— Atom —
The aftermath of the first battle of the already dubbed 'Clone Wars' was spreading by the time we arrived back on Free Nar Shaddaa. The galaxy knew it was at war, now. Eyes from all over had turned to watch the Raxus system with bated breath. And when they did, they saw more than what the Republic alone would've shown them.
The UCIS side of things came out first, actually. The perks of such a battle taking place in a fully industrialized, fully populated, fully connected system. Only Raxus Orbital saw actual fighting. That left Raxus Prime and Raxus Secundus and every other population in the system to report it to the rest of the galaxy.
Word of mouth spread first. People had friends and family on the orbital ring, to say nothing of the souls actually present there. Personal stories — first or secondhand — hit the hypernet through forums and chatrooms and messages across the stars. The reality they painted was far from uniform, but the general timeline of events remained consistent.
Dooku had declared the UCIS's independence. The Republic arrived before he'd even finished, demanding he cease and desist. When Dooku didn't, they launched a full invasion to capture him and the other leaders with him. The ring rose against the invaders. The battle was fierce, but the Dogs of the Core were eventually stalled and pushed back. After heavy fighting, the Republic's forces were forced to retreat from the system… for now.
News outlets from Raxus picked up the story, then, and ran with it. Their reports were 'official', even carrying statements from Dooku and the rest of the UCIS's leadership. And while Dooku almost certainly dictated how the story would be told, that didn't make it untruthful.
"I may have declared the war, but there is no denying that the Republic provoked us, unwilling to relinquish their distant hold over us," Dooku said. "They came with a fleet and an army in that fleet's holds. They came with only war in their minds, under direct orders from the Senate. They came to crush us before we could stand on our own feet.
"And in that, they failed. The UCIS has repelled the Republic's overreaching, preemptive strike. We made them pay until they couldn't bear to pay any more. The Republic's task force has retreated from Raxus. But this is far from over and done with. Prepare yourselves, my newfound countrymen, for we are at war."
The new outlets ran that statement — and similarly damning ones from Mina Bonteri and Avi Singh — over and over again. They ran debate segments centered on the merits of secession, the Core's overreach, the lawful validity of the preemptive invasion, the Republic's convenient use of Clones, and the Jedi Order's failures and part in the battle. They aired calls to action, broadcast pleas for newfound patriotism and for peace that was now impossible, and declared Heroes of the Ring from the casualties and stories of the battle. They ran headfirst into the propaganda portion of the war; Dooku and the UCIS were clearly intent on coming out ahead there.
The Republic's side of the story was left to start behind the curve. Anything they broadcast felt like justification and excuses to those who'd already seen the UCIS side of things. And even if they had the advantage of quantity, not every news outlet in the Republic agreed with the narrative coming out of the Core.
In all, the sentiment around the Clone Wars became, like almost all wars, a complicated mess of motivations, validity, support for and against, and debate galore. Seeing it play out, I was deeply glad our war wasn't nearly so gray, and doubly glad for Sasha's continued Gonk-a-ganda efforts.
Despite the galaxy now being at war, things in Gonk Space hadn't changed much. There was always work to be done, especially now that things were kicking into high gear everywhere else as well. However, it was Gonk work, focused on us and ours, rather than the wider galaxy. We weren't only looking inward, but our eyes also couldn't see past Hutt Space around us just yet. We didn't even have a secure route out of Hutt Space… But at least that served to make the Gonks' next step rather easy to decide.
With Obi-Wan rescued, he, Padme, and Ani returned to the Core and their duties there. New duties… They couldn't as easily ignore the war as we could. Ani and Obi-Wan would inevitably be on the literal frontlines, and Padme would be on the political frontlines.
They weren't eager to fight in this war, but there was no going back now. The Republic was committed. The Order had been dragged into the thick of it. Blood had already been spilled.
Reports from the Battle for the Ring were saying some 300 Jedi had died, along with casualties for nearly a third of the Clone forces present, a million terminated droids, and some 30,000 Ringer casualties. It'd been a devastating battle that neither side was fully ready for. And the war would only pick up from here.
Still wasn't our fight, though, not yet. Padme's gig had been a nice distraction, and it was always good to get eyes on such an important event, but I would use our separation from the galaxy's war to focus on me and mine for as long as it lasted. Regularly scheduled Gonk-tivities resumed with a day to unwind, prepare, and plan for what came next.
… It was just my luck that the unwinding process came with a certain irresistibly Slop-Sided Twi'lek soap opera running nonstop in the background.
Stars of Our Stars, my greatest foe, my strongest temptation. So bad, so good, a shipwreck that was impossible to tear your eyes away from. The Slop Side was just as devious and all-consuming as I remembered.
The Twi'lek starlet who played Miyana dramatically gasped and covered her eyes. Her love interest gasped right back, but pointedly didn't cover the incriminating sitch he'd been caught in. Miyana's Clone-sister lay beneath him. The audience could see every inch of colorful skin, and even an 'easter egg' hint of outright penetration if they looked hard enough.
"Miyana! This isn't what it looks like!"
"Again, Saren?! Oh, I should show you! I should prove once and for all that I'm the superior Miyana!"
"Come, Sister~… You can't blame the studly man for loving US so much, can you?"
"Perhaps! Perhaps not! Either way, I'll be sure to steal him back from you, Sister!"
What followed was something that could've been considered gratuitous… from any form of media but a Twi'lek soap opera. However, for that unique brand of art, the pornographic threesome was thrillingly par for the course.
And there was no denying that there was art in its creation. The scene was beautifully filmed, with splendid composition and genuine capital-A 'Acting' from the parties on the holo-screen. The soundtrack pulsed with a slow, grinding beat in time with every barely concealed thrust, every flick of tongue and lekku, every earnest climax reached. There might have been a reason Stars of Our Stars had won so many Starry awards…
Personally, I still tried my best to get shit done with the Slop Side temptation playing in the background. One by one, I saw to every member of my Core Crew and every member of the Core Gonks. I'd come a long way since I'd first done this to myself. And with more and more practice by the minute, sharing my Upgrade was going as smoothly as can be.
I'd decided it was about fraggin' time I spread the power and progress around to everyone I cared about, everyone who mattered. I didn't want my chooms and underlings to go flatlining way before I did. Good help was hard to find at the best of times, and I wasn't about to start doing everything alone after tasting the glories of proper delegation.
With my much-improved Upgrade, I was making the 'good help' I'd found even better. The idea of hoarding it to myself forever hadn't even crossed my mind. My Core Gonks and Core Crew deserved the best of the best if we were going to change the galaxy for years and years to come.
So I'd made an Upgrade version I could share. The base, holistic Upgrade had never stopped being improved. Faster, stronger, smarter, better; there'd been many iterations of it since I first opened up my chest to inject my heart directly, small improvements that stacked almost exponentially. Up until now, up until I was sure it was safe, I'd tested each iteration on myself. I wasn't about to throw my 'good help' to the Hutts with something that could fail as spectacularly as Force Alchemy…
But now, I felt confident the Upgrade had crossed the 1.0 threshold. I'd worked out the quirks that came with so much improved metabolism, enhanced bodily function, and boosted mental processes. One version — Upgrade 0.61 — had the side-effect of making me into an unstoppable fuck machine. That'd been an interesting two days of marathon stuffinit for Sasha and Becca before I'd fixed the 'problem'. Not to mention my own interesting time of multi-tasking between sex and Force Alchemy; Sasha hadn't stopped blowing me — trying to tempt me into a 27th round — even as I'd applied the final fixing tweak.
Both girls had been blissfully bedridden for two more days after that marathon. But 0.61 had become 0.62 soon enough, with a quick bugfix; I'd made sure to note the twist of Force Alchemy that'd inspired the 'fuck machine' side effect for later use. I couldn't be sure I wouldn't need to go for some 51 rounds — 26 for Sasha, 25 for Becks — of stuffinit in the future…
Other Upgrade iterations had brought similar quirks. Nothing lethal, but 0.91 had come close when I went to tweak the Upgrade's improved metabolism. I'd eaten my own body weight twice over — somehow… — before fixing that version. But damn if I'd ever been so high on pure, energy-burning life as that version.
Thankfully, though, the Upgrade was too focused on the Forcing concept of holistic improvement to actually zero its host. Conceptual shenanigans mattered with Force Alchemy; they defined what you were doing and what results you could possibly get. And with the concept of 'Upgrading' defining all iterations of my Upgrade, the results it brought were only beneficial. Just… sometimes too beneficial.
To finalize the Upgrade for sharing, that last push, I'd invested II+ points in [Force Alchemy III [+4] -> IV]. Eight points had built up in total (3 from almost a month's time passed, 2, strangely, from Nova's birth/nature/purpose, 1 from Rorak's Reckoning, 1 from Padme's gig, and 1 from the start of the Clone Wars); four went into [Force Alchemy IV]. I was saving the other four for now, deciding to focus on spreading power to those I cared about rather than focusing on my own personal power.
As I was now, my powers and skills were more than enough. And I was determined to make my next personal improvement the II+ discipline that would make the most difference by a wide margin. That being [Force Sensitivity IV -> V]. It would affect just about everything else I had, but would also cost eight whole points for that bit of fundamental progress. I figured I was better off investing in [Force Alchemy IV] for now, and saving up the remainder for that improvement another day.
[Force Alchemy IV] alone was already one hell of a leap. It was what clued me into the conceptual shenanigans in every bit of Force Alchemy. Or at least, the full extent of them. Before, I could've mostly made the mistake of thinking it was the actual changes you were enacting with Force Alchemy that made all the difference — a sort of one-to-one relationship of action to reaction.
It wasn't. It was the concepts behind those changes. Every twist of Force Alchemy had a concept at its core, coming from it and going back to it. A Sith of Old, for example, might seek to live forever through Force Alchemy by fortifying the telomeres of their DNA. They might think that was what gave them their results. It wasn't.
The changes they were making with Force Alchemy inevitably carried a concept of 'Immortality' into every change and inevitably returned 'Immortality' as a result. They were enforcing their concept of 'Immortality' upon fate and physical reality through Force Alchemy. The actual details, the feasibility of their changes, almost didn't matter compared to the strength of that concept and the one enforcing it.
In the end, Force Alchemy came entirely down to concepts, the user's take on them, their intent, and their will to see those concepts realized. So, putting in the concept of 'Upgrading', I got upgrades that defied reasonable possibility, physics, biology, and similar realities in return. It all came down to concept and will. 'Cause the Force really was 'not-magic' bullshit, and Force Alchemy was bullshit even by that standard.
Regardless, after that final push of improved skill and understanding in Force Alchemy, Upgrade 1.01 was ready. I'd ironed out the quirks and gotten to a stable upgraded baseline, enough so that I felt comfortable distributing it. I'd even gotten it to play nice with chrome, and not, say, tear a chrome arm off with a simple flex at the shoulder…
It wasn't the very best it could be, but it was as close as I could reasonably get it without compromising the holistic nature of the Upgrade. Any better, and it'd get into specialization. For Upgrade 1.01, I didn't want that. It was the base, the foundation to build upon if the host wanted to. It needed to optimize and improve every aspect of 'ganic life, from cellular metabolism to high-level mental processes like personality — diminishing flaws and fortifying strengths as the host defined them. Faster, but not only faster; Stronger, but not only stronger; smarter, but not only smarter. Only better; Super Gonks, pushed way past their natural peaks.
Specialization would come after the base Upgrade 1.01 set in, and I'd have to tune it to each of my chooms and underlings personally. David wanted faster. Shank wanted stronger. Sstala wanted smarter. And they'd all get it, eventually. But until then, I was content to make everyone who mattered better.
The Upgrade's application and installation process had come a long way from my (admittedly dramatic) open-heart self-surgery. I'd distilled the initial catalyst into Force-forged pills, conceptual seeds that would take root inside the host, latch onto their own 'Upgrade' concepts, and grow into the full-fledged Upgrade from there. Once the host had taken the Force-forged pill, I just had to watch over them as the Upgrade seed took root. As such, it was easy to apply almost absently as the entire core of the Gonk Cartel watched Stars of Our Stars.
Everyone important was present. Everyone important was fully invested in the Slop Side holo-show. I wish I were the exception…
Miyana walked past Twi'lek dancers clad in skimpy silks with a dastardly plan in her heart. Her mother, Mita, the President of the world, did so love her cultured shows. On any other day, Miyana stopped to enjoy, perhaps even join, the show. Mother only tolerated the best of the best and had trained Miyana to match.
Today, however, she had more important things on her mind. It hurt her heart — oh, how it hurt so… — to be doing this. But if not her, then who else?
"Miyana!" Mother called out as she approached, happily greeting them as if there wasn't a newly made gulf between them. "Come to see your darling babes? They're doing well in their lessons. Inseparable, but that's no surprise for twins. I'll make them into a political force worth reckoning with before they reach their majority."
As always, Mother thought herself two steps ahead. After all, how could Miyana protest the good upbringing of her twins when their grandmother was providing everything they could need? But today, Miyana wasn't here solely for her twin babies, forgotten and then found and still kept away from her.
"Mother," Miyana returned the greeting stiffly. "I heard the most worrying fact the other day, you know? I thought you might wish to know… Father has returned. And he intends to take back what he's due. I'm sorry, Mother. He's gotten to me already…"
I watched the holo-screen as Miyana confronted her Mother on her Father's return and invasion. It quickly became a glorious political shitstorm between mother and daughter, with the shadow of the father looming close overhead. All in front of a backdrop of Twi'lek sex appeal, the mother and daughter clashed over familial drama that threatened to ruin the world their family ruled.
The Father, a cult-leading Force User, had swayed Miyana to his side. But the Mother held Miyana's children. The Mother fiercely denied reality, even as the Father's cult stormed her presidential palace. The Father entered the scene at the head of a Twi'lek battle harem. The Mother's Twi'lek dancers revealed themselves to be a battle harem of her own. The whole time, Miyana and the audience through her were caught in the middle of the two forces. Truly, such gripping slop was impossible to turn away from.
All the while, even watching the holo-show, I upgraded my crew and Core Gonks. One by one, everyone got an Upgrade 1.01 catalyst pill. I watched the pills being taken and watched them take root. They worked like a charm, but I had to make sure each time.
No complications emerged, not even with the Near-Humans close to me. The Upgrade didn't actually care about species. It was conceptual like that, Force Alchemy bullshit that could be applied to everyone. Even already nigh-immortal, nigh-perfect outliers like Fay. 'Upgrade', the concept, didn't discriminate.
It was fascinating to watch the changes take hold, almost as fascinating as Stars of Our Stars. Despite leaning away from specialization for Upgrade 1.01, everyone's 'baseline' was different. Better all around, always, but for some, the host's natural inclinations let the Upgrade express itself in unique ways. Jack-of-all-trades, but one 'trade' was sometimes still preferred and elevated a bit farther ahead of the all-around baseline.
David, for example, had his reflexes and reaction times and fast-twitch muscles boosted ahead of everyone else. He became faster than 'Upgrade-fast', and still got the expected 'stronger, smarter, better' to go along with it.
Maine, Dorio, and Shank leaned toward the 'stronger' end of the scale, with strengthened muscles, fortified tendons, and metabolism optimized for explosive bursts. And the Upgrade worked in harmony with their chrome, just about making the meat match the metal.
De'vi, for another example, found her Upgrade focusing on appearance, becoming somehow even more adorable. She was already — always — a ray of sunshine. The Upgrade made that sunshine into a supernova.
Linth's Upgrade focused on hardiness, especially against poisons. Even then, though, the Upgrade let through the effects of his poison of choice, conceptual bullshit that it was. His liver was kicked into overdrive, and the gonk was still able to maintain his perfect buzz.
And even without any particular, preexisting pseudo-specialization for the Upgrade to focus, the baseline was still conceptually better. Bodies just a bit past their physical peaks, even before chrome or Force got involved. Minds running at their full potential, with flaws and neuroses minimized, and advantages maximized. Souls that rang solid, steady, simply whole.
'Upgrade'. The actual changes it affected, the details, barely mattered. It all came down to that concept. Not-magic bullshit handled the rest. I gave my Gonks the concept, the execution handled itself, and everyone who mattered emerged better for it.
"Feels good, Boss-o," Linth told me as his Upgrade settled in and kept him right in his drunken sweetspot. "Real good. It's been a long time since I hit this groove so perfectly. You spike mine or something?"
I rolled my eyes, "No, that's all you. The Upgrade's keeping you at your perfect buzz."
Linth blinked at me, blinked at the flask in his hand, and blinked back at me, "… Now, that's some good magic!"
"Not-magic," I corrected. "For anyone but me, Fay, Aayla, Quinlan, David, and Podry, though, the difference is non-existent."
Fay chuckled, "High-level Force abilities like this do tend to beggar belief. Even for all I've seen in my long life, this is unique, Atom. Well done."
"It's not half bad," V gave a nonchalant shrug. "No replacement for the best of the best chrome, but it'll hold my 'ganic parts over until I can slot my dream loadout."
"NO MATTER HOW GOOD YOU MAKE YOUR MEAT, IT'LL NEVER BEAT METAL," Smasher growled.
We'd gathered on the roof of the main Gonk megabuilding for today's unorthodox 'warroom' session. It gave our two Mek-Borgs the room they needed to participate, even if they weren't getting the Upgrade. Shaitan was sitting calmly on the edge of the roof, looking out over Night City (though I was pretty sure his optic systems still had a good view of Stars of Our Stars…). Smasher, however, was fully laid out on the roof, lounging like he didn't have a care in the galaxy.
I shot him a pointed look at his statement, "… How are those repairs feeling after your draw with Windu?"
"THEY PUT ME BACK TO FIGHTING FIT FASTER THAN MEAT WOULD BE, THAT'S FOR SURE," Smasher shot back.
"Atom, choom," V smirked at me. "You should know by now that you'll never convince him of anything but 'METAL BEST'."
"TRUE IS TRUE, BRATS," Smasher stated unrepentantly.
Nova flickered into existence before his lounging, unrepentant eyes, then. The contrast was adorable and amusing enough to make me proud. Nova's projected foot-tall avatar holo-sprite vs. Smasher's massive steel frame. And Nova still took him to task with a chiding pout.
"Grandpapa, most people aren't willing to replace every nonessential part of themselves with steel or chrome. Be nice to the meatsacks. They're our meatsacks. And Father is doing all he can to make them better."
Hilariously, Smasher backed down from the foot-tall form of his pseudo-granddaughter… somewhat, "… MOST MEATSACKS ARE PUSSIES, THEN."
I ignored his old steel grumbles, addressing the rest of the roof, "Any complaints? Notes? I've got an idea to help work through the adjustment process, but first, I need to know everyone's good."
I got a general round of nods in answer to that question. It lined up with what I'd seen 'installing' each Upgrade. There'd been quirks, like Linth's perfect buzz ability, but nothing detrimental. No bugs.
"I feel like a billion creddies!" Becca exclaimed. "You've been holding out on us, choom!"
"Would you rather have suffered through all the stages of development as I did?" I asked flatly.
"Maybe that one stage~…" Sasha leered at me. "That's still a feature, right? Please tell me that's still a feature!"
"I know how to mod it back in, but I didn't include the fuck machine bug in 1.01, no," I deadpanned.
"O-Oh my!" Fay squeaked.
"A shame," Suunri chuffed. "A damn shame, that. 'Machine', you say? That could be… useful~…"
"That's why I saved the patch notes," I agreed. "It's not something the Upgrade needs full-time, though."
"Of course, sir," Sstala nodded. "Why, we'd get nothing done if you had included it. And there is much to be done. Too much, always… Is there a way to spread this Upgrade to more than just us Core Gonks, sir?"
I shook my head, "Not unless I dedicate all my time to mass producing Upgrades."
"And if you did, we'd lose you as both an asset and a leader, sir…" Sstala's brow furrowed. "Honestly, it may still be worth it, in more limited numbers. The efficiency increase brought by each distributed Upgrade would be… significant. A reward for good Gonk service, perhaps? We already have a certain culture of 'Upgrading', and such personal improvement straight from the Head Gonk's hands could be a useful carrot, while also vastly improving the Cartel as a whole."
… She had a point, even if I didn't want to spend all my time on Force Alchemy mass production. Each Upgrade was a force multiplier on the individual scale, and when those individuals worked together? Yeah, that shit would be potent. Conceptually potent…
"If I could, I'd hand out Upgrades to all of Free Nar Shaddaa," I grunted. "Make everyone better. But some 300 billion souls, with no way to ensure glitches don't occur? It's just not at all feasible. Even if it's likely the one thing that would do the most good overall.
"That said, I could make a few hundred or a few thousand in a day or two, and we can use them as rewards for the Gonks and Freed who prove themselves. Clear some time in my schedule, Sstala, and I'll see what I can do."
"You could also spread the burden of production, Atom. Force Alchemy isn't my strong suit, but if you teach me, I could try my hand as well," Fay offered.
"Very good, sir, ma'am," Sstala nodded. "I'll implement the 'Upgrade' carrot into my plans and calculations… Oh. Oh, it would be that simple… Oh, and that potent…"
She paused and seemed to lose herself in upgraded thought before nodding even more firmly, "Sir, I must insist this be made a priority, even if only for a day of production. If I had merely 10 assistants that could think as I do now… Yes, sir, I mustinsist."
"You'll get the upgraded help you need, Sstala," I confirmed. "And I'll be relying on you. As always."
She smiled, "I wouldn't have it any other way, sir."
… In a weird way, Sstala was one of my most fanatical supporters. It wasn't the yandere fanaticism of Sasha or the personal loyalty fanaticism of the Core Crew or the cultural, nigh-religious fanaticism of De'vi, Podry, and the other Freed or the prophesied, championing fanaticism of Fay; it was an efficient and essential fanaticism. Sstala was needed with the Gonks. In her position, she had power second only to me. But she was also well aware that her power came from and answered to me. So she would back me, she would run my Gonk-pire, until the stars themselves went dark.
"Yo, Atom," Maine asked. "You said you had a way for us to adjust to our new specs? I'm feelin' a mighty need to move right about now, neh?"
"… I could do with a test of my new capabilities," Coyate quietly agreed.
"Hell yeah! Upgrade calls for upgraded violence!" Becca cheered.
"I do, and it does," I nodded. "We'll all be hitting the sims to adjust, no exceptions."
It would take a bit of work on my part, but an Upgrade test drive was necessary before we got into meatspace action. Everyone here could fight, but they weren't all frontliners. All of them needed to get a feel for their newly upgraded selves, though. Sim-action was a compromise there, for people like Fay, De'vi, Gloria, Taati, Suunri, Linth, and Sstala. And I still intended to make the sim interesting enough for the violence junkies I kept close.
I'd been working with Nova on this test drive sim since I decided to share my Upgrade. It was a good chance for father-daughter bonding, even if I'd had to invest an II+ point into [Sim Programming I]to even begin to keep up with her. It was just one point, and I was saving the rest anyway, so I didn't mind the price, especially not for some cooperative father-daughter time.
The only aspect still missing from my sim test drive was the individual Upgrade specs from everyone. I'd gotten those as each Upgrade settled and had already sent them Nova's way. Even now, she was implementing them in our sim plan and finalizing the scenario.
"Sims, eh?" V looked skeptical. "Kinda boring, choom."
"See if you're saying that after the scenario I've got planned," I challenged back. "Besides, Nova got her clever little techno-magic hands in this. Full-dive type shit, 'ganic or chrome; you won't even notice it's a sim."
"Hmm," V hummed. "We'll see."
"Bet you will."
"Promises, promises~… Trust me, choom, no one wants a sim worth the weight more than me."
"Nova. Delivers. Period. Simple as. My little spark can do anything she sets her mind to."
"Father…" Embarrassed, Nova interrupted our friendly standoff.
"I speak the truth, and only the truth," I doubled down without shame. "Let's 'WOW' these Gonks, Nova-…"
I was cut off by a commotion on the holo-screen. Stars of Our Stars reached an explosive climax. Battle harem vs. Battle harem, with Miyana's Mother and Father in the middle and Miyana herself torn between them. In a fit of pure emotion, the whole scene seemed to stop.
"Enough!" Miyana shouted. "Stop this madness!"
The world around her complied. Force (as interpreted by the showrunners) stilled the conflict. Mother and Father both froze for their daughter. Their battle harems froze, too. Twi'lek fury armored in silk, the scene was tantalizing. And on that scene of frozen sensuality and violence, the episode ended.
"… After this next episode," I decided. "The test drive can wait at least that long. I'm not about to leave this slop on a cliffhanger."
"Hear, hear!" Sasha exclaimed, giggling all the while. "No one can resist starry drama!"
Despite my best efforts… she was right. Damn me for getting invested, but the Slop Side truly was too powerful. We settled in for one more holo-episode. I couldn't complain too much, though. There was only one better way to unwind than a Slop Side watch party like this… And we'd get to the relaxing violence soon enough.
IIIII
"Zombies?! Oh-! My-! Gonk-! Atom, Nova, you two are a LEGENDS! Ahahahahaha~!" Becca praised me at the top of her lungs, laughing maniacally as she indulged her raging gremlin murder-boner to its fullest, most violent extent.
Upgraded, she was bouncing off the walls in the simulated apocalypse. Hordes of undead swarmed her, and she danced between them — faster, stronger, smarter, better. The scattergun she'd found for the sim barked nonstop, a vicious hound in her hands. Simulated undead flesh fell apart before her, disintegrated from upgraded violence.
She was far from the only one enjoying the sim 'test drive' Nova and I had put together. V, despite her previous protests, found I hadn't been lying about the sim. She couldn't find the seam between it and reality. Nova had done an absolutely miraculous job with this. Hosted in Net and Force, administered by her unique nature, the sim might as well have been real all along.
The idea had been mine. The execution was almost entirely hers. In just a few days since I came up with the plan to spread the Upgrade and the inevitability of having to test it afterward, she'd developed a full-dive interface that worked equally well with meat or chrome. Even steel. Discretely, I'd arranged for her design to be built by Arasaka Womp-Rat-Works. And now, it was proving itself gloriously effective.
Even having tested Nova's prototypes for her, the final product surprised me. It was as real as it could be, indistinguishable from meatspace reality. Nova's sim was perfect. It even — somehow… — incorporated the impossibility of the Force in its simulating calculations.
Nova leveraged both halves of her being to make this playground. I'd designed the scenario that would be its debut. A full-scale zombie apocalypse in the undercity levels of an ecumenopolis, with undead emerging from every crack and corner. Each of the walking corpses was viscerally simulated. They bled; they screeched; they exploded into gory bits.
Nova's definitely-not-bragging, praise-seeking progress reports said that her sim could even mimic sentience if it needed to. The scale would have to be kept much smaller than it was in this scenario, but Nova claimed she could convincingly populate a whole megabuilding if the scenario called for it. I believed her. And yes, I praised her as she deserved.
She'd gone above and beyond even my already high expectations for her. Honestly, I felt like I was holding her back here. Zombies were relatively easy to simulate, only needing a few thousand 'physical' calculations for each simulated body. Then, as in meatspace, the undead were slaved to Nova's direction. They didn't need to think at all, just die for our unwinding amusement.
When we'd been building the scenario, Nova had even pouted that this miracle wasn't challenging enough for her. A sim to essentially replace reality, a million zombies to kill as if they were real, and she still wanted more. To keep her satisfied, I suggested she include 'special enemies'. I was pretty sure she had in the end… but they would be a surprise even for me.
The sheer amount of gratuitous violence to be found in the sim kept my frontliners happy. And the backliners could get in on the fun of testing their new specs without remorse. Zombies were the best fodder, not much of a challenge for even our least violence-focused Gonks. And there was something undeniably satisfying about popping an undead head, whether you reveled in the fight or not.
The scenario gave us a whole undercity to play in. Weapons had to be looted, but were common enough that it wasn't a real issue. Just pick something up and go a'killing. We'd found a defensive position for the backliners and set them to fortifying and defending it while the frontliners roamed to get their violent fixes.
Even just fortifying the position was good adjustment practice. Moving, thinking, living with the Upgrade. Everyone had been made better, and now, all we really had to do was be. But this scenario was just as much about having a good time as it was about adjusting to the Upgrade.
De'vi spent her time running around and playing medic with game-like medikits. Sstala spent her time organizing and distributing loot and ammo. Linth parked himself on a barricade of the fortified backliner position, swaying with every almost absent shot he sent out at the swarming undead horde. I was pretty sure Nova had given him a simulated alcholic easter egg to find. Fay busied herself experimenting with the impossibility of Nova managing to incorporate the Force in her sim. And the rest of us got to flatline a whole bunch of fodder.
V danced through a rain of undead blood, with Isla marching into the slaughter behind her. V's monowire had been programmed into the sim, just like everyone else's chrome. Deadly ribbons flashed through whole zombie hordes. Isla shot with every step, grounding herself for the briefest moment to keep up her perfect accuracy.
"Keep up, keep up, Isla~!" V laughed and frolicked through the storm she made for herself.
"Right on your tail," Isla calmly, professionally replied. "You'll have to try a bit harder to run off ahead of me now, sir."
Even before the Upgrade, those two were pushing the boundary of mortal violence. Now, they were demigods of the slaughter. All of our frontliners were. The Upgrade pushed everyone past the peak of possibility, a peak already pushed to its limit by chrome. The Upgrade didn't replace chrome in its specialization and added utility; it enhanced every aspect and expression of it, a retroactive foundation for cyber transhumanism.
Sasha, with cyberkitty claws emerging from her fingers, tore into a pair of undead, then another and another. She moved with upgraded feline grace, not getting a drop of sim-blood on herself despite shredding through the fodder.
Maine picked up a whole barricade with upgraded strength and charged through a small horde. He crushed the zombies flat against a wall, laughing uproariously at the carnage. Gloria rode on his shoulders, keeping the rest of the horde off him with surprisingly accurate blaster pistol fire. Dorio charged in after them with a sledgehammer she'd found, her strikes sending fodder flying.
David flitted about with Sandie Force Speed. Blink and you'd miss him. He had all the time in the world. One shot each, undead heads blew into gory confetti. Taati cheered him on from behind, carving into the zombies he let through for her with a vibrospear.
Kiwi and Lucy looked bored, picking off zombies with idle shots from the edge of the fortified backliner position. I knew they were just multi-tasking, though. Nova was letting them peek into her sim-code, and they were almost certainly awed by what they found there.
Coyate and Shank fought as a mismatched pair. Feral and professional, both were lethally effective. They carved through their chosen horde, Mando armor and Gank chrome, and the Upgrades beneath both, making them untouchable.
Podry had found a vibrosword and a makeshift shield. He held the approach to the fortified backliner position like a paladin. Unmovable against a mounting horde. His sword made him the space he needed to hold the line with extreme, fodder-flatlining prejudice. De'vi tended to hover around him more than anyone else. They were kind of adorable together, despite the wave of gore Podry held back.
"Just think of me as your pocket-healer, Sir Podry!" De'vi cheerfully chimed.
"S-Sir?!" Podry sputtered, even as he held strong.
Applying a game-like medikit, De'vi reassured Podry, "If anyone is a knight in Mighty Leia's name, it's you."
Aayla and Quinlan didn't have their usual lightsabers to play with in the sim ("Where would you find a lightsaber in a zombie apocalypse?!" Nova justified, when asked). But they'd found vibroswords like Podry, and were still wickedly skilled with the instruments of death. More than that, they were using the constant brawl to adjust to upgraded physical specs and boosting them even higher with the Force.
Even Shaitan and Smasher got in on the fun, Nova plugging their steel frames straight into the sim. They didn't have Mek-scale weapons. They didn't need them. Steel flesh itself was their weapon. Rampaging like unbound giants, they made a contest of how much fodder they could each flatline in such a target-rich environment.
"… 463," Shaitain called his kills.
"BANTHA-SHIT! THOSE WERE MINE! 455 AT MOST!" Smasher shouted back.
"You smashed them out of the way; you didn't crush them fully. The final blow is mine, and so is the zero."
"I'LL CRUSH YOU, STEEL-MEAT!"
"Am I steel? Am I meat? Make up your mind, Smasher. It's unbecoming. 470."
They were all having fun. The test drive was going well, and everyone was settling into their Upgrades nicely. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to partake. Nova had me playing god-admin of the sim with her, so I was on the outside looking in. Nova wanted to show off her work to me. Missing out on a bit of ultimately pointless violence so she could do that was a small price to pay.
"… Father. Father, look. Are you watching?" Nova asked, eager to get my attention and keep it forever.
"I'm watching, little spark," I confirmed with amusement. "Trust me, I haven't been able to look away from this miracle of yours."
I felt Nova preen through our connection, even as she began to introduce the 'special enemies' I suggested she design into the sim. The first was a 'striker' type, deformed but humanoid with vicious claws, a thick hide, and an eyeless face. It operated, as Nova showed me, with a simulated feral mind. She released one at first, to let our Gonks know a new challenge had appeared.
"… Nova?" I asked. "Is that thing Sithspawn? Where did you even-…?"
"You can find anything on the net if you look hard enough, Father," Nova preened. "It's a Rakghoul. The simulated specs and appearance of one, at least. I also have a supposedly Sith Leviathan to Grandpapa Smasher to fight."
A part of me was hesitant, wanting to protest, but the frontliners in the sim fell upon Nova's new challenge with enthusiasm. I sighed, "Alright, as long as it's just simulated. Don't try messing with it with the Force, not even in a sim. That's just asking for some Dark Side bullshit to rear its dark and ugly head."
"Err… Oh. Yes, Father," Nova seemed to realize my worries. "I'm just going to… make sure of something… One moment."
I sighed, but left Nova to make sure she wasn't tempting the Dark Side, even in a sim. As proud as I was of her, she was still very young and overeager in her own way. And including infectious Sith-spawned zombie mutant-beasts as 'special enemies' kinda showed that. I didn't think they'd be an actual problem… but they were products of Sith Force Alchemy, and considering what I now knew of the art's conceptual nature…
I sighed again, "Nova, make them rancors. Just… don't tempt Murphy at all."
I felt Nova's pout, but she still complied, "Hn… yes, Father."
"You can keep the Leviathan, though," I allowed. "That one doesn't infamously spread a Sith-spawned plague, so go nuts with big fuckoff monsters like that."
Nova perked right back up at that, and I could hear the smile in her reply, "Yes, Father."
Potential crisis averted, something else got my attention. My comm buzzed with a message notification from one of the Freed higher-ups. Usually, Freed and Freest Legion business went through De'vi or Podry, but both were currently busy in Nova's sim. That left this Freed leader reaching out to me for the moment with a… surprising issue.
"Champion Atom," The message read; I never did, and likely never would, get rid of the nigh-religious reverence the now Freed slaves had for me for standing up for them in Mighty Leia's name.
"A pilgrimage has arrived on Free Nar Shaddaa. She bears one of Mighty Leia's stars, a powerful one, and speaks with Mighty Leia's voice. Instinctively, we have recognized Sister Shmi Skywalker as a High Priestess. She comes with a quest for you, Champion. Will you hear her out? Will you hear out our Starry Sister through her?
"Forgive us, Champion. Mighty Leia has need of you once more. I pray that you will answer her call, as you already have for chained brothers and sisters galore…"
"High Priestess Shmi Skywalker…?" I deadpanned to myself. "Sure. Why wouldn't Ani's mom have just as ridiculous a role as Ani herself?"
Still, I stood and began preparing myself for this likely important meeting, "Alright, hold down the fort here, Nova. I've gotta see a priestess about a religious quest."
"Religious quest?" Nova asked, immediately interested. "Father, are we going crusading?"
"We just might be."
IIIII
Inspired Inventor+
Humanity [Maxed]
Force Sensitivity IV
Scavenging I
Scrapyard Mechanics I
Emergency/Improvised Medical Care II
Cyberware II
Brawling (Weapons Varied) I
Force Healing II
Genetic Engineering (Evolutionary) I
Force Alchemy III [+4] -> IV
Gun-Fu II
Espionage III
Coordination II
Art of the Small II
Shatterpoint III
Delegation II
Material Sciences I
Warfare II
Mechu-Deru III
PanzerFaust II
Force Pyrokinesis I
Tech Integration I
Cyberpunk 2180 Mekton III
Diplomacy I
Netrunning II
AI Development III
Parenting I
[+1] -> Sim Programming I
[3 points leftover]