New to Firstborn? Be sure to read Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 first.The transformation phase is a tense one. Covered by only a thin membrane, the construct is extremely vulnerable and incapable of moving. No enemy chances by though, and I emerge from my cocoon unscathed. Were this a more relaxed setting, I would take a moment to examine my new form, but time is of the essence, and the interface is reliable enough. I take my chances, moving swiftly ahead. The corridors seem vaguely familiar - spacefaring races in their infancy follow certain general trends - but they feel different than anything else I have experienced: Even though I am alone, I feel conflict raging all around, the everlasting struggle between interface and machinoids.
This conflict can hardly be called a war - it is more of a feeding frenzy. The machinoids are so small that the interface mistakes them for its main source of nutrition: Microscopic particles of organic and anorganic matter. And so the interface devours the machinoids to provide fuel for its own, rampant growth. The machinoids, on the other hand, disassemble the interface at the atomic level, reassembling the atoms into perfect replica of themselves. This way, the "battle" rages back and forth: The interface devouring the machinoids and replicating with unnatural speed, the machinoids disassembling the interface and reassembling the components into new machinoids.
When this first happened, we swiftly intervened. I was one of the first on the scene, sending an order to the interface to cease all feeding and reproduction. The interface promptly ended the "hostilities", but the machinoids pressed forward and completely eradicated the entire strain. This scenario repeated itself several times.
The machinoids have only been spotted in a single, relatively small galaxy so far. This galaxy, a spiral variant, is mostly unexplored due to the voracious machinoids - for the first time, the interface has met its match, and has been unable to spread beyond the spiral arm where it first arrived - a Nar scouting vessel had seeded a handful of planets before moving on. This serves as a good indication of the danger that the machinoids present: The interface has spread across hundreds of intergalactic civilizations, encompassing unimaginable spaces, yet here, faced with a single, microscopic breed of machines, it makes no progress. At least not without help.
Not since the chain-nova that threatened to erase all traces of the Nar has the alarm been raised. A way to immediately alert every single Firstborn to a matter, it is not used lightly. It was one of my colleagues, a fellow architect and now a Keeper like me, who called us. He had experimented with ways to end the stalemate between machinoids and interface. His research led him to believe that a modification of the entire interface required too much effort. Instead, he experimented with ways to use the interface's ability to take on various shapes to win the conflict. The result was a huge sack solely dedicated to pumping out specimen in raw quantities, and for a while it worked - very slowly but surely, the machinoids were being beaten back, being devoured faster than they could replicate. Until the machinelords arrived on the scene.
We believe they were there from the beginning, just outside our view. Normally we sense the presence of lifeforms through the interface - but when the interface is overtasked like in this case, it cannot fulfill its normal functions. The machinelords, as we call them for lack of a name, carry machinoids with them in large quantities. Their presence is enough to rout the interface locally, but worse yet was their aggressive behaviour towards the "hive" of my colleague - they began cutting it down with some kind of welding torches. It was at this point that he raised the alarm.
The Council was awe-inspiring. I had forgotten how many of us there are, but at one point we had been the only superpower in the material universe, and thus uncontested in our expansion. The debate raged back and forth, some supporting strict pacifism, others in favor of all-out warfare against the machinoids, machinelords and all of their possible allies. We had several factors to consider: Losing interface strains is not a big loss to us - a single strain can easily be replaced, and probably will not be missed if that is not possible for some reason. On the other hand, the machinoids are quite a large threat to the interface, and with the machinelords there to do the manual labour that the machinoids are incapable of, their threat is even more severe. While they have so far been spotted in this single galaxy only, we cannot know whether they will spread. The danger they present is uncertain, but potentially grave.
The course of action we agreed on after one third of a chronon of heated debate (time was of the essence) was to attempt direct contact: My aforementioned colleague, being the one who had been on the scene longest, was to construct a host and attempt to somehow convince the machinelords to stop attacking the hive. From there on, he was to attempt to negotiate a ceasefire of some sorts.
He chose for his host a construct of his own devising - a fast quadruped about a third as high as a machinelord, and thus what he believed to be non-threatening to them. When he materialized, he barked an order to the machinelords to cease and desist - in Fengal, not knowing what kind of language they spoke. One of the machinelords reacted by reaching for something strapped to his left thigh, pointing it at the host of my colleague and sending a slug of some sort of metal into the construct at high speed, doing extensive damage in the process. My colleague viewed this as an act of aggression and proceeded to kill every single one of them.
What sounds calm and innocent in simple words is quite different if described in detail: He leapt out of the way of several more projectiles, proceeding to leap to the wall next to the hive, holding on to it by digging the spikes on the ends of his four limbs into and through the material. In this fashion he proceeded to run along the wall, clapping his jaws around the legs of the nearest machinelord. A swift motion of his head severed the legs from their joints while his right front leg pierced the upper chest of another nearby machinelord. At this point the other machinelords leapt from the hive to the floor below. From down there they shot more projectiles at my colleague, who hid himself behind the hive, quickly repairing the damage to his host with the abundance of interface specimen in the air around the hive. Leaping down to the floor himself, he wreaked swift havoc among the remaining three machinelords. I observed all this with dismay, for I could not believe that negotiations were possible after such a slaughter. Quite right I was; soon others came to search for their missing comrades. Seeing the dead strewn around the hive and my colleague amidst the carnage, they opened fire immediately. At this point I found it necessary to intervene - my colleague was hopelessly outnumbered - so I constructed a host similar to his and joined him in battle. We fought fiercely to protect the hive, and spread death and destruction all around. A part of me wept at the carnage and loss of life, another part of me roared with the elation of combat. At one point my host sustained irreparable damage and dissolved, and it took a short while for me to gather enough specimen to construct a new one - when have I last been as impatient as then? In the end we prevailed. I don't wish to tell the rest of the story - it ended in the eradication of the entire machinelord and machinoid population of what we believe to be one of their mining stations and is a bloody tale.
The fighting has been widespread since then, and we quickly found that only the Keepers, with their intimate knowledge of the interface, are suited to the fighting - the others lack the fine degree of control that we have, and are much too slow in their reactions. Having a Firstborn supervise the operation of a hive is beneficial, but this is a simple task that anyone can do.
The duty of a Keeper is now twofold: To repair and to preserve the interface. Repair the interface is what we always have done. Preserving the interface means defending it from the machinelords. And defending from the machinelords means killing them. We are now comparable to the Sfan-Tar of the Nar, the Obuthan of the Nebulons, the Masser, Edyn, Firal, Etyk and Huta of the Tripods, the Fangs of the Wolkor or the Five-Hundred Thrice-Hallowed warrior castes of the pre-reformation Eldrek: We are those who stand between our people and our enemies. We are those who defend the interface from the machinelords. While the goal we work towards has not changed significantly - proliferation of the interface wherever possible - our methods could not possibly have changed more.
It is not the first time that my mind has drifted as I reflect upon the chain of events that has led us to this point. As always, it seems as though I've been gone forever, yet nearly no time at all has passed. I find myself back in the corridors that I was moving through, still in midair after jumping over a small hole in the floor where it seems as though a floorplate has simply been removed - I cannot have been gone for more than a few microchronons. I discover that one of our extractors is under attack from the machinelords, and head off to defend it. The extractors pump sludge from certain nozzles found in most machinelord installations - while we believe this sludge serves as fuel for the machinelords, it also provides excellent nourishment for the interface.
My newly-assumed shape is bipedal, slightly higher than a machinelord, and sporting long sickles at the ends of its upper limbs. It also has the ability to move rapidly in any direction for a limited time, a trait that often proves useful for quickly moving around. I round the last corner before the extractor and spot three machinelords, cutting it down with the short blades they often carry. Before they are able to react I have cut one of them in half just above the waistline. As he crashes to the ground the other two pull their rapid-fire projectile weapons from their backs and open fire; I quickly escape, using my ability of rapid movement to put distance between them and myself. Two left, and I didn't take too many hits. I decide to have at least one more go.
This time they are prepared, and I am greeted by a hailstorm of projectiles as I round the corner once more. I land next to the rightmost attacker and quickly slice both his upper limbs off - I know that this incapacitates the machinelords. Escaping once more, I examine the condition of my construct. It is in poor shape, the upper left limb barely functioning. One machinelord left. If I leave, chances are that he will destroy the extractor before I can return. If I attack, my advanced construct - far more valuable than a relatively simple extractor - could be destroyed.
I make my decision and plunge myself into the fight once more. The remaining machinelord opens fire immediately, missing at first because I am not going directly for him. As he swings his weapon around I take cover behind the battered extractor. I am now significantly closer to my enemy, but still out of the line of fire. He slowly circles around the extractor, trying to get a clear line of fire; I carefully keep the extractor between us. He fires several shots into the extractor, presumably in an attempt to hit me. I listen for and finally hear the telltale clicking sound of a machinelord weapon ceasing fire: The projectile throwers that the machinelords use carry only a certain number of projectiles, and must be restocked from little cartridges that the machinelords carry in their belts. It is this moment I have been waiting for, the opportunity I need in order to take down the last enemy with a minimum of damage to myself. I aim a swipe of my scythes at the limb holding the weapon, intending to sever it. To my surprise I fail - I had forgotten about my left upper limb. Barely functioning as it is, there is not much force behind my attack, and I only succeed at knocking the weapon away. The machinelord wastes no time, but reaches for the smaller projectile weapon in his hipholster. My next swipe, this time with my right scythe, finds its mark and almost surgically detaches his right upper limb from the torso. Stabbing forward with my scythe I deliver the deathblow, impaling my foe. As I throw him to the floor, I survey the scene: My first victim is clearly dead, my third victim is dying and seemingly incapable of movement. My second victim is creeping away, but clearly dying as well. The extractor is badly damaged, but still functioning. Given enough time it should be able to reapir itself.
My own construct is in even poorer shape though. It would not survive another fight. I even doubt that I would be able to escape another encounter with the machinelords in my current state. The hive, the most dependable source of repair, is quite far away, not so a nearby builder though. These pudgy little constructs are ill-suited for figting, but capable of forming extractors and other kinds of stand-alone constructs not in need of a controlling Firstborn - and they can rapidly repair other constructs. I head off to rendezvous with the builder.
The builder is busying himself with another extractor, and does not notice me as I draw nearer. Eventually I have to alert the Firstborn controlling the little construct, who immediately understands and turns around. As the builder sprays my construct with thick clouds of the interface, my construct starts rapidly repairing itself. Soon it is once more in pristine shape. The builder, satisfied with his work, turns his attention back to the extractor, now nearly finished as I can see.
A little later my construct takes fatal damage from one of the machinelords' spread-shot weapons. These weapons fire many small projectiles in a single shot. While highly inaccurate and not very dangerous at long range, they can do excessive damage at close range. Having your construct destroyed is never a pleasant experience. The abrupt loss of contact, forcefully having your connection with the material universe severed - it is uncomfortable and unsettling. As there is a brief pause while the hive gathers specimen for my new host, I check the condition of the interface: There are now enough specimen available for the construction of a new hive. As my new host assembles - a quadruped scout, modelled after the one we used in our first fight against the machinelords, as always - I quickly plot a route to the most suitable spot for the hive to be built. I take a shortcut through a series of narrow shafts and tunnels too small for easy navigation by the machinelords - their purpose is probably maintenance. Arriving at my destination, a large, high-ceilinged room big enough to house the hive while still offering enough room for fighting if necessary, I command my construct to change form. Once again my host covers itself in the protective membrane and starts changing shape, dissolving and rearranging its own structure. It emerges unscathed, now a builder. I send the necessary instructions to the interface, and construction of the hive begins. Soon, the presence of a second hive will bolster the interface, allowing more complex constructs with more abilities. I turn my host back into a scout, climb up to the ceiling and prepare to ambush any machinelords that try to enter the room. I cannot allow them to destroy this hive...
Twenty-eight chronons later we have killed the last of the machinelords and destroyed the little base they had erected for themselves. The machinoids are now fighting a losing battle against the interface. Without the machinelords they are being overrun by the sheer volume of specimen the hives can produce.
When we first encountered the machinoids, we thought they were a kind of machine-race: Perhaps a freak turn of evolution. Perhaps a by-product of another civilization, now long gone. When the machinelords entered the stage, we believed them to be allies of the machinoids. In retrospect, both of these assumption were wrong, as we believe. The reigning theory now is that the machinoids are a servant race or a tool of the machinelords, for whatever reason. It appears that the machinoids posess an ability similar to the interface: To produce complicated structures and devices from a myriad of machinoids, like our constructs. We have seen structures similar in function to our extractors apparently appearing out of nothing over sludge nozzles. While the presence of a machinelord seems necessary for this process, they appear to merely monitor the process. While we cannot accurately verify our suspicions due to the interference of the machinoids, we believe that the machinoids are behind this process, reshaping and bonding together themselves to form these structures. Some of us even went as far as to suspect that the machinelords are constructed from machinoids as well - as far as to suspect that the machinelords were hosts for beings like us, although such theories were quickly and firmly discredited.
One of our hopes is that the whole conflict can one day be resolved peacefully: If we could find a way of defeating the machinoids without having to defend ourselves against attacks from the machinelords - by finding a way to strengthen the interface without using a hive vulnerable to attack, for example - we would not have to kill any more machinelords. Once we had strengthened and secured our position we might even be able to study the machinelord language and make contact - even coming to an understanding might be possible. Until then, the machinelords present the greatest threat we have yet faced, and must be treated as such.
To my regret, not all the Keepers would welcome a cessation of hostilities.
Topic: Firstborn - Machinelords (Read 2104 times)
