> Cyzsos: Regret everything. [fantrolls]

> run vidplayer.exe
> ERROR. SPECIFY FILE.
> cd C:\
> cd vids
> run vidplayer.exe 39816-2038-710
> running...

> Cyzsos: Be depressed about your wriggling day.

You see a tree. It is a dead tree. It is the same tree that has sat outside your dusty hive for five sweeps. It is not very tall: just a bit of brush, really - scrubby, wiry, and dead. It's always reminded you of yourself.

You scratch your nose. Ponydad still isn't back. Your wriggling day is in less than a perigee, and you still haven't received any official summons from the Imperial Helm Training Facility. You sent in your application on time, and it was scintillatingly good. You'd scored significantly above average in all the advanced schoolfeed drills, and you'd even hauled your sorry ass out to the nearest town to do a proper motion capture of your psionics and helming.

You know, in your head, that it isn't too late. If they don't say anything within a couple months of Ascension, then, well, you're fucked, better go find a hole to hide in. But right now, it's still not too late.

You look down at your right leg, sore as always, and you rub at your knee. You can't wait to get rid of the damn thing. You can't wait to have this wreck of a body gone - you can't wait to be free.

> END OF FILE

> run vidplayer.exe 39816-2028-1023

> Cyzsos: Panic.

It's night. The desert is cold. The moon throws light onto the sand and you see that damn tree again. A rambling hoofbeast tried to eat it a few perigees ago, got a mouthful of thorny twigs, and trampled it in rage. Reminds you even more of yourself, now.

Still no word from Her Condescension's Fleet. You're starting to get really nervous now. Plus, drone season's coming up, and since you expected to be in helms training by now, you ... haven't made arrangements.

You flip open your husktop and scroll through your mail. You find the Trollian handle you're looking for.

scissileXerarch [sX] has begun trolling itinerantRapscallion [iR]!

sX: hey.
sX: i hear y()u're the tr()ll t() talk t() ab()ut h()()king up helmsmen under the table.
sX: tell me what y()u need fr()m me.
iR: you surrre about that buddy?
sX: dead seri()us.
iR: it's no joke, flying underrr the rrradarrr. haha.
sX: i kn()w. at this p()int i'm pretty sure it's that ()r culling f()r me.
sX: i'll take the ship any day.
iR: alrrright, yourrr funerrral. haha.
iR: gimme yourrr co-orrrds.
sX: -21352.23, -193.4, 2314676.3; g231.22 q3942.73.
iR: aye aye. you fit to trrravel?
sX: just tell me where t() be.
iR: i've got a ship leaving the city nearrrest you in thrrree nights. be therrre. brrring as little as you can. payment's 3000 caegarrrs. send it to my handle tonight and therrre'll be a berrrth for you. look for the white hoofbeastshit.
sX: that's the ship name?
iR: hell no. you can't figurrre that one out, you'rrre on yourrr own, wrrrigglerrr. white hoofbeastshit, thrrree nights, 3000 caegarrrs.

itinerantRapscallion [iR] has ceased trolling scissileXerarch [sX]!

You stare at your husktop. Are you really doing this? You look out your window at the crushed tree, and you feel your pusher getting heavy in your chest.

Yeah, you're doing it. What choice do you have?

You send the money. It's almost all your savings. Not like it'll be much use to you as a pirate.

You wonder what'll happen to dad. Your pusher hurts more.

> END OF FILE

> diag
> ERROR. NO LEGAL TARGET.
> ..
> ..
> diag
> ERROR. SPECIFY DRIVE TO RUN DIAGNOSTIC.
> diag full
>
>
>
>
>
> DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE. BIOWARE 73.62% FAILURE. DATABASES A:\ THROUGH Z:\ 1.4143% IRRETRIEVABLE, 4.5779% CORRUPT. SHIP STATUS: DISABLED. FULL SYSTEMS FAILURE. POWER REMAINING: 2.351%. NO LIFE SIGNS.
> cd X:\
> cd vids
> run vidplayer.exe 39816-2023-714

> Cyzsos: Have a happy wriggling day.

You look out the window at the little tree, struggling to grow in the sand. You've been watering it every day since you planted the seed you brought back from the city, and it's slow going, but it's green. It makes you smile. It reminds you of yourself.

It's your fifth wriggling day, and your dad has brought you a fine selection of greenery, picked from the forest on the edge of the desert. He left for over three perigees to bring all this back, and you were starting to get worried when you'd heard him huffing as he arrived late last night.

You aren't going to tell him, of course, that you'd been frying passing birds with your psi, and eating a lot better. Ponydad didn't much like meat, and expected you to eat his greens too. And you usually do! But ... you get hungry. And once you'd figured out how to use the sparks that used to hurt you, thanks to the schoolfeeds that got dropped off last sweep ... well, you've been eating like the Empress must, you think.

Soon, you hope you'll be able to use your psionics to let you fly. Ever since that nasty fall when you were two sweeps, the one that messed up your ankle, you haven't been able to walk so well. And now you're too big for ponydad to carry. You've long since gotten tired of sitting in the hive, or on the sand. And you have to limp, or worse, crawl.

But! It's not the time for that. It's time for a party!

You munch happily on the greens that dad brought, and you give him lots of pets and snuggles. You feel good about life. You have a lusus who loves you, and a decent little hive, and you can use psionics. You've watched a couple of feeds about trolls like you who can fly ships. You're really interested in that.

It's a good wriggling day.

> END OF FILE. WARNING: 2% POWER REMAINING.
> run comm.exe
> ENTER MESSAGE.
> send distress_salvage.comm 1034.23 ZHz
> SENDING distress_salvage.comm ON FLEETWIDE EMERGENCY FREQUENCY.

The voice of a young female troll crackles into the depths of space from a tiny, listing ship.

"This is the Independent Merchant Ship Brick Hive. We have experienced shipwide catastrophic failure. This is an open invitation for salvage and retrieval. There are no survivors: repeat, there are no survivors. ... ... This is the Independent Merchant Ship Brick Hive ... " The message repeats, indefinitely.

> shutdown main.helm
> ARE YOU SURE? THIS WILL END AUTOMATIC CONTROL OF ALL SYSTEMS AND INITIATE LOW-POWER MODE. CONFIRM SUBMISSION.
>
>
> shutdown main.helm
>
>
> PROCESS COMPLETE. SYSTEMS UNDER MANUAL CONTROL. LOW-POWER MODE INITIATING. HELM INACTIVE.



The little ship floats in space, drifting aimlessly, the distress signal still playing.

Spoiler: OOC

Anyone want a dead ship with a maybe-not-so-dead helmsman? You get loads of free angst!

 

~ Sometime in the Future ~

Nazuma's hanging out in the cockpit of his little merchant runner, sitting sideways in the chair with his legs up and reading a book...

Spoiler: info

Think Serenity/Firefly type of ship

It'd taken him awhile to save up for it, working a couple decades in the military. The bonuses were nice, the food was good and plenty, and so was the tail... but the officers were mostly douche bags and the way that any lower blooded troll was treated just... really rubbed him the wrong way. There was a lot of things the Empire did that rubbed him the wrong way...

Two decades as a helmEngineer in a seablood's battle cruiser, and then the motherfucking captain goes and gets himself skewered... turns out he was smuggling slaves and drugs all over the Empire. Nazuma of course has nothing to do with the bastard getting caught, of course...
On the plus side, the helmsman he'd been in charge of didn't have any restrictions in regards to thought processes or reading material... So he of course has no idea how she got her hands on legal documents and textbooks either.
So after the old seahag was skewered, Nazuma bought Delphi for a measly 300 caegar, snagged himself a cute little merchant runner for another 5000 cae, and away they went, exploring and doing whatever the hell they wanted.

Delphi'd been captured and enslaved younger than ascension age, modified into a living engine, and lived in/as a battle cruiser for about decade. The helm setup in the older ship was, well, older, and made for the limeblood who'd burnt out before she had been aquired, and she was shoved in there and expected to just deal with it, despite being a brightish mutant creamsicle orange. But Nazuma had been one of the few people who still treated her like a person, working with her to modify and update the system so she could work with it properly, having actual conversations with the young troll and even calling her by her name, instead of just 'the engine'.
One of the perks of being a modern helm shoved in an old system, was that the restrictions were made specifically for the old helm's brain... so it made them a lot easier to circumvent or ignore altogether. She also still had all of her limbs intact, being younger and small enough to fit into the compartment without needing anything sawed off, which was one of the unfortunate cons of the situation. It's very hard to scratch an itch on your hand with your arms strapped above you and covered in tentacle-wire.

'Just dealing with it' paid off though, in the long run. She had a great moirail/engineer, and now they had their own ship and were free to do whatever they wanted, which was currently being a courier between four different stations. Not bad, good pay, and lots of tasty gossip.

Tonight though, they're cruising a little off course, heading towards an asteroid mining facility and factory to see about picking up some components to upgrade their little ship... when she picks up the distress call, listening to it and tracking down the source for a bit before alerting Nazuma and playing it back for him.

Nazuma sets his book down, sticking a red feather in his page for a book mark, then sits up and cracks his knuckles. "Where's it coming from, Delphi?"

"A small ship, just a little ways off the beaten path. If I can get three point four five seven star-meters closer, I can do a proper scan for life forms to ensure that the message is indeed legitimate." Her soft, semi mechanised voice chimes through the speaker. "If it's not too damaged, maybe we can integrate some of it into my system. At the very least, parts are worth good caegar."

"Sounds like a plan, girl... I'll go get a shower and get dressed."

"Yes enjoy your cleaning in the recycled pee water... I'll ping you again when I'm in range."

 

The tiny craft continues its trek, oblivious to the larger craft coming into range. When it is scanned, the following information is gathered:

There are indeed no life signs.

The ship has approximately zero power remaining: zero, because for all intents and purposes it is dead in space; approximately, because the distress beacon is still transmitting, though tiny flecks of static have started to mar the message.

The hull is intact; the atmosphere has not been vented, and is, in theory, breathable.

Its callsign does not match the name painted on its side: while the message states this craft is called the IMS Brick Hive, the paint reads MMF Troll From Nantucket.

It is an older model, and it has clearly not seen much love: it is scuffed up from laser fire and there appears to be atmospheric entry burning - despite not being a model cleared for re-entry. Also, in the same vein as the last informative bullet, it is absolutely covered in splotches of paint.

It is unclear from an initial scan how long the craft has been drifting.

The ship has a standard docking clamp on its top side.

 

Delphi laughs over the speakers, waking Nazuma up from his nap.

"Naz... Naz this ship is a lil fucking dingy! It's been scuffed up and shot at and repainted at least three times. The Brick Hive must be long dead, because someone painted over it with 'MMF Troll From Nantucket'. I couldn't find anything in the registry under that name though. Confirmed no life signs, power's at zero, dead fucking zero. Atmosphere's still good, as far as I can tell. I'm drifting over right now to clamp it so we can drag it home for salvage. This model is so old man! The docking clamp is on the TOP!"

"Greeeat..." He grumbles, flapping a hand towards the speaker. "Goin' back to my sleep cycle now... we'll check out the ship when I get up."

"You lazy ass, that won't be until we get home."

"Yeeeeup! Probably."

"Oh whatever... enjoy your nap, lazy old goat."

 

When Delphi clamps onto the little ship, its power flickers and the echo of a handshake protocol pings her system. After that instant, the ship goes back to being dead - even the distress beacon has stopped.

 

Nazuma had aaaaalmost gotten back to sleep before Delphi pings him again over the intercom.

"Yo. I need you to suit up and go check that ship out. I got a quick power flicker and a handshake ping from it, but now it's dead. Even the distress beacon stopped. Still no life signs and power still reads dead zero. I tried to ping it back but I'm still not receiving any pongs."

He siiiiighs, sitting up, "Okay yeah that is weird... I'll check it out. Clothes first." He slides out of bed, going for his clothes he'd tossed off the previous day. "If I'm gonna head on over there, can you check to see if there's a power port near the docking clamps? Old ship like this would have to get it's batteries recharged somehow."

"Good idea. I'll check and see if it's battery or psii powered, and if I can click in some jump cables."

 

When Delphi checks the ship's power systems, she finds that they're ... cobbled together: there is plenty of psii cabling, but also old digital cabling, and the power port near the docking clamp is a disaster zone of an attempt at retrofitting a battery port into a psii port. It's pretty gross actually - looks like the bioware was poorly installed, and as a result it's sort of spread along the ship's hull. Luckily for Nazuma, the rogue bioware hasn't gotten so far as to block the entrance, and he has no trouble (well, almost no trouble - it's seriously encrusted with paint) prying open the hatch and climbing down the old-style ladder.

As he reaches the floor, his eyes adjusting to the low light filtering in from the hatch above, he sees the source: a dozen troll corpses, haphazardly strewn around the room. It's clear that before docking with Nazuma's ship, this little dinghy had lost gravity along with everything else, and the bodies had been floating freely before now coming to rest, undignified, on consoles and bits of floor. It is hard to find a surface that isn't daubed with blood: most of it is fairly warm-hued, the highest being a greeny teal, but it's hard to tell the actual spectrum without studying the corpses, since the blood has been mingling.

The corpses are ... interesting: looking at the nearest to the ladder, an older rust-blood male, Nazuma can see obvious bloodstains around the eyes, mouth, nose, and ears. The troll's clothes are also stained with blood, but it is harder to tell where the stains came from. The corpse looks almost mummified, but the blood is not dry: that is certainly due to the lack of gravity halting coagulation, but the presence of atmosphere should have caused further decomposition in the corpses themselves, which instead seem to have been violently exsanguinated and then essentially freeze-dried.

In the center of the room - which is the center of the ship; the interior is a single chamber with several (now-collapsed) makeshift partitions - hangs the core of the rogue bioware: a helmstroll, incredibly emaciated, their biocables altogether too entwined around them as to be healthy. It is impossible to tell whether this troll is male or female, or even whether they still have limbs. However, they are unbloodied, and there does not seem to be any physical damage to their bioware - apart from the fact that it has spread to far beyond where it ought to have done.

 

"I'm not hooking up any jump cables anytime soon." Delphi's voice comes through loud and clear over the com through Nazuma's space suit, made of Alternian nanocarbon kevlar, one of his 'keepsakes' from back when he was in the military. Not only does it keep bullets and pathogens OUT, it also formfitting and makes his ass look FANTASTIC. "There's overgrown biowire everywhere..."

"Yeah, I can see that." He says out loud, looking around from his space by the ladder. Something happened here... . "I don't know what happened in here... but it's not pretty. I'm counting... ... ... at least twelve corpses by the ladder here. Cause of death: indeterminable at this point in time. Ship lost gravity, possibly when it started drifting? Can't tell if it was before everyone died or after, there's bloodstains everywhere. The deceased are all really emancipated or mummified, evidence of severe brain hemorrhaging from thick bloodstains around the facial orifices. Highest blood colour noted is teal. Lowest is rust. Anomalies of note: little to no decomposition of tissues, blood is not quite dried.
"Partitions of the ship seem to have collapsed? Cause currently unknown. Helmcore is in the center of the ship... there's another corpse here covered in seriously overgrown biowire, no hemorrhaging or bloodstains, emancipated, biowire seems to be undamaged. Seems like whatever killed the crew and the helm here might've been what caused the biowire to expand like crazy..."

"Maybe the helm killed them." Delphi chimes through the suit. "Emancipated but no hemorrhaging... he probably blew up the crew. Seems strange for a lowblood crew... they usually tend to treat us better. No offence."

"S'all good. Why do you think the helm did it? Just because of the lack of blood?" He looks down at the floor, charting a path through dry spots to try to check out the helm column.

"Makes the most logical sense from the evidence you stated."

"Poor guy had to've been hurt too though. Otherwise why would they just drift and put up a salvage call... There must be some reason he didn't just fly out into wild space."

 

Cyzsos hears something. Something that is not coming through his wires, but through his ears. It pings his brain, which is slow to respond, not used to functioning anymore. It is surprised. Then Cyzsos is surprised. What is that? He tries to look through his wires, but finds he can see nothing. He tries to open his eyes, but they do not respond. He cannot move; something is holding him still.

His brain realizes that he hasn't been breathing for a while now. It tries to start again. Breathing is a thing trolls need to do, right? Even if they're hooked up to bioware ... His lungs, though, are not used to working anymore, it would seem. Maybe you don't have to breathe if you're hooked up to bioware. His thoughts are very slow and muddled, and for some reason, he thinks it's worse than it was before. What's worse? What was before? He's not sure. Nothing's really existing the way his brain seems to think it should.

The extent of his efforts is only obvious to Nazuma as a slow rattling intake of breath, and a twitching of the biowire-covered mass.

 

He pauses when he gets close to he helm column... did that helm just breathe. "Delphi, did you hear that? Do a lifeforms scan again!"

"I did... and I scanned the ship twice."

"I think this guy is alive!"

"Nazuma... I scanned the ship twice! He's not. I'm sorry."

"Can you modify the scan to detect biowire? It's definitely alive."

"You do have a point there. I never thought about how biowire never shows up."

"You're going to have to find the sub command that detects it and excludes it from the lifeform scan... you do that, I'm gonna see if there's any life left in this guy." He does a half circle to Cyszos' other side, looking for where a control panel should be. "Hey buddy... can you hear me? You in there? Or is that just biowire echos makin'ya twitch'n stuff. I hope yer in there."

 

There is indeed a control panel: it's been encroached upon by the omnipresent biowire, but not so much that it isn't accessible.

Cyzsos hears the sounds Nazuma is making, but his brain hasn't quite figured out how to parse language yet. He's managed to crack his eyes open, but the goggles make everything blurry (and besides, Nazuma is behind him). All this new input floods his brain, and he reacts to the discomfort unconsciously by groaning - or attempting to, anyway. It comes out real quiet and hoarse, but it's definitely a little groan.

 

He looks up, watching the helmtroll for a bit when he makes the small groan, then goes back to inspecting the control panel, looking for a place where he can input some commands or at least speak to him in text.

> Hello there. Are you alive?

 

The words ping in his head. He understands them. He has to think about how to do this again, but it's far easier than what he was trying before.

>
>
> Ó´–-¯Üºm{„dž昦‰yìøq„ÇíE!¼ìà»ËÞy7ßc›4j4 oŸÊ•
> øñ_ýÕY¾¼aƒŠ+
> v)°E
>
>
> jegus i h()pe s()
> if this is the afterlife i want my caegars back
>
> aw fuck
> if this is the dark carnival
> if this is supp()sed t() be M()THERFUCKING FUNNY
> fuuuuuuuuck.
> _

He groans again, a little more emphatically this time.

 

Nazuma laughs, a happy relieved laugh, and looks up to the troll inside the helm.

> You're not in the afterlife buddy.
> But shit you got pretty motherfucking close so far, but you ain't there yet!
> My name's Nazuma. My partner is Delphi. We run a merchant courier.
> Came to check out your ship from the distress-salvage call.

 

> w()w. n()t dead, radi() actually w()rked. c()l()r me tyrian.
> hi. c()()l names.
> h()w l()ng have i been ()ut?
>
> shit, the cl()ck st()pped.
> w()w everything is way w()rse than i left it and i left it pretty shit
> stupid bi()ware g()t int() everything
> pr()b n()t even w()rth salvaging
> cruddy ship w cruddy bi()ware in literally everything, get it while it's h()t, tw() caegars f()r the l()t
>
> ... y()u g()nna leave me ()ut here? i'm w()rth less than the ship. w()uldn't blame y()u.

 

> Hell nah dude!
> I wouldn't have bothered waking you up or checking if you're alive if I was just gonna leave you.
> Delphi was gonna wire in some power but there's biowire leaking out into the outer hull, so she won't touch it.
> I could probably salvage your ass out of there, providing I can get you out of the helmcolumn.
> What even happened with it? Why's it so overgrown?

 

> ()h. i guess that makes sense.
> g()gdamn this helmsc()lumn.
> i dunn() why it's s() crap really. i kinda g()t c()nned into it.
> ... l()ng st()ry.
> i think i remember s()me()ne saying it was really ()ld, built f()r a limebl()()d.
> they figured i'd be cl()se en()ugh that it w()uldn't fuck me up.
> haha.
> maybe i just c()uldn't handle it, maybe i didn't kn()w en()ugh. ()r maybe the ()ld helm left s()me shit behind.
> but i c()uldn't st()p it.
> it just
> t()()k ()ver. t()()k ()ver everything. made me d() shit.

 

> So basically the biowire took over and it controlled you instead of you controlling it?
> That does sound like some programming issues going on. Maybe from previous helm. Hard to tell.
> Also shitty deal with getting conned into this mess. Sorry to hear that bro.
> Delphi might be able to help you out. She's been a helm for awhile.
> Problem is though she wont-can't wire you power with the biowire all around the outlet.
> We're gonna have to figure out another way to get you a little more online.
> Got a hookup for bat-pack at all?

 

> yeah man. sucks maj()r ass. but: n()t dead! that's pretty c()()l.
> anyway en()ugh ()f the sap. getting ()ut ()f this shith()le.
> hang ()n a sec lemme see what i can d() n()w i'm awake

The text cursor blinks. Cyzsos tries to access the ship's systems, and is roundly rebuked with an ULTRA LOW POWER DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT IT warning.

> n()pe. dead as my lusus.
> s() bat-pack.
> i think i remember a s()cket in the aft.
> bef()re they g()t me they had to run digital
> might even be an unused pack back there
> i can't feel the bi()wire g()ing that far
> y()u might be in luck

 

> Alright I'll go check it out.
> While I do that, can you see about detaching the bioware from any the ship systems?
> I don't want to accidentally power it up. That would probably be bad, if it's gone rogue.