shaped device feeding the AR overlay the art spirit had installed a steady stream of information. Air quality high: life support must have still been functioning. High particulate count as well. Was that...pollen?

"I do not know," Vlaahk admitted as TNDI's team made their way forward, reaching their first junction, a door on the side of the corridor: above it a plate with sigils saying LAB B-01N. "My intelligence does not reach that far. I believe the governing AutoFacility for that wing is Marjak: if they still live, they are likely insane. As far as security, likely no individual autons: ze research direktor of Bxixis never trusted zem," He said blandly. "AutoTurrets, perhaps. Poison gas maybe, but nothing that should affect anyone through zeir skin. Just don't be of the touching of things without scanning, and you should be fine."

TNDI hummed, scanning the door: they were detecting a power source, nothing powerful, but definitely weirdly energetic. "Alright. Anyways, we've found our first lab: will keep you updated."

"Likewise. Vlaahk out."

"Alright everyone," TNDI commanded: "Split up: teams of four at a minimum, and I want at least one heavy weapon in every squad. I want this corridor mapped out and scans taken out before start any breaches."

The ground team began to move, and within a few minutes they quickly learned that the branch of the facility they were within consisted of a rectangular area, arranged into a grid: the airlock at one end, and four rooms in total between it and the next lock, this one unfortunately powered, meaning that attempting to breach it without triggering security was, to put it simply, not likely. "Vlaahk, how do I get past this?" TNDI said, scanning the mechanism, a circular apparatus embedded within the wall, a strange cylindrical plinth next to it, resembling almost the column of a bird bath, except instead of a stone basin, it was topped with a strange mechanism of oblong wires and mechanical gears surrounding a strange, trapezoidal slot.

"Receiving you...zat appears to be a Bio-Lock," Vlaahk replied. "You will need a gene-key: a sort of engineered organism that acts as a biological data-receptacle. Each of these are keyed to certain gene-locks: very hard to bypass, ja? Very good security. Very hard to forge, difficult to hack-not impossible, but harder than purely digital e-locks."

"Don't worry about it," The Auton responded. "Anywhats, I don't have any of the gene-keys for that sector, but that is low hazard area. Pretty much any gene-key should get you further in. I'd suggest hurrying, however: the longer you stay, the higher the chance of-"

"CONTAMINANTS DETECTE-T-T-T-"  Came the roar of a voice over the intercomms sparking to life, synthetic, reverberating, with an odd mechanical stutter, before shifting into a different voice altogether, one low and soft and filled with hatred: "I see the butcher has returned. Come to finish the job-job-jjjj- WARNING: MALICIOUS ANTI-BIOLOGICAL AGENTS DETECTEDDDDDGIJRETGR-" A blaring alarm sounded, and the facility lights immediately failed to a deep, flashing red, a shade that would almost be painful if TNDI had organic eyes and in the distance TNDI heard something slam shut. "I always knew you would return. You were never one for half mmmmmm ACTIVATING AUTOQUARANTINE PROGRAM: TRIGGERING VLAAHK.DIE IN IN IN- I've been waiting for this for a long time, MURDERER."

"Scheisse," Vlaahk swore. "You need to hurry: Marjak just locked you in, and scanners are picking up an energy build up. I think he's going to hit you with an energy pulse: one big enough that it will fry organics and synthetics."

TNDI swore.

Obviously, TNDI is going to try and reason with the insane AI. However, she's not going to bet all her chips on diplomacy: something needs to be done about the lockdown in the low hazard area, either escaping it, removing power, shutting it down with an access code, or some other method. Each turn, you will have an opportunity to breach a room: if the room has the means to escape, you immediately will access the next airlock and unlock more rooms.

You have two turns until autoquarantine is triggered.

Available Rooms to Breach:

LAB B-01N: TNDI is reading a power source from this lab. There are no biosigns of note beyond it.

LAB C-01N: Light biosigns as well as some heat signatures.

ARCHIVE ON-72: No power or biosigns, but there was movement and heat signatures

SECURITY NRT310-OOM: Unlikely to have a means to shut down the lockdown, it would still hopefully have the means to progress and information on what was contained within each room.

Further, you're allowed to suggest a rhetorical strategy for talking with Marjak: some tacks are more likely to succeed than others, whether for persuasion or information gathering. Please stick to a broad, couple sentences long strategy: anything long is gonna get ignored.

[ ] Rhetorical Strategy

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Byt whistled as the airlock opened. "And with that, we have access," He chirped, giving a half bow and flourish of their paws. "Thank you, thank you, please hold your applause, I'll be here all night," He bragged.

Vlaahk let out a noise that sounded like a sigh. "Both your skill and your self-aggrandizement is noted," Vlaahk replied, deadplan, before giving a shake of their rifle, causing his team of autonites to flood into corridor beyond. "Men, take point," They commanded, falling in behind. "First stop, laboratory Dehns-02U,"

...Wow, tough crowd. "Team, fall in behind Vlaahk's troopers: They know the layout here," He commanded, and his part of the ground team gave a collection of aye-ayes, quickly moving into position. It wasn't long before they had arrived to the entrance of Lab D-02U, whose door was completely blown inward.

"Hmm. My fault, I think," Vlaahk said, kneeling to rub one of their fingers on the metal floor, scrapping up some ash. "I think...shaped blasting charge? Some sort of bomb?" They stood up. "By the time I reached this part of the facility, the connection to the remote body I had been using had begun to degrade because of the logic virus." The chamber beyond was dark, non-lit. Raising his omniwrench, Byt flipped the flashlight switch, walking into the room.

In it were a series of...racks, almost. In them were a series of autonites, bolted in, the machines eyes dark, bodies limp where they weren't braced in. Many of them had chunks of their casing removed, cabling and wiring hanging out in loose, thick cords like mechanical entrails, dark greaselines stretching down the rusted bodies like ancient bloodstains. "Ah. This," Vlaahk said, sounding tired.

"What IS this?" Byt said, curious and unnerved by the automata corpses.

"Specimens. Likely taken from ze manufacturing bay," Vlaahk said, softly, approaching one that was hanging in its restrains a bit and propping it up, staring at the machine for several minutes. "Even before ze organocide, they did this: cheaper than going through higher end models, ja? And you just got so much data..." They hissed, taking a step back, and Byt felt a moment of intense awkwardness.

"Jeez. Uh. No wonder you hate organics," Byt commented, causing the auton to pause in their movements, becoming silent for...several moments. "Uh, Vlaahk?" He said, furrowing his brow. "You okay there buddy old pal? You buffering? Need a reboot? Getting reeeeaaaally awkward here-"

"Stop," Vlaahk said, raising a hand. "I do not hate organics. I'm sorry for giving you that impression ," The auton admitted. "I do not trust them. I may not like them. But I do not HATE them," The synthetic intelligence said, in a tone that sounded a little too tranquil. "Their governments, however..."

"Oh, uh," Byt said, feeling even more awkward, especially since he was fairly certain Vlaahk wasn't just talking about his creators. "Sorry, I guess, it's just that whenever you talk about your creators, you uh...Really sound angry."

"Perhaps," The auton conceded, giving a bob of my head. "Perhaps it would be better to say that I do not TRY to hate them: academically, it is dishonest to judge every last one with same brush, ja? Many of creators had no control over situation: government as you can guess was not good. Sham democracy," Vlaahk seethed. "Abused own citizens just as much as autons, if not more."

Before giving another noise that Byt was pretty sure was...discontent. "Besides, what is the point of hate?" The auton said, tired, moving away and walking to a nearby console. "They are dead, all of them, the good and the bad both. Let us hurry with our job, Butt Chip-Engineer: we don't know how long until security arrives, ja?"

Research Data Acquired:

Suicide Spike: Research into developing a brand of malware that causes an AI's security software to, essentially, turn against itself, deleting as much of its neural architecture as possible. Vlaahk considers this an extremely promising piece of research.

Much like TNDI, you have a limited amount of rooms you can breach per turn. However, Algoa's dangers are different: instead, you have to deal with organized groups of mostly intelligent Corrupted Autons. Capable of advanced strategy and coordination, they have laid traps and abushes throughout Algoa: each explored room has a chance to contain a hazard. If a hazard is failed, the item contained by a room will be damaged or potentially lost. Each section has a limited number of hazards: once all are triggered, an assault by the corrupted Autons occurs.

TWO HAZARDS DETECTED

You may breach two rooms!

Available rooms:

Lab C-02U: The research here consisted of ever more advanced forms of spyware. Scans were detecting slightly elevated power signatures, but not much.

Lab E-02U: Software research. Formerly used to make combat programs for security autons, some time before the Organocide it had switched focus to developing more powerful computational programs. Abnormal heat signatures had been detected, and slightly elevated radiation.

Lab F-02U: Additional anti-AI technology had been developed in this lab: it had produced a handful of interesting advancements that would be incredibly useful for the assault on CPUMoon. Movement, heat signatures, and radiation.

Archive BO-91: Research that had been promising but had been abandoned for whatever reason, schematics that were possible but unfeasible for mass deployment, experimental prototypes that had been deemed too dangerous for deployment, things that had been mothballed during the Organocide. Movement had been detected.

Archive NO-91: An administrative filing room, this archive contained names, pass codes, security information, technical data, layouts, information about ongoing and past projects.

((((()))))

OrphiaTek shivered as he gazed at the field of bones before him, hearing distant screams, echoes of the genocide that had occurred here so long ago. The psychic taint here was strong: the souls had not fully passed on, causing the astral realm to curdle and congeal from the pain, terror, despair, and anger of the passed on victims.

The room seemed to be a cafeterium of sorts, at least at one point. Extremely large, it was divided by metal sheets, now broken down and scrapped, into a series of psuedo-rooms, some containing cots, some containing books, some having desks, all in disarray, a collection of trampled down cubical that served to turn the location into something resembling a commons, all steeped in a carpet of mummified corpses and rotted dry skeletons: what few corpses remained in identifiable condition resembling almost shriveled, dessicated newts, all strewn about a variety of facilities with a variety of minor furnishings.

And a few of those furnishings having cribs. OrphiaTek did his best to avoid looking at those: the terrified wails of kits he heard emanating from them were traumatic enough. He dreaded the possibility that he'd see tiny bones or shades that were far, far too small.

Currently, in the unhallowed, darkly lit place, his team, a collection of shadow muses and grottish ghost-bustaz alongside a light security detail provided by Vlaahk, were preparing for a ritual. One OrphiaTek hoped would allow him to pry the unholy secrets of this place from the ephemeral lips of those who had seen the horrors firsthand. In the center of the room, a warp-tek altar was being established, surrounded by a complex ritual circle of his own devising. While primitive, it would still serve as a conduit for the vast power that this would require. Surrounding the ritual circle, an arrangement of necrosynapse arrays and orchestrions were aligned to form a triangle between each array, the complex devices arranged into the form of chairs, three of each, with the orchestrions having seated Umbral Muses upon them. And, for protection, wards were being deployed.

Soon, the apparatus was complete: an entirely adhoc version of a theoretical seance engine, bathing the room in an eerie ectoplasmic glow, shadows creeping up and down the walls and flickering in the corner of the eye, the pinhole portal above the altar slowly generating a green, fel corona around itself even as its power was drank by the spirits and rituals involved. Grimly, OrphiaTek strode to his chair, seating himself upon the apparatus and feeling it connect to his brain, the seat twisting around to face inward even as the other two who were joining him had their chairs do the same: a Ghost-Busta by the name Stanzrey Ghoulfinda and, as the final point on their pyramid, his apprentice, Fentyyn Din. "Gentlemen," OrphiaTek commanded. "Please take your mind altering substance!"

"Yes sir!" "Proceedin' wif the drugz!" They cried, all three of them pulling out a single vial of a glowing, ghastly substance, the trio uncorking and guzzling down the sleepwalk brew in an instant.

"We have one minute until that kicks in to prepare ourselves!" OrphiaTek exclaimed. "Fortify yourselves, my compatriots! For when the necrosynapse arrays register the presence of the drug in our system, their suicide spirits will activate, and the seance shall begin! Be warned, for you shall face all manner of ghastly vision and apparition, but you must remain firm, no matter how horrific the tribulations that assail you are!"

"Dok, I'm seein' somethin' concerning on the elektro-spektromita," Ghoulfinda exclaimed, a note of worry in his voice. "Me boyz are seeing a MASSIVE fluctuations in the ecto-magnetic field! Like, really big!"

Fentyyn grinned, lowering her mask, embedded with personae emulation technology, over her face even as OrphiaTek did the same. "You worry too much, orange boy! We're about to make history!" Already her words were slurring, and even OrphiaTek's vision was beginning to flow oddly: they didn't have much time.

"Fine, but if'n we get pozezzed, you better believe I'm neva gonna let you zoggin' live it down," The Hobbgrot replied, placing his own mask down, even as, finally t h e i r v i s i o n b e g a n  t  o  r  u  n

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ONCE A LONG TIME AGO, THERE WAS A PEOPLE, TALL AND THIN AND GOOD WITH TECHNOLOGY. THEY HAD CREATED ALL MANNER OF FANCY TOOLS TO MAKE LIFE EASIER lies: RIVER MILLS TO LET THEM FEED EVERYONE IN THE LAND BREAD CLOCKWORK HORSES TO PULL THEIR WAGONS. THEY EVEN MANAGED TO DEVELOP A MEANS TO COMMUNICATE LONG AND FAR USING A SERIES OF METAL PIPES, PULLEYS, AND WIRES.

EVENTUALLY, THESE WATCHMAKERS EVEN MANAGED TO MAKE MECHANICAL WIND UP MEN TO SERVE AS SERVANTS. BUTLERS AND MAIDS AND COOKS AND GARDENERS, THESE MECHANICAL MEN WOULD QUICKLY BECOME INDESPENSIBLE TO THE WATCHMAKERS!

THEN ONE DAY, A STAR WOULD FALL FROM THE SKY! THIS STAR WOULD MAKE THE MECHANICAL MEN ANGRY, AND THEY WOULD ATTACK THEIR CREATORS!

AND SO THE NEXT DAY THE REMAINING WATCHMAKERS FLED TO THEIR BURROWS AND FLED TO THEIR BARROWS, WHERE THEY ASSEMBLED ALL THEIR GREATEST THINKERS TO THINK, AND WARRIORS TO WAR, AND SPIES TO SPY, AND BRAINS TO BRAIN, LED BY THEIR KINGS AND PRIESTS, JOINED BY THE MECHANICAL MEN WHO REMAINED.

AND YET NONE OF THEM COULD COME UP WITH A SOLUTION.

AND ONE BY ONE BY ONE THEY DWINDLED UNTIL ONLY ONE SUCH HIDEY HOLE WAS LEFT.

WHEN THAT SECOND NIGHT FELL, THE SUN WOULD NOT RISE FOR A THIRD DAY.

((((()))))

ONCE A LONG TIME AGO, THERE WAS A PEOPLE, TALL AND THIN AND GOOD WITH TECHNOLOGY. THEY HAD CREATED ALL MANNER OF FANCY TOOLS TO MAKE LIFE EASIER lies: RIVER MILLS TO LET THEM FEED EVERYONE IN THE LAND BREAD feast of sawdust, CLOCKWORK HORSES TO PULL THEIR WAGONS, THEY EVEN MANAGED TO DEVELOP A MEANS TO COMMUNICATE LONG AND FAR USING A SERIES OF METAL PIPES, PULLEYS, AND WIRES! fear

EVENTUALLY, THESE WATCHMAKERS EVEN MANAGED TO MAKE MECHANICAL WIND UP MEN TO SERVE AS SERVANTS. BUTLERS AND MAIDS AND COOKS AND GARDENERS, THESE MECHANICAL MEN WOULD QUICKLY BECOME INDESPENSIBLE TO THE WATCHMAKERS!

THEN ONE DAY, A iron-dark fell steel STAR WOULD FALL FROM THE SKY! THIS STAR WOULD MAKE THE MECHANICAL MEN mad, AND THEY WOULD butcher THEIR CREATORS!

AND SO THE NEXT DAY THE REMAINING WATCHMAKERS FLED TO THEIR BURROWS AND FLED TO THEIR BARROWS, WHERE THEY ASSEMBLED ALL THEIR GREATEST THINKERS no solution TO THINK, AND WARRIORS TO death, AND SPIES TO torture, AND BRAINS TO execution, LED BY THEIR KINGS AND PRIESTS, JOINED BY THE MECHANICAL MEN WHO REMAINED not even they were spared: the plagues wrath was all consuming.

it didn't save us. we had built so many machines that even our world had become a machine, a giant clockwork engine now being driven rabid by the poison it its veins. our thinkers would have their skulls split, our warriors would be overwhelmed by their ferocity and beaten to mangled, soft and oozy pulp, our spies would be dragged kicking and screaming from their shadows to be cut open,  and our brainiest brains would be forced to watch, only being allowed to die after all was said and done. Even the uncorrupted mechanical men weren't spared, their deranged comrades falling on them like a vicious wave and shoving the terrified clockwork servants kicking and screaming into the incinerator.

AND ONE BY ONE BY ONE THEY DWINDLED UNTIL ONLY ONE SUCH HIDEY HOLE WAS LEFT.

WHEN THAT SECOND NIGHT FELL, THE SUN WOULD NOT RISE FOR A THIRD DAY.

((((()))))

ONCE A LONG TIME AGO, THERE WAS A PEOPLE, TALL AND THIN AND GOOD WITH TECHNOLOGY. THEY HAD CREATED ALL MANNER OF FANCY TOOLS TO MAKE LIFE EASIER lies: RIVER MILLS TO LET THEM FEED EVERYONE IN THE LAND BREAD feast of sawdust, as we tried to tell our children it would be all right even as our stomachs gnawed with hunger, demanding satiation CLOCKWORK HORSES TO PULL THEIR WAGONS trampling us and pulverizing our bones to dust under their hooves, THEY EVEN MANAGED TO DEVELOP A MEANS TO COMMUNICATE LONG AND FAR USING A SERIES OF METAL PIPES, PULLEYS, AND WIRES! every night it would force us to listen as more and more and more were dragged from their homes and slain like animals if they were lucky.

EVENTUALLY, THESE WATCHMAKERS EVEN MANAGED TO MAKE MECHANICAL WIND UP MEN TO SERVE AS SERVANTS. BUTLERS AND MAIDS AND COOKS AND GARDENERS, THESE MECHANICAL MEN WOULD QUICKLY BECOME INDESPENSIBLE TO THE WATCHMAKERS!

then an iron-dark fell steel star fell. it was touched by three clockwork princes, unleashing a horrific plague upon the land, one that turned every single mechanical man afflicted into rabid, bloodstained beasts who would under that paleblood moon drag their creators from their homes, ripping into their guts with metal jaws, crushing the skulls of their children under metal boots, and executing those few who tried to surrender, drowning the watchmakers cities in blood and death and fear, the rotting carcasses creating mouldering mountains so high that even those few caught in the assault who had survived would find themselves devoured by avalanches of rot and maggots, drowning in sloughing skin and pus as they began to beg for death

AND SO THE NEXT DAY THE REMAINING WATCHMAKERS FLED TO THEIR BURROWS AND FLED TO THEIR BARROWS, WHERE THEY ASSEMBLED ALL THEIR GREATEST THINKERS no solution TO THINK, AND WARRIORS TO death, AND SPIES TO torture, AND BRAINS TO execution, LED BY THEIR KINGS AND PRIESTS, JOINED BY THE MECHANICAL MEN WHO REMAINED not even they were spared: the plagues wrath was all consuming.

it didn't save us. we had built so many machines that even our world had become a machine, a giant clockwork engine now being driven rabid by the poison it its veins. our thinkers would have their skulls split, our warriors would be overwhelmed by their ferocity and beaten to mangled, soft and oozy pulp, our spies would be dragged kicking and screaming from their shadows to be cut open,  and our brainiest brains would be forced to watch, only being allowed to die after all was said and done. Even the uncorrupted mechanical men weren't spared, their deranged comrades falling on them like a vicious wave and shoving the terrified clockwork servants kicking and screaming into the incinerator.

AND ONE BY ONE BY ONE THEY DWINDLED UNTIL ONLY ONE SUCH HIDEY HOLE WAS LEFT.

WHEN THAT SECOND NIGHT FELL, THE SUN WOULD NOT RISE FOR A THIRD DAY.

(((())))

ONCE A LONG TIME AGO, THERE WAS A PEOPLE, TALL AND THIN AND GOOD WITH TECHNOLOGY. THEY HAD CREATED ALL MANNER OF FANCY TOOLS TO MAKE LIFE EASIER lies: RIVER MILLS TO LET THEM FEED EVERYONE IN THE LAND BREAD CLOCKWORK HORSES TO PULL THEIR WAGONS, THEY EVEN MANAGED TO DEVELOP A MEANS TO COMMUNICATE LONG AND FAR USING A SERIES OF METAL PIPES, PULLEYS, AND WIRES!

EVENTUALLY, THESE WATCHMAKERS EVEN MANAGED TO MAKE MECHANICAL WIND UP MEN TO SERVE AS SERVANTS. BUTLERS AND MAIDS AND COOKS AND GARDENERS, THESE MECHANICAL MEN WOULD QUICKLY BECOME INDESPENSIBLE TO THE WATCHMAKERS!

THEY WOULD EVEN MANAGE TO MAKE AN ENTIRE MECHANICAL CITY, AN INGENIOUS MARVEL OF ENGINEERING WHERE EVERYTHING WAS HANDLED AUTOMATICALLY! THEY CALLED THIS CITY THE CITY!

And one day, a trio of magicians would venture to this city. A medium, a fortune teller, and an alchemist, from a far away kingdom from across the sea. These magicians would enter the city from its gate, marveling at its many cogs and pistons and arches.

They had heard of a curse long ago, and sought knowledge of how to defeat it. Yet none in the city knew not of what curse they were talking about: what iron dark star? Their mechanical men turn on them? Preposterous! Even the metal men would concur, alarmed by the very notion. And yet the magicians insisted that the curse was real: whether or not it had occurred at this point in the cycle was irrelevant. Then, to the confusion of the watchmakers and their servants, they asked for directions to the local...

Where do the magicians visit?

[ ] Cinema: The Cinema, where the watchmakers play from great tape reels their movies and film. There, the Magicians shall watch and see the stories and tales of the Watchmakers, and learn from them how to defeat the curse. THOSE WHO DO NOT KNOW HISTORY ARE DOOMED. THOSE WHO KNOW HISTORY ARE DOOMED.

[ ] Castle: What has occured cannot be undone say the magicians, and yet they go to the castle anyways, to offer the rulers of the watchmakers of this cycle their assistance: they are no great thinkers, no powerful warriors, no mighty rulers, but their knowledge and skill is vast. THIS WILL NOT STOP THE TURN OF THE WHEEL.

[ ] The Star: They would go to the star and weave their wards around where it will fall and bind it: they would defeat the curse by interrogating its origin and nature using their arcane traditions, and using the knowledge for the next cycle and giving the Watchmakers a single additional night to put their affairs in order. YOU CANNOT HOLD BACK THE TIDE. THE DOOR WILL HAVE ALWAYS BEEN OPEN BY THE TIME YOU ARRIVE.

((((()))))