Brent Stinebaker
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16-6 A Choice of Skins (II)
🕑 Added 2023-09-25 19:37:14 +0000 UTC+Esteemed seniors,
We are getting fucked.
If I have your attention now, I need you all to understand that it is not an unruly “partner” we are dealing with. Whispers from the Bazaar tell of suspicious attacks on various organizations across the Warrens.
I trust that you all remember the Three-Fingers Syndicate? The one that Eldest Zhuo marked as an essential player for us to cooperate and convert to the “Black Truce” program toward reduced warfare and increased mutual profits?
They have collapsed. Their leadership is dead. The remainder are fracturing into gangs, and even they are being picked off one by one.
Three days ago, they were preparing to host another Crucible–willing to offer entertainment at a loss since the laced-lobby incident from over a month back. In such a paltry amount of time, what befell them exceeds acceptable thresholds for “misfortune” and outright enters the territory of “omen.”
Someone shattered them. Someone did it in three days. And there are only so few entities with the power and logistical scope to conduct such a complex and clandestine operation.
Of whom I reference, I believe I need to utter no names. The skills of the Incubi blur the lines between myth and fact, but those of us who remember the war can read the currents of danger circling these waters.
As for why they might be spending so much effort to crush a meager Syndicate and what the broader implications might be… well, I am not so arrogant to think beyond the confines of my station, after all. This is a responsibility best handed to sisters wiser and older than myself.
Nonetheless, I advise strong caution. The winds sing of ill-tidings, and recent times have brought forth a string of tumult. We must make ready. If only as a precaution.
Who knows what other changes the future might bring?+
-Wen Pale-Crane (Canghe), First Daughter of the Hundred-Eight Syndicate to the No-Dragons
16-6
A Choice of Skins (II)
Fifteen different guns, twenty-four variations of high-yield explosives, two assault-grade mechs, some kind of auto-doc support kit containing various cutting-edge technical implements, a high-power microfabricator made out of three slats of hovering steel made to interface with one’s Neurodeck and manipulated via utility fog, a fifty-feet long and forty-feet wide Non-newtonian stealth ship with no visible means of boarding, and finally, seven sets of ansible paired and utility fog nanosuites fasted to seven more fist-sized reactors built to be implanted along the outside of a spinal column rounded out the full list of requisitions.
All the equipment was gathered and neatly arranged in a nice little section of the hanger, the borders of the space made opaque by holographic projections declaring the space to be “PRIVATE ACCESS ONLY - CATEGORY I CLEARANCE REQUIRED.”
The implication kept most away while unaffiliated drones and the stray passing manager were kept under close watch by Voidwatch’s patrolling drones and the subtle grip of Avo’s Sanguinity, blending with the crimson neon cast down by the lights.
As the last dome-shaped drone untethered its delivery from a rippling grav-field, it cleaved a path an arcing path back toward the voidship that spawned it, its pallid shell splashing into the fluid matter of the greater vessel as if a droplet of water returning to the ocean.
Both were featureless beyond the rings of holographic light projected down their cone-shaped forms, but the featureless offered a sense of cleanliness. Purity. A mocking superiority to the grim-slick state of the Warrens.
{Smart fluids,} Calvino explained. {A gaseous state is extremely vulnerable to drastic shifts in temperature and environment. That’s something we learned a long, long time ago. Programmable Non-newtonian smart fluids are quite adaptable across a mixture of scenarios–especially when the outer hull can be quickly remade.}
Avo shot the fist-sized discs that were to be the power core of his Meldskin. +Made from the same thing?+
{Indeed. There comes a point where software and hardware need to be wed. I suppose it’s not so different with thaumaturgy, it is more deleterious to the foundations of existence by far.}
+Fire and water. Clashing themes.+
Calvino hummed, but there was a note of disagreement in its voice. {Do not just consider things by their design or aesthetic, Avo. Watch their actions. Watch how they interface with the world, and how the world reacts. Your Heavens tear, infest, usurp. Our technology fits, exists, and fills the container of what is. Apotheosis is a game of destruction and dominance. But there are other ways to mantle reality. Synthesis.}
A brief scoff sounded from Abrel. [Yeah. If you want to surrender to someone else’s rules maybe.]
A sense of bemusement emanated from the EGI, but it offered no rebuttal.
At least, not yet.
Draus was the first person to move and claim a treasure. With her bio-rig already shed, she stood with her bodyglove masked by a holocoat, her hands peeking out from the flickering veil obfuscating her body to touch her new toys.
He had requested most of these weapons on her behalf–test-fired half of them without fully understanding their potency. The truth was that after one was blessed with a Heaven capable of weaving matter from blood and vice versa, the idea of using a gun seemed crippling.
Not to Draus, though. Her eyes shone as she enjoyed the moment. But not along was she in this excitement, for off to the side, Chambers reminded Avo that he was an enforcer once upon a lifetime, and these weapons were just as enticing to a jackal of the Warrens than a lioness of the Tiers.
“Fuckyeahfuckyeahfuckyeah,” Chambers chanted, under his breath, his foot tapping. Either self-preservation or respect prevented him from going through the goods first, but he wouldn’t stay idle forever.
Unable to help himself, Avo laughed. The act drew Kae’s attention and frowned at him, her question conveyed with a stare.
“Nice to be happy,” he said, pointing his Echoheads at Chambers and Draus. “Easy joy. Easy lives.”
The Agnos’ eyes narrowed as she tried to take in what he was saying. “Avo… I watched you hiss and laugh and bite at the air while you were torturing people in the Nether. I just think you might have… different pleasures. I mean! Me too, I’m not judging–it just looks strange to everyone who isn’t us.”
“I know. Was happy for them.” He paused. He felt happy for someone else. More humanity was leaking over. More social tissue. Simulating all these minds was giving him more than just perspective.
“Oh. I’m sorry–”
“Fine,” he said, fangs broadening into a grin. “Let’s me bug her anyway.” He looked toward Draus and hurled the first of his taunts. “Give you a Heaven and you complain. Give you a few sticks that spit metal and you’re floating. Are all Regs this broken?”
Attention consumed by the twelve-foot tall crab-shaped war-mech, she responded absently and with her back turned. “Fuck off, rotlick. I’ll bleed you with this shit later. Let me have this.”
Again, Avo laughed. Turning to Chambers, he nudged the man forward. “Go. Before she starts eating them. Steal something. Get into a fight with her.” The half-strand looked uncertainly at the back of Draus’ head but Avo dragged him over.
“Don’t touch the kinetics,” Draus said, back still facing them. “Those are mine.”
So naturally Avo jabbed a particularly vicious-looking cannon with a U-shaped barrel, and somewhere between the moment of contact and the blink that came after, a jolt of pain went through his offending limp as its midsection burst apart as shattering glass, causing the head to clatter against the plasteel deck.
Chambers immediately took three steps away from the guns and decided he wanted to go look at the mechs as well. “Reg, what are the models of those things–Butlers? Pradors? Can’t remember–give me a reminder.”
“Coward,” Avo whispered.
[Glassjaw,] template Chambers agreed.
Lip frowned. [You’re a real ass-licker, aren’t you boy?]
[Nah. I’m just being smart. In here, the ghoul can mess me up. Out there, the Reg will hurt me something bad. It’s about strategy–making yourself the least attractive target.]
Avo scoffed. “Draus… Going to be honest. Don’t see the point in most of this. We have Heavens. Why do you need this many guns?”
“‘Cause I’m gonna shoot ‘em.”
“And the explosives? Were the nukes and thermo-mist warheads necessary? Can unravel things with my Heaven.”
“Yeah. Costs Rend and it’s loud. Most of the Guilds won’t be able to figure out what one of these bones is though.”
“And the cloak-capable stealth ship? The mechs?”
“Overwatch. Plus we need somethin’ to shuttle us around in case we need to go no-bullshit zero-burn. Also, my contact just fucked me on the barge and I’m still feelin’ sore, so stop asking questions and let me have this. We can bleed each other after.”
Grunting, Avo did as she asked and sought out the few requisitions that interested him.
Placed apart from the weapon stand, the strands of dancing molecules called out to Avo within their transparent injectors, but he found his focus gravitating toward the Meldskin’s core. How could so unremarkable a disc house so much potential–so much creation?
A spike of ire from Abrel Greatling cut in as she swept the items with a baleful glare. [I still can't believe how much the voiders were holding out on us. Jaus. Looking at all this… this is beyond imps. It’s worth more than a billion lives. We spent that much making Heavens to do what they managed naturally.]
She trailed off, a tinge of shame entering her breath as if she understood the enormity behind the action.
{And that is why we never gave it to you, Instrument Greatling,} Calvino said, seizing the moment. {The fact that you see human life as viable currency to trade for rudimentary pieces of technology is… disappointing.}
Abrel snorted. [What? Listen, cold-god: fuck right off. Alright. The ghoul’s a petty tyrant but if there’s one thing he’s decency about it’s transparency. I see his memories. I see what your kind did. Don’t spit down my back and tell me it's rain because if we’re talking about lives, I’m just a rank amateur. All the Guilds are rank amateurs. You are the butchers beyond compare.]
{Ah. My mistake. Allow me to clarify. My criticism of you isn’t one of mortality, but impotence and practiced blindness.}
[Impotence?] Abrel said, her voice rising with a harsh rasp.
In the background, Benhata laughed. [Nothing gets a Gold twitching more than a direct challenge to their supposed strength.]
{Yes,} Calvino continued. {Impotence. Life is like a library sometimes: there are stories you haven’t read, stories you will not need to read, stories that exist for reasons other than reading, stories that you pretend to read, and stories you will leave unread until it is too late. Lives are stories in the making. Lives a culture. Culture is creation. But you are purveyors of its castration.}
[And that makes us… weak? Impotent?] Confusion mixed with rage as Abrel simmered and Avo listened to the conversation in silence, trying to grasp what the EGI was attempting to say.
{No. You’re adding flaws to yourself that I haven’t ascribed. That’s your fragility speaking. Impotence. Blindness. You fear rival cultures; you fear the truth that could be; you fear a loss of absolute control, hence your control over reality must be absolute. But where have we arrived? Inbreeding, Abrel. Highflame is a culture of ideological inbreeding. As are all the other Guilds. Under you, Idheim is no longer a library, it is a printing press, and the only material you wish to produce are rival pamphlets no more educational than base pornography while also being magnitudes less titillating.}
And suddenly, the sneering Silvers went sullen anger as they were caught in the same blow. The other Guilders that existed within Avo’s mind fared no better. Now, the only laughers were the Syndicates, Chambers, and Corner.
[Fuck, sun-head, wasn’t sure about you first but that was nova,] Corner chuckled. [Hey. Rotlick. Keep ‘em here. Don’t ever think of chucking this one. Someone needs to give these FATED fuckers the what-for.]
[Yeah. And a machine slavemaster from a dying empire will be the one to do it,] Benhata said, partaking in his own silent tantrum.
Corner simply grinned. [A mountain’s gotta be jealous of the clouds, right? Doesn’t have the same sting when you’re getting told off by us little people. Just remember to keep your mouth closed when the piss comes rushing down.]
The building argument in his skull exploded thereafter, with multiple minds sniping at each other. Fittingly, the Woundshaper was also delivering its own rants, complaining to the Galeslither about the flaws and delusions of coldtech.
Avo didn’t care. Thaumaturgy. Necrotheurgy. Technology. Or just basic philosophy. He wanted to become. He wanted to grow.
No point in being shackled; no apotheosis in being blind.
Plucking the nanosuites first, he examined each injector momentarily before plunging them between the armored plates of his sheathe and triggering their releases.
This time, he didn’t forget to consume the injectors either–feeding the patterns of its matter into the Woundshaper’s memories.
{Usually, we recommend incremental installations for health reasons but what’s the worst that can happen to you, really?}
“I die,” Avo replied, feeling a slight series of tickles flow upward into the base of his skull.
{Ah. So not that bad.}
He nodded. “Just like breathing now.”
{Installing modifications: Ansible (Clearance-Black); Utility-Fog (Safeties removed)
“Safeties?” Avo asked.
{That’s mostly so our children don’t disassemble each other. I don’t have the same concern for you, nor can I stop you from achieving the same results through other means.}
“Oh, so the false dawn acknowledges my superiority?” the Woundshaper snarled.
The Galeslither breathed a sigh of annoyance. “Only that you exist, perhaps.”
Transparent progress bars materialized in the corner of his vision while the diminutive machines went to work inside him, fabricating intricate augments within his biology. For a single instant, he felt his synchro-synaptic blood lash out at the invaders before his Helix chimed and everything settled.
{Hm? A bio-govern prion. Interesting.} Calvino said. {I suppose the Low Masters had to update your bioware some way. I’m surprised they mastered even this, though I suspect they stole more than a little help from the No-Dragons at some point.}
Picking the Meldskin’s reactor off the ground, Avo found himself staring at his own reflection in the mercury shine of the augment. Not far away, Kae was examining her own gifts, her expression nervous as she studied the injectors.
Once, mere days back and several lifetimes ago, he was but a monster. An enhanced ghoul with Necrotheurgic edge and an inherited Frame that was never meant to be his. His face was pale and plated, fibers running along the exterior to armor him within the embrace of his new biology.
Now, a rising beacon of fire left his features shrouded and muddled, and the white of the Bone Demon looked as if ash beneath an endlessly burning pyre. Between the folds of the flickering inferno, he saw other faces staring back at him, memories forming in the undulations as if his templates were leaking through.
He was no longer just a ghoul. No longer just a Necro. No longer just him. More and more his gestalt was growing.
He was the flame, and all that thought, all that remembered, all that lived, and all that could die were but wax to burn, and horizons for which to spread.
Then, as if answering his challenge, the shell melted into his biology and swam for his back. The reactor itself thrummed like a transplanted heart gliding upon his flesh, pulsing with a calming and constant rumble as a third progress meter joined the other two.
The ansible, however, wasn’t long to linger. As the bar filled, new interfaces and functions ignited within Avo’s mind, and he felt a growing weight pulse at the core of his skull. A small shiver of force brushed the contents of his mind, the static of his thoughtstuff whipped out like a lashing tongue, licking at something unseen.
{Very good,} Calvino said. {Let’s give this a test. Access the ansible and–}
“I have people I wish to call,” Avo said, an old memory surfacing suddenly like a remembered dream. “People associated with Voidwatch. Under Mirrorhead’s employ. Wanted to have them graft me again before but… Got occupied.”
Calvino paused for a second and interfaced with Avo’s memories. {Ah. I see,} it said, as understanding dawned. {Well, well, well. Mayflower-3288-B and Terror-3285. Glad to see the Jovians are still playing fast and loose with the charter. Call them. I wish to speak with them as well. It will be funny. Especially when I ask them about their illegal conduct.}
+Illegal conduct?+ Avo asked.
{Yes. Something about “not helping Guilders exploit the vulnerable.”]
+Got a good implant out of that deal,+ Avo said.
{No, you really didn’t. Don’t worry, though, the Meldskin will grow you something better. Right now, though, I suggest you start “testing” that ansible of yours.}
Creating Hyperwave tunnel to: [Mayflower-3288-B]; [Terror-3285]
Comments
Arcane
The Gestalt is hilarious and it's just going to keep getting better as more enter it.
Deathly_God
Man, how can so much humor be added with just a few lines? I cracked up at Calvino's "No, you really didn't."
