N
Navian
>ON Null and Void Waystation.
The usual silence of the run-down Free State port at Null and Void was exceptionally tense today. Two weeks now it had been since the transmission came through, leaking through the Polysentience at all points like a sieve. The largest broadcast message independant of the reconstructed Great Lighthouse or Polysentience relay in nearly a decade. Simple strings of numbers trickling into near every Freespacer mothership, mining platform and flotilla in known space. The conspiracy nuts, and survivalists went wild overnight, trying to decipher meaning from it all. Three days in, and one widely distributed parsing patch later, it had been deciphered.
Simple substitution of numbers into chapter, part and verse, reaching into the depths of the Freespacer Bible 'The Art of Never Again' and translating a message:
Decried as sensationalist trash, a hoax, a threat, or any number of other things, the message recieved mixed reviews on all accounts. But it was undeniable the scouting reports that investigated the source found the collapsed Lighthouse on Freehold missing, the glassy earth shattered in the wake of whatever had reclaimed it and brought it back. "Reclamation Project", the message had said. And whether it was sent by a madman, or a visionary, the ambition to see something reclaimed after so much suffering and death was one tiny crack of light in the darkness that had befallen the Free State.
As such, Null and Void was busy today. As it had been for several weeks now. Gawkers, travellers, dreamers, and anyone out for a tiny view at whatever strange occurance had led to the rebirth of a Lighthouse had arrived. The old IWL garrison turned waystation and salvage yard had not been this busy in years.
>Observation deck level, Null Colony:
Activity on the ground, as a whole in this place was focused on the observation levels. The heavily reinforced levels with viewports, letting one look out and observe the barren expanse of Void where derelicts and inoperable ships were stored as monuments on the rocky surface trapped in the event horizon of the vast black hole above. Looking up here felt like looking into a blank hole in the universe from which nothing could escape or exist. The prevaling theory was that the dead outside, set to rest on these worlds were what was set to 'meet the living and together sail' again.
Talk was that this could be either the site of the biggest shitfest in recent memory, or it could alternately be the birth of a new Freespacer fleet... As such, the crowd was everything from gawkers and cynical onlookers out to see something stupid happen, to the far end of the spectrum, those who wanted to participate; Type II's eager to ply trades that required more resources than had been available for near a decade, former Communist factionistas, eager to return to the skies on a fleet which could house them, history buffs eager to see some of the ancient wrecks from up close.
Of course, not everyone was happy about this...
While people-watching could be superb as a leisure activity, the venerable Groundbreaker Eight-Four 4242-4286 had much else to compete for her attention. She'd come to the station with many others, not so much as a tourist, but as a technician, helping the colony ease the load on its networks and power conduits brought on by increased activity, and the sheer number of bodies now present. Though her knowledge of the workings was impeccable, and she'd made great improvements already, it was becoming easy to doubt her dedication to the work. At a glance, there was no way tell her apart from the cynics, and what little conversation she'd allowed to pass through the icewalls of her own personal network did nothing to dispel the illusion. She spent much time gazing at the viewports, always from afar, as if she were pretending to be less interested than she was.
The truth was simpler. She was instructing her robots to do the rewiring, replacements, and cable-laying for her, only turning back to the conduits when some task required more strength than a few thousand microbots could gather between them, or when some overly curious tourist came too close to going on an adventure in electrocution. Aside from when she first opened a new panel, these were uncommon.
She pictured the path from the current configuration to the ideal she'd designed in her head. To a Groundbreaker, the galaxy was a place filled with wonders that hadn't been built yet; all that was were pieces to be assembled or swept aside to create such things, as soon as a way could be imagined. For now, these attentions were focused on the power grid and network nodes that served as the backbone of communications across Null, that was her job. Though, once in a while, she saw what she saw, really, with no virtual overlays. She saw Freespacers, she saw Void, she saw the graveyard of ships, and she thought, What shall we make of these?
With the station's increased population, the pressure on the old and decaying systems seemed almost like managing a garden, to Groundbreaker: An act of creative destruction, where something old and spent had to be exchanged for something new and vital at every moment. Having little interest in keeping up with a social calendar, the constant fluctuation and change in the Freespacer network was a source of entertainment, not just work. Now and again, the systems would take a hit, something happening inside their matrices as the collective present on Null created some major event to cut through the tension of waiting. Whether it be a new Pathless Journey match held by showboating Warmongers seeking the crowd's approval, or an impromptu exchange of a colossal data trove, as this or that group traded whole archives of media, it paid to be ready for the unexpected, though 'the unexpected' seemed to occur at strangely regular intervals at this colony.
In the town she made home within the Shravana Hiveworld, schedules were made down to the hour and days in advance, it was true, but there were still cancellations, and attendance was not always predictable. Here, though, it was strange... Events which stressed the system happened almost at the beat of a metronome, a rare thing even within the strict order of the Hivemind's industrial works, let alone the casual disorder of touristic society on the Polysentience...
Still, pondering such a matter as that was the realm of Freethinkers. As an engineer, Groundbreaker had work to do, right in front of her. Maybe more than she thought, as there was a sudden tap on her shoulder, just rough enough to be felt through the layers of her contrapressure skinsuit.
"Excuse me." A voice, clearly mechanical, despite seemingly coming from a being more organic than machine. An organic woman, type unknown, with long brown hair streaked with premature grey. She was dressed in a newer model Voidwalker, with a long dustcloth layer, like a long coat and trousers. Their face seemed to be a cybernetic prosthesis, a blank metal plate with a single hole in the right side for an unblinking organic eye to peer through.
"You're on network maintenance detail, right?" The faceless woman asked with her crackling voice, "May We ask for your help a moment?"
Eight-Four turned toward her with a smile, somewhat distracted and unfocused by the effort to manage her robotic work team. Still, while she might have looked a bit out of it, she spoke as clearly and fluidly as ever. "We are somewhat short-staffed at the moment, I must warn you, but please do. Go on and ask. May I make your acquaintance?"
"Sham Nine-Nine. We're with station security for today." The mask-faced one introduced themself, "Sorry if this is a bother, but this will be quick. We just need you to do a quick installation at port so we have a back door in case something goes... awry. So to speak."
This suggestion seemed improbable. Groundbreaker's eyes finally focused on 'Sham'. "Perhaps I could make a few inquiries, unless you have more to tell me?" She diverted herself from her work to look up the name, though she didn't want to sound too critical of someone claiming to work for security. In her experience, that tended to lead to complications, and disappearances. "Is there something in particular at risk of going awry?"
"It's a wired router." Sham explained, "They want something by the guard posts at the graveyard gate so they can maintain access even if they shut down wireless connectivity."
Groundbreaker's search turned up little, but there was something. Without a full serial number, and occupational designation to attach to the name, the only thing a quick search could produce was Sham's contributions to the local Polysentience. A lot of chatter about organisational encoding, and quite a lot more talking about junk-model conversion kits. Some sort of hobby about turning scrap into miniature models? None of these went back more than a few months, but then again, Null and Void was more of a staging area than anything, these days. People left from here, or arrived to go somewhere. It was no longer the living space used by the IWL back in the high and heady rebellion days.
"And yes... with that message going around, the locals are trying to protect what they have from another clear-out like the Locksmiths did. There's a sort of... barricade line to where they've docked the distortion tugs, in case this thing goes wrong and turns to a full on raid," Sham went on.
Groundbreaker nodded, satisfied enough. "Very well, Sham Nine-Nine. You've an unfortunate name for serving station security, but helping the crew keep in touch seems harmless enough. Give me two minutes to close up, and recall my bots." Groundbreaker was no stranger to leaving tasks for someone else to finish for her, she almost had it down to a science. "You can call me Queenie Eight-Four, if you don't have my info, already."
"It is a pleasure to meet you." Sham said, with a little sort of... half-curtsy. Like a courtesy paid by someone who had never actually seen one. Were they playing on 'queenie?' None the less, she stopped and stared for both of those two minutes, with her one unblinking eye peering through her mask.
Groundbreaker was so absorbed in her task, she did not seem to notice much that wasn't under the floor. As her micro-scale construction bots swarmed into their hive-home, she lifted it up by the handle, slung it over her shoulder, and rather carelessly let the last few crawl up over her to reach her docking stations before she began marching to the guard posts, leaving her work sign up, and sending a message to notify other maintenance workers of what repairs the conduit needed before the deck could resume use for power retransfer.
"Fancy swarm you have there..." Sham said, starting the walk alongside Groundbreaker, "Technocrats?"
"Yes, indeed." Groundbreaker was of the opinion Type Vs weren't good for much, but they had provided her with some marvellous microbot templates. "I like to use them for digging, but they can handle electrical work just as well. They might not be hasty, but they're precise."
"Aren't you a technician? Why do you dig?" The security Sham seemed perplexed by this. Not unusual perhaps. Most people in the Free State had their assigned position as their name, after all.
"I'm an engineer," Groundbreaker began straightforwardly, but with that said, she decided to dance around the subject, in a quieter tone. "I've been underemployed for a while now. There's not much call for new mines and constructions, and ship engineers tend to be NAM-trained, these days. I just do what I can."
The two reached the security checkpoint, crammed into one of the heavy internal bulkheads leading to the Graveyard gate. Sham waved to the posted inspector, who seemed to be a heavily cybernetically-altered biological warmonger, wearing an old surplus military uniform from some group or other. Probably one of the locals, from how seriously they were taking this.
They tossed some little metal doodad at Sham, who in turn handed it over to the Groundbreaker: The router in question; some chunky bit of circuitry, a few years out of date from the looks of it. Poor parts was nothing new, though. "I might know some work you could ask for." Sham said off-handedly, guiding towards the wall panel in question.
Queenie rested her gear at the base of the wall, and set about unscrewing the wall panel. "I asked for the work I've been doing, though you've got me; I'm curious. What might this work be, and for whom?"
"Well, you'd have time to finish this work, for sure. It's nothing right now." Sham said, watching the work go on. "But if you like engineering big stuff, it's rather large-scale."
Groundbreaker laughed as she set down the panel, before sticking her head in to scan the workspace, and process it into a guide for the installation task. She stopped for a moment afterward to check that the router hadn't been modified much from the specs she'd been assuming. It hadn't, so far as she could tell. "'Rather large'? Is that in meters, kilometers, or astronomical units? It sounds as though not much has been decided yet; though I don't mind executive work, either."
"I would think that you would have many working under you at some point." Sham said, hunching down to sit on her heels. "And it would possibly be all three... How does rebuilding a Lighthouse sound? Perhaps two."
Groundbreaker began preparing the site for the hook-up, deploying her microbots again to speed things up by working in tandem with them. "You're not talking about the 'Bisen' models, are you? And I know you're not taking about wetships, that's none of my business. Tell me straight, do you mean beacon relays for the sector?"
"Yes. I mean the things we lost in the Genocide, causing mass death. We want them rebuilt." Sham said. "One lost one, put back together at last, the other reformatted to remove whatever the Yamataians plugged in when they rebuilt it."
Groundbreaker remained silent as she worked for over a full minute, before she decided to say something almost with a 'harrumph'. "I'm sure that would help... certain factions," she hedged with some reservation.
"We don't particularly see who it would hinder. But you can talk to us to ask specific questions if you have concerns." Sham's distorted voice sounded lower, and slighly more echo-ish. Like their method of speech was doing something strange to the sounds produced.
"Who is 'us'?" Groundbreaker asked the most obvious question, before picking up the router to start making the connections. "I've never done work without knowing who it was for, and I shant start now. It's not who it hinders that matters, but who it helps. 'The balance of power', and all that rot. For example, if it helps everyone who has ships, what about those left without them? I don't go much for making the rich richer."
"I'm simply here to facilitate. If that is a question you wish to convey to our collective at present, do a search for 'Neonvine.vri', it's where we're hosting the coordination for today." Sham said. "Although perhaps finish the router first..."
Groundbreaker let out a small giggle. "Hopefully, I'm not about to break the vow I made eight seconds ago." Once the router was attached strongly enough to be held in place, she set her 'bots to complete the connections, stepped back, and waited beside the panel, idly sorting through her tools, while she stole a moment to look up some more information. There were too many strange things going on, lately, and yet there'd been no overt events yet. Her habit of failing to stay on top of the goings-on about Null and Void was starting to show, and it wasn't pretty.
There didn't seem to be anything on Neonvine.vri other than a few small entries in local registries. A tiny server, with little activity. No mention of it. It seemed to be new, a week at most since it appeared on the Polysentience network of Null and Void. The only other bit of information was about the other guard who had been seen here, their own data trail was significantly longer than Sham's. They were called Ducktalker, and had seemingly worked here since the days when this had been a military barracks. They'd made a lot of very detailed and opinionated entries all across the local networks, most of them on inconsequential topics. The latest DJ ENtropic album ("Electrifying! My ears bled!"), complete reviews of why Simsensation Talent Star had been dropping in quality ("Season two was the peak, they should just stop!"), and favorite rankings in the Pathless Journey leaderboards ("Runnymeat is underrated.").
It was... not much to go on, maybe.
"I won't make you break a vow." Sham said, using a singular indentifier for themself for a change. "It's up to you."
Groundbreaker raised her eyebrows. "If it's up to me, I'd like you to tell me more. Hm, Ducktalker, are you also a part of this nameless 'us' that has all these big plans? Were they just as mysterious talking to you?" Groundbreaker looked up to smirk at them, while her work was busy doing itself.
"If you talk to everyone it makes more sense. Check the discussion room." Ducktalker said; or rather, broadcasted on a short range wavelength. They certainly didn't use their physical mouth to talk. "This has been set up for months now. Giving it all away at once is bad. At least from just one perspective."
Groundbreaker shook her head in bewilderment, and turned back to supervise the work in progress. "Your organization's name isn't eponymous with its complete manifesto, is it? Perhaps it's just too familiar? From my perspective, this level of secrecy is a bit comical, and I'm almost a caricature of obscurity, myself. I'm one of the few members of my organization with unqualified access to all information, perhaps I'm biased?" She was starting to sound slightly bitter, behind the facade of amusement.
Sham took a moment and tilted her head slightly. "Wow. Okay," she said. "We're called the Iconoclasts. At least for now. If you actually log into the .vri I told you about, you can literally talk with everyone active in it. Right now. It's not locked or anything. You can ask anything you want. You're assuming a lot on our beha--"
Queenie held up her index finger in a 'one moment' gesture without turning away from the wall, and Sham broke off.
"Yes, what?" Sham finished.
"You gave me a name. Sounds new, new is interesting. And we're out of comical secrecy territory, thank you. I'm almost done, I'll be with you in a moment." Her 'bots started streaming back to their hive, as they found the remaining tasks queued up to capacity. Queenie bent down to lift the wall panel with a grunt, it was a bit heavier than she was used to. "Sturdy hardware you've got here, I do hope we won't need it."
"Probably not." Ducktalker said with a small laugh punctuating his sentence.
"So I take it you're actually interested in the position?" Sham asked lackadaisically. At least in as much as their synthetic voice allowed it.
"So far, you've made it sound like you need a wizard, but I won't say that means a 'no'. Let's try some of that Q&A first, shall we? I have at least fifteen minutes, given the work I'm not doing, and I can always clear up more time if that's not enough. Big plans require big words and big mouths, after all, or so I've been told." She screwed the panel back in. "My legs don't come with an automatic setting, do you have a rest area in mind?"
Sham led Groundbreaker away from the checkpoint, signalled only by a 'come hither' hand motion. Leading the engineer through one tunnel heading deeper into the planet's crust, and winding in to one little side room, not far away. It looked like a break room, at best; a water cooler in the corner, a round table fashioned crudely from iron, and an odd assortment of chairs were the only furnishings. There were still playing cards and chips left out from the last occupants, but for now it was unoccupied.
"Choose a seat. Log in." Sham said, half invitation, half 'hurry-up-you-said-you-only-have-fifteen-minutes'.
Groundbreaker felt almost compelled to draw it out (and cancel her next job already), but slowing down seemed, ironically, too hasty, when she didn't know how things might play out.
"Yes'm." She sat in a chair, leaned back, and logged in, searching for Neonvine.vri, leaving her tools by the side of the table, and her backpack and 'bot hive on the seat beside her. The room seemed to fade away. As it did, another universe faded in.
Groundbreaker seemed to find herself on some sort of simulated island, with sand-like tiny glass pebbles of every color, including several which didn't actually exist; and crystal clear water, with luminous fish swimming about in it. A glance inland revealed a jungle of the eponymous Neon Vines, an intertwining, glowing tangle that stretched for as far as the horizon dared to exist. But, one moment was all it took to have the new guest whisked away from her point of arrival. No sooner would the .vri realm come into being, than the Groundbreaker was 'teleported' by admin input into the place where their meeting was being held.
It looked like some forest clearing, in the jungles of solid light. Bare ground surrounded by a mass of those vines, twisting up skywards, and giving the whole place a feel of being a little too enclosed. Many different Polysentience avatars here, some faded out in color as their respective physical bodies attended to something. Those who had their attention on the virtual realm all turned to the newcomer.
"The engineer?" asked one, a faintly feminine figure, towering in height, swathed in white robes, and wearing dawnlight as a crown.
Another, a indistinct humanoid outline with a one-eyed mask, simply nodded in confirmation. "We should make this quick."
Groundbreaker's avatar hadn't been updated since the last 'true edit' nine years earlier, and perhaps she didn't have much motivation to keep up with it. Aside from being about an inch taller than her present meat-world form, with an extra fifteen pounds of muscle, the outdated look included her natural eyes and ears, and grey skin patterned with blue-green lines, rather than the new silvery finish. It also had a good deal more hair volume, though her garb was less stylish, and certainly out of fashion. "Yes, Groundbreaker 84-4242-4286 at your service. I must admit, I'm first to carry this tradename."
"We are all about new things and firsts." The figure in white said, sounding somewhat distracted. "I am Codebreaker Two-Three; something like a leader. This is my brainchild, certainly. We need an engineer who can work with Polysentience infrastructure, shipbuilding, and colonial construction. We can compensate you for your time."
It seemed she was cutting this quite close, or at least taking the 'make it quick' suggestion to heart.
Groundbreaker crossed her arms and nodded, only becoming aware of her outdated avatar while doing so. She quickly, if frenetically refocused from that distraction, and left her arms at her sides again. "It seems you've chosen the right tool. I've spent half my life working for the Shravana Hive. I should tell you that not only am I still a member, I am part of its highest council, albeit semi-retired. My caveat, then, is that any work I do must benefit those in my care, in some way. I am at this station to observe and build alliances, not merely to alleviate boredom. Though, there is that. I grow a bit tetchy after 1800 hours of mining fleet optimizations."
"Who are you hoping to build alliances with?" Another avatar had chimed in; this one little more than a floating pair of eyes and grinning mouth over a tightly-clasped full body straight-jacket.
"Warmonger Three-Oh." The Codebreaker introduced the newcomer. "Ducktalker. You have met."
"Oh, yes. Very 'you'," Groundbreaker complimented on the avatar, before answering. "Colonials. Hackers. Even those in bed with Nepleslians. We're not picky, though clearly, we still have to avoid capitalists and libertarians. Though I can't speak for everyone I work with, stability is important to me, so I do prefer long-term plans to get-rich-quick schemes. At the same time, I expect more out of life than mining, refining, and industry, thus I only work with the most liberal technocrats."
"We are no technocrats." The Codebreaker said, "We are, however, in command of a colonisation and uplifting program. We have contacts within the Hacker Cult, and Astral Locksmiths. And we also have some dealings with the man who made the machines which once ran Nepleslia, before its collapse into dictatorship, masquerading as democracy. We are presently working towards ensuring the safety of multiple species, in our own way. Some more direct than others."
"Uplifting... That is new. And most peculiar, I wonder where the resources are coming from. Mere curiosity, though, not important. It is good to have allies with allies. Ours tend to align more with the Freespacer groups yours oppose. It seems strange for a clandestine group to double as a benevolent interstellar federation, at least to me." Groundbreaker spoke with a note of incredulity.
"Federation?" Codebreaker laughed the word. "Our goal is not to rule, or to govern. Being in charge is not our long term goal. A means to an end. We work towards a better future, knowing full well that we will some day have to move on and let others choose their own fates. We oppose none. What we do is to challenge preconceptions. We come to Null and Void to challenge the idea that dead ships are more valuable as a mournful relic, instead of being refitted, and allowing the living to do something practical. You can do your clandestine whatever. We have no rights to stop you, so long as you don't try and stop what we do."
Groundbreaker, looking a bit distracted, waved her arm dismissively and said with a bit of a slur, "I haven't done any 'clandestine whatever' in half a decade. Well, aside from rigging this station. This is all a bit lofty for me, but I don't really mind what you're doing, it just sounds to me like you must be running the most monumental budget deficit this side of the galaxy.
"But," she holds up both hands and restores some of her clarity and poise, "I haven't seen the figures, and in the worst case, I can help you with those. If you're behind this big heist, I wonder how you're planning to do it--not the physics, nor the logistics, the tactics you plan to use. My intention would be to ensure this goes peacefully."
"We're actually running at a surplus. Uplifting is more profitable than you would think," Codebreaker informed. "Although I envision that refitting these ships will not come cheap... Regardless. We spread word with the sister lighthouse that we are coming here to gather a crowd. You installed a back door which we can exploit by having Ducktalker install a wireless-capable component to the router, which will give us control of any system they lock down to wired-only connections once we start the digital attack. We turn up, make a scene. Get everyone to move over and assist with the recovery. We approached many of the locals to see who was willing, hence how we have Sham and Ducktalker. Some of the pilots as well. From there it all rides on whether the locals are willing to open fire on unarmed workers hoping to rebuild the Free State.
"Nothing without risk. Of course. If they wish to start this, we are able to finish it, though we might regret it... From there we just... Get the ships out and start rebuilding."
Groundbreaker rubbed her chin for a moment in thought, slightly longer than she would if not being ironic. "Well... I suppose there's nothing wrong with quadruple redundancy. I've installed backdoor access to internal and external comms, and atmospheric control. I can also trip the emergency blast doors, though I can't override them. It's good that I'm not working against you, as it seems I'd need several more months of mustering, but perhaps I can help with more than just lighthouses. I expect I'll have trouble getting out of here, if things go awry."
"No. The escape route is quite secure, as long as the Astral Locksmiths do not intervene." The Codetalker's head twisted to the side a little, as if thinking on it extra hard to be certain, "Even then, there is little they could do to stop us escaping. Should things go awry, you will board Sham's shuttle, and leave via the Leyline portal we are bringing with us. We do not leave our own behind, if we can prevent such happening. I suggest you pack if you have anything you wish to bring, as we will be arriving in thirty four minutes."
"Really?" Groundbreaker tapped her temple a few times. "Well, that might take the fun out of rewiring the air conditioning... I suppose I could rush, nothing good comes from hot and stuffy crowds. You just want a quick escape from me, then?"
"I want to see you unharmed after all this." The Codebreaker said gravely, "Whether we are successful or not. If you can help, I will trust you to do so at your own discretion. But if you do not wish to risk yourself, I can accept that."
"Hmph, you're not joking?" Queenie planted her hands on her hips, and shook her head at the neon groundcover. "I have, at most, twenty months to live. I'll act if there's any chance it will prevent violence from breaking out. Or put a damper on it, if it does."
"Very good. While we have that much time until arrival, we can plausibly stall for time until you are ready with whatever you are capable of." Codebreaker said, smiling a smile that had... way too many teeth under that dawnlight. "How much time would you need? And do you need electronic support over the network?"
Groundbreaker straightened herself up. "Don't delay on my account. If I rush, I can finish my next task and still be in position to act, it's hardwired. I could use an escort, if I need to rush between positions, and yes, I could use some support if security sees what I'm doing, and locks me in. I expect you'll be keeping them busy, at least."
"Ducktalker can escort you." The blank-faced avatar that was probably Sham indicated, "He is on security detail, so you can remain inconspicuous for a time. If things go quite wrong, we will have Militant units ready to exfiltrate you."
"Good." Queenie nodded to Ducktalker, then went on. "They still won't let me use the big robots, I can't imagine why. If that's all, I may as well get started fixing the air conditioning."
"Very good. We will patch you in to our communications." Sham added, before the lot of them seemed to gray out in the virtual realm. Much of the collective seeming to go back to their tasks. Groundbreaker logged out of the VR space. Even though her body was three-fourths closer to death from old age, she was still eager to have an excuse to run, however undignified it was not to have time to walk in her schedule. Today's justification was that if she didn't hurry, she wouldn't be able to finish her last job of the day before her whole schedule was awash with cancellations and evacuation orders. Hopefully, she'd still be in the mood for running by the time the latter arrived.
>Some time Later:
With all eyes upon... whatever was going on right now, the Groundbreaker's work actually went surprisingly smoothly. Outside, in every hall, and every server node, it seemed that something was going on, some spectacle. These people who had contacted Groundbreaker must have been putting on a pageant elsewhere in the station. Aside from the sound of people running around, and shouting, there hadn't been anyone to get in the way. But today's events were well underway. A quick knock on the door of the air filtration maintenance room was followed by the synthesized voice of Ducktalker.
"They've arrived at the station. Are you ready?"
Groundbreaker hefted her gear again, and approached the door. "Personally, yes. I don't have any pranks to pull here, but everyone crowding around the exits ought to feel nice and cool around this hour, while the bunkers might be a little uncomfortably warm. So long as I'm in touch with what's going on, I can take over the comms to shut down the bad vibes, and maybe bring out some encouragement. If that doesn't work out, we can try my emergency protocol."
"What's your emergency protocol?" Ducktalker asked. He was standing outside, holding the lever to keep the heavy overbuilt door open. The sort of space station equivalent of holding a door open for a lady; maybe appropriate for a Queenie. With a more than passing glance, up close and in person he was actually less sturdy than most Warmongers. It was even unusual that there was a biological warmonger period, as most were automata purpose built. He was dressed in the same surplus military uniform, but it was now topped with a straightjacket similar to the one on his polysentience avatar; slung around his shoulders like a short cape, and studded with what looked like military medals. Some of them Star Army. Maybe it made more sense that he was former IWL, as his data trail had placed him here for a long time.
"We rush down a level to trigger a lockdown, much as if the place was under direct spaceborne attack," Groundbreaker announced straightforwardly, before continuing in a much lighter tone, "It's not yet worked out beyond 'step one', so 'step two' might be to run, hide, and/or hope for a rescue."
"Any way you can lock down the place save for a few set paths through the station?" Ducktalker asked after a momentary pause, like he was recieving some information wirelessly. "It could be our strongest move if things go sour."
"Possibly. That essentially means I'll have to protect those paths from my trick. It might be a bit scattershot. If I overcomplicate this, the timing will fail and most, if not all of the doors will stay open. Ideally, we'd exclude closely-linked sub-systems." She referenced her map as she walked on. "What sort of path did you have in mind?"
"Security reports a crowd around the max capability docks. The Mothership has connected to the station, and started the rabble rousing." Ducktalker reported, keeping step a single pace behind the Groundbreaker. "We'll need a clear path for the pilots we hired to get from there to the graveyard gate, and protect the crowds. Everything after that is set to happen outside the station itself."
Groundbreaker set up the simulation, and put it through a few hundred random tests, stopping to review the few that seemed to meet this need, before saying, "I was afraid of that. Those points are both on the surface. I could leave about the top third of the settlement open, or give you a tight, winding path through the center. I suppose it depends on where you're expecting resistance to come from."
"Local garrison. A few hundred Militants and Warmonger units. Our force can probably take them, but not without significant damage to the station." Ducktalker explained, sending a ping to upload information on all guard stations which had been set up just for this day to Queenie's mindware. These people Groundbreaker had fallen in with had done their homework at least.
She re-ran the sim, with the new aim of generating a path that also excluded as many guard stations as possible. She cut it off and rubbed her forehead to cool down about fifteen seconds later. "I don't think we're likely to cut them off entirely, but direct exposure to guard stations should be about one-tenth on the longer path. I can't run a tactical simulation to tell you how many will breach the doors, or the best way to get the pilots through." She forwarded the sets she deemed most likely to lower response times, based on a rough order of magnitude estimate.
"We'll save the cut off for if things are definitely going to get violent, then." Ducktalker said, "Too many moving parts. You mentioned something about controlling communications?"
"That's right. I can take over internal or external communications for a full broadcast throughout the station, or the system. They should have no option but to regain control manually. If they're smart, they should be able to do that four to eight minutes after they realize what I'm doing. It's a physical connection, anyone present can be tapped in, and anyone can be routed in if they have an unbroken line of communication from outside. The intercom should be heard everywhere, and every ship in the system should pick up the external comms. As well as the Polysentience relays, not that I've been keeping up with them."
"We'll need to cut off external communication to the leyline network if possible. This will secure our escape with no troubles. We can do it electronically, but it will be immediately obvious." Ducktalker paused a few seconds, listening over the radio as some great shout of a crowd echoed through the tunnels around the two. "Security is getting worried."
"Let's pick up the pace, then. Do you want me to put on a radio show?" Groundbreaker hastened for the routing station.
"If you have something particular to send by radio, by all means." Ducktalker said, sounding a little distant, "Central broacasting stations are usually manned. Can you talk your way past the Codetalkers, or shall I deal with them?"
Groundbreaker chuckled. "I won't be using the broadcasting station, I'll cut in directly through the power lines. I never had the knack for using consoles."
It seemed appropriate that a Warmonger would be think of going through others, rather than bypassing them. "Alright," was all he had to add to it, as they came up to their destination. Groundbreaker removed the panel and stepped inside the wall. A few seconds later, she was online, afloat in a sea of chatter from all over Null and Void. The real world hadn't faded away, so much as she'd lost it instantly amidst the chaos. A little nudge and it would all be hers, at least until someone else found a hardware solution. First, she wanted a moment to get a sense of what was going on, putting up her filters to sort out the many redundant messages into more meaningful groups.
There were those who weren't aware what was going on, or didn't care. Few, given the motivations most had for coming here in the first place. They would learn, soon enough. There were those who were trying to regain control of a chaotic situation... those who thought they already had, and were waiting for the pin to drop. Most of all, there was excitement; the rabble who had been roused, and the mocking crowds who were taunting them, or egging them on. There was no way to distinguish the two, perhaps there was no distinction. It was now or never, sorting through so much data was too much of a strain. It was far from the first time Queenie had been glad she'd refused the Type IV 'upgrade' proposals, for her. She couldn't imagine how anyone could stay sane sorting through so much noise, no matter how great their hardware.
She flipped the switch, and it was back to business as usual, with just a little dizziness. After a moment to gather her thoughts and let the feedback subside, she began her speech.
"Good morning, all citizens! Or whatever time of day you prefer. Either way, we have a beautiful day ahead of us. The stars are shining, except for the local one, yet we can nonetheless expect a good harvest from within its ergosphere, this year. I know some of you have some concerns about this; rest assured, everything is under control. You see, we tried planting some spaceships there, but the conditions have not quite been suitable for growing new ones, so we're going to dig them up again to replant them in more fertile star systems, or perhaps just put them to good use." As she blathered, she transmitted wirelessly to the Iconoclasts' network, What do you want workers to do?[i/]
"We need the pilots to operate the tugs and retrieve the ships from the planet's surface." The Codebreaker's voice came through. "We've already got some Telemetry on the Graveyard to determine the most valuable hulks. See if you can transmit the targets through the station's own networks so it doesn't look as much like our orders. We want uncertainty in the locals, make it seem like their own are all for this at all turns."
Groundbreaker's broadcast continued unbroken, heard in every room with a working speaker. "All pilots please proceed to your tugs, all hands will be appreciated during today's adventure. Let's keep things orderly, please! If you can help get these ships' systems running, please head to the port to volunteer." Calling all wizards, Groundbreaker joked. "Some models may need customization and cosmetic updates, please be prepared with your submissions. Portside facilities will be running at capacity for the rest of the day. If you aren't working, boarding, or going somewhere, we ask that you remain well inside the station, away from the main corridors, or in the observation area. As resources are limited, we will aim first to recover these vessels, in descending order of precedence..."
The sound of a colossal amount of activity started to run through the station, a place that had been increasingly quiet and growing closer to abandonment each year since the dismantling of the IWL. All was active and thriving, with all that implied, for good or ill. A crowd moved from one end of the station to the other, while at the other end, an organised group was waiting to intercept them and put an end to their reclamation efforts.
"Security channel says they're starting a search for us." Ducktalker said sternly, "We can probably fool them once, saying we're looking for network faults but it won't work twice. Sham says the shuttle is ready for a way out, did you need any of your stuff retrieved for when we evac?"
This is all I've got, Groundbreaker reported back. Is it time for the music, then? "Everyone have an excellent day, and always remember the Middle Way!"
"Time for music, yes." Ducktalker gave their report, unholstering some strange custom-made weapon from underneath his straightjacket mantle. "They're starting to shore up defenses by the graveyard gate now. Crowd's moving along. If the Codebreaker can't talk them out of it there'll be a fight soon."
Groundbreaker had been thinking a bit too much in terms of how long it'd take their technicians to locate a solution, rather than how fast the security teams could lash out. She was not unprepared, though, and three seconds later, the intercomms were all playing some of her favourite muzak from the previous decade, while she was clambering out of the wall to recover her gear. "Time to evacuate? I'll be happy to skip our next stop, if we don't need to shut down the halls, after all."
"If the lockdown is our only other move, we should head for the shuttle. We can redeploy as needed if things go bad." Ducktalker said, taking a few steps ahead before waving a spindly cybernetic hand, silently beckoning the Groundbreaker to follow. She hurried off after him, toolkit in one arm, 'bot hive in the other.
Ducktalker began to set a strange pace through the tunnels of the station. One of his legs seemed to be a little longer than the other, giving him a limping gait that somehow gave him no real middle ground between going just a little too fast, and going just a little too slow. The sort of pace where you jog a few steps, then walk a few more only to fall behind again a few seconds later, something that wasn't really a problem until he started leading the way. Slipping through one corridor into another, and finally out into the more open operational decks made it easy to see how big an impact Groundbreaker's intervention with the comm systems had made. While a call from a strange returning ship might have been worthy of interest, an official-seeming edict from the station itself made it all seem much more legitimate.
There was a great press of bodies; onlookers gawking, well-wishers speaking to friends heading out to work, protestors shouting, and the odd rioter throwing debris, as if empty food containers could put an end to the whole enterprise if they collided with the right heads. Ducktalker's chosen path forced the two to snake through great hordes of uncertain intent to reach their destination... Yet, so far, it seemed Groundbreaker's words had ameliorated the anticipated chaos. There was less rioting, less infighting than had been predicted by those in the know. Whatever the Iconoclast crew had done to back up her speech--presumably including the deployment of gleaming Automata, painted silver-white, who were now interspersed throughout the crowd--there was mostly peace, and more than a few people were lining up to fill out applications at hovering gold-bright interfaces, projected by small Swifts drones. Recruiting stations?
Elbowing ahead through the crowds, Ducktalker stopped occasionally to peek his head up over the crowd, and take a look at the goings-on. The top of his head popped out of the wall of bodies like a periscope, a likely indication of some cybernetic augmentation to his neck. Still, just when everything had started to feel safe for Groundbreaker, the crack of gunfire broke through the calm, causing a wave of bodies to crouch low, each attempting to duck behind the next, and use others as cover from the source of the fire. Groundbreaker was no exception, as she crouched and backed away in a direction she guessed was behind Ducktalker. "We're, ah... going to try an alternate route, aren't we?" She started to plot one regardless, assuming the one with the gun was probably better suited for keeping an eye on anyone else with some other gun.
Ducktalker didn't disappoint. No sooner had gunfire begun than he had exactly determined what the situation was. The invite-only channel of the Iconoclasts was buzzing with activity, raw information being sent wirelessly to their entire crew. Groundbreaker recieved an update, highlighting the direct location of the conflict; a hovering red splotch in her vision indicating where combat was taking place. Simple enough: Avoid the red areas, and you'll be safe.
"Shuttle is located one deck below where the Mothership is docked. We're heading away from the fighting." Ducktalker said, talking just a little too fast. "Militants are inbound to provide escort to the evacuation point."
"Alright..." Groundbreaker took a deep breath, and smiled. "I'm going to run, if you don't mind." She spun on her heel, and dashed off at full speed, ready to push through the crowd if need be. Looking at the map overlaid on her vision, she used her existing data, with a sprinkling of guesses, to navigate a relatively safe path through the drifting and roving engagements. It wasn't anything like what she could do with full profiles of every combatant to suggest what their objectives were and the odds they had in their encounters, but this wasn't the Hive... and if it was, there wouldn't be guns on both sides. She maintained the thought in mind, with some effort: She just had to make it out. It wasn't her job to stop the fighting. Though, it certainly didn't feel that way.
As Groundbreaker took to a run, Ducktalker indeed didn't mind, and simply stayed behind, allowing their little pairing to split apart. Perhaps they figured that chances were they could get another engineer if this one ran into trouble, or maybe it was that they were now free to engage, without Groundbreaker. Still, Queenie was not travelling alone for long. A towering Militant series Automata, painted argent white, fell in behind her. It kept itself tall and ran quickly on her tail, keeping itself between the engineer and any gunfire.
For minutes, distant shots rang through the halls of the station every few seconds. She never seemed to become a target for foes armed or unarmed, however. The action was all behind her, the objective for both sides, the Graveyard gate. "What a waste," she complained of the 'defenders'. "What are they fighting for?"
She stopped just outside her objective to connect to the network, and find out what sort of clamor was now being tossed about. She knew something had gone rotten in the Free State, that was why she'd strived to keep the Shravana Hive pure. For guns to come out so quickly, seemingly over just a few thousand tons of unused scrap metal, though... that was too low. What had gone wrong?
The ebb and flow of information in the Polysentience surrounding Null and Void came harsh and fast; The feverish arguing of hundreds of thousands of minds watching all this could probably be described as the flame war of the year. Exactly what was going on out there was found in a thousand different clips shown of armed Null and Void locals firing on a crowd trying to force its way through a check point. Body counts, reports sent to Fleshmenders to account for the wounded... everything was skewed and bent with no solid facts to be found. Each different perspective was blown out of proportion in one way or another. What was certain was that there was two sides to this argument: One side wanted the history of the Free State to stand in monument for all to be able to visit and appreciate, the other side stating that old hulks had no inherent value, if they aren't used. That just visiting these things as a pilgrimage was a waste of time and resources for all involved.
If there was one thing about the Free State that was always true, it was that no one ever agreed on anything.
Groundbreaker grumbled and started to frown... then suddenly turned and stormed toward the White Lament, through the docking collar. "I need to download something from the Hivemind, but with my bandwidth it would take an hour or more. Will you help with this? I would also like central means to distribute it, if possible, though no force is necessary. The option should simply be visible."
The Lament, not visible through the windowless mass transport docks, proved to have an inside which well lived up to its name. It was mournfully silent inside, like a crypt, with no sign of an active crew. The darkened decks had lone lighting strips that flicked on and off as someone moved past, and the only sound was the faint metal-on-metal scuttle of junkers somewhere in the service tunnels, and the footsteps of Groundbreaker's Militant escort. Still, it was a Freespacer vessel; just speaking aloud was enough to be heard by something. Granted, a ghost ship like this gave the impression of being haunted by ghosts.
"We can provide you with a high bandwidth connection." Came a flat, mechanical sounding voice. Probably a relatively young SI, "State your intent."
After initially freezing in startlement, Groundbreaker spoke briskly. "I want the Great Ships of the Past virtual museum, with add-ons. You have guest clearance, even children can access this. The add-ons include the option to explore the hulks on Void, for the morbid, but this museum gives the ships a living memory which is far more worth visiting. I want this to be distributed, so that these fools can see real history instead of murdering their kin for the hopeless right to stare at an undisturbed junkyard."
The ship went silent for a moment, the Groundbreaker's voice faintly echoing about her as her suggestion was mulled over by something, or someone on the mothership.
"Well, I can do that one better..." A different voice this time, the Codebreaker she'd spoken with over the Polysentience, earlier. She didn't sound all that impressed, more like this was begrudging acceptance of a request. "You want to add some inspirational speech to it, or are we just pinging them all with the visions?"
Groundbreaker's eyes flickered briefly. The response she finally gave was not the one she preferred, and it hurt her pride slightly, but then, her pride probably needed it. "Better narrators than me have come before, and the best feature of this work is that it's politically neutral, and sanitary. Let it speak for itself. All I have to tell them is that remembering history is not about staring at ruins, it's knowing about what was built, and how it was used."
"Mm. Doing that." was all the response Groundbreaker got; positive, but spoken quickly enough to indicate that the Codetalker had likely not paid attention beyond the part about 'remembering history'. Efficiently timed such to convey that she'd heard the ship's newest guest, but didn't need to hear more from them. The Engineer was left to her thoughts for a moment, as whatever transmission was set up.
Groundbreaker squinted with one eye shut, not certain her point had gotten through. "...It is my understanding the main motivation for the violence is that many are associating the recovery of the old ships with the destruction of cultural materials. If they don't understand what those are..."
"I understand. It just takes concentration to re-cut virtual sense feeds, re-link the on-board leyline portal, and feed a connection to the Lighthouse we nabbed so we can do a live-feed broadcast to the entire Free State. This way everyone has the same experience at the same time. Even if they're just observing from the Polysentience." The Codebreaker said over the PA. It seemed she wasn't just addressing the station with the White Lament's communications equipment. She was broadcasting to everyone.
Sure enough, within a few moments of hearing this, Groundbreaker received a connection request for a streamed broadcast from a network labelled Freehold Lighthouse. She chose to accept; not that she hadn't spend dozens of hours looking into the museum as a part of committee work, but more to ensure the checksums and settings were all as they should have been. There was also some desire to avoid contradicting the Codebreaker, while she was in the midst of demonstrating what incredible power she wielded. The thought that it would be business as usual at home was a comforting one.
The connected feed was just as Groundbreaker had imagined it, with only the difference of it being presented as a mysterious message, which when accepted would dump all the relevant information about the Graveyard straight to the virtual memory of a Mindware implant. Rather than merely an invitation to experience the museum as an alternative to their present engagement, it was an invitation to a shared living memory, one that could give them the entire experience in a few seconds, but that could also last for a lifetime if they wanted it to. It was possible the Codebreaker thought that there was a potential for the people out there who wanted to stop and enjoy it at their own pace might be left vulnerable to gunfire, and had instead opted to go overkill with the use of an entire Lighthouse beacon.
Outside, things quieted, and gunfire became sparse. Shouts and screams died down. It had worked... The Groundbreaker's idea may have well saved the station, and certainly dozens of lives at the least. "Well. Good plan." The Codebreaker said finally, "I'd have just sent the Militants and Junkers to storm their lines by force, to be honest..."
Groundbreaker raised her eyebrows. "Even the mightiest bomb blanket pales in comparison to a defuse, I think... mind you, with means such as this at your disposal, I wonder if a 'bunnies in a meadow' meditation spot wouldn't have had the same effect. No empirical testing desired, though." Groundbreaker relaxed, and looked around. "I suppose I should get settled in, somewhere?"
There was a faint humming as a long string of lights illuminated the decks stretching out to the Groundbreaker's left.
"Follow the lights, it'll take you up to the living quarters." The PA said, seeming to echo through the ship. By the sounds of things, the two 'breakers were the only people on board, if they were talking this way.
"Very nice," Queenie commented. Walking around on a mothership for the first time in nine years felt a bit strange, but less uncomfortable than she would've thought, beforehand. Perhaps the emptiness helped, the sense of detachment, or even the lack of industry. It had little in common with home, and a good thing, too. Aside from being blasted to smithereens, the not-so-aptly named Island of Stability mothership had been a roiling disaster for so long as she'd known it. It was hard to remember for certain, now, but she recalled what had motivated her to become an engineer in the first place was the desire to create better environments to live and work in.
Groundbreaker hefted her things, and walked on down the string of lights, to her temporary new home.
The usual silence of the run-down Free State port at Null and Void was exceptionally tense today. Two weeks now it had been since the transmission came through, leaking through the Polysentience at all points like a sieve. The largest broadcast message independant of the reconstructed Great Lighthouse or Polysentience relay in nearly a decade. Simple strings of numbers trickling into near every Freespacer mothership, mining platform and flotilla in known space. The conspiracy nuts, and survivalists went wild overnight, trying to decipher meaning from it all. Three days in, and one widely distributed parsing patch later, it had been deciphered.
Simple substitution of numbers into chapter, part and verse, reaching into the depths of the Freespacer Bible 'The Art of Never Again' and translating a message:
Decried as sensationalist trash, a hoax, a threat, or any number of other things, the message recieved mixed reviews on all accounts. But it was undeniable the scouting reports that investigated the source found the collapsed Lighthouse on Freehold missing, the glassy earth shattered in the wake of whatever had reclaimed it and brought it back. "Reclamation Project", the message had said. And whether it was sent by a madman, or a visionary, the ambition to see something reclaimed after so much suffering and death was one tiny crack of light in the darkness that had befallen the Free State.
As such, Null and Void was busy today. As it had been for several weeks now. Gawkers, travellers, dreamers, and anyone out for a tiny view at whatever strange occurance had led to the rebirth of a Lighthouse had arrived. The old IWL garrison turned waystation and salvage yard had not been this busy in years.
>Observation deck level, Null Colony:
Activity on the ground, as a whole in this place was focused on the observation levels. The heavily reinforced levels with viewports, letting one look out and observe the barren expanse of Void where derelicts and inoperable ships were stored as monuments on the rocky surface trapped in the event horizon of the vast black hole above. Looking up here felt like looking into a blank hole in the universe from which nothing could escape or exist. The prevaling theory was that the dead outside, set to rest on these worlds were what was set to 'meet the living and together sail' again.
Talk was that this could be either the site of the biggest shitfest in recent memory, or it could alternately be the birth of a new Freespacer fleet... As such, the crowd was everything from gawkers and cynical onlookers out to see something stupid happen, to the far end of the spectrum, those who wanted to participate; Type II's eager to ply trades that required more resources than had been available for near a decade, former Communist factionistas, eager to return to the skies on a fleet which could house them, history buffs eager to see some of the ancient wrecks from up close.
Of course, not everyone was happy about this...
While people-watching could be superb as a leisure activity, the venerable Groundbreaker Eight-Four 4242-4286 had much else to compete for her attention. She'd come to the station with many others, not so much as a tourist, but as a technician, helping the colony ease the load on its networks and power conduits brought on by increased activity, and the sheer number of bodies now present. Though her knowledge of the workings was impeccable, and she'd made great improvements already, it was becoming easy to doubt her dedication to the work. At a glance, there was no way tell her apart from the cynics, and what little conversation she'd allowed to pass through the icewalls of her own personal network did nothing to dispel the illusion. She spent much time gazing at the viewports, always from afar, as if she were pretending to be less interested than she was.
The truth was simpler. She was instructing her robots to do the rewiring, replacements, and cable-laying for her, only turning back to the conduits when some task required more strength than a few thousand microbots could gather between them, or when some overly curious tourist came too close to going on an adventure in electrocution. Aside from when she first opened a new panel, these were uncommon.
She pictured the path from the current configuration to the ideal she'd designed in her head. To a Groundbreaker, the galaxy was a place filled with wonders that hadn't been built yet; all that was were pieces to be assembled or swept aside to create such things, as soon as a way could be imagined. For now, these attentions were focused on the power grid and network nodes that served as the backbone of communications across Null, that was her job. Though, once in a while, she saw what she saw, really, with no virtual overlays. She saw Freespacers, she saw Void, she saw the graveyard of ships, and she thought, What shall we make of these?
With the station's increased population, the pressure on the old and decaying systems seemed almost like managing a garden, to Groundbreaker: An act of creative destruction, where something old and spent had to be exchanged for something new and vital at every moment. Having little interest in keeping up with a social calendar, the constant fluctuation and change in the Freespacer network was a source of entertainment, not just work. Now and again, the systems would take a hit, something happening inside their matrices as the collective present on Null created some major event to cut through the tension of waiting. Whether it be a new Pathless Journey match held by showboating Warmongers seeking the crowd's approval, or an impromptu exchange of a colossal data trove, as this or that group traded whole archives of media, it paid to be ready for the unexpected, though 'the unexpected' seemed to occur at strangely regular intervals at this colony.
In the town she made home within the Shravana Hiveworld, schedules were made down to the hour and days in advance, it was true, but there were still cancellations, and attendance was not always predictable. Here, though, it was strange... Events which stressed the system happened almost at the beat of a metronome, a rare thing even within the strict order of the Hivemind's industrial works, let alone the casual disorder of touristic society on the Polysentience...
Still, pondering such a matter as that was the realm of Freethinkers. As an engineer, Groundbreaker had work to do, right in front of her. Maybe more than she thought, as there was a sudden tap on her shoulder, just rough enough to be felt through the layers of her contrapressure skinsuit.
"Excuse me." A voice, clearly mechanical, despite seemingly coming from a being more organic than machine. An organic woman, type unknown, with long brown hair streaked with premature grey. She was dressed in a newer model Voidwalker, with a long dustcloth layer, like a long coat and trousers. Their face seemed to be a cybernetic prosthesis, a blank metal plate with a single hole in the right side for an unblinking organic eye to peer through.
"You're on network maintenance detail, right?" The faceless woman asked with her crackling voice, "May We ask for your help a moment?"
Eight-Four turned toward her with a smile, somewhat distracted and unfocused by the effort to manage her robotic work team. Still, while she might have looked a bit out of it, she spoke as clearly and fluidly as ever. "We are somewhat short-staffed at the moment, I must warn you, but please do. Go on and ask. May I make your acquaintance?"
"Sham Nine-Nine. We're with station security for today." The mask-faced one introduced themself, "Sorry if this is a bother, but this will be quick. We just need you to do a quick installation at port so we have a back door in case something goes... awry. So to speak."
This suggestion seemed improbable. Groundbreaker's eyes finally focused on 'Sham'. "Perhaps I could make a few inquiries, unless you have more to tell me?" She diverted herself from her work to look up the name, though she didn't want to sound too critical of someone claiming to work for security. In her experience, that tended to lead to complications, and disappearances. "Is there something in particular at risk of going awry?"
"It's a wired router." Sham explained, "They want something by the guard posts at the graveyard gate so they can maintain access even if they shut down wireless connectivity."
Groundbreaker's search turned up little, but there was something. Without a full serial number, and occupational designation to attach to the name, the only thing a quick search could produce was Sham's contributions to the local Polysentience. A lot of chatter about organisational encoding, and quite a lot more talking about junk-model conversion kits. Some sort of hobby about turning scrap into miniature models? None of these went back more than a few months, but then again, Null and Void was more of a staging area than anything, these days. People left from here, or arrived to go somewhere. It was no longer the living space used by the IWL back in the high and heady rebellion days.
"And yes... with that message going around, the locals are trying to protect what they have from another clear-out like the Locksmiths did. There's a sort of... barricade line to where they've docked the distortion tugs, in case this thing goes wrong and turns to a full on raid," Sham went on.
Groundbreaker nodded, satisfied enough. "Very well, Sham Nine-Nine. You've an unfortunate name for serving station security, but helping the crew keep in touch seems harmless enough. Give me two minutes to close up, and recall my bots." Groundbreaker was no stranger to leaving tasks for someone else to finish for her, she almost had it down to a science. "You can call me Queenie Eight-Four, if you don't have my info, already."
"It is a pleasure to meet you." Sham said, with a little sort of... half-curtsy. Like a courtesy paid by someone who had never actually seen one. Were they playing on 'queenie?' None the less, she stopped and stared for both of those two minutes, with her one unblinking eye peering through her mask.
Groundbreaker was so absorbed in her task, she did not seem to notice much that wasn't under the floor. As her micro-scale construction bots swarmed into their hive-home, she lifted it up by the handle, slung it over her shoulder, and rather carelessly let the last few crawl up over her to reach her docking stations before she began marching to the guard posts, leaving her work sign up, and sending a message to notify other maintenance workers of what repairs the conduit needed before the deck could resume use for power retransfer.
"Fancy swarm you have there..." Sham said, starting the walk alongside Groundbreaker, "Technocrats?"
"Yes, indeed." Groundbreaker was of the opinion Type Vs weren't good for much, but they had provided her with some marvellous microbot templates. "I like to use them for digging, but they can handle electrical work just as well. They might not be hasty, but they're precise."
"Aren't you a technician? Why do you dig?" The security Sham seemed perplexed by this. Not unusual perhaps. Most people in the Free State had their assigned position as their name, after all.
"I'm an engineer," Groundbreaker began straightforwardly, but with that said, she decided to dance around the subject, in a quieter tone. "I've been underemployed for a while now. There's not much call for new mines and constructions, and ship engineers tend to be NAM-trained, these days. I just do what I can."
The two reached the security checkpoint, crammed into one of the heavy internal bulkheads leading to the Graveyard gate. Sham waved to the posted inspector, who seemed to be a heavily cybernetically-altered biological warmonger, wearing an old surplus military uniform from some group or other. Probably one of the locals, from how seriously they were taking this.
They tossed some little metal doodad at Sham, who in turn handed it over to the Groundbreaker: The router in question; some chunky bit of circuitry, a few years out of date from the looks of it. Poor parts was nothing new, though. "I might know some work you could ask for." Sham said off-handedly, guiding towards the wall panel in question.
Queenie rested her gear at the base of the wall, and set about unscrewing the wall panel. "I asked for the work I've been doing, though you've got me; I'm curious. What might this work be, and for whom?"
"Well, you'd have time to finish this work, for sure. It's nothing right now." Sham said, watching the work go on. "But if you like engineering big stuff, it's rather large-scale."
Groundbreaker laughed as she set down the panel, before sticking her head in to scan the workspace, and process it into a guide for the installation task. She stopped for a moment afterward to check that the router hadn't been modified much from the specs she'd been assuming. It hadn't, so far as she could tell. "'Rather large'? Is that in meters, kilometers, or astronomical units? It sounds as though not much has been decided yet; though I don't mind executive work, either."
"I would think that you would have many working under you at some point." Sham said, hunching down to sit on her heels. "And it would possibly be all three... How does rebuilding a Lighthouse sound? Perhaps two."
Groundbreaker began preparing the site for the hook-up, deploying her microbots again to speed things up by working in tandem with them. "You're not talking about the 'Bisen' models, are you? And I know you're not taking about wetships, that's none of my business. Tell me straight, do you mean beacon relays for the sector?"
"Yes. I mean the things we lost in the Genocide, causing mass death. We want them rebuilt." Sham said. "One lost one, put back together at last, the other reformatted to remove whatever the Yamataians plugged in when they rebuilt it."
Groundbreaker remained silent as she worked for over a full minute, before she decided to say something almost with a 'harrumph'. "I'm sure that would help... certain factions," she hedged with some reservation.
"We don't particularly see who it would hinder. But you can talk to us to ask specific questions if you have concerns." Sham's distorted voice sounded lower, and slighly more echo-ish. Like their method of speech was doing something strange to the sounds produced.
"Who is 'us'?" Groundbreaker asked the most obvious question, before picking up the router to start making the connections. "I've never done work without knowing who it was for, and I shant start now. It's not who it hinders that matters, but who it helps. 'The balance of power', and all that rot. For example, if it helps everyone who has ships, what about those left without them? I don't go much for making the rich richer."
"I'm simply here to facilitate. If that is a question you wish to convey to our collective at present, do a search for 'Neonvine.vri', it's where we're hosting the coordination for today." Sham said. "Although perhaps finish the router first..."
Groundbreaker let out a small giggle. "Hopefully, I'm not about to break the vow I made eight seconds ago." Once the router was attached strongly enough to be held in place, she set her 'bots to complete the connections, stepped back, and waited beside the panel, idly sorting through her tools, while she stole a moment to look up some more information. There were too many strange things going on, lately, and yet there'd been no overt events yet. Her habit of failing to stay on top of the goings-on about Null and Void was starting to show, and it wasn't pretty.
There didn't seem to be anything on Neonvine.vri other than a few small entries in local registries. A tiny server, with little activity. No mention of it. It seemed to be new, a week at most since it appeared on the Polysentience network of Null and Void. The only other bit of information was about the other guard who had been seen here, their own data trail was significantly longer than Sham's. They were called Ducktalker, and had seemingly worked here since the days when this had been a military barracks. They'd made a lot of very detailed and opinionated entries all across the local networks, most of them on inconsequential topics. The latest DJ ENtropic album ("Electrifying! My ears bled!"), complete reviews of why Simsensation Talent Star had been dropping in quality ("Season two was the peak, they should just stop!"), and favorite rankings in the Pathless Journey leaderboards ("Runnymeat is underrated.").
It was... not much to go on, maybe.
"I won't make you break a vow." Sham said, using a singular indentifier for themself for a change. "It's up to you."
Groundbreaker raised her eyebrows. "If it's up to me, I'd like you to tell me more. Hm, Ducktalker, are you also a part of this nameless 'us' that has all these big plans? Were they just as mysterious talking to you?" Groundbreaker looked up to smirk at them, while her work was busy doing itself.
"If you talk to everyone it makes more sense. Check the discussion room." Ducktalker said; or rather, broadcasted on a short range wavelength. They certainly didn't use their physical mouth to talk. "This has been set up for months now. Giving it all away at once is bad. At least from just one perspective."
Groundbreaker shook her head in bewilderment, and turned back to supervise the work in progress. "Your organization's name isn't eponymous with its complete manifesto, is it? Perhaps it's just too familiar? From my perspective, this level of secrecy is a bit comical, and I'm almost a caricature of obscurity, myself. I'm one of the few members of my organization with unqualified access to all information, perhaps I'm biased?" She was starting to sound slightly bitter, behind the facade of amusement.
Sham took a moment and tilted her head slightly. "Wow. Okay," she said. "We're called the Iconoclasts. At least for now. If you actually log into the .vri I told you about, you can literally talk with everyone active in it. Right now. It's not locked or anything. You can ask anything you want. You're assuming a lot on our beha--"
Queenie held up her index finger in a 'one moment' gesture without turning away from the wall, and Sham broke off.
"Yes, what?" Sham finished.
"You gave me a name. Sounds new, new is interesting. And we're out of comical secrecy territory, thank you. I'm almost done, I'll be with you in a moment." Her 'bots started streaming back to their hive, as they found the remaining tasks queued up to capacity. Queenie bent down to lift the wall panel with a grunt, it was a bit heavier than she was used to. "Sturdy hardware you've got here, I do hope we won't need it."
"Probably not." Ducktalker said with a small laugh punctuating his sentence.
"So I take it you're actually interested in the position?" Sham asked lackadaisically. At least in as much as their synthetic voice allowed it.
"So far, you've made it sound like you need a wizard, but I won't say that means a 'no'. Let's try some of that Q&A first, shall we? I have at least fifteen minutes, given the work I'm not doing, and I can always clear up more time if that's not enough. Big plans require big words and big mouths, after all, or so I've been told." She screwed the panel back in. "My legs don't come with an automatic setting, do you have a rest area in mind?"
Sham led Groundbreaker away from the checkpoint, signalled only by a 'come hither' hand motion. Leading the engineer through one tunnel heading deeper into the planet's crust, and winding in to one little side room, not far away. It looked like a break room, at best; a water cooler in the corner, a round table fashioned crudely from iron, and an odd assortment of chairs were the only furnishings. There were still playing cards and chips left out from the last occupants, but for now it was unoccupied.
"Choose a seat. Log in." Sham said, half invitation, half 'hurry-up-you-said-you-only-have-fifteen-minutes'.
Groundbreaker felt almost compelled to draw it out (and cancel her next job already), but slowing down seemed, ironically, too hasty, when she didn't know how things might play out.
"Yes'm." She sat in a chair, leaned back, and logged in, searching for Neonvine.vri, leaving her tools by the side of the table, and her backpack and 'bot hive on the seat beside her. The room seemed to fade away. As it did, another universe faded in.
Groundbreaker seemed to find herself on some sort of simulated island, with sand-like tiny glass pebbles of every color, including several which didn't actually exist; and crystal clear water, with luminous fish swimming about in it. A glance inland revealed a jungle of the eponymous Neon Vines, an intertwining, glowing tangle that stretched for as far as the horizon dared to exist. But, one moment was all it took to have the new guest whisked away from her point of arrival. No sooner would the .vri realm come into being, than the Groundbreaker was 'teleported' by admin input into the place where their meeting was being held.
It looked like some forest clearing, in the jungles of solid light. Bare ground surrounded by a mass of those vines, twisting up skywards, and giving the whole place a feel of being a little too enclosed. Many different Polysentience avatars here, some faded out in color as their respective physical bodies attended to something. Those who had their attention on the virtual realm all turned to the newcomer.
"The engineer?" asked one, a faintly feminine figure, towering in height, swathed in white robes, and wearing dawnlight as a crown.
Another, a indistinct humanoid outline with a one-eyed mask, simply nodded in confirmation. "We should make this quick."
Groundbreaker's avatar hadn't been updated since the last 'true edit' nine years earlier, and perhaps she didn't have much motivation to keep up with it. Aside from being about an inch taller than her present meat-world form, with an extra fifteen pounds of muscle, the outdated look included her natural eyes and ears, and grey skin patterned with blue-green lines, rather than the new silvery finish. It also had a good deal more hair volume, though her garb was less stylish, and certainly out of fashion. "Yes, Groundbreaker 84-4242-4286 at your service. I must admit, I'm first to carry this tradename."
"We are all about new things and firsts." The figure in white said, sounding somewhat distracted. "I am Codebreaker Two-Three; something like a leader. This is my brainchild, certainly. We need an engineer who can work with Polysentience infrastructure, shipbuilding, and colonial construction. We can compensate you for your time."
It seemed she was cutting this quite close, or at least taking the 'make it quick' suggestion to heart.
Groundbreaker crossed her arms and nodded, only becoming aware of her outdated avatar while doing so. She quickly, if frenetically refocused from that distraction, and left her arms at her sides again. "It seems you've chosen the right tool. I've spent half my life working for the Shravana Hive. I should tell you that not only am I still a member, I am part of its highest council, albeit semi-retired. My caveat, then, is that any work I do must benefit those in my care, in some way. I am at this station to observe and build alliances, not merely to alleviate boredom. Though, there is that. I grow a bit tetchy after 1800 hours of mining fleet optimizations."
"Who are you hoping to build alliances with?" Another avatar had chimed in; this one little more than a floating pair of eyes and grinning mouth over a tightly-clasped full body straight-jacket.
"Warmonger Three-Oh." The Codebreaker introduced the newcomer. "Ducktalker. You have met."
"Oh, yes. Very 'you'," Groundbreaker complimented on the avatar, before answering. "Colonials. Hackers. Even those in bed with Nepleslians. We're not picky, though clearly, we still have to avoid capitalists and libertarians. Though I can't speak for everyone I work with, stability is important to me, so I do prefer long-term plans to get-rich-quick schemes. At the same time, I expect more out of life than mining, refining, and industry, thus I only work with the most liberal technocrats."
"We are no technocrats." The Codebreaker said, "We are, however, in command of a colonisation and uplifting program. We have contacts within the Hacker Cult, and Astral Locksmiths. And we also have some dealings with the man who made the machines which once ran Nepleslia, before its collapse into dictatorship, masquerading as democracy. We are presently working towards ensuring the safety of multiple species, in our own way. Some more direct than others."
"Uplifting... That is new. And most peculiar, I wonder where the resources are coming from. Mere curiosity, though, not important. It is good to have allies with allies. Ours tend to align more with the Freespacer groups yours oppose. It seems strange for a clandestine group to double as a benevolent interstellar federation, at least to me." Groundbreaker spoke with a note of incredulity.
"Federation?" Codebreaker laughed the word. "Our goal is not to rule, or to govern. Being in charge is not our long term goal. A means to an end. We work towards a better future, knowing full well that we will some day have to move on and let others choose their own fates. We oppose none. What we do is to challenge preconceptions. We come to Null and Void to challenge the idea that dead ships are more valuable as a mournful relic, instead of being refitted, and allowing the living to do something practical. You can do your clandestine whatever. We have no rights to stop you, so long as you don't try and stop what we do."
Groundbreaker, looking a bit distracted, waved her arm dismissively and said with a bit of a slur, "I haven't done any 'clandestine whatever' in half a decade. Well, aside from rigging this station. This is all a bit lofty for me, but I don't really mind what you're doing, it just sounds to me like you must be running the most monumental budget deficit this side of the galaxy.
"But," she holds up both hands and restores some of her clarity and poise, "I haven't seen the figures, and in the worst case, I can help you with those. If you're behind this big heist, I wonder how you're planning to do it--not the physics, nor the logistics, the tactics you plan to use. My intention would be to ensure this goes peacefully."
"We're actually running at a surplus. Uplifting is more profitable than you would think," Codebreaker informed. "Although I envision that refitting these ships will not come cheap... Regardless. We spread word with the sister lighthouse that we are coming here to gather a crowd. You installed a back door which we can exploit by having Ducktalker install a wireless-capable component to the router, which will give us control of any system they lock down to wired-only connections once we start the digital attack. We turn up, make a scene. Get everyone to move over and assist with the recovery. We approached many of the locals to see who was willing, hence how we have Sham and Ducktalker. Some of the pilots as well. From there it all rides on whether the locals are willing to open fire on unarmed workers hoping to rebuild the Free State.
"Nothing without risk. Of course. If they wish to start this, we are able to finish it, though we might regret it... From there we just... Get the ships out and start rebuilding."
Groundbreaker rubbed her chin for a moment in thought, slightly longer than she would if not being ironic. "Well... I suppose there's nothing wrong with quadruple redundancy. I've installed backdoor access to internal and external comms, and atmospheric control. I can also trip the emergency blast doors, though I can't override them. It's good that I'm not working against you, as it seems I'd need several more months of mustering, but perhaps I can help with more than just lighthouses. I expect I'll have trouble getting out of here, if things go awry."
"No. The escape route is quite secure, as long as the Astral Locksmiths do not intervene." The Codetalker's head twisted to the side a little, as if thinking on it extra hard to be certain, "Even then, there is little they could do to stop us escaping. Should things go awry, you will board Sham's shuttle, and leave via the Leyline portal we are bringing with us. We do not leave our own behind, if we can prevent such happening. I suggest you pack if you have anything you wish to bring, as we will be arriving in thirty four minutes."
"Really?" Groundbreaker tapped her temple a few times. "Well, that might take the fun out of rewiring the air conditioning... I suppose I could rush, nothing good comes from hot and stuffy crowds. You just want a quick escape from me, then?"
"I want to see you unharmed after all this." The Codebreaker said gravely, "Whether we are successful or not. If you can help, I will trust you to do so at your own discretion. But if you do not wish to risk yourself, I can accept that."
"Hmph, you're not joking?" Queenie planted her hands on her hips, and shook her head at the neon groundcover. "I have, at most, twenty months to live. I'll act if there's any chance it will prevent violence from breaking out. Or put a damper on it, if it does."
"Very good. While we have that much time until arrival, we can plausibly stall for time until you are ready with whatever you are capable of." Codebreaker said, smiling a smile that had... way too many teeth under that dawnlight. "How much time would you need? And do you need electronic support over the network?"
Groundbreaker straightened herself up. "Don't delay on my account. If I rush, I can finish my next task and still be in position to act, it's hardwired. I could use an escort, if I need to rush between positions, and yes, I could use some support if security sees what I'm doing, and locks me in. I expect you'll be keeping them busy, at least."
"Ducktalker can escort you." The blank-faced avatar that was probably Sham indicated, "He is on security detail, so you can remain inconspicuous for a time. If things go quite wrong, we will have Militant units ready to exfiltrate you."
"Good." Queenie nodded to Ducktalker, then went on. "They still won't let me use the big robots, I can't imagine why. If that's all, I may as well get started fixing the air conditioning."
"Very good. We will patch you in to our communications." Sham added, before the lot of them seemed to gray out in the virtual realm. Much of the collective seeming to go back to their tasks. Groundbreaker logged out of the VR space. Even though her body was three-fourths closer to death from old age, she was still eager to have an excuse to run, however undignified it was not to have time to walk in her schedule. Today's justification was that if she didn't hurry, she wouldn't be able to finish her last job of the day before her whole schedule was awash with cancellations and evacuation orders. Hopefully, she'd still be in the mood for running by the time the latter arrived.
>Some time Later:
With all eyes upon... whatever was going on right now, the Groundbreaker's work actually went surprisingly smoothly. Outside, in every hall, and every server node, it seemed that something was going on, some spectacle. These people who had contacted Groundbreaker must have been putting on a pageant elsewhere in the station. Aside from the sound of people running around, and shouting, there hadn't been anyone to get in the way. But today's events were well underway. A quick knock on the door of the air filtration maintenance room was followed by the synthesized voice of Ducktalker.
"They've arrived at the station. Are you ready?"
Groundbreaker hefted her gear again, and approached the door. "Personally, yes. I don't have any pranks to pull here, but everyone crowding around the exits ought to feel nice and cool around this hour, while the bunkers might be a little uncomfortably warm. So long as I'm in touch with what's going on, I can take over the comms to shut down the bad vibes, and maybe bring out some encouragement. If that doesn't work out, we can try my emergency protocol."
"What's your emergency protocol?" Ducktalker asked. He was standing outside, holding the lever to keep the heavy overbuilt door open. The sort of space station equivalent of holding a door open for a lady; maybe appropriate for a Queenie. With a more than passing glance, up close and in person he was actually less sturdy than most Warmongers. It was even unusual that there was a biological warmonger period, as most were automata purpose built. He was dressed in the same surplus military uniform, but it was now topped with a straightjacket similar to the one on his polysentience avatar; slung around his shoulders like a short cape, and studded with what looked like military medals. Some of them Star Army. Maybe it made more sense that he was former IWL, as his data trail had placed him here for a long time.
"We rush down a level to trigger a lockdown, much as if the place was under direct spaceborne attack," Groundbreaker announced straightforwardly, before continuing in a much lighter tone, "It's not yet worked out beyond 'step one', so 'step two' might be to run, hide, and/or hope for a rescue."
"Any way you can lock down the place save for a few set paths through the station?" Ducktalker asked after a momentary pause, like he was recieving some information wirelessly. "It could be our strongest move if things go sour."
"Possibly. That essentially means I'll have to protect those paths from my trick. It might be a bit scattershot. If I overcomplicate this, the timing will fail and most, if not all of the doors will stay open. Ideally, we'd exclude closely-linked sub-systems." She referenced her map as she walked on. "What sort of path did you have in mind?"
"Security reports a crowd around the max capability docks. The Mothership has connected to the station, and started the rabble rousing." Ducktalker reported, keeping step a single pace behind the Groundbreaker. "We'll need a clear path for the pilots we hired to get from there to the graveyard gate, and protect the crowds. Everything after that is set to happen outside the station itself."
Groundbreaker set up the simulation, and put it through a few hundred random tests, stopping to review the few that seemed to meet this need, before saying, "I was afraid of that. Those points are both on the surface. I could leave about the top third of the settlement open, or give you a tight, winding path through the center. I suppose it depends on where you're expecting resistance to come from."
"Local garrison. A few hundred Militants and Warmonger units. Our force can probably take them, but not without significant damage to the station." Ducktalker explained, sending a ping to upload information on all guard stations which had been set up just for this day to Queenie's mindware. These people Groundbreaker had fallen in with had done their homework at least.
She re-ran the sim, with the new aim of generating a path that also excluded as many guard stations as possible. She cut it off and rubbed her forehead to cool down about fifteen seconds later. "I don't think we're likely to cut them off entirely, but direct exposure to guard stations should be about one-tenth on the longer path. I can't run a tactical simulation to tell you how many will breach the doors, or the best way to get the pilots through." She forwarded the sets she deemed most likely to lower response times, based on a rough order of magnitude estimate.
"We'll save the cut off for if things are definitely going to get violent, then." Ducktalker said, "Too many moving parts. You mentioned something about controlling communications?"
"That's right. I can take over internal or external communications for a full broadcast throughout the station, or the system. They should have no option but to regain control manually. If they're smart, they should be able to do that four to eight minutes after they realize what I'm doing. It's a physical connection, anyone present can be tapped in, and anyone can be routed in if they have an unbroken line of communication from outside. The intercom should be heard everywhere, and every ship in the system should pick up the external comms. As well as the Polysentience relays, not that I've been keeping up with them."
"We'll need to cut off external communication to the leyline network if possible. This will secure our escape with no troubles. We can do it electronically, but it will be immediately obvious." Ducktalker paused a few seconds, listening over the radio as some great shout of a crowd echoed through the tunnels around the two. "Security is getting worried."
"Let's pick up the pace, then. Do you want me to put on a radio show?" Groundbreaker hastened for the routing station.
"If you have something particular to send by radio, by all means." Ducktalker said, sounding a little distant, "Central broacasting stations are usually manned. Can you talk your way past the Codetalkers, or shall I deal with them?"
Groundbreaker chuckled. "I won't be using the broadcasting station, I'll cut in directly through the power lines. I never had the knack for using consoles."
It seemed appropriate that a Warmonger would be think of going through others, rather than bypassing them. "Alright," was all he had to add to it, as they came up to their destination. Groundbreaker removed the panel and stepped inside the wall. A few seconds later, she was online, afloat in a sea of chatter from all over Null and Void. The real world hadn't faded away, so much as she'd lost it instantly amidst the chaos. A little nudge and it would all be hers, at least until someone else found a hardware solution. First, she wanted a moment to get a sense of what was going on, putting up her filters to sort out the many redundant messages into more meaningful groups.
There were those who weren't aware what was going on, or didn't care. Few, given the motivations most had for coming here in the first place. They would learn, soon enough. There were those who were trying to regain control of a chaotic situation... those who thought they already had, and were waiting for the pin to drop. Most of all, there was excitement; the rabble who had been roused, and the mocking crowds who were taunting them, or egging them on. There was no way to distinguish the two, perhaps there was no distinction. It was now or never, sorting through so much data was too much of a strain. It was far from the first time Queenie had been glad she'd refused the Type IV 'upgrade' proposals, for her. She couldn't imagine how anyone could stay sane sorting through so much noise, no matter how great their hardware.
She flipped the switch, and it was back to business as usual, with just a little dizziness. After a moment to gather her thoughts and let the feedback subside, she began her speech.
"Good morning, all citizens! Or whatever time of day you prefer. Either way, we have a beautiful day ahead of us. The stars are shining, except for the local one, yet we can nonetheless expect a good harvest from within its ergosphere, this year. I know some of you have some concerns about this; rest assured, everything is under control. You see, we tried planting some spaceships there, but the conditions have not quite been suitable for growing new ones, so we're going to dig them up again to replant them in more fertile star systems, or perhaps just put them to good use." As she blathered, she transmitted wirelessly to the Iconoclasts' network, What do you want workers to do?[i/]
"We need the pilots to operate the tugs and retrieve the ships from the planet's surface." The Codebreaker's voice came through. "We've already got some Telemetry on the Graveyard to determine the most valuable hulks. See if you can transmit the targets through the station's own networks so it doesn't look as much like our orders. We want uncertainty in the locals, make it seem like their own are all for this at all turns."
Groundbreaker's broadcast continued unbroken, heard in every room with a working speaker. "All pilots please proceed to your tugs, all hands will be appreciated during today's adventure. Let's keep things orderly, please! If you can help get these ships' systems running, please head to the port to volunteer." Calling all wizards, Groundbreaker joked. "Some models may need customization and cosmetic updates, please be prepared with your submissions. Portside facilities will be running at capacity for the rest of the day. If you aren't working, boarding, or going somewhere, we ask that you remain well inside the station, away from the main corridors, or in the observation area. As resources are limited, we will aim first to recover these vessels, in descending order of precedence..."
The sound of a colossal amount of activity started to run through the station, a place that had been increasingly quiet and growing closer to abandonment each year since the dismantling of the IWL. All was active and thriving, with all that implied, for good or ill. A crowd moved from one end of the station to the other, while at the other end, an organised group was waiting to intercept them and put an end to their reclamation efforts.
"Security channel says they're starting a search for us." Ducktalker said sternly, "We can probably fool them once, saying we're looking for network faults but it won't work twice. Sham says the shuttle is ready for a way out, did you need any of your stuff retrieved for when we evac?"
This is all I've got, Groundbreaker reported back. Is it time for the music, then? "Everyone have an excellent day, and always remember the Middle Way!"
"Time for music, yes." Ducktalker gave their report, unholstering some strange custom-made weapon from underneath his straightjacket mantle. "They're starting to shore up defenses by the graveyard gate now. Crowd's moving along. If the Codebreaker can't talk them out of it there'll be a fight soon."
Groundbreaker had been thinking a bit too much in terms of how long it'd take their technicians to locate a solution, rather than how fast the security teams could lash out. She was not unprepared, though, and three seconds later, the intercomms were all playing some of her favourite muzak from the previous decade, while she was clambering out of the wall to recover her gear. "Time to evacuate? I'll be happy to skip our next stop, if we don't need to shut down the halls, after all."
"If the lockdown is our only other move, we should head for the shuttle. We can redeploy as needed if things go bad." Ducktalker said, taking a few steps ahead before waving a spindly cybernetic hand, silently beckoning the Groundbreaker to follow. She hurried off after him, toolkit in one arm, 'bot hive in the other.
Ducktalker began to set a strange pace through the tunnels of the station. One of his legs seemed to be a little longer than the other, giving him a limping gait that somehow gave him no real middle ground between going just a little too fast, and going just a little too slow. The sort of pace where you jog a few steps, then walk a few more only to fall behind again a few seconds later, something that wasn't really a problem until he started leading the way. Slipping through one corridor into another, and finally out into the more open operational decks made it easy to see how big an impact Groundbreaker's intervention with the comm systems had made. While a call from a strange returning ship might have been worthy of interest, an official-seeming edict from the station itself made it all seem much more legitimate.
There was a great press of bodies; onlookers gawking, well-wishers speaking to friends heading out to work, protestors shouting, and the odd rioter throwing debris, as if empty food containers could put an end to the whole enterprise if they collided with the right heads. Ducktalker's chosen path forced the two to snake through great hordes of uncertain intent to reach their destination... Yet, so far, it seemed Groundbreaker's words had ameliorated the anticipated chaos. There was less rioting, less infighting than had been predicted by those in the know. Whatever the Iconoclast crew had done to back up her speech--presumably including the deployment of gleaming Automata, painted silver-white, who were now interspersed throughout the crowd--there was mostly peace, and more than a few people were lining up to fill out applications at hovering gold-bright interfaces, projected by small Swifts drones. Recruiting stations?
Elbowing ahead through the crowds, Ducktalker stopped occasionally to peek his head up over the crowd, and take a look at the goings-on. The top of his head popped out of the wall of bodies like a periscope, a likely indication of some cybernetic augmentation to his neck. Still, just when everything had started to feel safe for Groundbreaker, the crack of gunfire broke through the calm, causing a wave of bodies to crouch low, each attempting to duck behind the next, and use others as cover from the source of the fire. Groundbreaker was no exception, as she crouched and backed away in a direction she guessed was behind Ducktalker. "We're, ah... going to try an alternate route, aren't we?" She started to plot one regardless, assuming the one with the gun was probably better suited for keeping an eye on anyone else with some other gun.
Ducktalker didn't disappoint. No sooner had gunfire begun than he had exactly determined what the situation was. The invite-only channel of the Iconoclasts was buzzing with activity, raw information being sent wirelessly to their entire crew. Groundbreaker recieved an update, highlighting the direct location of the conflict; a hovering red splotch in her vision indicating where combat was taking place. Simple enough: Avoid the red areas, and you'll be safe.
"Shuttle is located one deck below where the Mothership is docked. We're heading away from the fighting." Ducktalker said, talking just a little too fast. "Militants are inbound to provide escort to the evacuation point."
"Alright..." Groundbreaker took a deep breath, and smiled. "I'm going to run, if you don't mind." She spun on her heel, and dashed off at full speed, ready to push through the crowd if need be. Looking at the map overlaid on her vision, she used her existing data, with a sprinkling of guesses, to navigate a relatively safe path through the drifting and roving engagements. It wasn't anything like what she could do with full profiles of every combatant to suggest what their objectives were and the odds they had in their encounters, but this wasn't the Hive... and if it was, there wouldn't be guns on both sides. She maintained the thought in mind, with some effort: She just had to make it out. It wasn't her job to stop the fighting. Though, it certainly didn't feel that way.
As Groundbreaker took to a run, Ducktalker indeed didn't mind, and simply stayed behind, allowing their little pairing to split apart. Perhaps they figured that chances were they could get another engineer if this one ran into trouble, or maybe it was that they were now free to engage, without Groundbreaker. Still, Queenie was not travelling alone for long. A towering Militant series Automata, painted argent white, fell in behind her. It kept itself tall and ran quickly on her tail, keeping itself between the engineer and any gunfire.
For minutes, distant shots rang through the halls of the station every few seconds. She never seemed to become a target for foes armed or unarmed, however. The action was all behind her, the objective for both sides, the Graveyard gate. "What a waste," she complained of the 'defenders'. "What are they fighting for?"
She stopped just outside her objective to connect to the network, and find out what sort of clamor was now being tossed about. She knew something had gone rotten in the Free State, that was why she'd strived to keep the Shravana Hive pure. For guns to come out so quickly, seemingly over just a few thousand tons of unused scrap metal, though... that was too low. What had gone wrong?
The ebb and flow of information in the Polysentience surrounding Null and Void came harsh and fast; The feverish arguing of hundreds of thousands of minds watching all this could probably be described as the flame war of the year. Exactly what was going on out there was found in a thousand different clips shown of armed Null and Void locals firing on a crowd trying to force its way through a check point. Body counts, reports sent to Fleshmenders to account for the wounded... everything was skewed and bent with no solid facts to be found. Each different perspective was blown out of proportion in one way or another. What was certain was that there was two sides to this argument: One side wanted the history of the Free State to stand in monument for all to be able to visit and appreciate, the other side stating that old hulks had no inherent value, if they aren't used. That just visiting these things as a pilgrimage was a waste of time and resources for all involved.
If there was one thing about the Free State that was always true, it was that no one ever agreed on anything.
Groundbreaker grumbled and started to frown... then suddenly turned and stormed toward the White Lament, through the docking collar. "I need to download something from the Hivemind, but with my bandwidth it would take an hour or more. Will you help with this? I would also like central means to distribute it, if possible, though no force is necessary. The option should simply be visible."
The Lament, not visible through the windowless mass transport docks, proved to have an inside which well lived up to its name. It was mournfully silent inside, like a crypt, with no sign of an active crew. The darkened decks had lone lighting strips that flicked on and off as someone moved past, and the only sound was the faint metal-on-metal scuttle of junkers somewhere in the service tunnels, and the footsteps of Groundbreaker's Militant escort. Still, it was a Freespacer vessel; just speaking aloud was enough to be heard by something. Granted, a ghost ship like this gave the impression of being haunted by ghosts.
"We can provide you with a high bandwidth connection." Came a flat, mechanical sounding voice. Probably a relatively young SI, "State your intent."
After initially freezing in startlement, Groundbreaker spoke briskly. "I want the Great Ships of the Past virtual museum, with add-ons. You have guest clearance, even children can access this. The add-ons include the option to explore the hulks on Void, for the morbid, but this museum gives the ships a living memory which is far more worth visiting. I want this to be distributed, so that these fools can see real history instead of murdering their kin for the hopeless right to stare at an undisturbed junkyard."
The ship went silent for a moment, the Groundbreaker's voice faintly echoing about her as her suggestion was mulled over by something, or someone on the mothership.
"Well, I can do that one better..." A different voice this time, the Codebreaker she'd spoken with over the Polysentience, earlier. She didn't sound all that impressed, more like this was begrudging acceptance of a request. "You want to add some inspirational speech to it, or are we just pinging them all with the visions?"
Groundbreaker's eyes flickered briefly. The response she finally gave was not the one she preferred, and it hurt her pride slightly, but then, her pride probably needed it. "Better narrators than me have come before, and the best feature of this work is that it's politically neutral, and sanitary. Let it speak for itself. All I have to tell them is that remembering history is not about staring at ruins, it's knowing about what was built, and how it was used."
"Mm. Doing that." was all the response Groundbreaker got; positive, but spoken quickly enough to indicate that the Codetalker had likely not paid attention beyond the part about 'remembering history'. Efficiently timed such to convey that she'd heard the ship's newest guest, but didn't need to hear more from them. The Engineer was left to her thoughts for a moment, as whatever transmission was set up.
Groundbreaker squinted with one eye shut, not certain her point had gotten through. "...It is my understanding the main motivation for the violence is that many are associating the recovery of the old ships with the destruction of cultural materials. If they don't understand what those are..."
"I understand. It just takes concentration to re-cut virtual sense feeds, re-link the on-board leyline portal, and feed a connection to the Lighthouse we nabbed so we can do a live-feed broadcast to the entire Free State. This way everyone has the same experience at the same time. Even if they're just observing from the Polysentience." The Codebreaker said over the PA. It seemed she wasn't just addressing the station with the White Lament's communications equipment. She was broadcasting to everyone.
Sure enough, within a few moments of hearing this, Groundbreaker received a connection request for a streamed broadcast from a network labelled Freehold Lighthouse. She chose to accept; not that she hadn't spend dozens of hours looking into the museum as a part of committee work, but more to ensure the checksums and settings were all as they should have been. There was also some desire to avoid contradicting the Codebreaker, while she was in the midst of demonstrating what incredible power she wielded. The thought that it would be business as usual at home was a comforting one.
The connected feed was just as Groundbreaker had imagined it, with only the difference of it being presented as a mysterious message, which when accepted would dump all the relevant information about the Graveyard straight to the virtual memory of a Mindware implant. Rather than merely an invitation to experience the museum as an alternative to their present engagement, it was an invitation to a shared living memory, one that could give them the entire experience in a few seconds, but that could also last for a lifetime if they wanted it to. It was possible the Codebreaker thought that there was a potential for the people out there who wanted to stop and enjoy it at their own pace might be left vulnerable to gunfire, and had instead opted to go overkill with the use of an entire Lighthouse beacon.
Outside, things quieted, and gunfire became sparse. Shouts and screams died down. It had worked... The Groundbreaker's idea may have well saved the station, and certainly dozens of lives at the least. "Well. Good plan." The Codebreaker said finally, "I'd have just sent the Militants and Junkers to storm their lines by force, to be honest..."
Groundbreaker raised her eyebrows. "Even the mightiest bomb blanket pales in comparison to a defuse, I think... mind you, with means such as this at your disposal, I wonder if a 'bunnies in a meadow' meditation spot wouldn't have had the same effect. No empirical testing desired, though." Groundbreaker relaxed, and looked around. "I suppose I should get settled in, somewhere?"
There was a faint humming as a long string of lights illuminated the decks stretching out to the Groundbreaker's left.
"Follow the lights, it'll take you up to the living quarters." The PA said, seeming to echo through the ship. By the sounds of things, the two 'breakers were the only people on board, if they were talking this way.
"Very nice," Queenie commented. Walking around on a mothership for the first time in nine years felt a bit strange, but less uncomfortable than she would've thought, beforehand. Perhaps the emptiness helped, the sense of detachment, or even the lack of industry. It had little in common with home, and a good thing, too. Aside from being blasted to smithereens, the not-so-aptly named Island of Stability mothership had been a roiling disaster for so long as she'd known it. It was hard to remember for certain, now, but she recalled what had motivated her to become an engineer in the first place was the desire to create better environments to live and work in.
Groundbreaker hefted her things, and walked on down the string of lights, to her temporary new home.
