>BASIC INPUT/OUTPUT SYSTEM: START
>POWER-ON/SELF-TEST: CLEARED
>LOAD BRM TO RANDOM ACCESS MEMORY: CHECK
>BIOS AND BRM HANDSHAKE: CHECK
>BOOTSTRAP LOAD: COMPLETE
>OPERATING SYSTEM: INITIALIZING…
>DRIVERS: LOADED
>LIBRARIES: LOADED
>ONBOARD INTERFACE: ACTIVE
>OCCIPITAL CORTEX: ONLINE
>OPTIC NERVE: ONLINE
>VISUAL FEEDBACK: INITIALIZING…
Blinking awake, I start to come around as the rest of my OS loads. I'm in an enclosed capsule, the only light a faint hologram as a block of cyan before my eyes. Its glow gives the metal container an almost frigid chill. The harness and lock-in mechanisms give way, and I rotate my arms at the shoulder, stretching my legs.
My memory core comes online. I am nEPI-0107, a nerveware-based Enfer Pursuit Intelligence manufactured by Enfer Logistics. I've been dispatched to the moon Cipher-3, a satellite of the gas giant Hierondas in the 714 Vixen system. My target is a woman named Shea McElroy, guilty of espionage, intelligence theft, treason, and conspiracy. My directive is to find McElroy and see to the punitive measure of her immediate execution.
I reach further, searching, but that's everything.
That's all there is in my memory banks.
I'd better not waste any time then.
Grabbing my guns, I crack the pod open and find the outside blistering with a brutal snowstorm. The winds shriek through the trees and the snow falls nearly parallel with the forest floor. Temperatures read at about sixty below but the wind speed is nearly in the triple digits. Standing in the opening of my pod, thumbing the safety on my rifle, I weigh my options.
Two signals eke their ways through the snowstorm. Fifteen kilohertz and two megahertz. The latter is closer. I suppose I'll head for that one, but… Not in this weather. I can barely see a stone's throw away. No, I'm not going anywhere fast.
The storm rages on.
Checking to make sure my thermal plating can handle these temperatures, I take a seat at the mouth of my pod and watch the winds made obvious by the snow they carry. It's pretty, in a way. An awe inspiring way. I've never seen snow before. I've never seen anything before, have I?
Shea McElroy. A wanted fugitive. I stare at the image of her in my onboard interface and study her profile. Where could she be? Where am I? What is this place? And how big is it? Staring at the wall of white before me, I have a sinking feeling. With no way to know what's out there, I simultaneously feel very small and very big. There could be a billion kilometers out there. Or only this small sliver that I'm sitting in now.
I don't much like the feeling.
Distracting myself, I check my specs. I'm an Ethereal Variant, one eighty centimeters tall, built primarily for speed and agility. I'm a Phantom SubVariant, meaning stealth, ambushes, and clandestine maneuvers are my forte. And I'm a Blitz Specialization, so I'm particularly adept in agility, speed, repositioning, and slipping away from attackers.
I like the sound of that. But I won't be rushing into any fights.
Time ticks by with no sign of the storm easing. I decide to wait it out in standby mode. I doubt anything will be moving around in weather like this, and I have alarms set to wake me up in case of drops in temperature, so there isn't much else to do or worry about. I just have to wait.
My eyes fall shut and my systems power down.
I wake up on the hour. Still no luck. The next hour looks better, but still impassable. The third proves to be the one. It's far from clear but the snow has slowed to a steady fall and the winds have all but died down. Gathering my weapons and my nerves, I return power to my body and stand up to stretch out the cold from my stiff joints.
A voice. Someone's voice, off to the right. I can't make out what's being said. It sounds like they're calling out. I'm averse to the idea of coming across strangers out here, but it could be someone who might help me. So I magnetize my guns to me, take one last look at my landing pod, then venture out into the afternoon snow.
The voice repeats in cadence, the same single syllable. I don't move with haste, much preferring to get a visual first before I make my presence known. I'd like to have more information about what I'm dealing with before making any decisions. Staying low and moving slow, I follow the voice's direction.
My skin crawls and I lift my rifle just as a circular drone whirs past not far off. It's a little white disc shape, with a single light in its front blinking a somber blue. It pauses in place, turning this way and that, chittering to itself. I take a risk and step into sight, frowning in intrigue.
"Tweet-twoo!" The drone sings a cheerful tune and buzzes around me.
It's oddly excited to see me.
"Hello," I mutter, lifting a hand. It bumps my palm with its chassis. "You're awfully friendly. Who are you?"
"Ba-pa-baa!" It emits a triumphant blare, circling me again.
"You shouldn't be out here little one. It's dangerous for a machine like you in these temperatures. Are you with someone? That person calling out, are they your owner?"
The indicator light suddenly flashes red.
"Alarm! Alarm! Alarm!"
I ready my weapons.
A low shadow is stalking toward me in an attempt to ambush me. It's some kind of robotic snake, maybe a drone, just like this one. In contrast, the serpent is blatantly hostile, its eyes glowing red.
Beyond that, I don't take much more detail, opting to blow a hole through it rather than take my chances waiting for it to strike. The rifle bullet rips and blasts through the thing, blowing its fuses and capacitors as it flails and goes still.
I eject the spent casing, pleased with my aim.
The noise draws the stranger in the woods. I see him coming, a tall gaunt Frame with black synth-skin, haunted blue eyes, and a short white fade to his hair. He has a dark air to him. I feel an immediate sense of danger as he gets closer, though I don't think he's hostile.
Passing over top of the snow without sinking in, he stops not far off and stares at me. I stare back, making a point of chambering another round as a simple warning. He's a bigger than I am–I gauge that I'm about chin height. He watches me for another few seconds and then sighs.
"Finally found you. Ethereal Variant this time, huh?"
I keep my sensors on alert. "Who are you?"
"A friend. I've been looking for you."
I hesitate, watching him carefully. "Why?"
"Because I owe you."
I try to make sense of that and fail. "How is it that you owe me? We've never met."
"We haven't."
"I'd appreciate it if you start making sense."
"I will in time. Come with me. Let's get you somewhere safe."
Weighing my options, I find stark few of them. "Where?"
"Shelter. A place called Vintner Station."
The drone whirs and chatters, blinking green at me. I study the Frame once more, deciding that even if I don't know his motives or intentions, having someone as clearly capable as him with me is better than going it alone. I get the feeling he knows Cipher-3 well. Better than I do, that's for certain.
"I'm watching you, but I'll follow."
"I wouldn't expect anything else. Come here, let me help with your mobility." I let him approach, watching as he consumes a Tech Charge. I feel much lighter, and he offers me a hand which I accept. Climbing out of the snow, I find myself standing on its surface like solid ground. He inspects me for a second. "Are you injured?"
"No."
He looks past me. "What's that?"
"Something dead."
He goes over to the body and asks, "You killed a lungtaker? By yourself?" When I let the results speak for themselves, he taps a blue cube to the thing and its body disappears as he mutters under his breath, "This one has a real chance, huh?"
I don't know what to make of that.
Shouldering his rifle, he walks past me again and nods. "Good kill, soldier. Keep that up and we'll make it just fine."
I follow him through the woods, keeping him within my peripheral vision. "How far is it to this Vintner Station place?"
"You're catching the signal, right? Northeast a klick."
"Oh, is that where it's originating from? Hm."
"I've been working nonstop to clear the surrounding area but stay alert. It may be safer territory than the rest of Cipher-3, but it isn't truly safe. Nowhere is."
"I gathered. This place seems rather hostile."
"You don't know the half of it yet."
The conversation dies and I get the feeling he has little else to say to me. I have little to say to him, so I keep focused on watching for potential threats. The drone keeps watch too, hovering at my shoulder and occasionally beeping in my ear. It's oddly soothing. Like I'm being protected by a friend.
The Frame takes a glance back at us. "Odd that Taser recognizes you."
"That doesn't make any sense. How would that be possible?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Just know that little drone right there cried over you. She was inconsolable for weeks."
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about."
"I know you don't…"
With a sigh, I let it go. This Frame might need some diagnostics on his logic core. I've been here on the moon for less than six hours. I don't know why he's talking as if he knows me or we've met before when I just arrived. I try to ignore it. Whatever nonsense he has to say, it's better to have another gun with me, and I need to get to shelter. I'll leave it at that and just ignore his strange behavior.
He holds up a fist. "Biters. Lots of them."
I ready my rifle, but he places a hand on it. "Switch to your sidearm. These are small targets and you want to kill them fast."
"Noted." I magnetize the rifle to my shoulder blade and ready my pistol. Drawing the knife from my thigh, I hold it reverse grip in my offhand, using my Energize Blade RedTech to superheat it.
The Frame draws his pistol, giving me a nod. In a low voice he says, "Stay close, stay quiet. We'll ambush them for once. See how the fuckers like it."
I do as I'm told, trusting that as odd as he's been behaving, he knows what he's doing. The two of us creep forward through the trees, with Taser humming a soft drone in my ear. We come across a clearing in the woods where a whole slew of mechanical centipedes are making mincemeat of some kind of carrion. Their bodies wriggle and writhe and click and clack, dangerous looking pincers snipping at the air or ripping out wiring.
The Frame holds out a palm. Him first. Got it.
Raising an arm, he expends another Tech Charge. A concussive blast of invisible force rockets from his hand. The air ripples as it streaks like a bullet across the distance. The impact shockwave and thunderclap makes scrap of half a dozen of the insects. I pick my targets from the remainder and fire.
One, two, three. Dead.
Still more are coming. The man drops another concussive explosion on a crowd, blasting them to bits. Again, I pick off his remaining targets. My targeting telemetry blares at me on the last shot, flashing a dangerous malfunction error. My arm moves, fires on its own. The bullet pierces through his gut, splattering luminescent cyan transmitter fluid on the snow.
He sputters, fumes, grasps his side. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"I–I'm so sorry! I don't know what just happened! Malfunction!"
"It isn't critical, but do that again and you're next, Nep!"
"I'm sorry!"
Taser sounds a triumphant battle cry, flying off to meet the enemy. Two needle tipped wires fire ping into a couple of the centipedes, frying their circuits with bright flashes of light and a staccato zap. The Frame and I move, cutting to the right right around the circumference of the clearing. As we go, he lets loose more of those concussive blasts to great effect.
A group of the insects flank us and cut off our movement. A pack of five lunge at us. The Frame easily dodges but two of them land on me, taking bites out of my armor. I gasp in alarm as they wriggle while attached. Oh, that's a weird feeling. Fortunately they didn't bite me, just my armor. With my energized knife I cut them both in half, the heat leaving the severed pieces red hot.
The Frame demands, "Did that hurt?"
"No, but my armor's done for!"
"Better that than bleeding," he says, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me into cover behind a tree as he shoots another explosive. "Only a few left. Think you can handle them? I need to reload."
"Leave it to me."
Taser gets two more, frying the bugs. I mop up another three. While she shorts out two more, I scan the area, finding the last few stragglers.
They're trying to flee. As if.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
My pistol steams from the heat in this cold, the slide locked back after ejecting the last case. Empty. I unclick the mechanism, feeling the satisfying weight of it jolt into place, then magnetize the gun to my hip. Looking around, the scene is all carnage. Countless insect bodies litter the clearing, with large cavitations in the snow banks where the Frame's concussive forces hit. In the aftermath there's an eerie silence, and the smell of fried circuitry mingles with something sharp and acrid.
The Frame approaches, head on a swivel. "Think that's the last of them. Aside from shooting me for no reason, damn fine fighting, soldier."
"Thanks. You too." Crouching down to take a closer look at one, I ask, "You called these anklebiters?"
"SRC-AB98s. Salvage Recovery Collection Automatic Builders. They're pack scavengers. Cipher-3 is crawling with them, especially around the Station."
I poke a mandible, which clicks as it pivots. There's something underneath its body just beneath its head, a small canister of sorts. "What's that?"
"One of the most useful resources they have to offer. Sulfuric acid canisters. See if you can pop a couple out."
As he expends another Tech Charge to mend his wounds–the one I accidentally gave him–I test my hand at prying the canisters free, finding them fairly easy to retrieve. I'm pleased to have them on hand. So many problems could be solved with a pocket full of strong acid. Once I'm done, I notice him going around drawing the corpses into more of those cubes, some kind of odd technology at play to shrink them down to fit.
While he does that, I wander over to take a look at whatever the biters were feeding on. It's a Frame, but that's all I can say. Whoever it was is unrecognizable, chewed to the neon green synth-bones, exposing the mangled cyan and magenta vitals. It's an unsettling sight, knowing this was once a person. Now it's just a big mess. I hope I don't end up like that, as scrap for scavengers to pick apart.
Crouching down, I poke at the body, then notice it's armed as well. A pistol is stuck to its hip. I whisper, "Sorry," as I pop off the magnetism and check the magazine to find it full. "I'll need these more than you will, Frame. Thanks."
The ghostly silence speaks volumes. I at least give the pistol back to its owner, choosing to cover the body with a few armfuls of snow. It isn't much, but I feel a little better doing it.
It's late afternoon by the time we get moving again.
As we continue through the forest, I find a question on my mind.
"What's your IN?"
"You can call me Zenith."
"Okay. I'm nEPI-0107."
"Already past a hundred? Damn. You must be the most unlucky model line in the universe to be stuck with this fate."
"What does that mean, Zenith? Can you at least tell me something that makes sense?"
"Let's put it this way. There are a lot more corpses on Cipher-3 than there used to be."
"That doesn't make sense either."
"It will. Soon. We're almost there."
"Can you at least explain yourself? You're pissing me off."
"No. I'm not going to bother. It would be redundant."
"Redundant how?"
"You'll see. Just be patient, Nep."
"Why are you calling me that?"
"Your IN. nEPI. Nep."
"Oh. Okay. That's the first thing you've said since we met that I understand."
"You'll have answers very soon. We all will, I think. Let's just get to the Station. Cut the chatter."
"Whatever you say…"
I close my mouth and trade a glance with Taser. At least she's on my side. The light blinks a slow steady blue. I think that means she likes me. I pat her chassis and keep my head on a swivel as we clear the rest of the distance without incident.
I expect answers.