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Steel Duty
Recovered correspondence, dated 4 Reaper's Moon 1080
Knight-Captain Montaigne,
I write to inform you regarding the situation at Greywater Fork. The tales told by the village-folk were not credulous superstition as we first assumed. There is indeed a most queer manifestation of Magick afoot. A black rift rent through the very air, from which a foul odor emerges, has appeared in the woods north of the village, within sight of the mill-tower. It is small yet, but has grown since we arrived. It seems to taint the very soil around it, leaching verdance from the grass and trees and leaving them lifeless. One of my complement, Sir Brennan, ventured to touch the thing and was immediately beset with shooting pain from fingertip to elbow, which did not subside for some minutes.
We have already posted a missive seeking advisement from His Majesty's court conjurer as to the proper handling of such an arcane phenomenon, but though his response came with his characteristic Magickal swiftness, not even he had encountered such a thing before. Until such time as he is able to investigate the matter with his own eyes and furnish a solution, we shall establish a cordon about the thing and spare no effort to ensure it brings no harm to the village-folk.
Regards,
Sir Luther
Recovered correspondence, dated 11 Reaper's Moon 1080
Knight-Captain Montaigne,
The Magickal rift has expanded to the size of a man, and it has developed a new and most distressing characteristic: at any hour of the day it is liable to disgorge a fell beast of a nature not known to us. Horrid darting insects that can dodge even Sir Hectore's arrow, and wolflike things clad in some especially durable sort of armor. The village threatens to succumb to chaos and it is all we can do to fend off the monsters.
But fend them off we can. We have constructed nets of rope to ensnare the flying beasts and a palisade of logs to contain the wolves. Though the beasts sport hides of metal, the weight of Sir Randolph's maul is sufficient to strike them dead with one well-placed blow. He is instructing the rest of us in the use of such weapons, which the village-folk have been gracious enough to furnish us with materials for. I have devised a watch schedule by which we may maintain vigilance at all hours against the appearance of more beasts.
For the time being, the menace is contained.
Regards,
Sir Luther
Recovered correspondence, dated 17 Reaper's Moon 1080
Knight-Captain Montaigne,
The situation grows more dire by the hour. Our makeshift fortifications and weapons are proving inadequate against the ever-increasing tide of monsters, and they do not give us leave to improve our position. We are constantly in danger of being overwhelmed now. The rift has attained the size of a large horse. It is now large enough to admit a new type of monstrosity, one that walks erect like a man but for its backward knees and hacks at foes with deadly claws. Only by great concerted effort on our part may one of these horrors be put down.
I fear by the time this missive reaches you it may already be too late to request reinforcements. So I strive instead to stem this endless tide at its source. After I finish writing, I shall attempt to pass through the rift as the beasts do and search for a solution inside. No pain will stop me, for the alternative is to drown under an unending horde of monsters, in turn allowing Greywater Fork to be ravaged.
In the meantime, my men shall see to an evacuation of Greywater Fork. In the event that I should fail, I would at least have the village-folk safe from the beasts.
Should another letter affirming my success not reach you following this one, assume the worst and prepare for a campaign to reclaim Greywater Fork from such metal horrors as I have already described.
Solemnly,
Sir Luther
Excerpt from system event log, timestamped 11/04/2539
REVIVAL PROJECT CUSTOM FIRMWARE v0.72.10.1.EXT
boot.main(); Querying all hardware…
boot.main(); Status nominal.
boot.main(); Core output sufficient for full boot.
boot.main(); Precompiling hardware drivers...
boot.main(); Clean boot successful!
pwrm.status(); Voltages steady.
lsm.all.updatemode(); Switching from "standby" to "full operation" profile.
mcon.startup(); Unlocking all servos.
spps.startup(); Sensory preprocessor service running.
lsm.neuro.status(); Brain activity stable.
lsm.neuro.bprocess(); Engaging consciousness...
lsm.neuro.monitor(); Sharp spike in stress response. Regulating...
I yet live?
I can see a feminine figure before me.
Though much of her body seems clad in [neutron steel] armor, her face is unmistakeably human.
It seems I know the name of this metal instinctively.
I do not recall upon which occasion I learned it.
But I know this face, this flowing blond hair.
mcon.warn(); Movement impeded.
She moved her head when I tried to do the same.
This is my face. My hair.
I am looking into a mirror. And yet, the body I see is unfamiliar.
I cast my gaze about as best I can. I am in a dimly-lit room laying on my back.
mcon.warn(); Movement impeded.
Some miscreant has restrained me.
mcon.warn(); Movement impeded.
mcon.warn(); Movement impeded.
I judge these bonds insufficient. I shall do away with them.
mcon.calibration.override(); Actuation torque restrictions disabled. Warning: Overexertion may damage motors.
I slip my restraints through brute force. Rather soft material compared to my neutron steel.
Someone or some thing approaches with haste from behind me.
Where is my sword?
comsys.startup(); Initializing language interpreter and speech synthesis...
comsys.lim.interpret("Don't get up! You ruined my table! Ugh, this is why I hate working with biominds…");
I am confronted by a thin, bespectacled woman in a staggeringly indecent outfit.
Despite her thin white longcoat, I can see nearly the whole of her legs thanks to what might generously be termed a dress.
pwrm.warn(); Core temperature rising.
comsys.ssm.say("Who might you be? What place is this and how did I come to be here?");
My voice's timbre is unusual.
comsys.lim.interpret("You talk weird. Are those bootleg language interpreter modules on the fritz?");
comsys.ssm.say("I could say the same of you. Answer ere I judge you an enemy.");
comsys.lim.interpret("Good grief, calm down. I'm Dr. Saiko Uehara, and this is my workshop. I made you a new body.");
I recall now. Stricken with pain, I could not move after entering the [spatial tear]. I was quickly set upon by a pack of [clawcutters] and torn limb from limb.
lsm.neuro.monitor(); Sharp spike in stress response. Regulating...
This woman is my savior.
comsys.ssm.say("Truly? I was wholly dismembered. You have performed such a feat of medicine or Magick as to be beyond my understanding.");
I can only kneel.
comsys.lim.interpret("Finally, someone fucking recognizes my accomplishments! Wait, what are you doing?");
comsys.ssm.say("I owe my life to you, and I honor my debts. My blade and my life belong to you, milady. I shall serve faithfully, if you'll have me. This I swear.");
Dr. Uehara shudders. Perhaps due to insufficient garb. The air here is somewhat chilly.
comsys.lim.interpret("Okay. Uh, I mean, I'm flattered, really, I am. But you can get up now.");
mcon.warn(); Compensating for loss of balance.
The weight of this armor is unfamiliar and considerable, and yet my limbs are sufficiently strong to bear it about as if it was a light gown. I nearly toppled over in the process of standing.
Surely I am as fit as I have ever been and then some.
This Dr. Uehara is truly a miracle worker.
comsys.lim.interpret("Okay, your turn. Who are you? Do you remember?");
Faintly, fragments.
comsys.ssm.say("My name is Luther.");
comsys.lim.interpret("Rusa?");
We are conversing in a tongue I am not familiar with. Its sounds do not quite permit me to pronounce my name correctly.
comsys.ssm.say("Not quite, but it will do. In any event, you have earned the right to call me anything you please.");
A sharp intake of breath. Have I committed a faux pas?
comsys.lim.interpret("Why the fuck are you so smooth?");
This is a test of my loyalty.
comsys.ssm.say("You are responsible for the current state of my body, as I understand it, milady. I must thank you for this wondrous armor.");
comsys.lim.interpret("That‘s not – sure. Okay. You're welcome, Rusa.");
Recovered correspondence, dated 20 Reaper's Moon 1080
Knight-Captain –
Sir Luther has not returned, but the tide of monsters did indeed stem for a time. I can only surmise he is seeing some success in combating the scourge at its source.
We, meaning the remainder of the detachment less Sir Hectore, have taken advantage of the opening he provided to evacuate the village-folk. Sir Hectore, meanwhile, is leading a small group of brave laborers from the village to reinforce our defenses against the monsters should Sir Luther's campaign fail, while also hunting down those few metal beasts which have escaped into the territory at large. He has discovered that, while the armor of these monsters is difficult to shape, it makes for arrows which may pierce them. I suppose it is only logical that they should be weakest to their own foulness.
With the village-folk secreted away to the more well-fortified castle-town of Shale Bluff, we now return to Sir Hectore's side with reinforcements from the town's garrison. But I fear their training has been inadequate in this current time of peace. Though the situation is not so dire as Sir Luther likely expressed in his prior missive, more skilled knights to form the backbone of our defense would not go amiss, if you can spare any.
For Glain.
– Sir Randolph
Recovered digital file, dated 10/17/2539 (brute force decrypted)
Scouted the latest spatial tear today. Frontier have already enclosed it with a kill-fence and turrets, as well as a horde of clawcutters, but they trust their tech too completely and the site isn't manned during off-hours. The usual software backdoors still work and I was in and out without a soul spotting me.
More interesting is what I was able to recover. An othersider actually managed to pass through in the opposite direction, although they were quickly dispatched by the clawcutters and their remains disposed of. I saw the head in the dumpster and decided to reappropriate it for a little experiment. It's not like they're using it, right? I might finally be able to crack the integration limit now that no one's breathing down my neck about it. I don't have high hopes, but you don't turn down a gift when it lands in your lap.
Excerpt from system event log, timestamped 11/06/2539
The building towers higher than any other I have known, reaching defiantly into the ugly smoke-choked sky.
It is clad in the same dark metal as the monsters, many of which stand guard or patrol around it. The clawcutters that walk like men, and the lupine [fangchasers], and even some buzzing [eyefliers] above.
We surveil it from the top of another building, still massive but utterly dwarfed by the black citadel before us.
comsys.ssm.say("And you say this is the keep from which the monsters issue?");
omsys.lim.interpret("Basically, yeah. Although it's more complicated than that.");
Dr. Uehara scowls up at the forbidding tower. It is fortunate that we share an enmity for the fell beasts and their masters.
comsys.ssm.say("Do tell. I must understand the full shape of the problem if I am to combat it.");
comsys.lim.interpret("So, the spatial tear you came through? The people in that building make a living by gathering resources from spatial tears, mostly metals and water, and they do that by sending those drones in to kill everyone first. That's the ‘scourge' your knight buddies are fighting off. As long as drones keep going through the tear, it'll keep getting bigger. The drones are built and deployed from elsewhere, but this is the operation's heart. We'll need to deal with both.");
This sort of dispute over territory and treasure, I am sadly all too familiar with. I nod my head.
comsys.ssm.say("So, we stand before their kingdom's keep? This is poor terrain for a siege, I must say.");
comsys.lim.interpret("That's why we're not doing that.");
Dr. Uehara's soft face twists into a most unbecoming smirk.
comsys.lim.interpret("Come on, let's go back. I'll fill you in on the details in private.");
She turns on her heel, her white coat fluttering in the dusty breeze.
Recovered digital file, dated 10/26/2539 (brute force decrypted)
Progress continues apace. Fabrication of parts is about two-thirds done, and now that the core is fully assembled I can task a drone with the less complex limbs to free up my time.
As for the neuroelectronic interface, I could not ask for a more perfect subject to work with. In fact, I could ask for more of a challenge. The nerves were cut cleanly and isolating synaptic pathways has been a breeze. It's almost too tidy in there. As if this othersider's mind is entirely arranged according to some order. I fear my conclusions from this experiment may not be applicable to other subjects unless they're the kind of stone-carved bootlicker that the Frontier-funded schools spit out. Makes the other project all the more pressing.
Maybe the othersider will help me with it, once I wake her up. Ha ha.
Recovered correspondence, dated 29 Reaper's Moon 1080
Montaigne:
Luther's gambit only bought us so much time. They are coming again, and thicker than ever now, for the past several days. I find myself wishing another of us had found the courage before he did. Already our little coalition is beginning to fray without his strong leadership. And poor Randolph has gone to meet his dear wife in the beyond, gored through by one of those wretched fiends.
Your reinforcements have not yet arrived. I hope sincerely they were not waylaid on the road – we can ill afford any further delays.
– Hectore
Excerpt from system event log, timestamped 11/07/2539
It's hopeless. I read and read, and yet, I fail to comprehend. I must study this world's weapons and works if I am to fight on fair footing with the drones, much less the human soldiers which Dr. Uehara assures me reside within the citadel, but it is all so persistently confusing.
Perhaps a simpler topic first, to broaden my vocabulary.
I stand from my chair to once again peruse Dr. Uehara's disorganized bookcase.
Before I can make my selection, she pokes her head around the doorframe. Her dark hair shades her face and she looks uncertain.
comsys.ssm.say("Dr. Uehara. Are you having trouble sleeping again?");
comsys.lim.interpret("Yeah. Still studying?");
comsys.ssm.say("Indeed. Though I cannot claim I am proud of my progress. I find myself stymied by unfamiliar words.");
comsys.lim.interpret("Maybe you should take a rest.");
Her voice is so quiet as to be almost inaudible. But my [sensors] are always keenly trained on the one I have sworn myself to when she is present.
I must be prepared to follow her orders without delay.
I do not strictly require rest, anymore, not physically.
But I must admit a degree of mental exhaustion.
comsys.ssm.say("As you say, my lady.");
She is quiet for some time, her face constantly shifting in minute ways.
pwrm.warn(); Core temperature rising.
I did not mean to study it so closely. I avert my own gaze.
comsys.lim.interpret("Would you like to come back to my room?");
pwrm.warn(); Core temperature rising.
comsys.ssm.say("My lady?");
Dr. Uehara hurriedly retreats behind the doorframe.
comsys.lim.interpret("I'm pretty sure I told you not to call me that.");
comsys.ssm.say("Forgive me, Dr. Uehara. Old habits die hard.");
comsys.lim.interpret("Fuck. I can't just do that to her.");
Again she speaks too softly.
comsys.ssm.say("Dr. Uehara?");
comsys.lim.interpret("Never mind.");
I hear her footsteps, her feet bare judging by the sound, recede across the cold floor.
I find myself unsure what she wants of me.
The moment passes. I'm left standing in her office.
Recovered digital file, dated 10/31/2539 (brute force decrypted)
The body is complete. She's beautiful, the best work I've ever done. It was one thing putting the wireframe together, but now that I can see her in person, run my hand across the smooth lines of her armor plating, I'm transfixed.
Admittedly, I did tailor her to my own tastes. The perfect, invincible, mechanical body I'd love to have, complete with all the curves I lack. If only it weren't for the integration limit. I'll have to settle for staring.
I find myself hesitating to put the head on. If the interface doesn't work, or worse, if I accidentally fry her brain in the process, I'll have to consider the project a failure. I don't have the time to debug this indefinitely, not with the other project growing ever more pressing by the hour. It's only a matter of time before a spatial rift leading to somewhere more technologically advanced shows up. Frontier getting a leg up like that would be impossible to recover from.
The rebels are getting antsy too. I shouldn't have told them about her, even in vague terms. Now they think I'm cooking up a secret superweapon to help them win. They'll be disappointed if I fail, but they'll be even more disappointed if I succeed and they discover it was just a vanity project this whole time.
Gonna stop thinking about this now. I need a fucking drink.
I'll do the boot test tomorrow. Or the day after.
Recovered correspondence, dated 31 Reaper's Moon 1080
Sir Mason -
Hectore is dead, taken unawares by a monster he thought he was tracking. The same fate befalls any other scouts we send out, and to advance into the enemy's territory without advance warning of their positions is to beg for death. The cursed beasts are unending, and our every effort comes to naught. They stalk us through the woods, and some have even taken up occupying the town buildings. We are surrounded on all sides, penned in and harried like rats in a trap, and it has the garrison in miserable spirits. It is past time we faced the facts - the rift and its horrid spawn have won this battle. There is no future in holding the town. We must regroup and prepare for the next battle.
I am pulling out of Greywater Fork tonight, attempting a fighting retreat with the remainder of the garrison under cover of darkness. We shall meet you on the road to discuss our next move. Shale Bluff will no doubt be their next target. I would not see it overrun in the same manner.
- Sir Brennan
Recovered correspondence, dated 2 Woodsman's Moon 1080
Sir Brennan,
Fool of a man! If we do lose the south province to metal monsters, you may be sure it was your cowardly retreat that ceded it. If we do not fight to the end, until the hilts of our swords snap and the last of our blood drains onto the soil, what use are we to our people and our King?
You bring shame on our entire Order. We shall meet upon the morrow, and you will be lucky to end the day without a new scar for your troubles.
Scornfully,
Sir Mason
Excerpt from system event log, timestamped 11/08/2539
combat.autocomp.load(combat.wdb.calib.apar12); Optimizing grip and balance reflex for APAR-12 handling...
I adjust my grip on the [rifle] Dr. Uehara has given me. Now that I hold it for myself, the working of it is more intuitive. It fits in the hand in the manner of a crossbow, but it spits out its miniature projectiles in an angry, thunderous torrent.
spps.nv.adjust(); Night vision recalibrating...
I sweep my gaze across the vast floor of the [autofactory]. By Dr. Uehara's Magick, my sight now penetrates the darkness.
At my side, my lady works by the light of a miniature blue torch.
She has laid out the meaning of her actions to me, but as ever I could not follow her meandering explanations for long.
I come to understand, however, when the disembodied arms attending to the inert fangchaser on its slab abruptly begin to attack it instead. They reduce it to so much metallic slurry before turning their violence upon each other.
Dr. Uehara labors to corrupt these builder-constructs of Frontier, our mutual enemy, through some silent airborne Magick.
She slinks at a crouch to the next slab and begins her work anew.
I reflect on the underhandedness of our subterfuge. It is not a knight's way.
Ultimately, though, I cannot find it in me to disagree with the results. If this is the vile womb the would-be plunderers of Glain issue from, then I would gladly see it made barren by any possible means.
Honor has no foothold in this grim world hewn of metal and sorrow.
As a thing of metal myself now, I shall have to acquaint myself to this truth.
An idealist's noble delusions will be of no use to Dr. Uehara, nor my fellows back in my homeland.
My fellows who I may never see again, now that I have sworn myself to a woman of this world.
lsm.neuro.monitor(); Sharp spike in stress response. Regulating...
A distant sound, at the edge of my awareness.
comsys.ssm.say("Dr. Uehara. Something approaches.", volume=0.15);
comsys.lim.interpret("Fuck, already? Okay, plan B. They'll definitely notice this, though, get ready to shoot our way out.");
She exchanges her tools for a larger contraption and hastily manipulates it.
As she instructed, I focus the whole of my attention on the distant sounds and raise my weapon to my shoulder.
After a tense and lingering moment, every metal arm in the place alights with the same terrible purpose. Dr. Uehara's manipulation writ large.
The hissing of metal reverberates from the rows and rows of slabs. A roomful of drones expire, slain before they could wake by their inhuman nurturers, who then take their own lives out of grief.
In the distance, shouts. A cacophony of fell shrieking arises, accompanied by shimmering, dancing red lights from above.
Shots ring out. Metal claws screech against metal floor.
combat.eval.sightlines();
combat.eval.vector();
I answer the [bullets] with my own, suffering none who would menace my lady to live.
I mislike the furious barks of this rifle. A crossbow would be much more subtle, a sword more elegant.
But for all its boorish mannerism, it is frightfully efficient.
Dr. Uehara has dropped to the ground, laying prone behind a slab. It is wise of her to take cover from the storm of metal, yet foolish to abandon her footing to do so.
For just around the corner, slavering for our blood as they run at us full-tilt, are three fangchasers born before our arrival.
Seeking to avenge their unmade brethren, no doubt.
I feed them bullets for their troubles and find they are tougher than their human masters.
My shots bounce wide, deflected by the rigid angles of their hide.
The rifle clicks uselessly, its sound and fury depleted.
There is no time to refill it, not with fangchasers bearing down on me.
I embrace roguishness and fling it at them as distraction, then turn on my heel to flee, scooping up Dr. Uehara as I go.
She emits an undignified yelp.
I make for the shoved-aside floor tile, the subterranean tunnel from which we breached this place.
combat.eval.vector();
combat.eval.velocity();
But I judge we will not make it in time. The fangchasers can easily outrun me, and a group of three can outflank me as well.
combat.eval.sightlines();
There is no possibility of me protecting Dr. Uehara from them, not with these low slabs the only obstacles.
combat.eval.velocity();
Only moments before they are upon us.
I beseech the Magick which Dr. Uehara has filled me with for answers.
combat.eval.vector();
combat.eval.velocity();
Of course. All along I knew this was my last resort.
comsys.ssm.say("My lady. Knees loose, eyes up.");
combat.eval.vector();
comsys.lim.interpret("Rusa, don't you fucking-");
combat.eval.velocity();
comsys.ssm.say("I must. A thousand apologies for the rough handling. Flee with all haste.");
I hurl Dr. Uehara toward the hatch, turning to meet the maelstrom of metal teeth before she has traveled even halfway. I spread wide my arms and drop into a fighting stance, hands crooked, as if I am preparing for a barehanded wrestle.
The fangchasers lunge for me, and not my lady. I smile. Such simple violence as theirs could not be easier to anticipate.
Under the horrible screech of fangs on neutron steel, I faintly hear the clunk of her boots meeting ground.
She stumbles, but to my relief I do not hear her collapse in a heap.
A different clanking as she hurriedly descends the ladder, followed by the screech of the metal plate sliding back into place.
comsys.ssm.say("Now, fangchasers! A knight of Glain goes down fighting! Let us be about it!");
Recovered correspondence, dated 11 Woodsman's Moon 1080
Knight-Captain Montaigne,
An update from your advance team. The situation here is dire indeed. If anything, Luther and his men have been overly circumspect in their reports. I understand now how men such as them met their end. The Grey Forest is crawling with metal horrors immune to both blade and bow. Not only has the advance team failed to reinforce Greywater Fork, we have been pushed back all the way to Shale Bluff along with what remained of the forces in Greywater Fork. With the aid of the garrison we hold the city, though not without cost. A new variety of beast has made itself known, a massive one which can hurl a boulder with more terrible accuracy and speed than the finest trebuchet team. A living siege engine of fearsome might. The walls have held thus far, but on some occasions it has been a near thing.
And yet, there still burns a flame of hope in my breast. For the tide has stemmed somewhat in the past three days. It is possible that they throw themselves into our defenses faster than they can be birthed from that horrible rift – the ballistae certainly skewer them properly enough, even the giants. With reinforcements, we could force them back, and we can certainly hold long enough for them to arrive.
Resolutely,
Sir Mason
Verified digital legal document, issued 11/09/2539
Recovered digital file, dated 11/09/2539 (brute force decrypted)
We were able to shut down the drone autofactory. It'll take them a while to recover, maybe even long enough for Rusa's spatial tear to close. But I'm not sure the price we paid was worth it. Rusa is gone. She stayed behind to cover my escape, and I didn't have any time to wait for her to catch up. Something was moving around in the maintenance tunnel behind me, probably a clawcutter, and I had to run.
Stupid Rusa. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Why did you throw away the gun instead of reloading? Why didn't you shoot the fangchasers in their more vulnerable joints? Why did you give yourself up for me? That's not what I brought you back to life for, dammit!
Fuck, I'm crying again.
I shouldn't blame her. She's not used to all this. Maybe if I'd been a little smarter about it, I could have
(File ends here.)
Excerpt from system event log, timestamped 11/08/2539
I drop the last fangchaser's limp form and brush the metal dust from my hands.
combat.eval.damagereport(); Minor cosmetic damage detected. Integrity not compromised. No system failures detected.
I might perhaps have indulged in the drama of the moment overmuch.
Fangchasers seem unable to meaningfully harm my neutron steel body. I am covered now in faint scratches, but nothing pierced me. Meanwhile, the fullest of my strength was sufficient to dismember the wretched hounds without tools.
Still this place shrieks its red-tinted agony. Surely reinforcements are on their way. I must depart without further delay.
I stride briskly to the hatch and descend.
My lady is nowhere to be seen. It seems she indeed took the chance to escape. Good.
But that leaves me with a new problem. How do I return to her side?
I can envision the layout of the tunnels perfectly.
But our infiltration also required Dr. Uehara employ her Magick to disable various [kill-fences] and other security contrivances I struggle to even comprehend. I will not have the luxury of simply traipsing through this time.
As I stand there considering my options, the hatch above and behind me shifts.
comsys.lim.interpret("Did you see what that thing did to the fangchasers? I'm not going down there.");
comsys.lim.interpret("Calm down, it doesn't even have a weapon anymore. And we're smarter than attack drones.");
My pursuit has arrived.
I recede behind a corner as the two men descend the ladder.
Their footfalls are heavier than even mine. They must be laden down with equipment, fearing my capabilities.
Armor, surely, but more importantly weapons. Weapons suitable for hunting a metal being such as I.
Which means they will be more than suitable for striking down drones, and any other consequences of my inferior stealth.
My egress is assured.
I position myself to pounce just as the first guard rounds the corner.
He gurgles as my tackle drives him to the ground. His neck snaps under my weight, which was not my intent but saves me the trouble of subduing him.
Quickly, I take stock of his equipment.
combat.eval.armament();
Heavy body armor and a helmet. An APAR-12 much like my discarded one, another rifle of a different shape, and a third bulkier weapon which the Magick in my head informs me is a [grenade launcher], loaded with ammunition capable of creating a great burst of force and fire. A lightweight tower shield, strapped to his back. And at his waist, a blade.
I deprive him of the latter two.
Shots ring out. The second guard has recovered from his shock enough to raise his APAR and shoot, but in his panic he wastes all of the bullets in his [magazine].
As he fumbles for another, I twist to my feet, raise the shield, and unsheathe the strange sword.
It roars to life, the cutting edge emitting a faint orange glow and a slight warmth.
A sword enhanced for cutting through steel by the application of heat, perhaps?
I shift my grip, staring down the guard.
On a whim I give him a sporting chance, permitting him the time to reload his chosen weapon and take up his own shield. I notice then that the shield has a notch in the corner into which he can fit his rifle, shooting while maintaining his guard.
It will avail him naught. Despite its unusual shape, the sword's balance is satisfactory. I shall have no trouble wielding it.
combat.eval.vector();
He darts to his left, trying to shoot around my shield.
I lunge forward, shifting my grip again.
My first swing narrowly misses him.
Bullets whip past the side of my head. One strikes my shield, forcing me to dig in to maintain balance.
combat.eval.vector();
He deflects my second blow with his own shield.
Despite their light weight, neither sword nor bullet can penetrate these shields. I suppose they would be no use otherwise.
My strike sends him off balance for a moment, though.
He lowers his stance to compensate and fires again.
Recovered from his panic now, immersed in the energy of combat, this guard is a skilled fighter.
But his use of his shield as a companion for his rifle is sloppy.
He keeps his shield between us, afraid to shift his rifle away from it, making aiming far more difficult for himself.
He lacks the flexibility that my own swordsmanship instructor forced me to develop.
Perhaps his usual enemies are obliging enough to succumb to mere bullets.
combat.eval.vector();
I spot an opening, and I exploit it instantly.
My third swing cleaves his head from his shoulders with the sizzle of burning flesh.
I depart after lingering only a moment to contemplate my handiwork.
There is much and more to cut through in order to make my escape, and the night wears long.
Recovered correspondence, dated 15 Woodsman's Moon 1080
Knight-Captain Montaigne,
With the aid of the additional soldiers, we have pushed the metal beasts back as far as the border of the province. Our position is tenuous, and fighting among the aged, tight-packed trees is an ordeal for those of us from more western parts of the kingdom. But more disquieting by far is the condition of the land. By way of fortifications, or perhaps for some darker purpose still, great trenches have been opened in the ground in an uncannily ordered pattern spanning half the forest. We spied the beast responsible from afar, some manner of enormous insectile thing chewing through the soil and rock, but the place was too thick with monsters for our scouts to approach.
Construction is well underway on our own temporary redoubt, though I doubt it will stand up to the attentions of the giants. With none seen for some time, though, I dare to hope for our complete triumph before winter's bitterest snows are upon us.
Our forces are sufficient for the time being. After dispatching this letter to you, I plan to send word to Conjurer Ramid and ask if he has any insights regarding the gigantic insect. Our current plan is to employ some manner of siege engine against it, but if that will not work it seems ill worth the additional effort of constructing one. If the conjurer advises a different tactic I would know it before we begin.
Stolidly,
Sir Mason
Transcript of recorded interrogation, dated 11/10/2539
CAPT. WATANABE: Good evening, Dr. Uehara.
DR. UEHARA: Fuck you.
CAPT. WATANABE: There's no call for that, Dr. Uehara. I'm just here to ask you a few questions.
DR. UEHARA: I'm not telling you shit.
CAPT. WATANABE: If my methods aren't productive, I'm afraid I'll have to escalate this to the superintendent, and he has a reputation for encouraging compliance through rather uncouth means. If you could take a look at this photograph. This was the last person he interviewed.
(papers rustling)
DR. UEHARA: Ew! What the fuck?
CAPT. WATANABE: I wouldn't want to do that to a valued former employee.
DR. UEHARA: "Valued." Pah. I didn't miss the fucking corporate euphemisms, I'll tell you that much.
(papers rustling)
CAPT. WATANABE: To start at the very beginning – you are Hirohito Uehara, correct?
DR. UEHARA: My name is Saiko. Fucking get it right.
CAPT. WATANABE: I do see that, under known aliases. But Hirohito Uehara is your legal name?
DR. UEHARA: My. Name. Is. Saiko.
CAPT. WATANABE: I'll take that as confirmation.
DR. UEHARA: Just get to the point. You don't have to go through this whole song and dance of demonstrating that I don't have rights anymore. Ask me the actual fucking questions.
CAPT. WATANABE: If you insist.
(papers rustling)
CAPT. WATANABE: Our investigation uncovered evidence that you performed a successful full-body cyborg conversion, the first of its kind. Is this correct?
DR. UEHARA: What?
CAPT. WATANABE: Do you need me to repeat the question, Dr. Uehara?
DR. UEHARA: No, I'm just confused. I thought this was going to be about the night before last.
CAPT. WATANABE: We don't need confirmation on any of those details, Dr. Uehara. After we're done here, I will be attending a sentencing meeting to decide what disciplinary measures to take regarding your act of sabotage. We've already secured the A.P.E.
DR. UEHARA: What does that mean?
CAPT. WATANABE: Authorization for private enforcement.
DR. UEHARA: Then what is this interrogation about?
CAPT. WATANABE: In the face of your groundbreaking technological accomplishment, Frontier feels it would be a shame to waste your talents by imprisoning you indefinitely or executing you. They are considering a sort of... plea deal, you could say.
DR. UEHARA: What kind of deal?
CAPT. WATANABE: The R&D department is prepared to offer you your prior position back, with a 20% pay hike. If you work for them, they'll forgive the sabotage entirely. That factory was due for an equipment overhaul anyway.
DR. UEHARA: What?
CAPT. WATANABE: I hope you realize how unprecedented this is. I don't think they'd offer this deal to anyone else. But that cyborg of yours has them impressed. The way it moves, the armor that doesn't sacrifice looks–
(clattering)
DR. UEHARA: What the fuck have you done with Rusa?
CAPT. WATANABE: Is that the cyborg's name?
DR. UEHARA: Yes, it is. What did you do to her?
CAPT. WATANABE: Nothing. We weren't able to detain her. But we have plenty of security footage.
DR. UEHARA: Oh, thank fuck.
Excerpt from system event log, timestamped 11/09/2539
Finally. It was quite the ordeal, but I have finally made my way back to my lady's estate.
Well, "estate" is perhaps too grand a word.
Dr. Uehara lives and does her grand works in a disused warehouse near the city harbor, one I am told she does not have permission to use. But it is difficult to see the place I was reborn as anything but a palace. Difficult to see the abode of my plainspoken, beautiful savior as a mere maritime hovel.
It is silent as I approach, and I try not to disturb it. The place is always silent during midday. My lady cannot risk the dockworkers noticing her presence.
But given that danger, why would she be so negligent as to leave the front door hanging open?
I creep closer, silent on my precise metal joints.
combat.alert.monitor();
No sign of concealed foes. Just darkness within.
I step across the threshold.
Dr. Uehara's belongings are scattered across the floor. Signs of a great struggle, as if our castle was raided by brutes looking for treasures.
I stiffen and drop into a fighting stance, unsheathing my sword. But the red glow of its heated blade finds naught but wreckage. I stalk forward.
Nothing in the study.
Nothing in the room in which I woke.
Nothing in my lady's bedchambers – forgive me for searching the place, Dr. Uehara.
Nothing in the halls.
My lady is gone. But I can find no blood. She was not slain by a clawcutter or a fangchaser, those most common soldiers. Nor by a bullet. Nay, subtler hands are at work here.
Captured? Taken, I should think, and not without a struggle.
To the enemy's keep?
I grip the handle of my sword tighter. There is only one way to redress my negligence in allowing her to be captured.
I must begin the siege on my own.
Transcript of recorded interrogation, dated 11/10/2539
CAPT. WATANABE: I have the terms of the contract here, if you would like to review it.
DR. UEHARA: I'll look it over, at least.
(papers rustling)
DR. UEHARA: Twenty-four hour surveillance? You have got to be kidding me.
CAPT. WATANABE: Even if they're willing to overlook the sabotage this time, the board wants to be sure it does not happen again. I should remind you that the tower and the employee dorms are already subject to full-spectrum surveillance to discourage breach of NDA or contract, so this does not change much about your situation.
DR. UEHARA: Ugh. Yeah, that made it really hard the first time, too.
CAPT. WATANABE: Footage of this interview will be reviewed at the disciplinary meeting. I suggest not saying anything you'll regret on that occasion.
DR. UEHARA: Noted.
(papers rustling)
DR. UEHARA: So. What's in store for me if I don't come crawling back, huh?
CAPT. WATANABE: I hesitate to speculate, Dr. Uehara. But the board has preferred more permanent solutions lately. To "make an example," I believe is the official wording.
DR. UEHARA: Lovely.
Excerpt from master security controller log, timestamped 11/09/2539
CAM 10223 ALERT unidentified hostile
type HUMANOID BIONIC / HEAVY CYBORG / UNCLEAR estimate capabilities
weapons profile BLADE / FRONTIER SECURITY CLEARCUTTER-2
weapons profile SHIELD / FRONTIER SECURITY PBB
designate HOSTILE1 threat rating HIGH CLOSE RANGE
HOSTILE1 assign as CONTINUOUS MUSTER POSITION to all CLAWCUTTER, FANGCHASER in AREA 10000
CAM 10246 ALERT HOSTILE1
CLAWCUTTER 2029 ALERT HOSTILE1
CLAWCUTTER 2029 ENGAGE HOSTILE1
CAM 10250 ALERT HOSTILE1
FANGCHASER 1664 ALERT HOSTILE1
CLAWCUTTER 2029 ALERT DESTROYED
FANGCHASER 1664 ENGAGE HOSTILE1
(Events truncated for brevity.)
AUTOTURRET 10100 ALERT HOSTILE1
AUTOTURRET 10100 ENGAGE HOSTILE1
AUTOTURRET 10100 ALERT DESTROYED
HOSTILE1 reassess threat rating SEVERE CLOSE RANGE
HOSTILE1 assign as CONTINUOUS MUSTER POSITION to all CLAWCUTTER, FANGCHASER in AREA 11000
HOSTILE1 assign as CONTINUOUS MUSTER POSITION to all ENFORCEMENT PERSONNEL in AREA 10000
assign TACTICS / ELECTRONIC DISRUPTION to all ENFORCEMENT PERSONNEL in AREA 11000
CORRIDOR 11016 assign as PREPARE KILLBOX to all ENFORCEMENT PERSONNEL in AREA 11000
deploy WIREWITCH 0001 override WARNING / EXPERIMENTAL
CORRIDOR 11016 assign as PATROL PATH to WIREWITCH 0001
(Events truncated for brevity.)
CAM 11081 ALERT HOSTILE1
WIREWITCH 0001 ALERT HOSTILE1
WIREWITCH 0001 ENGAGE HOSTILE1
Recovered correspondence, dated 21 Woodsman's Moon 1080
From The Desk of Knight-Captain Montaigne
To: His Majesty the King of Glain
My King:
I have had no word from Sir Mason and his men for six days and I fear I must conclude the worst. This metal monster situation requires no less than our full attention at this stage. I will lead all remaining knights on a full-scale assault against the infestation in the south province. I request a full deployment of the army with additional recruitment along the route as escort. We must drive them back no matter the cost. It is clear to me now that the alternative is the destruction of our very nation.
- Knight-Captain Montaigne
Excerpt from system event log, timestamped 11/09/2539
What manner of new drone isاŮ'Þ¥¿Þ¥¿ ©â€š�????ráÚÆ óÞ¢áñ????£Þ¥¿ æØ¢ÃاŮÞ¥¿Release my mind from your Magick's grip¶????╟舐 ½????ráÚÆ ▀舐舐ñâmå• Ř§Ů½—???? —‚�舐 ▀£Š ▀????½'— »舐 ©â€š�óÞ¢áñVile knaveاŮ'Þ¥¿Þ¥¿ »舐 æØ¢Ã舐½—Þ¥¿舐 ©ráÚÆ 舐舐— ½舐ráÚÆ Â£½▀ ╟Ř§Ů½▀Þ¥¿舐©©The pain is impossible but I must stand my groundRáÚÆ â€š�£— ráÚÆ ????╟£½Â£舐 óÞ¢áñ????ðsžšåÞя —‚�Ř§Ů½ŠŘ§Ů½æآã»????ðsžšåÞя— ????—‚�舐 —‚�£½╟舐� ráÚÆ â€š�????舐?For my lady! For Dr. Uehara!
lsm.exception(); FATAL ERROR must hard shutdown
combat.sysmonitor.alert(); Emergency shutdown while in combat state! Rebooting immediately.
boot.main(????‚� ½???? óÞ¢áñ????ðsžšåÞя ▀????½'—); Wirewitch override complete, deleting boot sector...
Transcript of recorded interrogation, dated 11/10/2539
DR. UEHARA: Well, you haven't given me much of a choice. But I think you've left me room to negotiate.
APT. WATANABE: What about, Dr. Uehara?
DR. UEHARA: Rusa. If I take the position back, you forgive her being at the factory too. And anything else she did on the way out. Leave her alone.
CAPT. WATANABE: I'll see what I can do. Excuse me for a moment, I need to make a call.
(door closing)
DR. UEHARA: Rusa... please, stay away. Do something better with your life than this. Find happiness.
(door opening)
CAPT. WATANABE: I have preliminary authorization to add that condition to your contract, Dr. Uehara. Was there anything else?
DR. UEHARA: No. Let's get this over with.
(papers rustling)