Re: The Glorious Championship! [S3G5] [Round Two: The Kestalvian Rainforest]
09-20-2011, 10:59 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.
Despite the power surge caused by AMP’s interference (which we can’t do anything without sacrificing most of our sensory ability; sorry High Admiral, we’ll figure something out), the Hedonist’s round transition still managed to come through loud and clear. A full system diagnostic revealed that, though not much had been damaged, sustained contact with the mobile processor would probably not be a good idea.
LeBeau had been scouring the archives for anything on Kestalvia, but couldn’t find very much. “There are a couple of references to expeditions to the Kestal system in late human extrasolar precontact history, but they had a war with the Sautanai shortly thereafter and records are spotty at best. They might not even be talking about this system, but the name would fit the language. We’ll keep looking; I’m sure we must have something on this planet…”
Captain Quirrinal leaned over towards Itzel. “How do we know we’re even in our own universe, Admiral? The Library’s time shouldn’t be spent on some… wild goose chase.”
“I know that, Fassil. I’m assuming that moving within a universe, even if through time, would be easier than moving between entire universes. It would make finding compatible physics much easier, and our host doesn’t strike me as one to pass up shortcuts.”
The Captain stood up and stretched his wings, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll see how Terrence is coming along with our… defensive capabilities.”
Itzel nodded, returning her attention to the various data feeds constantly streaming through her mind. Most of it was mundane – Anachronic Field fuel efficiency was up 46.1%, experimentation with other forms of temporal manipulation on small scales was well underway; total energy output down 5.07% due to scheduled maintenance on Generator 2, raised output on 4, 5, and 7 to compensate; outer hull density tested to 350% standard with minimal signs of stress, testing to 400% scheduled in 1 minute, current estimates set 675% as maximum safe limit – but one point in particular piqued her interest.
“Doctor Ameretat?”
Chief Medical Officer Sithembil Ameretat twitched her tail beckoningly. “Mm, s’wondering when you’d call, love. S’about the brainplague, mmm? ”
“…The Convolution, yes. You can detect it now?”
“Mmm, through its symptoms, yes; they’re in the library already if you care to look. The thing seems to be spreading, though, and there’s not much we can figure to do about it. Infection’s up to point-five-eight percent of the population, though most of them are in stasis.”
Itzel frowned. “How does that work?”
“Mmm, s’an idea, love. Memetic transmission. People don’t need direct, physical contact to be exposed, mmm? ”
“It’s… riding the Net. God, I hope we won’t need to shut that down. Terrible for morale…”
The Admiral paused, and Sithembil craned around. “Something wrong, love?”
“Speech.”
“Speech?”
“I forgot the speech. Shit. Everyone!” The Admiral disconnected from her chair and stepped into Meatspace. Sithembil always waved it off as ‘release from work-related stress,’ but she always felt more relaxed without the full weight of the entire ship’s dataflow pressing on her skull. “I’ll be back in an hour. Fassil, you’re in charge. Don’t blow anything up while I’m out.”
***
As it happened, VII had somehow managed to end up on the night side of the planet, away from the other contestants, but more importantly out of the sun’s bizarre chronological distortion. Enough scanning would have picked up on the odd effects of the solar radiation, but Fassil was interested less in academic knowledge and more in forging strategic alliances. He reasoned that, since there was little chance of escaping the battle any time soon, the best thing to do was stabilize relations between contestants and, if not possible, eliminate those who wished to continue to perform for their bloated captor.
A less advanced society might have had trouble traveling around a planet in sufficient time to manage much in a battle to the death that moved every time someone died, but VII was from the end of the universe. Their wormhole technology was stable enough to pull an object the size, and several times the mass, of a supergiant star steadily away from a black hole the size of the universe; it was stable enough to tunnel through any old planet without creating a volcano or some other unfortunate disaster like that. To the passengers of VII, the trip to the other side of the planet was over before you could say ‘.’.
To everyone else, the ship vanished from existence for a good two hours.
Kestalvia wasn’t just any old planet. It was a planet bathed in what was colloquially known as Freaky Time-Light that radiated from a sun that would die before it could be properly studied. Simply standing on the dayside of Kestalvia was tantamount to moving through time at a rate that wasn’t one second per second; compressing space and tearing a hole in it just one light-year from the solar system did things to local time which one could only describe as ‘something The Convolution would wholeheartedly endorse.’
Now, imagine what might happen if someone punched a hole in space that led into another hole in space ad infinitum, and this was the only way they could get around.
***
The research lab was deserted, but Sydra wasn’t surprised. He and Ix were the only members of the team left alive, so far as he knew. One had been killed and eaten by wild fauna, one had been killed and eaten by local flora, one had died of accelerated aging, and the other two had wandered off into the forest and never been heard from again.
He went over to the main console, switching it on and gently kicking it when that didn’t work. Their equipment was constantly falling apart or growing dysfunctional, it seemed. New supplies didn’t come often, since this star was already well off the beaten trade routes and even then ships had to coast into the system at sublight for a couple of months. Ix’s jury-rigging seemed to be holding up, though, and that was all that mattered for now.
“There do not appear to be scones here.”
Sydra looked up distractedly, before returning to tuning the sensor suite. It wasn’t strictly designed to analyze machines, but Ix had assured him that everything would hold together.
“Yeah, uh… we have to make sure you’re, uh… compatible with our scones. It’ll only take a few…”
He looked up again and stared for a while before pulling his radio.
“Ix… This may sound odd, but, uh… How many weird metal balls followed us here, again?”
***
Ix heard the screams and started running. He fumbled at the chamber lock and dropped his card, cursing. He wouldn’t have made it anyway; Sydra was dead before the words left his mouth.
The bloody, mutilated corpse that had been Ix’s last teammate lay slumped in a corner. The gaping holes in his torso indicated he’d been impaled and pinned against the wall, but the wall was made of metal and AMP liked metal, and didn’t seem to mind a shell coated in blood.
Arcs of lightning sprang from the whirling metal maelstrom, slamming into computer banks and erasing all the data they’d worked so hard to collect. All the scanning equipment was wrecked, but it had been fragile and so easy to dismantle. Ix only recognized the bits and pieces floating around AMP from having worked tirelessly to keep everything in working order.
He gasped, and three cameras swiveled to stare at him. Hollow, soulless, beady camera eyes.
“That was not a scone.”
Ix threw up.
The mobile processor made a horrible sound, like a chainsaw in a sandstorm – although, to be fair, it often sounded like that – and shred the room in its wake as it made for the forlorn researcher. Ix didn’t think to run. Ix was too terrified to think anything.
“That. Was not. A scone.”
The maelstrom leveled with and then leveled the doorframe. It was intimidatingly large, and instinct forced Ix out of his paralysis just enough to take a step back. Tears streamed freely from his eyes. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die oh god oh god oh god
“That was not-”
A beam of concentrated Yellow enveloped the pulsing red heart of the machine. Ix had only a second to glimpse his savior – a perfect metal sphere, crackling with residual static – before it vanished.
Then, no longer supported by a magnetic field, a cloud of sharp metal fragments fell on him all at once.
All was silәnt.
Then someone started to laugh, and didn’t stop.
“Well, well, and here I was thinking that the flying metal balls would get along like a house on fire! A metal… on electricity?” Jerry facepalmed. “Ah, шell, what can you dσ.”
The djinni clapped.
“I’m sure you’ll all love this nε
The djinni clapped.
“I’m suгe ұou’ll all lºve thi§ ne
The djїnni clapqed.
€laЬpe∂.
clДppe₫dөs†o¶ƒiΓξnτюդ₵e√∆n!sҸedgФdªnyŦhinҨhiм∫e£feyæsorδerψallЪloodI¤
ꜟx
Ix
Ix grabbed another Nutribar from his sadly-dwindled stash.
“Uh, just the one, I thought. Why?”
“Because there’s another one now. …Maybe you should just get over here.”
***
“Oh! Hello, Lucky Seven! When-”
“Ah, just Seven, if you don’t mind.”
“Very well; Seven. When did you get here? You sound different.”
“It can talk, too? Wait, you know each other?”
“We are… acquainted, yes. You are?”
“I, uh… Sydra. I work here.”
“He’s a Researcher. He does research stuff.”
“Fascinating. I don’t suppose-”
A shout sounded just outside. Sydra looked up in surprise before bolting to the door, skidding to a halt and slamming the release. He saw Ix first, sitting on the ground and looking very ill but otherwise unharmed.
He saw Ix second, sprawled dead on the ground, peppered with vaguely familiar metallic shrapnel.
The researchers looked at each other, then at the body, then at each other again.
Ix threw up.
Despite the power surge caused by AMP’s interference (which we can’t do anything without sacrificing most of our sensory ability; sorry High Admiral, we’ll figure something out), the Hedonist’s round transition still managed to come through loud and clear. A full system diagnostic revealed that, though not much had been damaged, sustained contact with the mobile processor would probably not be a good idea.
LeBeau had been scouring the archives for anything on Kestalvia, but couldn’t find very much. “There are a couple of references to expeditions to the Kestal system in late human extrasolar precontact history, but they had a war with the Sautanai shortly thereafter and records are spotty at best. They might not even be talking about this system, but the name would fit the language. We’ll keep looking; I’m sure we must have something on this planet…”
Captain Quirrinal leaned over towards Itzel. “How do we know we’re even in our own universe, Admiral? The Library’s time shouldn’t be spent on some… wild goose chase.”
“I know that, Fassil. I’m assuming that moving within a universe, even if through time, would be easier than moving between entire universes. It would make finding compatible physics much easier, and our host doesn’t strike me as one to pass up shortcuts.”
The Captain stood up and stretched his wings, clearly unconvinced. “I’ll see how Terrence is coming along with our… defensive capabilities.”
Itzel nodded, returning her attention to the various data feeds constantly streaming through her mind. Most of it was mundane – Anachronic Field fuel efficiency was up 46.1%, experimentation with other forms of temporal manipulation on small scales was well underway; total energy output down 5.07% due to scheduled maintenance on Generator 2, raised output on 4, 5, and 7 to compensate; outer hull density tested to 350% standard with minimal signs of stress, testing to 400% scheduled in 1 minute, current estimates set 675% as maximum safe limit – but one point in particular piqued her interest.
“Doctor Ameretat?”
Chief Medical Officer Sithembil Ameretat twitched her tail beckoningly. “Mm, s’wondering when you’d call, love. S’about the brainplague, mmm? ”
“…The Convolution, yes. You can detect it now?”
“Mmm, through its symptoms, yes; they’re in the library already if you care to look. The thing seems to be spreading, though, and there’s not much we can figure to do about it. Infection’s up to point-five-eight percent of the population, though most of them are in stasis.”
Itzel frowned. “How does that work?”
“Mmm, s’an idea, love. Memetic transmission. People don’t need direct, physical contact to be exposed, mmm? ”
“It’s… riding the Net. God, I hope we won’t need to shut that down. Terrible for morale…”
The Admiral paused, and Sithembil craned around. “Something wrong, love?”
“Speech.”
“Speech?”
“I forgot the speech. Shit. Everyone!” The Admiral disconnected from her chair and stepped into Meatspace. Sithembil always waved it off as ‘release from work-related stress,’ but she always felt more relaxed without the full weight of the entire ship’s dataflow pressing on her skull. “I’ll be back in an hour. Fassil, you’re in charge. Don’t blow anything up while I’m out.”
***
As it happened, VII had somehow managed to end up on the night side of the planet, away from the other contestants, but more importantly out of the sun’s bizarre chronological distortion. Enough scanning would have picked up on the odd effects of the solar radiation, but Fassil was interested less in academic knowledge and more in forging strategic alliances. He reasoned that, since there was little chance of escaping the battle any time soon, the best thing to do was stabilize relations between contestants and, if not possible, eliminate those who wished to continue to perform for their bloated captor.
A less advanced society might have had trouble traveling around a planet in sufficient time to manage much in a battle to the death that moved every time someone died, but VII was from the end of the universe. Their wormhole technology was stable enough to pull an object the size, and several times the mass, of a supergiant star steadily away from a black hole the size of the universe; it was stable enough to tunnel through any old planet without creating a volcano or some other unfortunate disaster like that. To the passengers of VII, the trip to the other side of the planet was over before you could say ‘.’.
To everyone else, the ship vanished from existence for a good two hours.
Kestalvia wasn’t just any old planet. It was a planet bathed in what was colloquially known as Freaky Time-Light that radiated from a sun that would die before it could be properly studied. Simply standing on the dayside of Kestalvia was tantamount to moving through time at a rate that wasn’t one second per second; compressing space and tearing a hole in it just one light-year from the solar system did things to local time which one could only describe as ‘something The Convolution would wholeheartedly endorse.’
Now, imagine what might happen if someone punched a hole in space that led into another hole in space ad infinitum, and this was the only way they could get around.
***
The research lab was deserted, but Sydra wasn’t surprised. He and Ix were the only members of the team left alive, so far as he knew. One had been killed and eaten by wild fauna, one had been killed and eaten by local flora, one had died of accelerated aging, and the other two had wandered off into the forest and never been heard from again.
He went over to the main console, switching it on and gently kicking it when that didn’t work. Their equipment was constantly falling apart or growing dysfunctional, it seemed. New supplies didn’t come often, since this star was already well off the beaten trade routes and even then ships had to coast into the system at sublight for a couple of months. Ix’s jury-rigging seemed to be holding up, though, and that was all that mattered for now.
“There do not appear to be scones here.”
Sydra looked up distractedly, before returning to tuning the sensor suite. It wasn’t strictly designed to analyze machines, but Ix had assured him that everything would hold together.
“Yeah, uh… we have to make sure you’re, uh… compatible with our scones. It’ll only take a few…”
He looked up again and stared for a while before pulling his radio.
“Ix… This may sound odd, but, uh… How many weird metal balls followed us here, again?”
***
Ix heard the screams and started running. He fumbled at the chamber lock and dropped his card, cursing. He wouldn’t have made it anyway; Sydra was dead before the words left his mouth.
The bloody, mutilated corpse that had been Ix’s last teammate lay slumped in a corner. The gaping holes in his torso indicated he’d been impaled and pinned against the wall, but the wall was made of metal and AMP liked metal, and didn’t seem to mind a shell coated in blood.
Arcs of lightning sprang from the whirling metal maelstrom, slamming into computer banks and erasing all the data they’d worked so hard to collect. All the scanning equipment was wrecked, but it had been fragile and so easy to dismantle. Ix only recognized the bits and pieces floating around AMP from having worked tirelessly to keep everything in working order.
He gasped, and three cameras swiveled to stare at him. Hollow, soulless, beady camera eyes.
“That was not a scone.”
Ix threw up.
The mobile processor made a horrible sound, like a chainsaw in a sandstorm – although, to be fair, it often sounded like that – and shred the room in its wake as it made for the forlorn researcher. Ix didn’t think to run. Ix was too terrified to think anything.
“That. Was not. A scone.”
The maelstrom leveled with and then leveled the doorframe. It was intimidatingly large, and instinct forced Ix out of his paralysis just enough to take a step back. Tears streamed freely from his eyes. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to die oh god oh god oh god
“That was not-”
A beam of concentrated Yellow enveloped the pulsing red heart of the machine. Ix had only a second to glimpse his savior – a perfect metal sphere, crackling with residual static – before it vanished.
Then, no longer supported by a magnetic field, a cloud of sharp metal fragments fell on him all at once.
All was silәnt.
Then someone started to laugh, and didn’t stop.
“Well, well, and here I was thinking that the flying metal balls would get along like a house on fire! A metal… on electricity?” Jerry facepalmed. “Ah, шell, what can you dσ.”
The djinni clapped.
“I’m sure you’ll all love this nε
The djinni clapped.
“I’m suгe ұou’ll all lºve thi§ ne
The djїnni clapqed.
€laЬpe∂.
clДppe₫dөs†o¶ƒiΓξnτюդ₵e√∆n!sҸedgФdªnyŦhinҨhiм∫e£feyæsorδerψallЪloodI¤
ꜟx
Ix
Ix grabbed another Nutribar from his sadly-dwindled stash.
“Uh, just the one, I thought. Why?”
“Because there’s another one now. …Maybe you should just get over here.”
***
“Oh! Hello, Lucky Seven! When-”
“Ah, just Seven, if you don’t mind.”
“Very well; Seven. When did you get here? You sound different.”
“It can talk, too? Wait, you know each other?”
“We are… acquainted, yes. You are?”
“I, uh… Sydra. I work here.”
“He’s a Researcher. He does research stuff.”
“Fascinating. I don’t suppose-”
A shout sounded just outside. Sydra looked up in surprise before bolting to the door, skidding to a halt and slamming the release. He saw Ix first, sitting on the ground and looking very ill but otherwise unharmed.
He saw Ix second, sprawled dead on the ground, peppered with vaguely familiar metallic shrapnel.
The researchers looked at each other, then at the body, then at each other again.
Ix threw up.