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Systemic Anomaly

Joined: Aug 16, 2005
Messages: 4218
Location: HvCFT Aggregator, The Glitch Society, Syntax
Online



Message edited by Procurator on 03/30/2007 16:35:54.


Systemic Anomaly

Joined: Aug 16, 2005
Messages: 4218
Location: HvCFT Aggregator, The Glitch Society, Syntax
Online

(( http://www.glitchsociety.com/journa.../procurator/39/ ))

The co-ordinates glowed there, in the middle of the screen. How many times had he looked at them now? He shifted in his seat when he noticed his face grinning back at him from the monitor. He closed the terminal and got up to leave, pausing briefly to compose himself properly. It’s not as if he should appear too happy about this. Once outside his room, the captain of the HvCFT Aggregator looked around the hallway. Failing to see his target, he started towards the short flight of stairs which would lead him down to the broadcast bay and ultimately the bridge.

‘Ah, Jerry!’ he exlaimed in a friendly tone as he saw the ship’s temporary pilot sitting in his chair, idly flicking a few switches.

Jerry looked round. ‘My designation, sir, is JE-R3.’

‘Eh-heh, right. Yes, of course.’ Procurator gave the pilot a hearty pat on the back, and withdrew his hand in pain, immediately regretting his friendly gesture. JE-R3 was a robot, assigned to the Aggregator for the duration of Frotee’s absence from the ship. The latter had contracted abscedosis months ago, and the crew feared they’d soon need to find a permanent pilot to replace him. Jerry, despite his best automated efforts, simply wasn’t good enough.

‘Jerry, my lad, it pains me to say it, but I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave the ship.’

‘Am I being dismissed from duty, sir? Are you unsatisfied with my performance?’

‘Oh, it’s not that. And you won’t be gone for good – probably – but the crew’s got a little something we need to do together. As a unit, you understand. It simply… wouldn’t be appropriate for you to be aboard for that.’

‘Very well, sir. Has proper clearance been issued by flight control?’

Oh blast, thought Procurator. He hadn’t thought of that.

‘No, not quite yet. But we won’t be leaving the dock before getting an approved pilot! No worries there.’

‘I can file the request for you, if you’d like.’

‘Eh… no! No-no, that’s quite all right. I’ve got some other forms to send them anyway.’

‘Very good, sir. Thank you, sir.’

Jerry rose from his seat, nodded stiffly, and proceeded out of the bridge and towards the access ramp. Procurator watched him leave, then hit the button on the nearest shipwide communications panel.

‘Attention all hands! Meet me in the bay for a quick briefing.’

Assorted cries of ‘aye’ came back through the panel. Satisfied, the captain headed through the hall and back to the broadcast bay himself. Once everyone he was sure was on board appeared in the bay, he leant casually on one of Flare’s monitors and grinned at the gathering.

‘Alright, boys and girls? Just want to let you know that we intend to head out of Zero-One in a few minutes. So…’ He trailed off, and scanned the crew, noting the few absentees. ‘So someone go grab Jedi and Fray – God only knows where they are – and we’ll get going.’

Gookin nodded and made for the ramp out of the ship. SixTwoFive piped up.

‘We going to be up to anything special on this mission, Proc, or just more Merv scouting?’

Procurator looked thoughtful for a moment, then said: ‘Well now, you know that virus I developed? The one a lot of us have been using to compromise the General’s access nodes and get data on where the Commandos are coming from?’

‘You bet!’ enthused Flare. ‘It found the location of their base, didn’t it?’

‘Believe it. Well, it’s taken its own sweet time, but it’s finally reported back to me here. Now Gray wants us to go on a little errand using this data.’

‘So where are we going?’

‘Where the hell do you think?’ Procurator laughed. ‘Stalingrad!’


Message edited by Procurator on 04/04/2007 18:03:58.


Systemic Anomaly

Joined: Aug 16, 2005
Messages: 4218
Location: HvCFT Aggregator, The Glitch Society, Syntax
Online

(( http://www.glitchsociety.com/journa.../procurator/41/ ))

The harsh terrain flew past under the Aggregator’s prow, the former dimpled and pitted by innumerable explosions from innumerable battles that had taken place on its surface before the Machines saw fit to shut humanity up for a bit. Besides ruined cities and dark oceans, there was very little of interest in the Desert of the Real, yet the Aggregator flew with a purpose. It was not immediately bound for Stalingrad, as Procurator had explained to his crew as soon as they were all aboard and ready for the off, but rather a small outpost a while distant from Zero-One. Rarely did any ship in the Glitch Society’s modest fleet have to visit such a place – save for the occasional pickup of a new recruit – but this was not an ordinary trip.

After the initial announcement of the ship’s ultimate destination, the crew had expressed not a little concern.

‘Holy cr*p!’

‘What the hell are we going there for?’

‘The squiddies will tear us to shreds!’

On the last point Procurator had tried his best to be reassuring.

‘Don’t worry, we’re gonna be all set before we reach Stalingrad. You think I’d fly us into the enemy’s hands without so much as an EMP?’

He then proceeded to clarify that, as EMPs were banned from Zero-One, they would have to pick one up (‘Or several,’ he’d said to himself quietly). Hovercrafts were intercepted before they reached Zero-One by fleets of Sentinels, which had been outfitted to scan for potential EMP weapons. Upon detecting one, this would be removed from the ship. Unless, of course, the ship was hostile or the inspection fleet had been destroyed by an EMP, in which case the Machine City’s gargantuan defences would kick into action and obliterate the ship. This hadn’t happened too often, as people were warned against trying anything that stupid by the first instance, which had transpired soon after Zion had begun manufacturing new – albeit ramshackle – hovercrafts.

The outpost they were now approaching was, in essence, an all-purpose repairshop for hovercrafts. It not only provided EMPs for those particularly adamant in their request for them, but gun part replacements, gun ammunition, replacement hoverpads and refuelling services. Strictly speaking it was a Machinist outpost, and whenever Procurator was there he’d only met crews loyal to Zero-One, but it was well known that the occasional Merovingian follower or wayward Zionite would make an appearance, more often than not to meet contacts and trade information outside the Matrix.

Gookin had taken over the flight controls for this trip. He’d repeatedly asked his captain for the job – especially considering the rather impersonal manner in which the robot JE-R3 went about its duties – but was denied the satisfaction of guiding the Aggregator’s graceful flight. There was enough to be doing as the ship’s first mate, Procurator had said. Today, however, the captain explained that this was a special trip and thus required the full participation of the crew, and only the crew. A couple of hours after leaving their dock on the outskirts of Zero-One Gookin landed the Aggregator on one of the open spaces outside the outpost’s only building.

Procurator was the first to descend from the ramp. Two men came up to meet him before he’d even stepped on the cold ground outside. One of them embraced Procurator in greeting and introduced him to the other man, who shook his hand. Procurator grinned at them both, and said a few things in hushed tones. Pausing only to signal the rest of the crew to follow him, he strode off with his two friends and entered the building.

This outpost was about as different as you could get from the cleanliness of the Zero-One dock. It was closer to Zion than anything else: dirty, dusty, with an overwhelming smell of oil and the sounds of large machinery. Most people who’ve spent any time in Zion learn to ignore these offending sensations, but Procurator, having long since left the underground city, was not a little irked by it. The passageway they’d entered soon opened out into the main chamber, a gathering place of sorts and a place for the crews of passing ships to relax and get something to eat. The food was reasonable – better than Zion standards, naturally – but hardly a decent reason for anyone to visit the place. This was not why the Aggregator was here.

The crew followed their captain in and most of them slumped into the nearest available seats.

‘Okay kids, we’ve got some things to cover. Gookers, I want you to toddle off with Ide here’ (he pointed to one of the two men who’d met him) ‘and go get us as many EMPs as he can spare and help him install them. Fray, you can grab whatever food you think we need. Let’s go for a bit of variation in our diets, eh? Six and Sel, scout about for upholstering. After Fray and Jedi somehow managed to burn their pillows last week the Machines have refused to give us any new ones.’

FrayJack and Jedi pulled silly faces and started giggling. After a stern look from Procurator, Fray headed for what looked to be the canteen area.

Procurator continued: ‘Camp and Flare, can you mingle and ask around for the latest gossip? Find out where the major factions are hanging out. We’ve got enough to worry about without the threat of bumping into Cypherite, Merovingian or godd*mned EPN ships. Jedi, you can come along with us. We have an upgrade to install!’

***

A few hours later and the Aggregator was on its way again. EMPs were installed, food was well stocked and the crew quarters once again had the correct number of pillows. Selena, the ship’s navigator, pored over her console on the bridge. Gookin and Procurator were sat by the front windows – one carefully guiding the ship across the wastes of the Real, the other humming quietly to himself. He stopped and turned his attention to Selena.

‘How long d’you reckon it’ll take, Sel?’ he asked.

Selena didn’t look up from the maps and charts that covered the large screen of the navigation console. ‘Assuming we can keep going non-stop, maybe thirty-six hours at best.’

‘Good grief!’ exclaimed Procurator. ‘We can go faster than that! The planet’s not that big, and we’re a bl**dy fast ship.’

‘Yeah, but we’re crossing through some hostile zones. You know the engagement protocols as well as any of us, Proc.’

The captain gave an incomprehensible grunt and folded his arms. He did know the protocols: when in a hostile area not relevant to the mission, avoid all contact with enemy ships. However fast their ship might be, they couldn’t just plow through these territories. They had to go just slow enough to perform regular scans of their surroundings, locate targets, determine their intentions and do their best to avoid them. Flying across land was generally faster but sewers were better for navigating hostile zones. However, they weren’t quite as ever-present as some people thought.

‘Seriously Proc,’ said Gookin, without taking his eyes off the ground before them, ‘why’re we doing this? Why’s Gray sending us on ahead?’

‘Intelligence gathering.’

‘Yeah, so you said. But they could have got Sentinels to do that. And why are they taking ages to get to Stalingrad anyway?’

Procurator wasn’t convinced he’d got a good enough answer to that question. The fact that the Sentinels despatched after his virus had run its course were spending days en route to the General’s base had mystified him, but he wasn’t too concerned why. All he was interested in was the opportunity their slow progress had offered him.

‘They’re waiting for us, I guess. It’s no good guessing how big the General’s army is and sending a few Sentinels along to take them out. They want to know exactly what they’re up against, and we stand a very good chance of getting all the info they need without the enemy even spotting us.’

This last bit, at least, was true. The HvCFT Aggregator was a stealth ship, designed for reconnaissance work. When it was being rebuilt in Zero-One one and a half years ago, the Glitch Society had requested it be equipped with stealth technology. Such equipment naturally precluded the ship’s ability to carry heavy weapons, and so it was redesigned with speed in mind, lest it be caught by an enemy fortunate enough to spot it. Truthfully, very little of the HvCFT Mainframe had survived the rebuilding – it was practically a new ship. When prompted on the subject, however, Procurator would insist that it was the same ship as the Mainframe, just to impress upon everyone the significance of the whole terrifying incident and the reason behind his – and the crew’s – hatred for Cypherites.

Selena got up from her seat and stretched.

‘I’m gonna get a drink. You two want anything?’

Having taken their orders, she left for the galley. A few moments passed by in silence, then Gookin spoke.

‘Are we gonna get to push this button then?’

Gookin motioned towards a large red button sitting between the two frontmost seats in the cockpit. It was covered by a safety catch. Procurator looked over.

‘Eh? Oh, the big red one?’

‘Yeah. Jedi said you got him to hook it up to the hoverpad power regulators, but…’

‘Well, uh, if we’re unlucky we’ll get to use it, yeah.’

‘But what the hell is it? Some sort of jump-start?’

‘Oh-no, not in the slightest!’ said Procurator, grinning. ‘It’s a discharge weapon.’

‘You what?’

The Captain chuckled. ‘Hoverpads, by way of necessity, are ringed by an unstable energy vortex, right? Anyone or anything that gets too close gets zapped.’

‘I think most of us get that.’

‘Ah, but have you ever considered using that property for a purpose? The right amount of power in the right pad at the right time…’

‘B*ll*cks. That’d take ages to calculate.’

‘Well, we did it! Pressing that button uses the hoverpads to create a small electrical storm around the Aggregator. Any rogue Sentinels get a bit too friendly with the ship’s hull… BAM! Fried calamari!’

Procurator grinned malevolently and smashed his fist into his palm as if to demonstrate the Sentinel’s fate.

‘Heh, you seem to like the idea,’ remarked Gookin. ‘So, you reckon we’ll need it?’

‘I hope not. The Aggregator’s a stealth ship, so as long as we – sorry, you – fly it properly, the Sentinels won’t even see us. And we’re not exactly equipped to shoot the b*ggers if it comes down to it.’

‘True. I’m getting someone to double check the guns just in case.’

Procurator nodded, and patted Gookin’s shoulder before looking over his own.

‘’Ere Sel! Those drinks coming?’

Message edited by Procurator on 04/04/2007 18:03:36.



Systemic Anomaly

Joined: Aug 16, 2005
Messages: 4218
Location: HvCFT Aggregator, The Glitch Society, Syntax
Online

(( http://www.glitchsociety.com/journa.../procurator/55/ ))

It took just over one and a half days before anything noteworthy happened on their trip. The reports they’d gathered on hovercraft activity along their intended route had proven to be accurate, save for a few anxious minutes when they thought a heavily armed battlecraft was following them at a distance. To everyone’s relief (and Procurator’s exasperation) it turned out to be a malfunction in the targeting relays caused by Jedi when he’d dropped cookie crumbs on the console several weeks ago. Selena was carefully monitoring the Aggregator’s progress, and when their destination was estimated to be an hour away she hollered to the captain.

Procurator came onto the bridge, nodded at Selena and Gookin and spoke into the intercom.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s about that time. Prepare for silent running. I want Camp to shut down the communications channels, Flare can cut our link to the Matrix if it’s still on, and Jedi can keep an eye on the core. And for God’s sake don’t eat anything in there.’ He sighed and sat down next to Gookin.

‘Nervous?’ he asked of his first mate.

‘Me? Hell no. It’s just a few squiddies gone rogue. What’s to worry about?’ He threw Proc a troubled glance.

‘Heh, no worries kid. They won’t so much as catch a glimpse of us, and we’ll be in and out of there in a jiffy.’

Over the next couple of minutes reports came in from around the ship informing the bridge that all systems were set for silent running. In this state the reactor produced enough power to keep the Aggregator airborne and generate an EM field large enough to negate its own energy signature. Coupled with the radar deflection technology, the ship was rendered practically invisible; unless you physically looked at it with human eyes, that is. Thankfully, they weren’t expecting there to be any humans in Stalingrad.

Selena looked round at her husband. ‘We should be nearly on top of the place, hun. Though I don’t know how big it’ll be. We should watch out for patrols.’

‘I’ll keep my eyes peeled,’ replied Gookin.

‘I wouldn’t be too worried about patrols.’ Procurator started tapping away at the radar screens in front of him. ‘Don’t rule them out, but they’re more likely to have placed sentries in strategic spots around the base proper. And don’t forget: they’ll be expecting Sentinels to make an approach, not hovercraft, so they’ll be scanning for normal Zero-One tech.’

‘We hope,’ said Gookin and Selena in unison.

The bridge settled into a tense silence, each person therein concentrating fully on their respective tasks. The prospect of waltzing into the headquarters of the Machines’ greatest enemy since the War was enough to scare anyone to tears, but every crewmember of the Aggregator had sworn to go trough hell and back to serve the greater good. A few minutes later and the radar still hadn’t picked anything up.

‘It is there, I assure you,’ exclaimed Proc when he noticed the others fidgeting. ‘They’re just doing a damned good job of keeping themselves hidden.’

Sure enough, an energy spike appeared on the forwards scanners, dead ahead. Moments later a structure was clearly visible on the horizon, some distance away but still stark against the backdrop of the war-torn wasteland. Gookin adjusted the ship’s speed, slowing it down so more detailed sweeps could be made of the area.

‘What sort of approach are we after?’ asked the pilot.

Procurator was focussed on the radar screens, but spoke to Selena. ‘That river a few klicks away, how far does it run?’

‘Looks like it goes right up to… well, to whatever their base is. It makes a nice channel too.’

‘Excellent,’ said the captain. ‘Gookers, head for that and follow the river as far as you can. If I know the Machine mind, they’ll send their Sentinels upwards to descend on Stalingrad, and the General will be prepared for that. So if he’s watching this channel at all, it won’t be very carefully.’

The Aggregator swept gracefully into the channel the river had formed along the Earth’s surface, featureless walls of dirt rising around the ship as it descended. The channel seemed to have dried up long ago, though whether this had happened naturally or as a result of the battles once waged on the surface was anyone’s guess. As the ship sunk lower the structure on the horizon vanished from view.

Procurator called his communications engineer onto the bridge. Campusanis entered a few seconds later and sat down at the empty seat towards the rear of the room.

‘Camp, listen out for Machine chatter. We want to see how the General’s minions communicate with each other.’

As expected, a few moments later, Campusanis’s instruments registered signals being transmitted from the channel’s steep sides. Looking out of the window small, dark specks could be seen every few hundred metres, each dotted with pinpricks of red. Scout robots, sweeping the channel for intruders.

‘Can they see us?’ whispered Gookin, as if his voice could be heard outside the ship.

‘Nah. We’d have had to leg it by now if they could. The Aggregator’s stealth tech is working.’

Despite this reassuring assertion, the atmosphere on the bridge still didn’t lighten. Selena was preparing for the next stage of their run.

‘What’s our course?’ she asked. ‘We sweeping round the area low or making a pass over it?’

The captain didn’t look round. ‘We’re not sweeping anywhere. We’re landing.’

‘What?!’ the other three occupants of the room shouted, snapping their heads round to stare at Procurator. Immediately they glanced back out of the window to make sure none of the robots outside had made a move in response to their voices.

‘Sure. This is intelligence gathering. Listening to these Machines talking to each other is one thing, but the General’s most precious data is going to be stored on some sort of computer system. We need to access it – manually.’

‘Christ,’ muttered Gookin, as he steered the ship round a bend in the river.

The channel opened a bit wider at this point, and a squadron of nine Sentinels was briefly visible many metres above them, shooting directly across their path at high speed.

‘That’s the patrol,’ said Campusanis. ‘They’re communicating regularly with their base. Looks like an all-clear signal.’

Procurator located them on the radar screen and observed their movements; regular as clockwork. If everything else went well, they’d at least be able to get out easily enough.

As the minutes passed by in silence, the largest spike on the radar screen became stronger and wider. As the Aggregator rounded another twist in the channel, what was once the river flattened out into a vast plain. At the centre of this was the main structure of Stalingrad, rising high above the wasteland. It seemed to be constructed of concrete and metal, though it was hard to tell. Its shape reminded the crew of some features of the old Zero-One construct attached to the Matrix: huge steps arranged in no discernible order, though here in the Real they were littered with machinery. Masts, dishes and towers, many adorned with lights flashing and static. All this effort to scan the horizon for the forces of the Machines, no thought given to detecting humans or the most advanced technology that Zero-One had achieved.

Dotted about the plain were smaller versions of the main structure, miniature Stalingrads with their own arrays of masts. And between these monoliths lay rubbish, scrap metal, remnants of what once stood here or technology that had been considered useless and discarded by the General’s forces. Besides the patrol, which was now moving on the other side of the base, the air was still and no Sentinels or other robots could be seen at all. It was amazing taking it all in.

Procurator broke the awed silence. ‘We need to set down as close to the central building as possible.’

Selena identified a large heap of discarded machines and metal just to the west of the building. It had formed an almost circular wall with a depression in the middle, large enough for their ship to land in. Gookin nodded in agreement when his wife pointed it out, and guided the vessel into the junk crater. The Aggregator came to a full stop, hovering just off the ground. The landing gear extended from all sides of its base and the ship lowered itself gently down until it was standing, a deathly hush descending over the area as the hoverpads flickered off.




Transcendent

Joined: Nov 18, 2005
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