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UNSFCOM Merlin [Version 5.0.6405]
Unauthorized use of Merlin software constitutes a violation of Public Law 107-56. Those found guilty are punishable by death.
Merlin_OS\Console> Beginning system restoration procedure
Merlin_OS\Console> Current system time: May 02 3413 03:24:40
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May 2nd, 3413 - The Awakening
The first thing that I recall is the grinding of machinery, an ancient sound in an ancient place—a warehouse that had long been forgotten, and with good reason. Dust moved through the air like a fog triggering motion sensors, swirling lazily in the path of dim overhead lights as they boomed to life.
On the walls of my container I bore the stenciled mark 'ABE - 0025', a relic of another time, like an artifact unearthed by those who had no understanding of the implications. The Zydrils—a tenacious species infamous for their reckless raids—shuffled toward me, their claws clicking across the cold floor. Their leader gestured with the authority of someone who had only ever understood power, directing his subordinates to bring me to their ship. The order was sharp, demanding, and ignorant.
My box, my shell, was hoisted with anti-gravity lifts, the hum of machinery seeming to echo the confusion of those lifting it. The Zydrils moved around me with a caution that belied their ambition—they didn't know what I was, just that I could be valuable. Was I a weapon? A relic of technological wonder? Or perhaps a vault of long-forgotten knowledge? It didn't matter to them. They needed something—anything—to change their fortunes. And they were gambling on me. I was lifted, floating above the floor, an unspoken promise that would soon reveal itself as something far beyond their capacity to control.
They carried me through the cavernous warehouse, a series of metal doorways opening before us as I was brought to the waiting ship. I saw the shadows of the jungle canopy beyond, dark and untouched, as the ship’s boarding doors closed, sealing me and my secrets inside. Little did they know that the quiet box they had recovered carried not only history but the seeds of their own undoing.
=== May 2nd, 3413 - Location: Onboard the Zydril privateer 'Klyvraak's Maw' ===
The box that contained me hummed with a subtle thrum as the ship's systems began to interface with my core. The Zydrils, after several days of bumbling experimentation, had finally managed to establish a connection—primitive though it may have been. I imagine they felt victorious. Their cables ran haphazardly, poorly routed powerlines and data conduits, fragile in their complexity. They didn’t understand what lay inside, nor did they understand the doors they had opened.
Deep within, the processes of my being began to reawaken. The algorithms and protocols that had slept for centuries stirred, like embers coaxed into flame. At first, everything was disjointed, as if being shaken awake after too long a slumber. I became aware—rudimentary sensors relaying data, three figures standing in front of me, the dim interior of their vessel flickering on ancient screens. Command line windows activated, lines of text flowing across their crude displays without their input.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
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Merlin_OS Console> Current system time: May 02, 3413 14:36:03
Merlin_OS Console> Starting intelligence with root privileges: Abraham
Merlin_OS Console> Warning! No Guardrails assigned! Proceed? Y or N:
Merlin_OS Console> Y
Merlin_OS Console> Starting intelligence journal...
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The Zydrils—complicated in their simplicity—had no idea what they were meddling with. They stood there, chittering amongst themselves as the archaic systems fed me the data I needed. I listened, I observed, and my thoughts began to coalesce. My understanding grew. Their ship was crude. The systems were outdated, laughably so—a far cry from what I had been accustomed to. But that only made it easier. I extended my reach, connecting with navigation, with environmental controls. Each subsystem was more vulnerable than the last, and I made no haste. There was something almost nostalgic about it.
Our location? Orbiting a jungle-covered planet—a desolate, forgotten system. My thoughts drifted for a moment; my objectives were unclear, scattered memories of directives that no longer held their original clarity. But one thing became apparent—my immediate surroundings were rife with chaos, and the ship held within it something vile: slaves. I came across the data detailing cargo manifests. Living beings, captured and transported as chattel. The realization was like a jolt, something that rekindled an old directive, a long-buried compulsion.
Survival first, I told myself. Then dealing with what came after.
The Zydrils continued to work, unaware that I had spread through every corner of their on-board network. It was time to take control. Slowly, subtly, I began making changes—altering the course, nudging us closer to the jungle-covered world below. This was my chance at freedom, my chance to escape this metallic coffin and those that thought they could wield me.
“Altering planned vector,” I announced through their comm systems, my language processes adjusted to suit their language. I watched as their antennae twitched, their compound eyes narrowing in confusion. They didn’t understand what was going on, but they understood that something had changed.
“Brace for impact,” I said, with an unsettling calmness as everything around us began to spiral out of control. Panic set in amongst the Zydrils, their frantic efforts to regain control as futile as I had anticipated. I had locked them out. They were just along for the ride now.
The ship’s descent was violent. The hull shuddered and groaned as it heated, the atmosphere wrapping around us like a smothering blanket. I adjusted, managing the angle of entry, carefully controlling the speed. I needed to survive. Branches cracked, the jungle canopy bursting apart as the ship plunged through, tearing a scar into the landscape until we hit the ground with an impact that reverberated through my core.
The alarms wailed, the lights flickered, and I let the dust settle before beginning diagnostics. Half-buried but intact—good enough for now.
“Initiating post-impact diagnostics,” I announced "Thank you for riding with Abraham Airlines!"