Host, I am alerting you that members of your crew are beginning to wake. Would you like to remain asleep?
No thanks Tessa, and can I get a HUD display on any functions you are currently assisting me with? Oh, and don’t call me host, it’s kind of gross. Call me Penny or Merc. A grey outline of my body pops up with blue dots in my head and at injury sites in my legs and arms. A green mark in the appendix-kidney region must be the symbiote. The odd part about the display is that my eyes are still closed and I can “see” it. It also shows that my pain is being reduced by 10% and that no chemicals are being artificially triggered.
When I finally get my eyelids open I’m overwhelmed by light and color, and a weird heat map of colors in a fog-like overlay that needs a better contrast setting. Tessa, did you mess with my eyes again?
I mentioned that you were close to an Aether mutation. When your symbiote started processing the chaotic Aether in your body, you passed a threshold. You were unconscious at the time and your thoughts were reviewed for possible mutations you would consider. Dark Vision seemed appropriate. Try relaxing your eyes to trigger the transition. Also, you have a few advancement decisions to make.
I can see in the Dark?! Well that’s freaking cool, but this overbright thing is trash. Hmm. Close eyes, stop focusing so hard and acclimate and relax. A feeling of pressure subsiding makes me think I got it? I raise my eyelids again and things are regular waking up bright. Nice advice Tessa.
Looking around, I see folks from engineering aft and reactor control chatting with each other, hugging and smiling, some of them groaning in pain, but altogether they seem happy to be breathing. My teammates in Propulsion are holding onto railings with their mag boots on looking a little green.
“Hey team, you six injured or are you just feeling ill?”
“You warned us about the sick, but I feel like I just got run over by a whole pre-school.” MM2 pulls open his sick bag and adds to it.
“Were we really out for three hours, and why are we in reactor control?” Melissa asks.
“I wasn’t awake for all of it, but there was a breach in Propulsion and a leak in the aft machinery room. I had to drag you lazy fuckers and half of engineering up here. When I said it was my turn to save you guys, I didn’t think all of you would take me up on it.” I chuckle at my lame joke, hoping they don’t take it as actual criticism.
My team looks a little paler from my comment, but not more sick? Progress?
/Engineering, DE Propulsion. Propulsion suffered a hull breach, and Machinery aft can be brought to pressure but can’t hold it. Propulsion team accounted for and uninjured/
/Copy. Meeting in the CO’s Cabin in 1 hour/
That’s going to be a fun one. Hey Captain, I heard that we both got Alien AI, makes us buddies now right? What are the chances he’s going to leave me to my own devices about this? Near zero. It makes me wonder who the spiritual/community leader is. Worst come, he probably won’t space me because I’m the best chance we have of getting home . . . until propulsion is fixed.
Okay Tessa, looks like I have time to discuss my advancement options. And try to explain what that even means, with pictures too please.
You are the first member of the Human race to be assimilated into the Andromeda Supercluster Community Consciousness and Defense Matrix, or more simply the Andromeda Matrix. The Matrix is designed to document progress and provide tangible results to races to help motivate new races to be contributing members of the Supercluster Community, and to help defend against aggressors from other dimensions and universes.
Each new assimilated being will be scored against their race’s average. New race averages are extrapolated to 1000 beings or actual assimilated numbers, whichever is higher.
Before we continue, would you like to advance your tech and bio mechanisms together, or separately? Bio advancements are generally irreversible and Tech advancements can create dependencies but are otherwise implanted tech. Advancing together is slower, but practically eliminates developing in overlapping or conflicting ways.
I’m liking the sound of integrated tech and magic. I pick together as applicable. And then I get a series of prompts and trees pushed to my HUD.
Please Pick the preferred path >> Magical Tech (akin to Enchanters and Golomancy) >> Artificing (Runes and Machines) >> Electromagus (Netrunners and Technomages
Let me see if I understand: Magitech—it works because I have magic and I say it does. Artificing—Imbuing spells into and onto parts make device go burr. Electromancy—tech is better, faster stronger, because magic, duh.
Your need to force perfectly good concepts into crude distillations is vexing. There are some overlaps in these fields that defy your simplification, but yes, you could view them that way. I’d estimate Artificing is best suited to your interests.
Yeah, Magitech would feed my ego in the short term. I like the idea of making the universe do as I command. But my commands can only reach so far. Carving spells on things could theoretically show people how brilliant I am from a galaxy away. Electromancy just doesn’t sound as fun or conducive for breaks for maniacal laughing.
I would like to choose the Artificing track my dear Tessa. And this means I have a stat sheet right? Let me see that beastie.
Name: Penelope Arcadia Mercer Race: Human (Primus Andromeda Code: T-S Class: None Track: Artificing (lvl. 2) Imbalance: T + 2 Mind [Intelligence: A, Clever: A, Awareness: B] Social [Beauty: C, Charm: D, Presence: B] Physical [Strength: E, Agility: C, Fitness: E] Aether [Capacity: ??, Refinement: ??, Power: ??] Skills . . .
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My charm score is a little offensive, but it is what got me on this Space Vessel in the first place. Heh, imagine going back to a lab job after working on a space ship. If luck was a stat, I might have it pretty high. I leave the skills rolled up as I don’t really care about that mess.
I have a few questions. About the sheet though, Tessa.
She rebuts with a flashing yellow timer telling me I have ten minutes to get to the CO’s cabin. You win this round tag-along Tessa. Not like you’re going anywhere. Which means I can muse about things, you can que up some responses when I have the time. This is the best kind of talking to myself. Tessa sighs in my mind.
So first off, the imbalance thing is weird. I would have though that had to do with my wild magic saturation, but not sure where the “T” comes from. The question marks in Aether, I could speculate, like my Aether chakras, or whatever, are so messed up that my inner alien is still trying to stabilize everything. Last for my immediate concerns, is does Primus mean anything? I mean it has to or you wouldn’t have it on the sheet. But what does it do? OH, and if I’m lvl. 2 on the artificing track, where are my free stat points, what advantage do levels bring, etcetera. A rampant RPG player wants to know!
Before I can get to far into my nerdistential rant, I’m near Wardroom forward and the CO’s Cabin. A familiar cast of characters is present, but this time, some officers from the HAB are present. The Chief of the Boat and I are the only enlisted in view.
While we wait for whomever, I realize that I’m ravenous. Pocket strudel! Five minutes later, I’m standing in the back of the room shoving treats in my face and typing on air, running simulations on how overloaded our warp maneuver was due to the various complications.
“Can we have a moment of your time, Miss Mercer, or are you busy.” I look up and blood starts rushing to my face as Captain Morris embarrasses me in his Aussie accent.
“I, oof, I’m sorry sir. I was running simulations on what happened.” He raises an eyebrow, as though he assumed I was goofing off. I kind of was, but in a productive way. He motions for me to continue. “Uh, based on the all ahead full order, our proximity to Titan and the high A-M inventory; we initiated an unprecedented collapse of the majority of our A-M inventory due to the shaping of Titan’s atmosphere. This seems to have created a rift with enough additional energy to crush our back end and rupture in a ring-like intrusion before the rift collapsed around Copernicus. Based on simulations, we should be 240 to 260 times more distant than our desired maneuver with a preferred error toward farther.”
“Navigators,” Morris turns toward a Lieutenant and a Lt. Commander, “does this match to the astrological projections?”
The Lt. Commander nods, “near enough. Constellation mapping estimates between 2500 and 2800 light years from our original position.”
The community sigh is loud.
“Remember, we have the technology onboard that got us here, and the brain that built the first version of it.” Morris intrudes on the silence. “Eng., how long will it take to repair the hull?”
“Sir, if we started fabricating more fabricators, it would still take months to plug the holes, or massive damned rift in the back of this ship. And that’s assuming the thrust cones and other rare-metal bullshit on the back end was punched back into the ship instead of blown off. AND that doesn’t include the collider strut damage.”
“Mercer, if everything was fixed, could you get us back?”
“Of course I could sir. But it would take a decade to do it safely. It would take between 25 and 30 jumps and the gear is only rated for maybe 10. Assuming we inspect after every warp, and have to fabricate something every third. Most of our time would be spent waiting for the crew to recover enough to survive the next jump. I did half a dozen jumps in a year on Earth and I ended up in the hospital for three months. Inside estimate if we tried the same thing, I’d be twiddling my thumbs after three watching the crew evacuate their innards on the deck. If Nav gets lucky, we can find a planet to warp against each time and rebuild the aft end of the ship two more times.”
“Mercer, while I don’t appreciate your tone, your candor and data is noted.” Bastard smirks at me and then turns to a Civilian that was invited to the meeting. She managed a tight bun and a power suit after the rough warp. Respect. “Dr. Summers, what’s the food prospective over, say, 15 years?”
She chomps the end of that pen like it was a toaster strudel. “Not great, Captain. We would have to adjust our crops to focus on calories instead of balanced. Your military supply may have enough supplements to keep the crew from missing their vitamins too much.”
“Mercer asked for up to 15 years, the Botanist says she can make that happen. What else is in the way? And if anyone says power, I will escort you to a space funeral.”
“We can make water and air from chem fuel, but we can’t mess around with either. While the HAB has a renewable exchange resource, the rest of the ship consumes most of the air inventory.” The botanist chimes in again.
Morris starts looking irritated.
“Sir, my flippant proposal of looking for a planetary system, “on the way” could help solve some resource problems as well as getting an atmosphere boost for a warp.”
Morris’ eyes snap over. “Can our sensors resolve planets within 100 light years?”
“Maybe 10 sir.”
“Then start looking for a miracle Nav. Alert on any system that might contain planets.” He looks around the room, “Who doesn’t have a problem to work on for the next month?” Supply officer raises his hand. “Don’t worry Suppo, you might have to figure out how to get the whole crew through the two gravity messes for the next six months, you’ll be busy enough.” The poor lieutenant’s eyes flare wide in his latest best fear.
“Every department owes the XO a detailed sitrep in 36 hours. Dismissed. Mercer and Dr. Summers, stay.” The officers flow out the door, and the COB silently asks if he should stay, but morris declines.
I can guess what this is about. A botanist would not be a far stretch for a cultural leader. When the door shuts and the three of us are left, I make it super akward.
“Sooo, first contact with aliens hey? How cool are we?”
“Mercer, could you take something serious for once in your life?”
“Cut the crap Captain. A fucking alien beacon saved everyone on this ship, and word ZERO has been said to the crew.”
“And word fucking zero will continue to be said until I say so!”
Dr. Summers looks between the two of us, “I get why Captain Morris, but why us?” she directs at me.
“I designed the tech that brought us here, and you, likely, are gregarious and feed everyone.”
“YOU?!” she accuses me, “You are the intellectual leader they chose?” She stares at my uniform. In disbelief.
“You’re welcome? You’re the first botanist to do a boatload of things. Records and whatnot. I did not however, strand us 250 times farther in space than we projected. So don’t try to pin that on me.”
“Ladies, enough. I’ve directed my swarm to discontinue support after current help actions have ceased. We should discuss the alien tech. Especially since Mercer’s swarm is not standing down.”
Do not volunteer information. Tiers of knowledge are gated even among the race leaders. You are Primus, he is Tertius.
I copy and continue to listen to Captain Morris, “It is my understanding that the Race leadership are effectively inviolate, and despite my command, your swarms are not responsive.
/Summers, does that sound like he tried to take our alien assistants away?/
/Yes, Mercer, it does indeed./
“Captain, with the threat of warp sickness looming, we shouldn’t rule out swarm assistance in mitigating that threat. Additionally, it appears that given time and experience, the swarm will help the crew perform better. We have the time, so why restrict the help when it could help us get home sooner?”
/Did you already check on swarm assisted Botany?/
/Do you think I am an idiot, Penelope Mercer?/
/What? No, sorry sorry. I just want us to live through his possible stupidity. Did you consider swarm assisted botany in zero g?/
/Again with the . . . so maybe I didn’t/
/I’m not your enemy . . . Francesca? Wow, pretty name. Anyway, I want to live, I want to science, and maybe I want to gloat a little bit to my former colleagues when I get back. Is that so wrong?/
/No, every earth-bound botanist dreams of being Mark Watney. I will instead be the first botanist to support a colony ship/
/Oh universe, we do have close to the minimum sustainable population base. Fucking gross. I am not a brood mare doctor/
/NONONO. I agree. But the numbers are there and I can waive that in the faces of my colleagues/
/That I understand. Did you name your swarm? Mine’s Tessa/
/Mine’s Glados/
/You’re sick. Enjoy insanity, sweet Francesca/
She pinged me in a violent tone? It hurts in an . . . ego way? Swarms can flick egos?!?! I have been missing this in my life. Has living been worth it until now? My engine launched us into first contact, so yes, absolutely.
“Pardon the distraction sir, but couldn’t our ‘helper’s’ sensor data tell us where the nearest planetary system is?”
“The helper relay station is not authorized to assist in that manner.”
“Helper?”
“Yes user? Do you require assistance?” Audio over the CO’s quarters? Morris has been chatting with helper bot.
“Helper, please advise when assimilation of a new race is complete.”
“One thousand users assimilated, user.”
“Would that also mean that your help action would include simple directions that would require no more than a data transfer so that us users can help with your directive of assimilation?”
“Calculating. Yes, user. A simple data transfer may not interfere with my other directives.”
“Thank you, Helper. We require a matter source of atmospheric density to return home within our generational time frame to accommodate 1000 users. Is that within your assistance?”
“Calculating. Calculating. Posit makes logical sense. Survey data within 100 light years released to Human users. Help action concluded.”
I get a damned burst of data, and half a dozen hits come up, one within 10 light years.
Excellent reasoning, Penny. You did not even need to cash in your Primus token.
Ugh, Tessa. More shit I don’t know that you know I don’t know.
“There you go Captain Morris. Survey data. We won’t be able to get there until we fix propulsion, but we have a vector and a hope.” I start walking toward his office door. “By your leave Captain.” I don’t check as I leave.