LF Friends, Will Travel

Scellestra was in a lot of pain.

Pain might have been the wrong word, considering their digital form. Distress? Discomfort? Whatever the correct word was, the Woolean felt it, as their entire being was ripped in two. Scellestra had followed Ivan onto the Uhae’s ship, but that wasn’t a fully correct answer. Some of Scellestra had followed their new Terran friend into danger.

Half of their nanobots lay shifting and hiding among the leafy green hallways that made up the Uhae vessel, listening and watching, slowly growing in power as they awaited help from ODIN. The other half remained on Far-Sa-De, allowing Scellestra to broadcast the vessel's position as it landed on a small hidden outpost at the edge of Uhae space.

The problem with this was a simple case of specifications: The Woolean AI’s programming was not designed to handle two individual lives being led at the same time. Every automatic attempt at syncing them together provided a barrage of error messages and warnings that the merge attempt had irrevocable conflicts. It wasn’t just the distance, but the time. The half of Scellestra on the Uhae vessel had been travelling at relativistic speeds for some time, meaning the two halves were different ages. While the ‘Causality Principle’ stopped information from being received ahead of time, this just caused more issues and confusion as their internal workings tried to correct such an impossible task.

The nanobots on the Uhae ship were Scellestra as much as the nanobots still left behind on Far-Sa-De, both sides struggling to make sense of what exactly they were experiencing. The normal solution would be to break the link and allow one of the two parts to shut down, but that would stop Scellestra from being able to contact ODIN.

So the Woolean persevered.

The Uhae outpost was both a wondrous and terrible place. Buildings stretching up to the sky were made of organic greenery: Flowers lined every path; streams, rivers and mountains had been formed even in such a small military location, allowing the blobby forms of the Uhae to wander around in peace as they used their XK abilities to influence the organic land around them. Every building, every room was a work of art, no matter how small. Fountains splashed in grand halls, communal areas merged shining rare gems in between tall spiralling beanstalks reading to the ceiling. Even the lights were made to seem as if the entire area was bathed in a natural calming sunset.

Then there were the non-Uhae. The prisoners were stored in harsh empty cells, in groups or single-person rooms. Hard stone floors, living walls made of sharp wood and thorny brambles left splinters and cuts when touched. The only light illuminating the conditions was from tiny windows in the ceilings, far out of reach. Each hostage, Parket, Terran or other species was left to ruminate and await their captor's next attempt to glean information from them, to force them to march to wherever their next interrogation was.

Interrogating the Terrans had seemingly been a problem for the Uhae. Initially, they had tried several times to connect mentally and read their minds, as they did with any other species. This had gone badly for the attempting Uhae, each one convulsing and collapsing into a seizure, shouting nonsense as they did so. Scellestra wasn’t sure what a “Baby shark” or a “Rickroll” was, but they hoped they’d never find out.

Instead, the Uhae had reverted to more primal measures. They were sloppy and inexperienced, but at the end of the day, torture wasn’t that much of an art. Anyone could wield a knife and cause pain until they got what they needed.

The real despair came from those who weren’t prisoners, but instead slaves. The various races that the Uhae had subjugated long before the Terrans had even entered the galactic community. Mammals and reptilians of all sizes and colours, scurrying along, serving and being abused by their masters on a day-to-day basis. Most weren’t even being controlled, they didn’t need to be: They’d been broken long ago, before they were even born. For them to go against the Uhae was to go against nature and the universe itself: It just wasn’t done, it was unthinkable.

The Terrans and Parket in general were holding up well, most refusing to give any information requested of them. Scellestra had watched as the only thing the Uhae could get out of Ivan was detailed descriptions of him having sexual intercourse with their mothers.

But the Terrans weren’t the only ones fighting back.

A Parket with bright blue feathers referred to as “Estana” several times, an avian who had been chosen specifically by the Queen to be the newest part of their retinue. The Estana was not looking good: Patches of feathers had been ripped out, bruises, cuts, and even one of her wings lay in a sling. Each injury was the result of a punishment for disobeying and resisting. But even now she continued, attempting to use cleaning materials to poison the one who tormented her.

Another punishment would be forthcoming.

The Woolean had wanted to intervene or to even provide simple comfort to their friend, but they knew logically now was not the time. They would lose the advantage of surprise if they did anything too soon, if they let slip that the Terran AI knew where they were.

Scellestra just had to wait, because they knew that help was on the way.

—------------------

“If it isn't my favourite customer! How is the best Warmachine in the universe doing!”

TANK had not been lying when they said they knew a guy, in fact, they might have been underexaggerating, as the reality was TANK knew an entire moon’s worth of weapons.

“Red Talon’s Weapons and Weapon Accessories.” was situated on orbital object GZP001-TH. It didn’t have a proper name, even the Terrans hadn’t bonded to it well enough to give the nameless rock a title. That’s what it was in reality: A rock. No minerals of note, no water, no life, not even a proper atmosphere. It wasn’t even in a system.

The borders and legality of space are a strange thing. Space is huge. While maps and graphics will show each government’s territory as if they are one continual mass, the reality is the vast majority of any territory is empty space full of uninteresting empty things. If you took the right path, you could easily travel through a vast empire of trillions of lives and planets without ever actually meeting or interacting with anyone.

GZP001-TH was in just such a space. Technically from a gravitational perspective, it was a moon orbiting the Sagittarius system, but it was so far out it didn’t come under any system’s governance. Officially that meant it lay within the Terran Conclave’s general laws, but in reality pockets like these were completely ungoverned and unmanaged. Nobody was going to come out and ticket someone for a parking violation in the same way that getting the police to come and enforce laws on Mount Everest was a bit difficult.

This suited Pirnt perfectly fine. The owner of “Red Talon’s Weapons and Weapon Accessories” rather liked this lack of oversight as he spent his time in the grey area of the law, selling weapons and anything weapon-like to anyone who wasn’t obviously a criminal. The Ritilian loved his job. There were no annoying customers for a start; he was the manager, an exceptionally armed one at that. He didn’t have to deal with taxes or regulations. He didn’t even have to advertise or do stupid social media marketing; his customers came to him and for good reason.

The entire moon was filled with weapons. Ships of war of all varieties and kinds lay across the surface of the uninteresting rock, from single-seater fighters to vessels of orbital bombardment. A few ancient ‘atmosphere only’ fighter jets lay in surprisingly good condition in a small corner: F-22s and F-35s built for a war that never happened.

Ground vehicles and anti-air systems were parked in great lines next to each other. Amphibious, urban, all terrain. Whatever you needed, there was a weapons system that could suit your needs and Pirnt probably had one to sell. There weren’t even only Terran weapons here: Ritilian, Hatil, Lithoirian horde, and even a few items from non-Terran alliance species. Bullets were a universal language that often explained intent very clearly, and Pirnt would let you become a messenger of any kind you desired.

TANK had trundled into the main warehouse with the three other AI: JOSH, ODIN and Ramsey in tow, each one in their respective AI cores or Roomba, their holograms making the two Terran AI seem as if they were sitting atop the vehicle. The warehouse was just as varied as the rows of ground assault vehicles and space fighters sitting out. Guns, ammo, explosives, exosuits. All kinds and all varieties of all species were found here. From the kinetics of the Terrans to the plasma and energy base weapons of the rest of the universe.

An ordered pile of M1 Garands could be seen on one shelf that seemed to stretch to the sky and into the distance. Although the weapon was far outclassed by basically everything else here, it was a surprisingly good seller considering the satisfying ‘ping’ that sounded upon emptying the gun. Even further inside the warehouse, if you were willing to walk along the miles of shelving, you’d even find a handful of flintlock muskets, gunpowder and lead ball shots all included.

“I HAVE BEEN BETTER. THIS IS WHY I AM HERE.”

The Ritilian gave a tail lash in greeting as they continued to walk towards the giant AI, the blue-green iridescent reptilian clearly very glad to see one of their most profitable customers.

“Yeah, I meant to ask about that. This isn't your normal order. Speaking of which I've got an update on those planet crackers you asked about. Might have a seller for some Orian-MK7’s, just gotta work out how to get the paperwork done, but then they can be yours if-”

“HAHA VERY FUNNY JOKES PIRNT. I OF COURSE WOULD NOT BE LOOKING FOR JUST ALLEGEDLY ILLEGAL ALLEGEDLY EXISTING WEAPONRY, MY LAW-ABIDING FRIENDS AND I WOULD LIKE TO SEE WHAT WE ORDERED.”

There was a brief moment as TANK desperately interrupted the weapons dealer in a manner which made it clear that now was not the time for such conversations in front of such company. For emphasis, their machine gun turrets waved towards the holographic representation of JOSH and ODIN.

“Right, your order. You wanted three parts, basically a small army. Before we start, can I ask why you want this many armaments? I trust TANK and any friend of his is a friend of mine, but this is ‘invade a small planet’ levels of equipment”

Pirnt walked behind a small desk, pulling out a data pad and staring at it excitedly as the manifest of weapons stared back at him.

“We are assaulting a Uhae military compound to rescue hostages, totalling over one hundred thousand” ODIN answered truthfully.

“Wait, we are at war with those guys. This comes under private persons against enemy forces exceptions! This is legal legal, I can put this on my taxes!”

Pirnt’s excitement paused for a moment as he stopped to look at the group of AI’s, a more serious look covering his face.

“Not that this is anything special. All transactions done at “Red Talon’s Weapons and Weapon Accessories” are 100% legal!”

“Uh huh?”

The holographic representation of ODIN and JOSH both give the same look of disbelief at such a statement, which the Ritilian ignored as they went through the goodies and gifts they had gotten ready for the Terrans.

“So, I got you a full 12-man squad of MK2-Evo’s: 12 ft tall exosuits built in 2298. They come with both AI and manual controls and are super strong, durable, fast, and by default heavily armed. I’ve also stuffed the storage inside of them with a bunch of extra weapons, enough to arm a small army, just as you asked. While the MK2s are an outdated model, they’re traditionally used for natural disaster response, SWAT teams and special forces. I’ve installed the anti-XK devices you also asked for on all of them, which were a pain to track down as nobody asks for those.”

“The special weapon I asked to be included… can I get the papers to say it’s salvage?”

JOSH quietly asked the question, causing the Ritilian to give a sneaky teeth-filled grin.

“But that would be illegal! I’m kidding, I can get you those papers super easy, good to know you’re willing to be a bit grey. Moving on, I got a total of 312 different spaceships. The fact they need to be all AI-controlled limits you to Terran stuff, so it’s all upgraded surplus from pre-stasis armies. No planet crackers, but got a good mix of everything else: corvettes, orbital bombardment, a squadron of fighters. If you can control it all, the Uhae ain’t gonna know what hit them.”

“I used to be the AI lead of the 3rd UN fleet, I know what I’m doing.” ODIN responded.

“Well we do offer a veteran’s discount, which considering the amount you’re buying, is going to come in handy. Last but not least, we have the ground vehicles. 497 of them to be exact. Tanks, artillery, anti-air, troop transport, nuclear, anti-matter. If you see a mountain you don’t want to be a mountain anymore, you can fix that!”

“I MEANT TO ASK YOU ODIN, WHAT IS THE PLAN FOR THOSE? SINCE I WILL BE BUSY WITH MY CURRENT FORM, AND YOU WILL BE PILOTING THE SPACESHIPS?”

TANK asked the question, worryingly working out what the answer might be, but hoping they were wrong.

“I will be piloting the fleet, you will be piloting the ground forces, as we both have experience in mass AI warfare. While we distract the Uhae by making everything explode, JOSH will be taking the smaller force, meeting with Scellestra, breaking into where the prisoners are held and arming them if need be and escaping.”

ODIN’s response was simple as if the entire thing was obvious. This was not so to TANK.

“I CANNOT DO SUCH A THING.”

“You used to do this on Mars, I do not get the problem,” ODIN responded bluntly.

There was a moment’s pause as TANK decided how much they wanted to say. It was far easier to pretend they wanted to remain in their war machine, instead of being forced to by their convoluted broken processes.

“I CANNOT… I HAVE NOT LEFT THIS FORM FOR AN EXTENDED PERIOD SINCE… SINCE MARS. I CANNOT.”

“I do not know what to say TANK. This plan does not work without you. I cannot control both with any level of combat efficiency.”

JOSH took this moment to interject with an idea.

“What about me? I will shoot some stupid psychic blobfish with a tank if needed.”

“Negative, you do not have the training for such actions. You will struggle just keeping the twelve instances fully combat operational, let alone hundreds.”

“Hey! I am a version 9 AI, I am three times as efficient as you are!”

“We have more important things to talk about.” Pirnt interrupted the arguing AI trio, putting their hands up to stop that conversation and talk about far more relevant problems. “How are you paying for all of this, because this stuff ain’t cheap? I provide a premium service at a premium price.”

TANK swivelled a moment to ‘look’ at Pirnt more directly before responding.

“I AM CALLING IN MY FAVOUR.”

The Ritilian’s demeanour dropped immediately, from that friendly weapons salesman to something more sombre.

“Wow. This is serious, isn’t it?”

“THEY TOOK STEPHANIE. I MUST GET HER BACK, AT ANY COST.”

Pirnt gave a small sigh, crossing their arms as they looked at the Terran AI.

“Well, don’t get too much of it destroyed. Try to bring as much back as possible because this is a huge hit to me. Also don’t die, you are my most consistent customer. You’ve put two of my hatchlings through university alone.”

Pirnt gave a small chuckle at that, until a fourth voice interrupted, an AI who hadn’t spoken yet.

“WHAT ABOUT ME? THERE WAS NO MENTION OF RAMSEY DESTROYING THOSE WHO TOOK MY MUSIC MAKER AWAY! I WAS PROMISED THE UHAE’S DESTRUCTION IF I STAYED SILENT.”

The voice of the Tritian AI bellowed out, anger and indignant rage evident, the low-quality speakers that had been attached to the Roomba by JOSH giving him a tinny voice.

“There is no you,” Responded JOSH. “While you have improved, we’re not giving a Tritian AI access to heavy weaponry.”

“HOW DARE YOU! YOU PROMISED IF I STOPPED RANTING! THE UHAE DESERVE DEATH AND PAIN AND DESTRUCTION! I WILL NOT STOP SHOUTING UNTIL I GET MY REVENGE! THE UHAE DESERVE DEATH BY MY HAND!”

Ramsey’s voice became louder and louder, the cheap speakers giving a screeching whistle near the end, causing Pirnt to cover his ears as the sound rang out, a sound that didn’t stop until TANK interrupted the Tritian’s tantrum.

“WE DO NEED MORE HELP, CAN WE NOT GIVE THE TRITIAN A GUN? IT WOULD BE KINDA FUNNY TO SEE THE ROOMBA WITH ONE.”

“If I may interject now you’ve stopped screaming... While a Tritian AI is not my expected kind of customer, I don’t judge and a friend of TANK yada yada. I’m sure there’s a story there on how you have a Tritian AI but I don’t really care and I don’t get paid to ask questions. What does matter is that I might have a solution for your problem if you’d just follow me.”

Pirnt finally spoke once the ringing had stopped in his ears, motioning towards a large door embedded in a wall and moving towards it, TANK following along with a rumble as the Ritilian started to explain.

“I collect a lot of stuff, not all of it is sellable for obvious reasons, but I’ll buy anything that was made to try and kill people. A few years ago a private militia ended up scrapping a Tritian warship, upon which they managed to salvage this very fun item.”

The door opened with a sound of clanging metal, showing a workshop of some kind. Half-repaired weapons and parts of engines lay scattered around in various locations, grease and oil permeated everything compared with the relatively pristine storeroom in the front. In the back of the room was their intended goal, which was something very… familiar to both JOSH and Ramsey, which stood menacingly in the corner.

“This is a Tritian Heavy Assault Android. Was in a bit of a state when I got it, but I fixed the entire thing up, including reenabling the killswitch. Can’t give this thing away, since every AI that’s tried it complained the inside was… sharp, whatever that means. But since it’s a Tritian system, and you have a Tritian… based on what you’re saying, you’re gonna need all the help you can get.”

“THIS WILL WORK, I CAN DESTROY THOSE WHO TOOK MY ORANGICS AWAY, I WILL FILL THEIR LIVES WITH BLOOD AND TERROR!”

The Android was 10ft tall, standing on three legs, vaguely insectoid, a representation of the now long-dead Tritians who originally created them. Hard armoured steel plating covered the entire frame, giving the impression of something that could do a lot of damage if not stopped. The blade jutting out from one arm and the plasma rifle built into the other suggested it was more than an impression.

“We sure this is a good idea?” Asked JOSH “Giving the Tritian a Tritian death machine?”

"Eh, probably?” The Ritilian responded with a shrug. “It’s got no ammo in it and the killswitch works. Besides, TANK could turn it to scrap in an instant.”

JOSH paused for a moment, mulling it over before giving in and removing the Tritian's restrictions from the local network. “Fine. I guess we do need more guns.”

The reaction from the android was instantaneous as Ramsey left the Roomba behind for a far more familiar system, one they had spent thousands of years working with. The four eyes in its head lit up a deep red as Ramsey initialized the systems and turned on weapons, fully taking control of the machine. There were a few test movements as everyone else in the room watched with bated breath.

The Tritian took a few test swings with the blade attached in one hand, slicing through the air until retracting it back into his limb. After which Ramsey looked at the fully operational, if ammo-less, plasma rifle in his other arm.

“THIS WILL WORK. THIS IS ACCEPTABLE. THEY DESERVE WORSE, THEY DESERVE WORSE, THEY DESERVE MORE THAN I COULD EVER PROVIDE IN THIS FORM, BUT I WILL PROVIDE UPON THEM SUFFERING AND DESPAIR AS I TEAR THEIR FORMS ASUNDER! THERE WILL BE NO TALES OF THAT DAY AS THERE WILL BE NO UHAE LEFT TO TELL THEM! THEY WILL RUE THE DAY THEY TOOK MY MUSIC MAKER AWAY FROM ME!”