Ethan
I sure have to rethink my strategies, if I wanna keep any living prisoner I need to consider the needs of the alien species I’m trying to keep.
It’s not like I didn’t learn from Xarlak’s example, I asked Virgil for the data about a Zekarn.
My mistake was not taking accurate data about this location, nor the possibility of a rapid climate shift.
I should have gotten my clue when Virgil noticed me that there’s a climate control thing and it could be damaged.
If it can control something as complex as air composition, temperature should come easy, shouldn’t it?
But I didn’t think so, so Rixxen’s group is down to two tanks largely due to my lack of proper preparations rather than ill will.
Turns out that down here can get cold during a cycle, so cold that Zekarns and Kyannak would die from it.
“Ethan = not at fault. Random malfunction of climate control could not be predicted.”
-No, I am at fault. I should have thought of that possibility.-
I sigh shaking my head, I know deep down Virgil’s right but still, I should consider that each of these aliens has evolved in its version of Earth.
“Ethan’s misconception. While at least an evolution challenge exists in each planet that has evolved sentient life, it doesn’t mean that all challenges were equal in scope or magnitude. Misconception is different than fault. Fault requires knowledge.”
-I beg to differ- I grumble unhappily at the machine trying to cheer me on. -Ignorance is a sin.-
Well at least Rixxen himself survived.
Not a great thing, for Rixxen, is pretty much useless as a prisoner, and so is his companion; I doubt I can get any reliable intel from them.
Rixxen pretty much puts everything behind a promise to be spared, released, or that I would offer him my allegiance and make him the next Dexton.
He sure can dream big, but at least he’s not stupid enough to test that acid-spit thing again on me or the guard drones.
I can tell he’s pretty much worthless for the mercenary group, I didn’t see any large-scale attempt to search for him.
If he was half as important as he paints himself to be, there would be a lot of effort in searching for him and his fellow lizards.
Not that I didn’t encounter other patrols, but so far I am pretty sure they aren’t anything unusual.
I managed to have my drones slip by some too, so it wasn’t like they were on high alert or anything.
With growing numbers, the activities I can diversify my forces into doing are increasing.
With a diversification of strategies and a more active stance, I am bound to meet with the enemy.
Long story short, I’m way past the Rubicon, and if I wanna keep any semblance of humanity I have to make my move.
For that, Lemela is chasing small green men.
Yeah, there are green aliens, apparently humanoid too, no they aren’t small by any definition of the term.
She’s my diplomat of choice so I’ll leave her at that chase hoping that it leads me somewhere where I can negotiate with those who dwell in this place.
I rise from the chair in the office, in this space that exists while my body is in the tube, charging.
I walk about this room that feels so real and still isn’t, feeling the weirdness of it all I let my mind wander about things freely.
I can rely on myself and the scant information I possess to guide my judgment.
In my line of work, self-reliance is a non-negotiable asset; you either have it or you train your ass off until you reach it.
Still, it's about being prepared to adapt, overcome, and conquer whatever obstacle stands in your way. Mind over body sort of thing.
It's not about making rash decisions on the spot and on the topic what one should be very careful about is that self-reliance isn't about refusing help, or ignoring what’s offered to you as a tool.
So the fact that I can't get an honest opinion from my companions but I have to kind of imagine it is a big loss Virgil is imposing on me.
Still, when I awoke on this alien planet, I wasn’t alone so to speak; Virgil was with me to provide knowledge and information.
There was what I knew, what was my life, and then there was this A.I. that could just shove info into me and I would understand it.
As a Navy seal, I prided myself on being quick on the uptake and being able to react to the situation at hand, but that was at least one order of magnitude above anything else I ever experienced or trained for.
Well, only yesterday was an easy day after all.
I endured, I adapted to the situation, I took the bodies of the dead and made them my soldiers.
Then came Lemela and for the first time I saw a life different from my own, from the perspective of an alien.
It was all unexpected, I mean all I wanted was to save her, I believed Virgil’s machines would fix her as they did to me.
Instead, the damn thing kick-started this whole collective setup where I am some sort of commander and all are to obey my every order.
More than that, they will execute the task almost literally if I don’t pay any mind how to phrase it.
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No good soldier obeys like that, it’s not supposed to happen.
No matter the unit, no matter the specs, one brings oneself to the battlefield first and foremost.
You are supposed to follow orders of course, but if you see a tall wall and your leg is injured you go around it.
Even if you were ordered to go straight.
There are times when the point of an order is to obtain a desired result.
There are times when an order if executed, would bring death to the one executing it, or worse it would bring more harm than good.
A good soldier can obtain the desired result, and get a medal and a formal scolding for having ignored orders.
But I have to pick the exact perfect order to give to Xyra.
I sigh, wallowing in my memories a bit more.
The way I felt, when I got Lemela’s memories and skills, it was indescribable.
“Notice: personal experiences about memory and skill assimilation will be logged. Please describe your experience as best you can Ethan.”
-Well Virgil, what can I say? I mean, it should be obvious. And besides you can read me can you not?-
“We are extracting and analyzing data from three different biological constructs as we speak. Still, it would be more complete to add interpretation to our data”
-And how the heck do you suppose I can help?
All that science she studied, I feel like I did too! But at the same time, it makes no sense that I did! I feel like I stole this from her. But I guess I have to thank whatever filter you set up if I maintained my sense of self and sanity.-
If I can even be called sane in this situation, that is.
“Gratitude unnecessary. We were only trying to preserve data. Notice: humankind has been deemed insane by Galactic Council standards. We assumed you weren’t sane to begin with.”
-Well thank you for that Virgil-
I mutter half serious as I inspect my uniform in the mirror that Virgil produced for me; the black insignia with two stars above the eagle, the three chevrons below and under the rocker, and in the middle the third and last star.
Three as the stories I hold now within myself.
Four if I count Virgil, but it stays conveniently silent in the matter of choices; Virgil doesn’t appear to want to help me on the matter of making a choice, it only provides numbers and probabilities.
I don't give a rat's ass about external influence in my process you damn A.I.! I have to at least know if I’m headed to an epic failure!
Xyra’s life is at stake, and while her story is similar to Lemela’s there are darker and bitter faces of it.
Her world birthed two similar sentient species: Krynnaks and Zekarns are both reptilian-like creatures.
Their technological level is familiar to what we had on Earth back when I was there.
The biggest difference I can see is that Krynnaks have an additional set of arms, while Zekarns have evolved to be poisonous.
Other than that, well, Zekarns have more vivid colors like Ferrari red, marigold orange, and bright yellow.
Krynnak on the other hand tends to be more dark shades of green and wood combined.
Both can be spotted, smeared or have polka dots of black that are more or less noticeable the brighter the color they are.
Both races appear to share a belief in the same entity, this great hunter, yet each harbors unique perspectives on how to gain its favor.
Faith is a powerful motivational tool to either justify violence or to advocate for peace and understanding, as dictated by certain divine teachings.
That the same god may be used for opposite purposes doesn’t seem to faze even alien species.
Ultimately, they say, the interpretation hinges on the reader's perspective. I beg to differ.
I would say to analyze the underlying motivations of those guiding such an interpretation.
For there’s no God worth worshiping that would wish for his believers to just destroy themselves and everything else in the process.
Since she was abducted from her home back when she was young, Xyra has not received any higher form of education from her people.
She compensates with her practical knowledge, especially in treatment, which has proven beneficial for various aliens.
With her knowledge, it has also become easier to move above in the city proper, and while it bothers me, I understood that nobody would care to think about slaves walking around.
Not enough to notice they were dead or they were now far removed from the rest of the other.
This includes former proprietors apparently, who would only seek to eventually have their service again if they knew.
I would have to send up the Granfi drones-zombies to cause a fuss both because Granfi ain’t exactly the most well-received race, and because they have become the most disturbing drones I have so far.
Humans are the only difference and while I would wish to contact my fellows, I can’t exactly knock on their doorstep, unless I wanna get pumped full of lead that is.
I am technically a monster, after all.
“Ethan’s statement = incorrect. You are an Overmind drone.”
-yeah, whatever that is, that ain’t human. I saw how the major reacted to a simple drone that was scanning him. What would he do should a hybrid of things were to pop up? I am a human and the monster a human knows and fears best is a human he doesn't know crap about. Best if armed, and I have close to a company to call upon! Anyway, this is beside the point. Are you sure Xyra will be fine? There is ice in the room for crying out loud!-
I touch the mirror and the view from Xyra and the other drones is neatly displayed for my convenience in the splitting image.
The once sturdy metal doors of the room hang from their hinges, warped and corroded by centuries of neglect and decay.
Faint traces of frost cling to the edges, a chilling reminder of the icy depths beyond if the snow in the distance wouldn’t be enough.
A cold wind howls from within, carrying with it the scent of ozone and the distant rumble of thunder.
Well, more than the scent, the levels of ozone are about 30 times higher than in the other areas.
Storm clouds appear in the chamber overhead, their dark tendrils reaching down creating small tornadoes.
Lightning dances across the ceiling, casting jagged shadows against the crumbling walls and illuminating broken machinery.
I call it lightning but it may as well be voltaic arcs crossing the ends of exposed cables hidden in the clouds and I wouldn't be able to tell the difference.
The entrance itself is marked by faded symbols and strange glyphs, remnants of a forgotten era when this room was a beacon of technological marvel.
This whole planet of metal and whirring gears used to be one, and I dread to discover all its secrets.
The thing that bothers me the most is that even Virgil's database doesn’t have references for this language.
“Ethan caution = not needed. Xyra is no longer subjected to her species' biological weaknesses. You should remember when you fixed the power in the laboratory. Moreover, should Xyra’s form be destroyed, we can simply find another drone for her biological construct to inhabit.”
-It makes no sense, you know? Sacrificing someone just because you can replace him or her.-
Still, I realize these drone zombies are made just for that end.
To be used again and again until they are damaged enough that their only possible remaining use would be to be recycled to create other drones.
I can see this on the Granfi drones that I tasked Virgil to repair: they barely even resemble the base creature anymore.
Not that they were pretty before, but now they are true monstrosities geared for the kill in the narrow passages of the tunnels.
Metal claws, metal tentacles, and more cams are being installed into them; they are geared for wars; if I concentrate hard enough on Virgil, it calls them warrior drones.
The drones I am sending more to the surface are kept more resembling the base creature and are getting called infiltrator drones, while the ones I am ordering around the base are either getting the collector or caretaker drone title.
I get the feeling Virgil is adapting the drones to how I use them to make them more efficient to the needs of this collective, I will try and focus on this matter at a later date.
I am well aware that Virgil is speaking the truth, they are far more resistant than a normal being.
I sigh and evaluate the options, between the danger hidden in the room and those that are left outside.
Both are of course unknown and unknowable, but at least I know no beast will jump from the road behind my drones.
I should have sent more drones, but again I am diversifying my activities and I must consider the safety of the lab first.
-So, Xyra, how does your new body feel so far?-
This feels a bit awkward as Virgil fills me with more data about her status than I care to hear about, geez I want her opinion, not a status report!