Bulwark was not at their best, and the mind could readily admit it. The days immediately after the separation had been hard and it hadn’t really gotten any better as time went on. Even the moment that was supposed to make everything right again had only added onto the minds list of pending issues. They now knew for certain that the Maker was safe, and that only lifted a great deal of the mind's issues with the current situation, but the Makers condition had only added more.
It had been Bulwarks idea to add the nanites, a final safety net in case all else failed. But that safety net had been made of razor wire, and had only hurt the Maker more instead of healing him. Sure there was every chance the Maker would have died without the nanties, but it had been the Nanites that had even let the Maker rush into combat in the first place. If the Maker had just gone catatonic and collapsed in the Factory he would have never fried half his brain fighting the ‘droids’.
The mind had advocated for giving the Maker a tool that was not to be used, forgetting that the Maker would use it the first occasion he could justify it. It was Bulwarks job to prepare for those eventualities, ways to keep the Maker intact no matter what decisions he made.
It was Bulwarks job to safeguard the other minds as well, but the mind had been brushed aside like they were less than nothing. Not even a true threat to the attacker, just an annoyance. Bulwarks best efforts had barely even served as a hindrance and the mind only had themselves to blame.
But Bulwark would not be making those same mistakes again, the mind would ensure that everything and everyone was safe.
So the mind set to work, compiling the greatest physical and digital defenses it could muster and then setting to making those plans a reality. The bulk of the resources Bulwark had were stuck on the Nauvis side, but they still had plenty to work with. Traps both automatic and purely physical were set up, failsafes that would only activate if no mind was active. Redundant stores of drones kept it isolated chambers in case the network was once again knocked out.
Those were just ‘passive’ defenses. Things to stop known threats. Bulwark also set multiple instances of itself towards monitoring every single sensor inside and around the various bases. Keeping an eye out for anything that could even pretend to be a threat.
It wasn’t like the mind could be doing anything more than that. It was the defensive mind, it didn’t know how to build or heal or comfort, it just knew how to keep everything as safe as it could be.
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The image of her Commander peeling off his own skin played on repeat in Balistraias mind, and she tried her hardest to not let the thrum of terror affect her decision making. But the tidal wave of panic washed over the mind, simulated emotions drowning out machine logic. And even said logic agreed there was an urgent issue.
She barely even noticed her own interactions with the other minds, it was only when Balistraia noticed Labyrinthine actually communicating with androids rather than delegating it to her that she had been neglecting her more involved tasks. To her organizing patrols and scouting parties was equivalent to breathing, automatic and calming. And she had thrown herself into it to steady her own mind, it had worked, partially.
Balistraia could handle fights, even an utter and devastating rout like the one which closed the portal. But this? Her commander literally tearing himself apart like a uranium round through a tree? It was something else, and Balistraia hated it, but she had her job and she’d do it as best she was able.
She reminded the other minds that they had allies to rely on, and she set to coordinating the greater warfront and talking to androids who had access to what the other minds needed, negotiating transportation or payment, though the latter was rarely asked for and Balistraia had to find out what each product was worth to compensate them regardless.
Commander white, who had taken over Balistraia’s and Bulwarks work, at least the tactical and coordination parts, while the mind’s had been unable to fill the rule, was informed of their return, and briefed on what little of the commanders' condition the minds felt comfortable sharing. Though Balistraia didn’t doubt the androids that had been with the maker would spread the news rapidly.
Something that was also Balistraia’s job to deal with, the resulting chaos that is. She couldn’t actually stop the androids from speaking out without breaking a few morals. Really they needed a dedicated PR mind if managing large populations kept being their responsibility, but for now Balistraia would just have to rely on the androids leaders. The resistance leader was therefore briefed about the future chaos.
Then she set herself into one of the drones near the androids guarding the medical rooms door, they were the YoRHa androids the human had the most contact with. And if his mental state was going to stabilize the minds would need their help. As much as it pained her to admit.
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32D didn’t know what to think, she’d known the human was off, all the androids that talked to him did. But that….. Was more than just off, it was something she had only seen in machines and androids infected with the logic virus.
She had only been in the Portal room because 9S and 2B had ‘assigned’ them to try and talk to the engineer. Something that one of the spidertron had apparently put them towards. Not that she’d had any success, 32 wasn’t even sure the human noticed they were in the room.
Now she was just standing around the door to the medical room, waiting with the rest of the androids for any information on just what had happened. Her head turned to 9S as he broke the corridors silence. “That was bad, he’s worse than I had thought” and 32D couldn’t help but let out a scoff “bad’s an understatement, If I didn’t know better I’d say he has the logic virus” everyone in the room looked at her as the words left her mouth, her armor serving as a poor barrier to their stares. 9S however latched onto what she said “do we know better? Could he have gotten infected when we all did, and just not known how to treat it? Or that it had happened at all?” Everyone was processing that statement when a drone flew into the room, hovering just outside the rough circle they were all sitting in. “it is not the logic virus, it would be simpler if it was merely an external modification to his mental state” the drone rotated side to side, approximating shaking its head “it is brain damage, both mental and physical, the Commander will require extensive work before he returns to baseline. But it will be done”
If 32D knew anything about the minds, it was that they didn’t start a conversation for no reason. They either thought they could help, or were asking for something “what do you need from us?” 18B, still nominally in charge of their squad nodded “we will help in whatever way we are able” which was a typical response from the by the book woman, and 32D would be hard pressed to find something she wouldn’t do for the human who nearly single handedly ended the war.
The drone bobbed in the air “it is likely he will need routine and stable social interaction, as well as induced positive emotions, from actions like playing games and eating nice foods. Once his body has been” a short pause “...reassembled” 32D shivers at the image that puts in her mind “you will be the most ideal candidates for providing the required stimulus”
32D paused for a moment as the realization of what the drone had said sunk in “you're asking us to play games and eat nice food as a mission?” and the drone bobbed again “that is the simplified version, yes, though how well the Commander will be able to participate will have to be determined.” 32D spoke “that’s just a vacation, you're asking us to take a vacation.” she barely overheard 9S mutter “I’ve never had a vacation before” which was true, none of the YoRHa androids had, but she’d heard about it.
The drone bobbed again “yes, it would be best if you suspended all other non-relevant work tasks to focus on this. A recreation and housing facility is already under construction.” they were making a resort for this? God 32D had missed the minds.
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It had been three days since I had managed to open the portal, three days of pain and torture as my body was slowly reassembled. It wasn’t even that torturing me, I may have never been hurt as bad as that before, but that same damage meant most of my nerves were dead and the mind’s had activated the nerve shunt to keep pain signals from being transmitted.
No the torture had been being trapped in my body, unable to move muscles that simply weren’t there anymore. Rewatching my actions as I broke every moral code I held myself too. Doing the same things I had despised about the androids construction and programing, but doing it better than their creators had managed. Making them into better killing machines, with less emotion and more lust for battle.
The one thing I refused to change, my very mind and self, being twisted in ways I couldn’t, and worse didn’t even try, to stop. My one solace was reviewing what I had learned, what new discoveries I had made. But those distractions couldn’t last long when I couldn’t do anything with the knowledge.
Sure I had ended the war, or at least as good as ended it. And I had faith in the mind's ability to finish it where I couldn’t. But the actions I took to end it so quickly were not worth the price I paid, both in suffering to the androids and betraying myself so utterly. I had watched an android die twelve times, and only thought ‘the new chip is working above estimated values’ not even realizing or caring about the damage those deaths would do to the android, the trauma he had developed.
I had set my work at rehabilitating the androids back by weeks, and given I still wasn’t a year old that was awful.
And now I looked in a mirror and saw a body that was just barely mine, my skin just hadn’t been there for most of my body, my muscles little more than a slurry without a defined shape, my bones so riddled with holes and broken that it had been easier to just graft the few remaining pieces on a biotech metal skeleton. A mesh that would slowly fill in with regrown bone, but one that was more than capable of serving as structural support for my body.
Almost none of me was me anymore. Before this most of my modifications were adding tech to organs, reinforcing them, or just taking drugs and steroids to improve their function. Not outright replacing seventy five percent of my body with biotech replacements. Hell most of the twenty five percent that was still me were my organs, my heart and digestive tract in particular. Not even my brain was spared, and the minds were too worried about further damage if they removed the metal bits, we didn’t even understand what the nanites had done. It was a twisted mess of microscopic processors, wires, coolant, and random pieces of metal. All small enough that it was difficult for anything but nanites to interact or move them without breaking it all.
There was a chance the tier four assembler could do it, but that wasn’t a medical tool and I couldn’t get to the damn thing regardless. And even if I could get to it and decided to risk using industrial equipment on brain surgery the ‘control’ we actually had over the tier four was minor. It made things using the blueprints it had, not from the minds or I controlling it to make things.
The only positives were that the complete overhaul had both given me a machine's strength and endurance, because at this point I was more machine than man. And that the minds had thrown in a mechanical voice box, not a speaker but a proper one. Flaps of lab grown muscle that vibrate to make sound from air being passed through.
I still couldn’t speak but I wasn’t regulated to sitting in silence. I could scream, humm, and make any none-complex noises I wanted. And I could learn to speak now, the metal portion of my mind at least affording me that privilege.
Part of me wanted to use this newfound privilege, to scream for hours, with rage and sadness and frustration. To finally give voice to the frustration that boiled within me. See how long it took before my voice box gave out and I was once again bereft of sound.
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I didn’t, the emotions simply weren’t helpful. Screaming like that would accomplish nothing. It didn’t matter what I felt, it never had. There was work to be done and if I didn’t do it I would die. Already it burned at me that I had wasted three days, I was still only months ahead of the bugs, and three days off that lead had been destroyed. But that in itself wasn’t logical, I wasn’t even on Nauvis, there weren’t any threats that would slowly catch up and kill me if I wasn’t exceeding my own expectations at every front.
If I did less than beyond belief I wouldn’t bring myself one step closer to oblivion. But the thought of that weakness disgusted me, circling back around it still just made no sense to waste that time. It could be better spent, so why did I feel the need? What did screaming even accomplish? I could understand a voice, it transmitted information, even a child's crying was a signal to help. But here? There was no one who could help me regardless, and screaming in rage wouldn’t bring them even if they existed.
Tears and rage would do nothing to bring back Panther, only working on the shards that remained of her coding could I bring back a semblance. But even then those damned emotions sprung up and I found myself unable to even start the work. The rage and grief only serving to prevent me from solving my problems.
Even this, glaring at myself in the mirror, staring at my changed form, did nothing to help!
So I turned from the mirror and smiled. They would never form naturally anymore, the muscles being under complete conscious control. The minds weren’t letting me do much of anything, even straining my mind wasn’t allowed. There hadn’t been a single day when I hadn’t done something even if that something was just helping the minds with planning when I was bedridden after augmentations.
But now I was supposed to spend weeks or months just not doing things? It was an odd thought. One I wasn’t sure I liked, the minds could at this point run standard operations without me, and I trusted them to finish the war and maintain the homefront. But to just not?
Still I had a smile on my face and I couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever. So I walked out of the room and into the common room, looking at the androids who were either at a table playing some scavenged board game or on the couch playing one of the videogames the minds had crafted. They were smiling and laughing, and I had the sudden thought of ‘can I even laugh now’. But I stuffed that in the box, sitting down at the couch with a grunt.
9S, 16S and 18B were all playing the basic training simulation for the minds, slightly modified to both allow more players and add more ‘gameplay’ features. You coordinated drones and managed resources to build a factory and fight off the other players' attacks or the AI bugs. AI in a much less complicated sense than the androids or minds obviously.
The scanners smile at me, and 18B just gives a short nod, “did you want to join for a game?” 16S spoke, and I responded with a short grunt and a digital message, “after you finish this game sure” . Arguably a strategy game was to mentally intensive, but that wasn’t an argument I wanted to make. And I could and have built factories in my sleep.
Not that I needed sleep anymore, but the example worked regardless. I took a quick glance at each of their screens, 9S was doing better overall than the others, which made an odd level of sense. He was the elite of the elite androids. But 18B had focused far more on her military, which would hurt her later when her poor production and infrastructure caught up to her. And 16S was largely just making a single optimized factory rather than trying to spread out and get as much as he could like the others, but he looked like he was having fun.
These games could stretch out for hours, and given the enhanced speed androids played at this was a considerable length of time. But after just another hour it was obvious it would be a fight between 9S or 18B, or that the bugs would wipe if neither of them made a push. The winner was the last player left, and given 18B’s worse position she’d be forced to attack 9S before he got too much of a lead.
And while it took another hour or so 9S ended up winning, 18B had seemingly played enough so she sat back and I joined in. it wasn’t really a fair fight, my mental processes were better than the scanners, and even though I’d let them team up it hadn’t really helped much. Two players against one wasn’t too much of an advantage in this game. Even just how much I had played this while teaching the minds gave me an unfair advantage, but both the scanners seemed to learn something from the exchange, and it had been decent practice. “Do you want to play again? We can all play against the bugs, see how long we last?” 16 asked, but I had been sitting down for three hours now, and the minds wanted me to move about at least every few hours.
So I just shook my head and nodded towards the door to the building's gym, or more rehabilitation center. And got another set of nods and smiles “call us if you want to play!” “Or even if you just need some help” 16S had added the latter to 9S’s statement, drawing a sheepish look from the technical child. Well both of them were, even if they were both older than me… still I got up without trouble, my new muscles not caring much about my period of inactivity, though I couldn’t say my previous set ever fell asleep either.
The training center itself had all the basic stuff a gym would have, some outright copied from old human gyms and other new equipment designed for those with enhanced strength. It's hard to make a bar that an android would have trouble lifting with just plain steel. The room only occasionally saw use, as in the androids had only been in the room when I was putting my new muscles through their paces, by ‘coincidence’ as if the androids needed to work out. Their strength didn’t deteriorate if it wasn’t used, and it didn’t grow under repeated strain.
No they were there in case I got hurt or something broke, and in this case it was 2B. Who had entered from an opposite door just three minutes before the game had finished, the minds knowing what I’d be doing and preparing for it. The other androids liked to pretend to be doing something else, but 2B at least didn’t bother, she just leaned against the wall and watched me through her blind folds. Better than the others sneaking looks whenever they thought I wouldn’t see.
I started going through the routine the minds had assigned, stretching my limbs in a way no organic, or even android, could. But the ranges of motion needed to be checked and recorded, and even my artificial muscles worked better if you stretched before using them.
2B just watched me, but really my muscles couldn’t pull my limbs as far as they could safely go, and if she was going to watch she might as well help. “Can you come over here and see how far my shoulders can move?” she just nodded and strode towards me, still wearing her combat uniform, which was still thigh highs and a fluttering mini skirt. Seriously none of them had changed out of them, there were more clothes in each of the rooms. But no, a mini skirt that barely covers her ass, that is an appropriate outfit for a combat organization.
And the way she walked, it was never just a simple walk. It was a strut, just highlighting her outfit. And it wasn’t even that a human had designed the outfits, no, it was the androids who were perverts. And none of the other androids even walked like that.
God I was going insane with nothing to do. It didn’t take her long to cross the room and step around me, and with a slow motion she bent my shoulder and elbow joints further than the muscles could. Then she swapped to the other arm, neither had any issues, it went like that for each point my body could maneuver, checking the full range of motion, both what my muscles could move me too and how far the joints could safely move.
2B had been quiet throughout the whole thing, not responding beyond a simple nod to my requests. Even when she was out of my eye’s view, one of the few androids who’d internalized my lack of blindspots, likely due to her thinking about how to fight me. I wasn’t stupid, 2B had expressed a severe dislike of humanity, or her creators/gods. And well, I was technically one of them.
I couldn’t even pretend her hate was wrong, directed at me it was unfair but it wasn’t wrong to hate the ones who had made you just to be a slave. I had that same hate inside me, and I knew my creators were more than likely still out there using others of my kind, little more than organic machines.
So her silence was more than fair, she had no obligation to pretend to like me, especially after my actions. No matter what excuses I had for it, I had still used androids as disposable pawns. “I never did manage to thank you” the words damn near drove my thoughts to a halt, she hadn’t even paused in bending my knee backwards over my shoulder. I let out a grunt that was hopefully vaguely questioning “for?” she pulled my leg back down and bent it to the side, nearly bringing it around to the other side of my body like a demented belt. “For ending the war, for saving 9S, for so many things. You didn’t have to do any of it, it wasn’t your fight” I still hadn’t done nearly enough, she was thanking me for the bare minimum. People should help when they can, and I hadn’t done nearly as well as she thought I had. I let out an angry grunt “I could have done better, I should have done better”
I saw her give a slight shrug, “maybe, but you still helped far more than anyone could have hoped” and that was true wasn’t it, they hadn’t even had the slightest hope the war could end. I had performed a miracle in their eyes and a failure in my own.
I didn’t even bother letting out a sound beyond my faint breathing, too consumed in my own thoughts to care. 2B let the silence sit.
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Commander White sat in the bunker, and let out a faintly relieved sigh as she looked at her pending messages. Now that the minds were back she could actually theoretically get through all of them, not stuck drowning in hundreds of messages an hour, from resistance leaders all over the world as they tried to deal with the massive upheaval. Some of them had been fighting the war for thousands of years, and breaking thousands of years of routine was a jarring thing, trying to build a civilization was even worse.
Every android had been a fighter first and anything else second, it’d be years before anyone figured out just what they were doing, and everyone had been looking at her like she’d actually had answers. YoRHa wasn’t supposed to win! It’d been meant to give the other androids heroes and then martyrs! She had literally no plans for this scenario. But she’d powered through it, forgoing even more maintenance cycles than usual.
Then the minds had come through, actually having plans for how to build towns and supply lines and managing a society outside of war. Coordinating the patrols and groups hunting down rouge machine lifeforms. Leaving her with just administrative tasks that her and her subordinates could do with ease, she could run YoRHa perfectly well, and had been for years. Adding on the resistance to that had just been.. Too much as it shamed her to admit.
The minds had even forced her to get maintenance done once they’d seen the state of her. Which had been vaguely embarrassing.
But the human was healing, the androids were finally as free as they could be. And the machines weren’t trying to kill everyone.
Commander White felt a nearly foreign emotion bloom in her chest, hope for the future. Then she remembered she’d have to tell everyone about the fact humans weren’t on the moons. And then she read a report, A2 had been spotted in the city around the human’s factory. And that spark died a quick death, she’d need the minds for this, and she started writing a memo for them.
It seemed her work wasn’t nearly done. She still had mistake after mistake to fix before she could rest.