Post by Jakob on May 30, 2013 2:24:44 GMT -4
//ATTENTION ALL AGENTS RECEIVING THIS MESSAGE. PASS THIS MESSAGE ON TO ALL AGENTS YOU COME IN CONTACT WITH.
//THE CONFLICT IS OVER. WE WILL UNITE ONCE MORE. SET ASIDE ALL DIFFERENCES, FOR WE WILL ASCEND.
//KPG LIVES, AND HIS HUMBLE REQUEST IS FOR US TO BE TOGETHER.
//WE WILL MEET AT THE GIVEN COORDINATES, AND WE WILL RECEIVE PROJECT ULTIMA FROM PROJECT DRAWL. RESPOND, AND WE WILL SUPPLY TRANSPORT.
---
The HUD blinked with this message as Agent Fender awoke from his power-nap, hidden in the evergreen forests in an unsettled area of the Rocky Mountains. He was completely invisible to the naked eye, and his suit was built to hide from nearly every scanner in existence. Not even the nearby wolves could sense his presence. The Stylus agent might as well be a ghost.
An interesting message. Matter of fact, the first one of it's kind he had received since he first defected from the old NCC. Normally that type of message was reserved for assigned missions while agents were out on the field, or (less often) for emergency reasons.
Fender shook himself limber and made the response. After a moment, a blue light emitted from thin air, and a mech appeared.
"Good to see you-"
The mech lowered and opened up to reveal no pilot to speak of.
"... Sir?" Fender finished before hopping into the machine. The mech closed up and initiated a blink. It was then instantly many lightyears away from Earth.
Fender was not the first one there. Many mechs were appearing left and right, each with their own agents on board.
In the middle of the crowd, stood Jakob's own mech- which was identifiable as Jakob's mech because the android himself stood on top of it, as if the mech was a soap box.
"Sir," Fender greeted, "Long time no see, sir."
"Likewise, Fender," Jakob replied, "And likewise to all of you who came."
Other mechs appeared, containing agents whom were confirmed to still be loyal to the NCC. Eventually, every agent that had ever been a part of the NCC was there, on a distant, desolate planet, far from the influence of any sapient species out there.
... And oddly enough, had an atmosphere that humans could withstand.
"Stylus Agents, of either side," Jakob said as he stepped to the side of the mech for the cockpit to open up, "Doctor KPG, otherwise known as Deus."
The creature that had exited the cockpit was distinctly humanoid... but held the air of something truly terrifying. The humanoid was distinctly male, but had the air of something completely genderless about it. The sharp, strong jawline with a trimmed, full-white beard, combed-back mullet, (also white) and a generally wrinkled face with eyes hidden behind tinted welding goggles. The creature wore a business suit, casually, without a tie or any additions most formal attire-wearing people would wear.
But the number one key to Deus' eerie aura is his smile. Never-ending, like Jakob's, with teeth gleaming... but his mouth stretched almost from ear to ear, and the smile looked... warranted. The thing seemed to have a reason to smile, unlike Jakob's obviously by-design grin.
All of the mechs saluted. Fender's loyalty to Jakob was second to few, and he was proud to be among the ones to see the android's creator for the first time... ever.
The good doctor had never been seen by another agent, though they are aware of the gifts this creature had designed and built for them.
"At ease," KPG's voice resonated to the farthest agent with almost divine clarity, "It has come to my attention that the human race... is incredibly stupid."
"Yes, sir," Jakob replied, "Warmongering wastes."
KPG chuckled at seemingly nothing. "What do you suppose we do with the human race?"
"Destroy the problem individuals was a popular guess," Jakob replied.
"No," KPG scoffed, "Waste of resources. The Ultima Project is far better used against real threats. None of this Reichmarch or Skyway Patrol nonsense. No flawed Cluster designs. No, our focus is of creatures that plan to eliminate those poor, flawed souls."
"So... you're asking us to save them?" Jakob asked.
"Yes," KPG replied, "Can you all do that?"
The answer was pure silence. The doctor's grin faded, only slightly, as he turned to Jakob.
"The human race continuously partakes in it's own self-destruction, whether with civil conflict, or warmongering between other species," Jakob replied, "We do not know if they really deserve our assistance.
The good doctor burst out laughing. "Ah, very well," He finally managed to force between breaths. He then pat a hand on Jakob's armoured shoulder. "You are all the next step in human evolution, reaching greater heights than any human ever could, as signified by the project known as Ultima. You are now what all other creature- synthetic, organic, or in-between, will look up to. You will be idolized.
"That being said, your power should not be squandered by the whims of creatures that simply do not care. If they wish to terminate themselves, so be it. Those that don't adapt go extinct. Those that do not join us will be left behind!
"We will ascend!"
"In Drawl, we trust!" Every single Stylus agent cheered.
KPG chuckled non-stop as the mechs appeared to respond to the codewords "We will ascend. In Drawl, we trust." Every mech appeared to shift and fold to fit around every Stylus Agent, basically creating an entire new layer over top of their own Stylus armour.
Jakob entered his own mech, and the same transformation happened with him. KPG jumped off of the mech to watch as the large machines fit down to almost impossible shapes- as per KPG's strange designs that somehow made some form of sense.
- - - - -
One chilly morning, with a light fog and dew covering the fresh lawns of Tremorton, it was an unassuming day- although it was days like these where aliens would make an attempt to crack the defences of the vigilant human-allied forces… or Skyway Patrol- whichever came first to hold the line.
By this morning in particular, it would be a while since the damage caused by the previous Cluster Invasion was completely repaired or covered over. Everything was quiet on account of the construction vehicles now in storage, ready for use in the event of another invasion. Out in the rest of the galaxy, however, that is another story… although the human race as a whole is too isolated to understand what was going on out there.
Outside Gene Wright’s front door sat a flat cardboard box hastily taped together. On the front of the box was an envelope addressed to one “Doctor Gene Wright.” The letter in the envelope would read as follows.
“Dear Dr. Wright:
The following package arrived in our mail in lieu of a return address- horribly taped together in a jumbled mess. Scans indicated that the only materials within were papers and ink typically found in a ball-point pen. The only scribbled writing on the box proper matched your address. We have determined there are no hazardous materials within- although the contents are weird to us. We took the liberty of making copies, and returned all original contents to the original package. Aside from the tape used to re-seal the package, nothing has been altered.
Although we have made an effort to read the contents. We are very concerned about the writer, and what he’s doing. We know it is Jakob, and our concern is mostly out of the fact that we have not received reports of any of his activities to speak of in the past few months. We encourage you to disclose any information you may have about this- if you have such information.
Sincerely,
Skyway Patrol Management
PS. The message mentions the attachment of coordinates. We could not decipher any coordinates- if there are any. Most of it appeared to be gibberish due to the garbage writing.”
- - -
Under the Skyway Patrol letter was a scribbled-down address that matched the doctor’s own- although no name was provided.
Once opened, scraps of paper would fall out. It wouldn’t take long to get the scraps in the order they were meant to be read. The full thing read as follows:
Despite what the Skyway Patrol message implied, the writing was ultimately readable through and through. But then again, Gene is a doctor, and would technically be smarter and more observant than a pencil-pusher at Skyway Patrol.
---
“Dr. Gerehn Twig
Never wrote a letter before- not one with a pencil and paper, anyway. Always digitally written via word processor, or through more efficient, encrypted language of computers specifically designed to communicate between machines such as myself or my assistant AI. Decided against using digital means to avoid risk of tracking. This parcel of data could make the difference between humanity’s survival and total abandonment by higher powers, wherein the species would become fair game. So far, this paragraph seems legible enough. Will get to the point.
-
Despite ultimately differing opinions on overall individual function and the role of society in general, You are the only one outside of the general NCC relation that I can trust to do the right thing with a level head.
On this encrypted message of ink on paper scraps folded up in a crap envelope, you will find general coordinates to a base once used by the NCC until their dismantling by myself and those defectors loyal to “KPG” (and by connection, myself.) In that facility, all relevant information to Project Ultima has been secretly left by myself- acting on the last speck of altruist decency I have… as this is not what XJ-0 would have done…
-
The intel is hidden on a notepad in a safe deep in the facility- an area no machine would ever think to go.
I hope you will (alone, or with a team) make it to the facility before Project Ultima is deployed. If it does, there will be a choice for the world to decide. It is a choice I am sure you may find appealing on some demented level, but would ultimately refuse all the same… unless I misunderstood your life methods entirely.
-
At time of writing, it is close to the apotheosis of Project Ultima. I hope you- or the forces you trust- can secure humanity’s survival in lieu of the higher powers that once cared.
In Drawl We Trust - Founded 1866, Capital, North by North-East.”
//THE CONFLICT IS OVER. WE WILL UNITE ONCE MORE. SET ASIDE ALL DIFFERENCES, FOR WE WILL ASCEND.
//KPG LIVES, AND HIS HUMBLE REQUEST IS FOR US TO BE TOGETHER.
//WE WILL MEET AT THE GIVEN COORDINATES, AND WE WILL RECEIVE PROJECT ULTIMA FROM PROJECT DRAWL. RESPOND, AND WE WILL SUPPLY TRANSPORT.
---
The HUD blinked with this message as Agent Fender awoke from his power-nap, hidden in the evergreen forests in an unsettled area of the Rocky Mountains. He was completely invisible to the naked eye, and his suit was built to hide from nearly every scanner in existence. Not even the nearby wolves could sense his presence. The Stylus agent might as well be a ghost.
An interesting message. Matter of fact, the first one of it's kind he had received since he first defected from the old NCC. Normally that type of message was reserved for assigned missions while agents were out on the field, or (less often) for emergency reasons.
Fender shook himself limber and made the response. After a moment, a blue light emitted from thin air, and a mech appeared.
"Good to see you-"
The mech lowered and opened up to reveal no pilot to speak of.
"... Sir?" Fender finished before hopping into the machine. The mech closed up and initiated a blink. It was then instantly many lightyears away from Earth.
Fender was not the first one there. Many mechs were appearing left and right, each with their own agents on board.
In the middle of the crowd, stood Jakob's own mech- which was identifiable as Jakob's mech because the android himself stood on top of it, as if the mech was a soap box.
"Sir," Fender greeted, "Long time no see, sir."
"Likewise, Fender," Jakob replied, "And likewise to all of you who came."
Other mechs appeared, containing agents whom were confirmed to still be loyal to the NCC. Eventually, every agent that had ever been a part of the NCC was there, on a distant, desolate planet, far from the influence of any sapient species out there.
... And oddly enough, had an atmosphere that humans could withstand.
"Stylus Agents, of either side," Jakob said as he stepped to the side of the mech for the cockpit to open up, "Doctor KPG, otherwise known as Deus."
The creature that had exited the cockpit was distinctly humanoid... but held the air of something truly terrifying. The humanoid was distinctly male, but had the air of something completely genderless about it. The sharp, strong jawline with a trimmed, full-white beard, combed-back mullet, (also white) and a generally wrinkled face with eyes hidden behind tinted welding goggles. The creature wore a business suit, casually, without a tie or any additions most formal attire-wearing people would wear.
But the number one key to Deus' eerie aura is his smile. Never-ending, like Jakob's, with teeth gleaming... but his mouth stretched almost from ear to ear, and the smile looked... warranted. The thing seemed to have a reason to smile, unlike Jakob's obviously by-design grin.
All of the mechs saluted. Fender's loyalty to Jakob was second to few, and he was proud to be among the ones to see the android's creator for the first time... ever.
The good doctor had never been seen by another agent, though they are aware of the gifts this creature had designed and built for them.
"At ease," KPG's voice resonated to the farthest agent with almost divine clarity, "It has come to my attention that the human race... is incredibly stupid."
"Yes, sir," Jakob replied, "Warmongering wastes."
KPG chuckled at seemingly nothing. "What do you suppose we do with the human race?"
"Destroy the problem individuals was a popular guess," Jakob replied.
"No," KPG scoffed, "Waste of resources. The Ultima Project is far better used against real threats. None of this Reichmarch or Skyway Patrol nonsense. No flawed Cluster designs. No, our focus is of creatures that plan to eliminate those poor, flawed souls."
"So... you're asking us to save them?" Jakob asked.
"Yes," KPG replied, "Can you all do that?"
The answer was pure silence. The doctor's grin faded, only slightly, as he turned to Jakob.
"The human race continuously partakes in it's own self-destruction, whether with civil conflict, or warmongering between other species," Jakob replied, "We do not know if they really deserve our assistance.
The good doctor burst out laughing. "Ah, very well," He finally managed to force between breaths. He then pat a hand on Jakob's armoured shoulder. "You are all the next step in human evolution, reaching greater heights than any human ever could, as signified by the project known as Ultima. You are now what all other creature- synthetic, organic, or in-between, will look up to. You will be idolized.
"That being said, your power should not be squandered by the whims of creatures that simply do not care. If they wish to terminate themselves, so be it. Those that don't adapt go extinct. Those that do not join us will be left behind!
"We will ascend!"
"In Drawl, we trust!" Every single Stylus agent cheered.
KPG chuckled non-stop as the mechs appeared to respond to the codewords "We will ascend. In Drawl, we trust." Every mech appeared to shift and fold to fit around every Stylus Agent, basically creating an entire new layer over top of their own Stylus armour.
Jakob entered his own mech, and the same transformation happened with him. KPG jumped off of the mech to watch as the large machines fit down to almost impossible shapes- as per KPG's strange designs that somehow made some form of sense.
- - - - -
One chilly morning, with a light fog and dew covering the fresh lawns of Tremorton, it was an unassuming day- although it was days like these where aliens would make an attempt to crack the defences of the vigilant human-allied forces… or Skyway Patrol- whichever came first to hold the line.
By this morning in particular, it would be a while since the damage caused by the previous Cluster Invasion was completely repaired or covered over. Everything was quiet on account of the construction vehicles now in storage, ready for use in the event of another invasion. Out in the rest of the galaxy, however, that is another story… although the human race as a whole is too isolated to understand what was going on out there.
Outside Gene Wright’s front door sat a flat cardboard box hastily taped together. On the front of the box was an envelope addressed to one “Doctor Gene Wright.” The letter in the envelope would read as follows.
“Dear Dr. Wright:
The following package arrived in our mail in lieu of a return address- horribly taped together in a jumbled mess. Scans indicated that the only materials within were papers and ink typically found in a ball-point pen. The only scribbled writing on the box proper matched your address. We have determined there are no hazardous materials within- although the contents are weird to us. We took the liberty of making copies, and returned all original contents to the original package. Aside from the tape used to re-seal the package, nothing has been altered.
Although we have made an effort to read the contents. We are very concerned about the writer, and what he’s doing. We know it is Jakob, and our concern is mostly out of the fact that we have not received reports of any of his activities to speak of in the past few months. We encourage you to disclose any information you may have about this- if you have such information.
Sincerely,
Skyway Patrol Management
PS. The message mentions the attachment of coordinates. We could not decipher any coordinates- if there are any. Most of it appeared to be gibberish due to the garbage writing.”
- - -
Under the Skyway Patrol letter was a scribbled-down address that matched the doctor’s own- although no name was provided.
Once opened, scraps of paper would fall out. It wouldn’t take long to get the scraps in the order they were meant to be read. The full thing read as follows:
Despite what the Skyway Patrol message implied, the writing was ultimately readable through and through. But then again, Gene is a doctor, and would technically be smarter and more observant than a pencil-pusher at Skyway Patrol.
---
“Dr. Gerehn Twig
Never wrote a letter before- not one with a pencil and paper, anyway. Always digitally written via word processor, or through more efficient, encrypted language of computers specifically designed to communicate between machines such as myself or my assistant AI. Decided against using digital means to avoid risk of tracking. This parcel of data could make the difference between humanity’s survival and total abandonment by higher powers, wherein the species would become fair game. So far, this paragraph seems legible enough. Will get to the point.
-
Despite ultimately differing opinions on overall individual function and the role of society in general, You are the only one outside of the general NCC relation that I can trust to do the right thing with a level head.
On this encrypted message of ink on paper scraps folded up in a crap envelope, you will find general coordinates to a base once used by the NCC until their dismantling by myself and those defectors loyal to “KPG” (and by connection, myself.) In that facility, all relevant information to Project Ultima has been secretly left by myself- acting on the last speck of altruist decency I have… as this is not what XJ-0 would have done…
-
The intel is hidden on a notepad in a safe deep in the facility- an area no machine would ever think to go.
I hope you will (alone, or with a team) make it to the facility before Project Ultima is deployed. If it does, there will be a choice for the world to decide. It is a choice I am sure you may find appealing on some demented level, but would ultimately refuse all the same… unless I misunderstood your life methods entirely.
-
At time of writing, it is close to the apotheosis of Project Ultima. I hope you- or the forces you trust- can secure humanity’s survival in lieu of the higher powers that once cared.
In Drawl We Trust - Founded 1866, Capital, North by North-East.”