Arther Lero
Since eons the primordial matter that ran through the veins of the cosmos was freedom.
Every sentient being had been gifted the power to choose, to shape one's fate.
So it was not just a privilege Arther had accepted, but a holy duty he believed had been placed in his hands to protect the essence of the cosmos.
Arther was a Myar who had chosen the way of knighthood, he knew well that this gift of freedom was not without its weighty responsibilities.
Arther knew that when wielded without thought or consideration, freedom could lead to chaos and suffering, it could lead to situations like those in Taboo.
He wondered where the sentient beings on this planet had gone so wrong in their navigating of the vastness of the universe.
He hated to kill a sentient being, to snuff the very spark that allowed choice in the first place; but after all, was anyone forcing the pirates to be pirates? Nay
Was anyone forcing the merchants to hold other sentient lives like cattle and merchandise? Nay
Would he show them pity or mercy when the time would come for the judgment he would bring? NAY!
Every sentient being was responsible for using their freedom wisely, to guarantee that it served the betterment of each individual and was equally enjoyed by all.
By that sacred pillar of wisdom those pirates were contemptuous, stifling other sentient' ability to choose was a cardinal sin.
True freedom, in his judgment, was not the absence of restraints, but the presence of respect and understanding.
It signified the acceptance that every being, regardless of color, creed, or disposition, had the right to their own beliefs and objectives.
It was an acknowledgment that diversity was the bedrock of progress and that each individual's voice carried a distinct tune in the grand symphony of existence.
And all he saw in that lost world was dissonance, it was an abomination to be cleansed to show all the true path.
He came to this lost world to perform his ritual pilgrimage, the first step in his path as a knight of the Myar.
In Taboo he had seen the dark underbelly of tyranny, the shackles that bound the spirit and stifled potential.
It was a sight that made his soul burn with anger and a reminder of the legacy of slavery his people had to endure.
And its anger lit the furnace of vengeance, the desire to purify that perdition with that very flame.
Arther looked at the reflection of the DVRK bio-frame he was wearing in one of the windows of the room he was occupying in the lost Arcology that was City 29.
From up close the suit was an uncanny replica of a very robust human figure, standing tall and resolute.
Every detail, down to the texture of the skin and the play of light in the eyes, had been painstakingly recreated by the artisans of his home.
While it was clear this was no natural-born human, the suit still exuded an air of familiarity, an unsettling mimicry of humanity that was as mesmerizing as it was disconcerting.
Then there was the finishing touch: the smile etched onto the faceplate was the crowning jewel of it.
It was a rictus grin, a haunting expression that could send shivers down the spines of most of the sentient who would gaze upon it.
Who wouldn't, while facing a natural-evolved predator showing the weapon of choice: its teeth?
Why would the Myar artisans go out of their way to depict a human so precisely was a question Arther used to ask his parent.
The answer was that his race could now enjoy freedom solely thanks to humans of ages long past.
It was that answer and the tales of how the humans pulled it off that inspired Arther to join the monastery in the first place.
Then he chose to travel, even if his race couldn't interact with most of the sentient beings in the galaxy.
Myar after all couldn't breathe air and as such his armor was as much of a protection than a prison isolating his senses from the outside world.
Still, Arther could interface seamlessly with the bio-frame, his neural pathways intricately linked to the Deep-Voyaging Kinetic Reactive bio-frame control systems.
The bio-frame hid his features, the deep vibrant hues of denim his skin, and the light his chromophores emitted.
It limited the freedom of movement and action of the tentacles that spawned from his body and normally allowed for his natural movement and actions underwater.
Many of his species would not like to live extended periods of their lifespan restricted in such a fashion, but Arther was a knight.
He had been trained for that very experience and he was bound by solemn vows to defend the liberties of all.
Such a sacrifice was nothing if compared to the possibility of freeing a sentient being from the shackles of slavery.
A calling that he embraced with every fiber of his being for he believed that his actions would echo across the ages, shaping a legacy of freedom to leave behind.
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Like the action of the humans who liberated that world so many eons ago.
He knew humans were unpredictable, to say the least; still, he had to wonder: what changed?
The Myar were a long-living alien race, he was well aware that many a human had died in the time it took him to be knighted.
It only stood to reason that none of those who fought in the glorious fight for freedom would be alive.
Still, he couldn’t understand why a human, and not any human but a human general, would tell him to back down from his sacred mission.
Human generals were the ones leading the troops to victory, they were the ones who would be more aware of the price of freedom.
It was of no consequence; he would purge this perdition by himself, even if it took every last ounce of energy in the suit he was wearing in the process.
Luckily for him, his suit could be recharged; there was however a limit to its ability to keep him sustained.
There was also a limit on how much the water he was submerged inside could be kept clean from the waste his body produced.
The issue at hand was the fact that the bio-suit wasn’t 100% efficient so it had to be opened and cleaned inside a water basin at least once a year.
He had been on his mission way more than that so he was beginning to feel the effect of neglect.
Arther’s training allowed him to still tolerate it, the biggest issue being that he needed to replenish his source of food.
He refused categorically to eat the rations he found as he freed the sentient beings from slavery.
His reasoning was twofold; first, he believed that the sentient beings he freed needed them more than he did, second, the scans from the suit showed those rations were made from sentient beings.
It was a ghastly and atrocious discovery, one that only aggravated him further and pushed him forward with more impetus and anger.
Still, he needed to Eat, and the farms where the cattle were raised were too well protected.
One new thing had surfaced from his information network, however, and that thing was a shop that was selling real meat from down below.
He could free the sentient beings enslaved here and finally have a proper meal.
Claye Eligah
The old man sighed as the door of his apartment opened and a young woman with red hair entered.
She stood at a modest height, her frame stocky and robust, with a powerful build honed by years of dedicated training.
She had a physique that tapered from broad and robust shoulders to a slight but still muscular waist, creating an inverted triangle profile.
She radiated strength, her figure a monument to her disciplined way of life.
-Tessa- He said solemnly – Why did you have to insist on this? You know you could have remained within the borders right? -
-And pass the opportunity to meet my patient? I mean I am pretty sure you have done all your prescribed checkups right, Dad?-
The old man grumbled unhappily, his rank held no sway over his daughter.
She had studied and pursued her goal of becoming a doctor; her accomplishments made him proud, but they also meant that he had to follow her guidance.
Other than being a doctor, she also served as a lead researcher on nanite technology and its medical applications, making her a must-consult figure in situations such as the one he found himself.
Still, he cared for his daughter, and he would rather she be in a safer environment than this one, especially if any danger was around.
-Yeah I am sure you did all this to see your old man.- He grumbled unhappily looking at her reaction with attention.
-Well, unlike a certain somebody I can make room for my family in my work.- She quipped at him. -’ sides I am as worried about you as you are for me.-
-I’m an old man- He sneered -You have got all your life before you, so take a guess who’s more important!-
The two gazed at each other, their icy blue eyes mirroring each other for a while before he decided to concede. He had raised her well after all.
-So, your diagnosis doc?-
Tessa sighed going to sit on a couch. -Got a question first: how accurate is the data?-
-Mark one armored suit sensor- He replied - take an educated guess.-
-Mark one? Did you rob a museum, Dad?!- She quipped and he laughed it off, for he might as well have done just so.
-Not really, but I’m operating under the veil. I can’t bring in top-notch tech and risk it falling under a rogue agent… or worse to CTP and by extension Westeck -
-I got it.- She said scratching her head -Well considering the Mark One capabilities we have a big issue. We can't get an accurate reading-
-Ya don’t tell me- He grinned – But you've made the trip nonetheless. So? It’s them?-
Her face became serious – hard to tell, Dad. The energy signature is similar, but that doesn’t tell much. Configuration? That’s another story entirely.-
-You know very well I don’t get this nanite crap. Lay me down the details as much down to earth as possible. -
Claye prepared himself for a bad headache as his daughter started to speak.
-It’s all about balance, dad. You can only have so many nanites. I mean they are machines, they need power to function. There are many ways to provide them energy and it would be complicated to explain them all, but basically, if you go past a certain point there’s no way on Earth that the power source can hold. These … are past that theoretical point, by a long shot.-
Claye was surprised to be able to get her explanation his hand caressed his wrinkly face as he looked at his daughter.
-A machine without power should stop, right? But those things don’t. They come and go from the Vexx shop like clockwork.-
Tessa groaned -Yeah, I read your reports. See, one of the issues with nanites is that they aren’t necessarily the type of machine that will shut down without power. They can generate their power, which usually coincides with them to go berserk. I mean...-
-That gray goo scenario three years ago.-
He sighed, it was precisely as bad as he knew it would be.
- Then the question that remains is: how are we still alive? -
She shrugged. -I don't know. I'm here so I can do some field research to establish just that.-
-No fucking way!- He instantly replied - There’s no way in hell I will expose you to such a dangerous task!-
???
Dexton was pissed at her, or was it his way of showing his happiness?
Sending her new puppies to whip into shape.
She could surely use them, there was unusual movement under the city and a couple of squads had gone missing down here for no apparent reason.
How was that dude’s name? What was it that she had to check?
If she didn’t remember it wasn’t so important, it didn’t matter; all it mattered was her position and her power, her enjoyment.
And enjoying herself she was, she didn't remember a time in which meat was that easy to come by.
Why was it that her lieutenants were all so eager to offer it? Didn’t matter, if it was of importance she would know.
Virgil
“Ethan, we require your attention”
The human focused his attention on Virgil, a thing that usually meant that the process that focused on the consensus was allowed to speak further.
“We have the following reports: your fellow humans are continuing the scans on the drones as they pass the lower city. Query: should we attack them?”
-Again with this Virgil? It’s not like my answer will change. Let them scan the drones. Don’t attack unprovoked.-
“Acknowledged.” Virgil could understand the logic of not seeking conflict somehow and the data about humans pointed to the fact that attacking them was a foolish endeavor. “Next report: The scouts under Xira’s command seem to have found the climate control room. They await further instructions.”