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RP: 188604 Unseen Forces

P

Primitive Polygon

Planet 188604 Orbit,
Osman City Approach Vector,
1800 hours

The midday sun struck the metal of several dozen silver hulls as they streaked out from the planet's shadow, now skirting the atmosphere and creating a series of brilliant orange lines. Spacer craft, small signatures that beguiled the vessels true internal armaments...

Wire Guided, they said they were. But all of the automated approach warnings had been ignored.

Just spacers being spacers?

Throne of Brass

Workers were still piling into the complex in great numbers, bringing along their families and friends in complete disregard of any official organisation standards Lycosidae would have liked to instate. The mossy fields of the vast concourse had become a huge camping ground practically resembling a refugee camp already, with more than three thousand people suddenly just crawling their way out of the woodwork. That wasn't even the official full roster of employees, but the facility just plain wasn't designed to hold this many people turning up at once.

Junkers were used for crowd control and putting people into lines. Fortunately, native superstitions were still strong enough that the offworlder machines were respected. Deathcrawlers ended up being used mostly for protecting facility access hatches, as well as keeping people away from the giant kilometre-wide microwave antenna ring that was constantly buzzing away.

Command & Networking Section, Below The Maker's Soul, Throne Of Brass

"-Linelayer Ajax, what's the condition of those nomads?-" Lyco squawked over the poly, monitoring ten things at once with their mind's eye. Diagrams, component listings, employee rosters, active vocal connections, Junker coordination programs. Only way to manage it all without lag was to be physically wired into their control chair, with a loom of long cables and adaptors spouting from the back of the woman's fire-haired head. "-We need air support. The Lingering Suspicion has baby nukes and a red mercury, doesn't it?... An airlift for the experimental parts at the Altar would probably be a good idea, too, see if you can ge-....-"

Suddenly, 404 errors. Thousands of them, all at once, streaming and cascading like a waterfall of white noise.

Lyco was left just staring at the real world control centre, which didn't even have actual screens to announce the internal dilemma. Nothing but a hexagon of dimly orange lit brass panelled walls, and the thundering unrest of thousands of angry locals above...

What the maker just happened? The computer system here was huge, probably the biggest mainframe on the planet other than the Strat-ops! It doesn't just break down!
 
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