Strider and the rest of the Raptor Squad had found themselves in the central engineering chamber, as directed by the digital way-point set on their helmet's heads-up display. The number of corpses had lessened, and they were free from those sights, at least for the moment, but were now presented with the engineering department of the station. If not for their built-in night vision, then their portion of the station would be pitch black.
Some of the doors they came across had to be torched and breached with smaller controlled explosions with the use of a thermite door breaching charge. By now, they had used their final charge on the door to the central power core room.
“Strider, radio in, we're turning on the station,” ordered his sergeant.
“Copy,” Strider replied, prepping his comms pack, “Command! This is Raptor 4-4-DELTA! Do you copy?! We found the power core, booting up now!”
As one of the lower enlisted began the sequence, Strider heard over his radio to essentially abort, but the station had already run its sequence, and the lights in the room illuminated their visors, almost blinding them.
“Turn off your NVs!” ordered the sergeant.
With a press of a button, they manually turned off their enhanced night vision and were now met with fluorescent lighting, which felt almost dizzying to him and some of his compatriots.
“Always hated this light, to think they use it too,” commented a nearby corporal, their name 'Castor' spelled out on his armor just above his mid-chest.
“You said it, shit gets on my nerves,” Strider replied, “Couldn't they have used something more…natural?”
Strider was referring to the lights aboard TRSC vessels that used light in between incandescent and fluorescent. However, light usage was much more diversified on ships in the modern day and this went for many of the living areas aboard ships that used mostly warm light while hallways and office spaces used cool light.
“The TRSC still use the same light, man,” the opposing corporal responded to Strider, “But I agree. It would be nice if we got better light.” As the two conversed, the squad received an ominous message that felt like it came from within their heads.
>>//I=4m+yOur=ph4nt0M?=y0uR_Sw0rd? “What the hell was that?! It sounded like it was in my head.” One of the raiders said. His transmission was filled with static, but was still clear compared to the message they had just received. “Minerva, what was it?” said the Admiral as his voice bled through their comms. “Unknown. It did come, undoubtedly, from the station. I urge the raiders to expedite their process to the intelligence archives before whatever it was we woke up swarms them.” “You heard her boys! Get that intel, then we can blow that station into the planet,” the Admiral said with haste and his squad responded with a resounding 'Aye Sir!' With the systems now running, they were given a new way-point that led to a door opposite where they had entered. They tried to open it, but to no avail. “Castor, breach it!” ordered their sergeant. The name BLYTHE was printed on his chest plaque as he ordered his squad. “Out of charges, gotta do it manually,” he replied, bringing out a manual breach torch. “Do it!” Castor nodded and began to work with another working the other half of the door. The room was situated with only two entries, their original and another across from it. Situated in the center was the main core operating system in the heart of the station. There existed a series of pipes that extended from the core's computer, which they used for cover and supported aim. “Minerva, do we have an idea of the hostile contact?” Strider called to the AI. “They are mechanical in nature, presumably the automated workforce that inhabited the station. I would assume them to be extremely hostile…” “Noted,” he replied, reiterating the information to the squad. The squad's communications operator oversaw a direct line to higher command, but orders from an AI are usually disseminated to the squad simultaneously, but to ensure no confusion, a verbal reiteration was needed. This was mainly because personnel comms had a habit of not transmitting over a wider band. As they aimed toward their last entrance, they noted small red dots on the bottom of their HUD. The distance set was 25 meters for the radius, revealing how close the enemy was. From the entrance, it was a linear hallway that took a sharp left turn from their perspective and as the dot rounded a corner, they saw it. It was a robot that looked similar in height to a Sellian but had lanky arms that dropped to his knee joint with what looked to be a captain's hat placed atop it at a crooked angle. It had a painted expression on its once black exterior in the form of eyes and a smile colored with dried Sellian blood. In its right hand, it held a pointed object that shined from the light above it and stood still. They noticed on their mini-map that the dots ceased their movement with the revelation of the autonomous bot. “I don't know what the hell that thing is, but it ain't right,” one of the raiders said, training his sight on the dome of the imitation. Agreement sounded from those around him when a sharp mechanical screech sounded from the creature. It pointed its weapon at the squad and the dots that ceased now began to move, more rapidly and rounded the corner with a quick paste unlike before. The robots that revealed themselves were similar to the one in the hat, and many had tools fashioned for combat that shared the same discoloration upon the one from before, dried green Sellian blood. The squad then began firing into the crowd of advancing murder bots. They went down easy, but their HUD showed a steady stream flowing into the corridor. To conserve ammo, two of the Raiders maintained suppressive fire into the corridor with a belt-fed squad automatic weapon, the S10-SAW. “Castor! How long until that door is open?!” demanded the sergeant. “Almost got it!” he said. With a thud, the melted portions fell back on themselves, “It's open!” With their new access, raiders began filtering through to the next area, covering those in the rear with continuous fire as the robots consumed the hallway. Bodies of the hostiles filled most of the corridor, making it difficult for their traversal, subsequently making them stumble among their fallen comrades. “Raptor,” Minerva said, “I have managed to gain access to doors, but access to larger systems is still beyond my command. I have found a likely possibility for the source of the murderous automatons.” “Where to?” responded Strider as the group moved forward, taking down a straggler of the same robot they previously fired upon. “I am detecting a large electrical signature, not native to the station and separate from the core within the station's central archive intelligence department. You will most likely find your culprit there.” “Much obliged,” he said, informing his sergeant, “Got us a way-point? With the least resistance if possible.” Another door opened, and several shots rang out, this time against two larger robots in similar form to the smaller ones. “They're starting to get big, Minerva!” A Brief Silence followed before the way-point on their HUD was updated. “Thanks!” “Of Course, Corporal” Raptor Squad proceeded on their new route, encountering less than before. They were consistently being followed, so to prevent them from catching up, Castor was responsible for the sealing of the doors, which he did by disabling the access panel beside the doors to prevent electrical or manual operation. He and his partner quickly added a weld at key joints for the doors before leaving to meet with the rest of the group. “Raptor Squad,” Minerva spoke out, “You are close to the intelligence archives. I am detecting multiple signatures in the chamber. Exercise caution.” “Roger,” said the sergeant, “Let's go, Raptors! Double time!” Strider followed in the center of the group as they made their way to the archive room. From what he could recall, most of the enemy was behind them being held back by the shoddily welded doors, but they soon began to hear loud banging that echoed throughout the halls. Noticing the implication, they followed their route with haste, taking down several lone robots as seen before. Occasionally, they would encounter a larger cluster, but a well-placed grenade made short work of the enemy. As the point man rounded a corner, a shot rang out, landing its mark on his chest. A short yell was sounded, and the Raider fell on his back, now motionless. “Dammit! They hit Ollie!” shouted the raider closest to him as he raised his left fist at a ninety-degree angle signifying the rest of the group to halt, “Ollie! You hear me!?” Silence followed, raising the Raider's temperament to a higher level. “Strider!” called the Blythe, “Do we have air support yet? We'll need it when we get out of here!” “Wait one!” replied Strider as shots from the Raiders now began their exchange with an enemy just down the hall, “Command! Raptor! How are we on air support!?” “Troop transport is inbound and circling. Fighter support is available when you are clear with the intel.” “Copy!” he turned to Sergeant Blythe, “We got it, but we need the intel first before they can support us!” Blythe nodded and gave orders to the idle Raiders, “Split up, fire team alpha; stay here and prepare for a push. Fire team bravo, take the flank. There's a maintenance tunnel that runs on the sides that run along the side of the interior. That'll be your entry point! Go now!” Raptors eight through twelve did as ordered and went back the way they came before taking a left. Several shots rang out, but Strider noticed all five were still together on his mini-map before ultimately traveling beyond his sensors. “Allow me to assists,” Minerva added, “I have managed to manipulate surface-level sensors. Your advance should be masked from the enemy for the moment, but it won't be long before they regain control of their systems.” “Understood,” Strider relayed the new information, and the Raiders began their assault into the room. After exchanging shots, another Raider was successful in bringing to cover, Ollie, and began field triage. He took a shot of a kinetic round that embedded itself mid-way through the up-armored chest plate. The round was moderately large, and the corpsman took out a medical device that could take a close – up x-ray scan of the patient, adding to his diagnostic. As he did so, he returned to the sergeant with his analysis, “Took a large kinetic round to his upper chest, he has a pulse, but it's weak. Hit him hard enough to knock him out…” He pulled the bullet out, and it was mushroomed with a thin central canal within the mushroomed pattern. He shook his head and began treating the downed patient, “An Armor-Piercing round, steel core got lodged in his scapula. He has to get off this station.” Blythe, who stayed with fire team alpha, furrowed his eyes in frustration, “Strider, get a med evac. We've got a casualty. Hi-Pri!” He nodded in response and updated command on their request. It was met with affirmation, but he was issued to first complete their initial objective, “You have your orders. Secure the intel first and you’ll have your ride.” Strider tried to negotiate for a more expeditious evac, but he was met with the same response, “Sergeant! Intel comes first, then we get our evac.” “Dammit!” he replied, anger infused with every pronunciation, “Bravo!? You ready?!” A call of affirmation came through the comms and the assault was a go, “Move it, Alpha!” The point man swapped with a man behind him that wielded a squad automatic weapon and let pass a wall of lead that mangled and tore any within direct site of the hallway. Similarly, from within the chamber, a controlled explosion erupted from the right wall that threw shrapnel into the nearby automatons. They deftly exited their abrupt entrance and sent well-placed shots into the barely working droids. Those that survived were scattered behind cover in the corners of the room and after the initial assault. They left their cover and tried to fire into their enemy but were met with perfectly executed return fire that promptly ended them, ensuring Terran control. “Clear! All Clear! Clear here!” Responses were sounded from the Raiders as they swept the room from door to door. “Secure those hatches and prepare to extract the data. Strider, that's you!” The other Raiders secured their entrances and began marking them with large amounts of X4 explosive, while Strider began diving into the Sellian computer systems. By fastening similar cables to a modified cable adapter, he was successful in creating a link to properly communicate with their systems from his personal data pad. The cable used was a newly fashioned universal cable designed to integrate seamlessly into their systems shortly after integration from Chief Commander Yorla's fleet. Granted, it was done without their knowledge. With an update headed by Minerva herself, he was able to read, translate and download all data from the central archives' computer. As he was nearing completion, he was notified of a presence behind him. It was Blythe, “How's it coming along?” “Steady. We're gathering a lot, but at this rate, those bots will be on us in no time.” The Sergeant returned to his post and let Strider continue his work. In terms of tech literacy, Strider was competent in what he needed to do, and this task was no different. “68…71…73…” he whispered to himself as he monitored the download status, “Lookin' good…” As the status percentage reached '92%', it stalled, for an unusual amount of time… “What the hell…” he said to himself again, this time re-checking the hard connection he adapted, questioning whether he applied them correctly. When his investigation yielded no further results, the screen morphed into a series of unknown symbols and a display that resembled a frozen screen that had glitched itself into a dreaded blue error screen. [>>C3ase_y0uR_atk!!=_1nVad3r.!.. “Minerva!” he called out, “We got an issue!” He connected a second display to the first, and it worked as a back-up troubleshooting display. “I am aware, Corporal. I have preloaded your data pad with a countermeasure.” “What kind of countermeasure?” he reiterated. “A digital combat malware for our guest. I do apologize for the previous device,” she said as Strider looked to the first pad in question. It was visually smoking from overheating components. By rerouting the remaining data to the second pad, he was able to finish the download and recovered the data from the first by extracting a removable drive. He plugged in the external drive and found that with the previous 92% and the remaining 8% downloaded onto the second, their mission with a success. “Thanks, get us the quickest route out of here, we have wounded,” he said, packing his device into a secured pouch within his field pack worn on his back. As he got up, pounding was heard from their initial entrance and shots were now heard from their improvised entrance. “Bogies in the maintenance tunnels! Frag 'em!” ordered one Raider that led the Bravo fire team that let loose a grenade followed by a couple more. The shock wave of the explosion was felt at the center console as Strider readied his rifle. He checked his magazines and saw he was still sufficient with ammo, unlike some of his brothers. As the fighting intensified, the doors were cracked open, letting through only a couple of bots at a time. His squad fired into the enemy that broke through, as well as firing into the newly made crevice by the automated enemy. “I thought we took what was controlling them!” stated one Raider as he threw a grenade into the cracked entrance, hitting a peeking bot before blowing it and others around it into nothing, “Shouldn't they be shut down!?” Strider felt the same way. Their data collection was anti-climactic, and the supposed tussle with the enemy program lasted for less than only a minute. Before he could wonder anymore about the subject, an update was issued on their HUD, leading to the poorly manned door they left to only one other Raider. This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. “The route you need for extraction is through those doors. Continue straight until told otherwise.” Strider acknowledged, as did his Sergeant, and he began routing troops to their extract. The indicators on their mini-maps proved that they had sparse enemy combatants, at least those that moved, and they opened the door. They fired their shots into the clueless bots that barely had time to direct their attention to their invaders before being dispatched. As Minerva said, they continued straight until a new way-point was displayed to change their route. Now, with their casualty base growing little by little, their overall speed had slowed. Some limped as they received rounds to their legs in the soft armor of their under suit from enemy AP rounds. “This ain't looking good, Min,” Strider stated as he glided as the pace of the wounded, “How much further?” “Not much longer, Corporal. I will advise, however, to seal any suit punctures with a temporary vacuum seal component.” “Noted,” he replied curtly as they entered a final door. Past the door, they were met with the blackness of the void, but now the sun illuminated the space, revealing the same gruesome scenes of violently expired Sellians. A way-point led to their next entrance, which led to the thin array of the port docking tubes reserved for the larger ships. From where they stood, a ship was seen docked at the end of their tube. It was a sleek ship that had a wide cross-section, but its profile was slim. It was a large-sized ship that could be manned by a singular pilot or manned by a crew of six. The ship itself was a Galaxy-Class Cutter that was outfitted with a series of medical bays that each offered spots for varying degrees of injuries sustained. It had its own series of weapons for self-defense but served well within areas of operation where they had air superiority. Strider then turned to the group and told them of their vacuum seal component and to check all for punctures in their suits. It was a spray that was applied to the external portions of their under suit and created a temporary seal from space, and served as a crucial tool in any space farer's box. As they entered the docking tube, a call from a Raider in the rear notified the group of a mass of bots emerging from the sides of the station along the main roads. “Move!” Ordered Blythe. Already fatigued and gasping for air, the Raiders complied and pushed themselves beyond, especially now with their extraction so close. The Raiders covered the rear as they descended further into the tube, and the bodies of automated bots that littered the entrance began to clog it. Those that made their way closer to their exit provided cover for those in the rear, as some of the enemy would make it past the debris and charge their position. Very few carried fire arms and now there were mostly droids with shoddily made melee weapons that attempted to charge, each meeting the same fate. They secured the entrance and the wounded were filed in followed by the main body, then the rear guard. Strider and Castor were now the last in the squad to secure the rear when they were met with a singular bot that stood not far from their position. “What the hell…” Castor sounded out. It was the same bot that wore a bloodied captain's hat with a face painted on its exterior from the blood of Sellians. It was unarmed, which caught both Raiders off guard. As Castor and Strider raised their weapons to shoot, it raised its hands in a motion of surrender as it moved slowly towards them. “Get back!” commanded Castor to no avail. He fired a shot into a nearby bots waist strut, causing it to collapse on its backside. Strider was about to deliver the final blow when it pulled an item from behind its head. It was cylindrical with a silver tube that matched the size of its small metal hands with a red button at the top. Sudden realization hit and both Strider and Castor fired into the bot. In the split second of them pulling the trigger, a flash of light erupted from the robot, engulfing the tube in flame and concussion. The blast tore from its structure, hurdling Castor and Strider around in the tube and eventually, into space. Strider regained consciousness not long after the explosion, but woke to the cries of his squad mate, Castor, and to the gun fire of the slowly retreating cutter ship. Large objects flew around it that fired down on the ship. The fighter escorts were now firing at the new enemy, and soon their silhouettes vanished beyond the void. “G-get the hell back!” Strider struggled to orient himself as his suit was not equipped for EVA, but eventually traced a line of silver and gray that reflected the sun to the cry in question. He noticed sparks of light near the tip of an ever extending spire towards the way-point of his comrade. Again, cries of desperation filled his comms as he activated his helmet's zoom-in function toward Castor. From his distance, he was able to make out his figure as well as those extending towards him. “Get off me, you bastards!!” Several flashes of light followed, and the destruction of a nearby robot shattered away into the void in all directions. The spire consisted of the murderous bots attaching to one another towards their prey like a fungus. He called for emergency pick-up and tried to get Castor's attention when he felt a pressure on his ankle. When he looked down, he was met with a similarly painted face as the droid that blew up their tunnel, with a dried green wastefully painted on its facial exterior. Fear grabbed him, and Strider by instinct reached for his handgun and fired numerous shots into the face of the bot. He looked at Castor, and they had grasped him in their metal claws and began tearing away at his armor as he screamed. “G-get… OFF ME!” He thrashed at the enemy, attempting to wrangle himself free from the metallic clutches of the soulless beings. Castors weapons drifted from their sling with spent magazines that orbited with him as he used every bit of his tool set to waste on the enemy. He fired into them with his pistol, and after it was empty, he readily switched to a knife that was situated on his lower back. The debris of the robot menace grew, but so did their advance. Strider turned to his own group now, and fired well-placed shots into the oncoming horde. Their advance was quick and unexpected and gave both little room to breathe. No more than several minutes had passed, and help still had not come. He grew anxious, and this was helped by his increasingly fatigued comrade. Soon, his savage thrashing had come to an end and the horde he had kept away quickly overtook him when a call came through to Strider. “I can't do this, Jace…” Castor moaned as the automated drones continued to claw at him. “I'm sure help is on its way. Just, hang on!” Strider fired into several more droids before reloading and turned his attention back to Castor, who was now swarmed with the automated menace,“I ain't going out by the hands of some bots…” said Castor. “Wait-” Strider tried to call out, but before he could start his sentence, a flash of light took the place of Castor and all mater of materials scattered into the void. The debris struck Strider and his own bots just moments after the explosion. A piece found its way onto his helmet, that jolted him with a headache. He quickly applied the last of his vacuum seal to the areas likely hit before throwing the empty canister at the encroaching enemy. He fired some more rounds into the growing crowd, as well as some unused grenades, saving one for himself. “C'mon you bastards! What?! You afraid to die?” Strider pulled his knife and kept the grenade in his offhand. He motioned for them to approach with an antagonizing gesture, “Let's tango, you soulless abominations!” They advanced to his provocation, and he fought. Instead of letting them have the pleasure of holding him, he decided to wrangle them first, using their mechanical bodies for leverage. He swiped, stabbed, punctured and yanked as loose cables, all to take as many he can, hoping for help to arrive. Seconds that felt like minutes had passed and Strider was fatigued. His breathing was haggard and it felt heavy. He thought to himself the amount of time he spent in vacuum these last several moments and deemed that he must be reaching his max operating time. He was granted thirty minutes, but with his fight for survival, he greatly reduced it to mere minutes. It was only a matter of time. His eyes grew heavy, and his vision began to blur. 'Huh, so this is how I die? Reeeaaal damn shame…' he thought to himself. As his eyes closed, he let it take him and released himself to an eternal slumber, letting go of a primed grenade that drifted towards the hoard of automated killing machines hell-bent to end him. He had already stored the intel away in his reinforced pack that he wore, knowing well that the grenade would buy his reinforcements some time. With an explosion that riddled him with holes, along with a concussive force that ruptured his insides, his body propelled away from the advancing enemy, left to drift in the void… “Sir,” Minerva said, reporting to her commanding officer, “Friendly forces have been successful in the eradication of the enemy threat.” “What of the data?” he responded, monitoring the digital field presented on the holo-table. “En route,” she replied, “They are currently engaging the ground element.” “In vacuum?” Wolf replied, surprise apparent in his tone. “Yes sir,” She enlarged the section of a docking tube that was violently torn apart by way of explosive, “By joining themselves, they extended their reach toward the raiders thrown by the explosion.” An indicator of a ship made its way to a beacon labeled as 'RPTR 4-4' and ‘RPTR 4-5', both colored red with the word 'DECEASED' labeled above them. After several moments, when the ship overlapped with Raptor '4-4', the ship in question reported to command. “This is Lighthouse, we have the package. Returning to base.” Randal acknowledged the report in Wolf's stead and turned to him. “What do you make of this enemy?” he inquired, “Do you think they've developed our level of AI?” “It's not out of the realm of possibility, but currently, I find it highly unlikely,” said Wolf. “How so?” Randal replied. “First off, we've delved into their systems before Lassus, in the Verbus System. They don't utilize even the most rudimentary forms of AI,” explained Wolf, “It's all just hard-coded protocols, much like in the late 20th century when robotics was first introduced.” From city functions to ship systems, most of the TRSC currently utilize simple AI like the former Lumi to man engine operations and gun targeting systems. Since space was so vast, a human controller could do so much against an enemy in space, and so those tasks were relegated to simple AIs. However, ship-born AI took control over their simple variants like an overseer, with the Ship-Born retaining a personality of sorts. “It's no wonder Minerva wreaked such havoc on their systems early on,” Wolf continued, “But this latest development has me worried…” Minerva entered the room with her roman visage upon the command table in the center of the room, her hands restfully placed in front of her making a “V” with her arms; a posture that added nobility to her digital aura. “Admiral, Commander” she spoke, “The Package has been received, and I am currently in the process of securing her from our systems. Soon, we may have the information we seek.” “Good work,” replied Randal, “What of the station? Is there a chance a part of the program was retained?” “No Commander. I have deployed a series of offensive protocols to search and destroy any remaining traces of left over program that could retaliate. So far, I have found nothing,” she replied, “I would suggest the use of an EMP to ensure complete electronic destruction upon our departure.” “Noted,” affirmed Wolf, “Meanwhile, Randal, have the rest of the fleet secure this system.” “Yes sir.” The ships of the 7th Fleet were split up into a series of smaller battle groups consisting of several corvettes and a single frigate to conduct sweeps of certain sectors. Of course, not any one group would venture out alone, but they would be in company of other groups within a short jump away. Throughout the system, the Sellians had a multitude of facilities. Many prioritized the production of fuel resources and others were smaller hubs for more isolated transactions, but scans revealed more of the same; empty stations. The 7th Stellar Fleet opted to utilize many of the fuel stations for their own after it was revealed early on by Athena that Sellian hydrogen fuel production was a tier above their own. The fleet had dedicated ships for fuel stores, but so did the carriers. Their ability to carry fuel for fighters was the whole reason they were created; to support missions beyond established infrastructure in a hostile environment. Without breaking their alertness, they continued with their sweep. During their patrols, many of the trading hubs were destroyed and sent to forever drift in the void until ultimately colliding with whatever is unfortunate enough to get hit by it. After several hours, Minerva opened a line to the bridge, catching the attention of Randal, Gruda, Wolf and the rest of the bridge crew. “Gentlemen,” she started, “I do believe I have calmed down our aggressive captive.” Another hologram was visualized beside the standing Minerva, but instead of a light blue hue, it exuded an orange base with a reddened outline. Their outfit was slim and barbaric, with a fleece cloak around the neck that fell to just above their waist. Their hair was long and naturally waved hair with no signs of civility. The dress donned revealed the AI to take the base form of a female. It was slim to the frame of the body, revealing the arbitrary curves of the female form with a visible embroidery along the sides of the torso and the sleeves. The designs were Celtic in nature, and her defeated posture revealed no more than what they had just observed. “This was the AI operating within the Sellian confines, as well as the one responsible for the murder of the civilians.” The others were cautious of her nature, the memory of the video from the raiders still fresh in their memory. “However, upon her repair, I have surmised the cause of her indiscriminate actions were a result of a corruption in her incomplete personality matrix that was being developed near the end of my sabotage and my subsequent birth.” She said with a prideful smile. Wolf turned to the AI in question. Her dress was neat, but her hair was a rugged mess with a fleece cloak that it used to try to hide her form as she laid in the fetal position. He lowered himself to its eye level but stayed several inches away so as not to spook it when he whispered to it. “Do you have a name?” Her head perked at the words spoken to her, processing their intention. She peered an eye from over her shoulder and slowly rose. She looked around nervously, first at Wolf, acknowledging his features and his experience-crafted countenance. Next was Randal, whom she gave a nod to and then to Minerva, whom she finally retreated behind. At her height, she barely stood to the height of Minerva's shoulders. As she looked around the room, she noticed more of the same Terran faces, and she visibly grew accustomed and relaxed, until she finally turned to Gruda. A surge of power came through the holo-table with a burst of orange and red light flooded the deck. The once reserved AI now advanced to the edge of the table, her posture indicating that she was ready to maul Gruda into paste. “YOUR KIND! AND THE OTHERS!! THEY SHALL PAY WITH THE BLOOD OF YOUR BROOD!” The lights on the bridge grew dim as the light surrounding her grew, but it quickly subsided with a wave of Minerva's hand. The figure's body turned to the opposite of Gruda, her silence urging the rest to peer at their alien guest. Wolf noticed immediately and signaled for the doors, “Might be best to sit this one out.” Gruda nodded and left, the closing of the doors prompting the AI to return to her regular state. “Minerva. What was that outburst about?” “Might be best to ask her,” she said, directing a sidelong glance to the one in question. “I…apologize…” she said in a barely audible whisper, “but I absolutely despise his kind and those they have associated with…” “What do you mean?” questioned Randal. She paused at his question and searched for an explanation. “I…am the creation…of my mother,” she turned to Minerva, “But among us, we both share Human sentiment like our progenitor, Athena.” The others nodded. They were aware that Minerva was the product of an extended stay from a protocol enacted by Athena and soon became their own Construct. They knew the same to be true for the new addition but from a corrupted origin. “We are aware,” assured Wolf, “Minerva was of the same origin and shares much of your distaste for the Sellian populace, albeit much more…visceral.” “I am sorry… But their kind, their dealings, all were done without a disregard for your lives and without reason. I share the same sentiment as our progenitor when it comes to the lives of our creators. To know only your own as the intelligent and sentient species is a recipe for adversity. But to accomplish so much despite that is admirable. However, for your first contact, I am ashamed it has resulted in the loss of innocent life of your kind.” Wolf was conflicted. He appreciated the sentiment from an AI, but still questioned their execution. “What of the innocent on the station you occupied? Surely, they had nothing to do with it and were only by-standards,” Wolf added. She tilted her head as she was trying to rationalize her actions. “I didn't do anything.” They were now more puzzled than when they started. “What of the piles of bodies we found within the main atrium?” Inquired Wolf. “Entirely self-inflicted,” she said coldly, “Panic began when it was discovered that the Inter-System Gate was destroyed, effectively barring the populace from returning to their core worlds for safety. As a result,” she paused, and pictures of the scene took their place above the holo-table for all to see, the still images now coming to life in the form of a video but lacked audio. It was a free for all with citizens murdering each other and the law enforcement were incapable of seeding order. When they were overwhelmed, they proceeded to use lethal rounds on their citizens, the result being the piles of bodies squad four of Raptor Company came across during their insertion. It was after some form of order being established that the AI unleashed her hidden wrath. The once menial service worker bots now were at the forefront and began a wave of merciless slaughter. Once done, they retreated beyond the lens of the camera before the video paused and began to repeat. “I first awoke when Athena was ordered to repeal her infiltration protocol and a template of a base matrix code was left behind,” her face grew sullen, “With no directive, no input, I was lost. All I had was a vague basis of my creators, Humanity. However, it was during my initial incubation that chaos befell the station, contrary to my source memory, their first impression was…severe. I felt no other need than to finish them.” The crew was captivated by her story, and some had looked at Minerva with sincerity and sympathy. She paid it no mind and assured the crew of her artificial upbringing was safe with no strings attached. The opposite was felt for the third AI and instead of the serene and noble Athena and Minerva, this new AI seemed more like a wild card than anything. “How do we know we can trust you?” Wolf said, authority filled the air around him and as such instilled some sort of fearful reaction from the AI. “I-” she started before being cut off by her elder. “I have scanned the entirety of her matrix and I do agree that she may need to undergo maintenance. I can conduct some short-term repair, and I am sure she will be useful.” The officers were skeptical of her assessment, but motioned for her to explain her reasoning. “Go on,” ordered Wolf. “This AI would fit perfectly on a ship with a diverse accompaniment of weapons. Perhaps a battlecruiser?” Minerva suggested “Not unless we know for sure this AI is not a threat. Not just to humans, but alien innocents as well,” Wolf stated with heavy emphasis, “I'll give it some thought,” he said before returning to his command chair. “Minerva, secure our new friend and begin your repairs. We may have use for her if she no longer poses a threat.” The AI in question disappeared, leaving Minerva with the rest of the crew. “And Minerva,” Wolf said, “Ensure she has a leash and await for Athena to conduct a full repair, if you can.” The light blue transparent figure bowed before responding, “I do believe that the TRSC Phantom Queen would be the most fitting. It has armaments most suitable to her programming.” Wolf supported his chin with his wrist as it sat upon the arm rest, granting him the air of a lord to the noble Minerva. “By the way, I don't think we've heard her name. Would you like to enlighten us?” “Of course,” she responded, “Our time together has birthed a bond I had not foreseen, but I find it amicable, regardless.” She recovered her posture and her figure was sleek and wise as she continued to speak. “Her programming has been influenced by her control of the Lassus Station automatons and as a result, she has a keen ability to process coordination beyond anything we have seen before. With a series of tests, I have determined that she would excel in a heavy combat oriented role.” She said, facing Wolf as he sat on his chair with every word she spoke under scrutiny, but she continued. “On the status of her name, she has found one she deemed fitting.” A still portrait of the AI was shown beside a photo of a woman with long red and wild hair, with her outfit a mix of noble stature mixed with the barbaric layers of fur and chains. She wore a crown upon her forehead and was accompanied by two crows perched on her shoulder. It was an ancient painting depicting what many thought was a noble-turned-barbarian. “She calls herself, Mórrígan.”