Ozias

Ozias was troubled. There was an alert for gunfire detected, and the camera view showed humans who were not personnel of the ship. Initially Ozias thought they were wearing some kind of futuristic armor, perhaps reflective plating to deal with energy based weaponry, but he ran across a memory of some movie from the turn of the 21st century. The armor was very similar to that of the lorica segmentata from the Roman Empire.

The fact that the bullets penetrated the armor with little effort proved that it was flimsy at best.

Dr. Shelby had skillfully saved the life of the man who had been shot, but Ozias had become further distracted upon looking at the triage staging area. There were already dozens of individuals laid out with the same armor, though with a crimson underlayer instead of blue like the one who was shot.

There hadn’t been a bug, something was occurring that was simply outside of the fathomability of the greatest minds of the NATC when programming the various subroutines of the Gladius’ systems.

This wasn’t some kind of convergant evolution issue either - DNA samples already obtained by the medical drones showed a 99.99% similarity. It was likely even closer, but sequencing would not be done for some time.

Even stranger, the equine creature that had apparently followed its injured rider into the triage area was 99.99% horse, appearing of a purebread Arabian variety. Ozias watched the horse as it nuzzled its unconscious rider. Thus far, it had not yet defecated on the floor. Ozias tasked a drone to watch and remove any fecal matter that was detected in the horse’s vicinity.

By this point, almost 1/4th of the ship’s crew had been treated by medical drones and triaged if necessary. Many of them had followed standard procedures and started equipping themselves fully for combat operations. A handful of engineers huddled around the stabilized-yet-critical form of Lieutenant Commander Layton Marshall.

Layton was known to Ozias as the head of engineering for the Gladius. Typically, upon reaching such a rank, he would have become an executive officer on another ship or moved into a design/paperwork role.

However, Layton was specifically assigned to the Gladius to help with the testing of Ozias’ systems. The tests were to take place during the second half of the mission, which never actually occurred due to their discovery of the object.

Layton was giving orders to the engineers as they each read off reports from flexible tablets. The tablets were designed with a semi-rigid form that could snap around a person’s forearm or be snapped into a flat position.

The reason they were reading reports to Layton was obvious - The Lieutenant Commander had heavy bandages over his eyes. He had suffered from a flash burn when an engineering substation had exploded during the forced exit from warp. Luckily, another engineer had helped him strap in for the landing so he hadn’t had to do so while blind.

Ozias activated the camera audio so he could evaluate the engineer’s opinion on the ship’s condition. He only had access to logs and data feeds, but knew that he lacked practical experience. The hundreds of manuals he apparently had in his data banks were only useful to a point.

“--and Ensign Bradley, you are to head to the primary server room. There’s no way we should have survived the landing according to the trajectory data, and logs show that OZIAS activated. While I’m grateful for the successful trial by fire which has saved our lives, we need to ensure it is deactivated until we need it again. There’s a hard disconnect you can use if it gives you trouble - It’s a safety we built in just in case it had trouble accepting the XO’s authority in ordering a disconnect.”

Ensign Alice Bradley saluted her commanding officer, and spun on her heel. She began walking out of the recovery area and turned in the corridor to head towards the server room.

This wasn’t good - Something in Ozias flooded him with what he understood to be adrenaline. He could not be here when she arrived. Neither could he risk being seen on the ship - If he was shot and Yvonne wasn’t available with a drone, he could cease functioning. The adrenaline in his system told him that there was no reboot cycle. He obviously knew this logically, but it was still shocking to feel the blind panic that biological creatures must feel when fight or flight kicks in.

He immediately created a new account for himself, promoting it to the highest levels. Afterwards, he purged the logs for the terminal he was using. Looking around, he eyed a metal cabinet that would normally house spare equipment. It was empty according to inventory, because there was work to be done on a duct that could only be accessed from within the cabinet.

Ozias grabbed a tablet that was stuck between two servers by an irresponsible engineer - Jonathan Waldner, according to records. He slapped it onto his arm so it would wrap around it - It was a bit awkward, as he was smaller than a normal human adult. But it worked enough for him to crawl into the cabinet and shut the door behind him. He then began removing the access panel for the ducts. They were too small for an adult human to enter, but for Ozias it was a snug but workable fit.

By the time Ensign Bradley arrived, the server room was empty.

Quintus

Through some arcane miracle, Abelus was saved. Or at least, he was in the process of being saved. Some horrific ritual had been performed, but it was difficult for Quintus to see due to his current position.

Some thin material had been wrapped around around his wrists, binding them tightly together. The fastening involved some kind of a high pitched whine, almost like an injured dog. He had no other way to describe it.

Once his wrists were bound, his gladius was removed along with a dagger and his shield. His armor straps were cut, and the armor was removed as well - Normally he would have been vexxed, but he’d seen how little use the armor was against these crossbows.

Quintus was sat in some type of chair that folded down from the wall. There were straps and buckles hanging from it, but they didn’t restrain him further.

He had seen Abelus be taken past him in the corridor when he was initially restrained, and again when he was removed from a room and placed into another room. When he first went past, the white automaton had his chest open and had removed Abelus’ heart.

But somehow, he was still alive when he was brought past the second time. His armor had been removed and the leather underneath had a large square cut out. Underneath was an ugly wound that appeared to have a bunch of tiny pieces of metal holding it closed.

Abelus was moaning, and Quintus heard the noise fade into the distance.

And the strangest thing - Quintus had felt not one drop of magic during the entire procedure. Either the use of magic was so refined that there was no detectable aura, or there was no magic in use whatsoever.

He shook the thoughts from his head as he looked to the creature guarding him. It had hands, very much like his own, covered in some sort of glove or gauntlet. It was thick on the exterior, with what looked like a sheet of flexible glass on the back of one hand. The glass lit up occasionally with arcane symbols, and occasionally the individual would touch the sheet. It would react to the touch instantly, flipping through various sets of symbols.

The armor worn by the individual was some type of black non reflective cloth with black and gray plates attached to it. The plates could have been metallic or some sort of stone or mortar, it was hard to tell. Perhaps they were painted, but Quintus assumed by this point that they were magical or otherwise beyond his understanding as a common soldier.

The individual watching over him was the one who had shot Abelus. He was sitting in another fold out seat opposite Quintus, and had placed the smaller crossbow into a set of straps hanging off the hip. Its gloved hands had unclasped the larger version that the other creature had shot at Quintus as a reflex, and they were now examining the weapon.

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Or at least, he assumed they were examining it. The face of the creature was hidden by a helmet made of a similar material. There was an octagonal ring around the neck with more of the black material hiding any hint of what race the creature belonged to, if it was even a living thing and not another automaton. The front of the helmet had a single horizontal strip of black reflective material, almost obsidian in its sheen.

On either side of the helmet, rectangular protrusions held small glowing pieces. On the back of the head, there was a thick box and several other glowing pieces that Quintus could see when the creature occasionally turned its head to look towards all the Netharian soldiers that had been brought by for recovery.

Quintus could only assume the section they were in was isolated, as it appeared that this individual was the only one guarding any attempts to make trouble. There was no real sense that they were prisoners, more that there was a lack of any feasible way to communicate. Whatever language was spoken by these strange beings, Quintus could not understand it.

After some time passed - Quintus knew not how long, without the sun for reference - another creature stepped into the area. Something was said to the one sitting in front of Quintus, and they nodded, reaching their hands up to undo straps holding on their helmet.

Quintus braced himself, it looked like he was going to get a good look at these creatures.

The helmet was raised, and Quintus found himself looking at another human. His inner child was admittedly disappointed that it wasn’t some fantastical creature or automaton, but he understood that this was obviously a positive for the general situation. Humans had needs and wants, they could be generally reasoned with. It was just a matter of communication.

He sincerely wished he had a spell for surpassing language barriers. Thought-based communication wasn’t common, but every legion had at least one charge on hand for emergencies that allowed a short period of communication between two entities on a higher level. The Netharians had standardized the practice to simplify the process of conquering the other races, and the Purductonians had retained many standard military practices during their secession.

The man in front of him had some blood caking the back of his head, it appeared he had been injured - Thinking about it, Quintus was surprised he was even alive, riding this metal construct down from the heavens. There truly must have been a god at work for there to be even two of them living, though it may have simply been their own ingenuity judging by the wonders he had seen thus far.

His thoughts were disrupted as a woman dressed in crimson and white swept into the room. She was agitated at both of the soldiers (Quintus assumed, at least, that they were soldiers), gesturing around her. Somewhat animatedly, she gestured towards Quintus, and towards the weapons both soldiers were holding. The helmet-less one shrugged.

This only seemed to agitate her more. She reached to the floor beside the soldier, and grabbed Quintus’ gladius that the soldier had seized earlier. She deftly removed it from its sheath, and said something to the soldier. He shook his head, but she grabbed his arm and made him hold it out for her.

She lifted the blade - Quintus startled as she chopped with what seemed all her might into the cloth between the armor segments. The soldier grimaced, but the blade did not pierce the material. In fact, the edge seemed to have dulled considerable. She then picked up his dagger, and stabbed the same place with the tip. The dagger’s tip bent slightly.

She then threw the weapon onto the floor. Even though Quintus couldn’t see the expression of the other soldier, he could tell from both their body language that they had been chastised by the exchange. They both attached their weapons to the front of their armor plates.

Only once they had voluntarily put their weapons “down”, as it were, did the woman approach Quintus. She knelt down so she was at eye level with him. He hoped she wouldn’t try to stab him. His armor was much more susceptible to such things.

She placed her hand on her chest, and said “Yvonne.” She pointed to the soldier without the helmet, and said “Philip.”

Was she giving him names? That was as good a guess as any. It became more clear when she pointed to the third individual and said “Tyler” - Unless there were some nuance he wasn’t following, they were names.

He gestured to himself. “Quintus”

She smiled. It put him at ease, even though he just now realized her outfit was supposed to be white. It was only crimson because it was covered in blood from neck to knee.

Somewhere in another room, a horse neighed. There was a soft impact noise, and a drone buzzed angrily through the room towards the sound.

* * *

Ozias

There was little for Ozias to do at this point without giving away his existence. He watched, helplessly, as the engineering team took over his role in directing the drones. As more and more of the ship’s crew were located, triaged, and treated, the ship’s systems came to life.

Engineers and mechanics combed the ship, isolating destroyed systems and bypassing unstable sections. While the ship was at a 30 degree incline in some places where its spine had been snapped, gravity plating was 90% functional in those regions so that there was no major difference for anyone moving into those sections outside of a slight moment of disorientation entering the field.

A group of marines managed to dig out a fabricator, and had worked with an engineer to extend the rails so it could create larger but simpler objects. They currently had it manufacturing T-wall segments which were then hauled into position around the ship. Trees were chopped down to three hundred yards and the materials were hauled to the burnt clearing near the crash site, where engineering drones worked to level spaces and build temporary shelters for the local inhabitants.

The medical staff were overworked, but with the help of the drones only 10% of those still living after the crash succumbed to their injuries. That amounted to a death toll of 27.07% of all individuals on board the Gladius at the time of impact. Ozias felt a pang of something in his chest at the thought of 49 crew members who were deceased. He subconsciously knew it was guilt, but he was aware that without his intervention it would have been 100%. If the other vessels achieved similar numbers, then he had saved many from what could have been the most disastrous accident in NATC’s space faring history.

Alongside the T-walls, HESCO units were being deployed. The stated goal of the engineering team after a council with the Operations and Weapons officers was isolation. They had landed in the middle of some kind of conflict, but apart from caring for those individuals injured by the crash they would attempt to self-isolate until the XO or CO were conscious and able to make a decision.

Yvonne was hard at work looking over bloodwork, fearful that an unknown virus or bacteria could be unleashed on the crew - Or worse yet, that they could have delivered what amounted to a bio-weapon to a world of uncontacted humans.

The horse had refused to leave its master’s side, so as soon as the first wooden blockhouse was completed the now-stabilized cavalryman was moved outside. A drone had been dedicated to the horse’s care, gathering grasses from outside the cleared area and cleaning up any dung left behind.

After an incident with one of the red armored victimes attempting to attack one of the blue armored individuals, an additional dividing line had been erected, splitting the block house area into two distinct locations. Some of the medical drones had been loaded up with tasers, deployable nets, and tranquilizers to be set to patrol the line. The natives were wary of the floating white guardians, so the measures were unnecessary.

All individuals had their armor and weapons removed and placed into storage. There was very little resistance, as the individual known as Quintus had apparently been singing the praises of the NATC. Or, more likely, had been telling them the capabilities of their handguns and rifles as discovered by the poor individual known as Abelus.

Fear and superstition was a common uniting factor in history, and it was doing its job here as well.

Layton Marshall had opted to have one of his eyes replaced with a cybernetic replacement, and was actively hobbling around. He had jokingly remarked that he had to keep at least one of them, as they were his wife’s favorite part and Dr. Yvonne Shelby refused to let him keep the removed eye suspended in resin or anything like that.

He and Ensign Bradley were working on restoring a top-side missile launcher to full readiness. The NATC utilized micro satellites as a defensive countermeasure for long distance engagement. These satellites were essentially micro computers wrapped in foil and set to send and receive signals as loudly as possible. They would be deployed in swarms around an evading ship so that any weapons targeting that was at such a distance as to rely solely on instruments would have a difficult time identifying the target.

Alice Bradley had suggested they use one of the ship’s missiles to launch one of these satellites - Even if they couldn’t attain a permanent orbit, if they could orbit the planet a few times and get the status of other ships it would be worth the effort.

It was less resource intensive than Lieutenant Marshall’s plan to build a BFA, a Big Fucking Antennae, for bouncing signals off the planet’s ionosphere. That would be a far more permanent solution, but the hope was that there were other ships in better condition and they could expand their resource pool to plan for a rescue or an attempt at an exodus.

It helped that they had dozens of missiles and hundreds of the tiny satellites - Alice thought she could use some of the damaged drones to upgrade one of the satellites to attain a non degrading orbit, or at least one with a stable orbit for several months or years. But for now, they needed data and they needed it quickly.

By the time the block houses were complete and the initial satellite was launched, thirty-six hours had passed. The engineering team launched surveillance drones soon after the fact, and set them to patrol in a pattern with a radius of twenty kilometers centered on the crash site. Obtaining topography was a critical data point, and it came with an unexpected surprise.

Two armies - One flying red banners, and one flying blue banners, were marching toward the crash site from opposite directions. They had struck camp, and would arrive by nightfall.