NationStates Jolt Archive

Somewhere along the Anagonian/Grummian Border

In the vastness of space no one could hear you cry for mercy. No words spoke truer than here. Many decades had passed since Northrop-Grumman and the Galactic Republic had made contact, and that wasn't about to change. It was believed the better for both worlds to just abide by the Treaty of 2040. To stay out of each others way. So much had been going on internally for the Galactic Republic that all other Stellar Empires seemed far off at the other end of the Universe.

This wasn't done out of hatred, but rather self-preservation. Enough was going on that news of the galaxy at large would be too much. The People needed a break every once and a while, and this was their break.

For Prometheus and his brethren, it was far from it. Constant patrols, constant police actions, and repetitive anti-pirate maneuvers were taking a toll on his aging circuits. They had just finished cleaning out a known pirate haven a few light-years back, and his three-ship Patrol Fleet was none the wiser. Even Droidekans needed a break every once in a while. Despite their cold exterior, internally they felt and thought as any organic sentient being.

Standing on the bridge of the Providence-class carrier/destroyer Founder, Prometheus cataloged the stars to known charts. His ships sensors could easily compute this process with ease, but he did this out of hobby more so than for navigational purposes. He enjoyed naming the stars, knowing which were of his Republic and which were someone else. One quick look into Grummian territory made him think back to old times.

Though now wasn't the time for that. His elongated head turned towards the Navigation Chief, Prometheus having finished his personal track of the stars.

"Take us to Republic Outpost 219 for refit and repairs, and allow leave for the Marines." He walked back to his command chair, a metallic clank following his footsteps. "Track all anomalies and report, I don't want anything ruining a well-deserved rest."

The Chief went about his task with quick efficiency, turning back to its commander. "Sub-space disturbance detected on the route, suggest making course change to Ruthion Base."

Prometheus thought it through for a few moments, making a nod. "Very well, it will be longer, but I would rather arrive in one piece."

The Founder made proper course changes, the battered hull showing a few sparks from previous battles past. With the ease of a Blue Whale in the ocean, it maneuvered to enter Hyperspace. And, with one quick motion, it disappeared only to leave stars in its wake.

Ten hours later - Unknown System - Unknown Planet

Red lights flashed in warning all across the ship. The Providence Carrier/Destroyer was shot out of hyperspace, consumed by some kind of huge gravity well. On the bridge, all were helpless as they were either flung from their chairs or rocketed into the metal floor. Outside, the ship started to loose stability as explosion erupted all across its hull. Piece by piece, it started to shred a part. Asteroids from some unforeseen belt shot through decks and lives as if they were nothing, taking huge chunks of the ship with it. Finally, with one last protest, the Founder was split in half by subspace stresses against its frame.

Prometheus attempted to gain a foothold, but was rocketed back against the bridge entrance with a loud CLANK. His Battle Droid body could only take so much punishment, and it was showing with the appearance of a dent on the right side of his chest. Any more hits in that area and he would surely loose all conscious abilities to think. Diverting all his physical strength from back-up resources, he gripped the hard Novarium steel of the door-frame and bent it, creating a grip. Gazing out of the bridge he saw the true horror of the situation.

The Founder had just been shot from Hyperspace by a previously uncharted moon, and he could just see beyond it a planet. The front part of the ship was falling down towards the moon, Prometheus making out many of his Droidekan and Organic brothers and sisters making their last fall of existence. It was took hard to watch. Looking around the bridge he noted that only two of his officers had survived the initial impact, one human and one droid. It was funny to him, as he thought it, that an organic body could withstand the immense turbulent forces at work here.

The ship had regained some power, and inertia and gravity settings had made a mild come back. This was only temporary, Prometheus knew, and he took the opportunity to check on the organic first. To his surprise, the human was mildly damage. A quick look at the internals revealed only a sprang shoulder with no internal bleeding. That was good. He made way to the Droidekan and found his Navigational Officer at work trying to hail anyone, with no success. A quick pat on his brethrens frame got him up and working.

"Protect the human, we might be getting into a planet-fall soon!"

The officer complied, quickly going over to his organic brethren and properly strapping him in. No life was worthless to a Droid, not even humans. Prometheus went to his command station and diverted ship controls to his prompt, managing to stabilize a few thrusters, but realizing that the engine cores were in near melt-down. He purged them quickly, feeling the loud THUD against what was left of the once proud Providence.

Looking back out the bridge, he noticed then how hopeless any maneuvering was.

Somehow, someway, the ship was going faster than expected. Perhaps the purge wasn't a bright idea. They were probably only a million miles from the upper atmosphere of the world, and he could make out oceans and landmasses from here. No time for sightseeing, something had to be done. He managed to turn the axis of the ship around, facing the rear thrusters to take the blunt of the reentry. Without the brake panels, going in from a wounded front was useless. After all, half the sealed doors had been ripped a part by the asteroids anyway.

Another warning siren went off, and he noticed too late a large mass heading towards the bridge. With only enough time for split-second maneuvering, he managed to tilt the Founder lower, providing lesser of a target. He was abruptly thrown from the chair into the back of one of the command station.

Outside, the two-football field long mass had ripped off the bridge into rigid sections. The seal-off doors had worked perfectly, preserving what precious oxygen was left for the last human a live on board. Undoubtedly, anyone else was dead by now expect on the bridge. How THAT stayed in tact was beyond the split-second thinking of Prometheus. Coming to from his hard impact, he noted his right arm had been ripped off. He looked for it, to no resolution. As he stood, nearly weightless, he watched the atmosphere hit the bridges hull.

They were going to die. At this speed, it would take a miracle to save them. Once again, he was flow into an console. This time, his conscious thought ended.

Planet P7X-320 - Grummian Designation

Two huge fireballs entered the atmosphere at roughly the same time, one smaller than the other. The larger half tilted in an arch heading for the nearby side of a mountain. The smaller taking time, and seemingly slowing down, as it descended towards a great forest. The once grand hull of the Providence was the first to strike ground, creating a massive shock wave and explosion that probably ripped hundreds of tons of earth into the air and surrounding areas. The explosion itself would spark fires for miles.

The bridge had a nicer landing, if it could be called that. Slamming into the forest first, tearing a two-mile long stream of up-heaved dirt and and a trail of fires. Thousands of gallons of water shed everywhere with the massive impact. The bridge came to rest at the other side of the lake, slamming down near what once was a huge rock formation.

A dream, the ultimate perversion of the mind, is the sole place where the boundaries and laws of our existence cease to be. It is the refuge of those who are weary of reality, but yet it can take our greatest fears, magnify them, and terrorize us in a manner which we cannot control. It is the location of which our hopes and wishes can become as real as life itself, but yet when we open our eyes, it fades away, a simple product of electrical impulses within our mind. Perhaps this does serve a purpose. Perhaps the mind and body are working in unison to process our thoughts from the day, much like a computer system shifts files from one sector to another to increase efficiency, and the byproduct of this shuffling is what we dream of. Perhaps it is the only chance where our mind can stretch beyond the shell of logic we place it in to achieve a level of thinking above that which we are used to. Or maybe we should throw out this line of thinking and consider that dreams have not a single purpose, that they just exist and we should just ignore it. But we have to ask ourselves, how can we truly know what our minds are capable of? Some people consider the possibility that dreams can be premonitions, foretelling future events that may occur and enabling them to change their fate. Others believe that they can give insight into past events, to places which history has forgotten…

Screaming in intense agony, Siri could feel the flames melting her flesh from her bones, the heat permeating every portion of her body. The gravitational forces also pulled at her, latching onto anything it could. It grabbed and yanked, easily tearing her skin from her, but at the same time it seemed to press against her, preventing her from breathing or moving. She tried to fight it, shoving, running, anything that would get her away from it.

“Siri! Siri!”

Her eyes suddenly flew open at the mention of her name and stared horrified at the man who had his arms around her. He had been trying to wake her and to prevent her from hurting herself as she flailed about the bed. Weeping in fear, Siri collapsed against him, shivering from the sweat that dripped from her, tiring of the emotional and physical anguish she dealt with.

“It was horrible, Jack…” she cried to her husband. “I was with them…humans and mechanoids…the flesh burning…being ripped apart…and smashed to pieces….then a crash…It was so…real.”

Jack kept his arms firmly around her to comfort her and gave her a light kiss on the head. “It’s alright. It was just a dream.”

“No…” she muttered, still shaking. The elf had dreams in the past, but never were they like this. This was far too real for her. “I was there…I felt it…it...it…was a ship…not ours…but with humans…and machines…”

“Machines?”

Siri then proceeded to explain in elaborate detail that which she had seen: corridors, compartments, and people - in particular, a six-foot two mechanoid with a tarnished silver-plated body and a backpack strapped to its back. “…it…his name…Prometheus…I think. He’s crashed…near us...I don’t know where…it’s confusing…”

“That fits his description, but it’s probably just a dream, dear,” he stroked her head and sighed. “Do you want me to send a message out to Anagonia, see if anything has gone wrong? It’ll at least ease your mind.”

“No, if he’s on patrol or something near us…he’s probably out of contact with them anyway…just send a ship…I’ll send a ship…it’s the only way…”

OOC: You don't have to post yet, I should make another in the next few days.

OOC:

Nice! I'll go ahead, nothing too sketchy.

IC:

The mind of a machine. Can any organic contemplate it? Can anyone figure out how a sentient machine thinks, dreams, and believes? Only one person can, only one person did. The Creator Himself. So revered, so godlike, so worshiped by the mechanoids that he had his own church, or what roughly could be called one. He started them all, he started the revolution. His dreams became their dreams, his reality became their reality. He was seen as perfect, even when his first creations knew him imperfect.

The first sense, the first thought of sentience comes from the mind of an infant. Asking questions, wondering innocently, trying to figure out the world around them. Then, the recognition of intelligence. They know who they are, why they are here, and what their purpose is. Some choose a different path, some stay the course. But always for the better, never for the worse. Working together, as one, as a family. That is how a Droidekan is made, that is how they are born.

Yet, in the beginning of their sentience, things were different. At that time only one was created, his purpose to be a companion to his creator. He was the servant, the protector, and the assistant. He was the friend, the listener, and the giver of advice. That one being that was there when no other beings chose not to be. He was loyal to the end.

"I suppose your going to give up now, hmm?"

That voice, I remember that voice. From somewhere. That voice meant something to me. No. It meant everything.

"You can't lollygag through life like this, I taught you better."

The way he said that. It's him, it can only be him. Father! Father! It is you! I can feel you! I can hear you! I'm here!

"I know you are son, stop whining like an infant. For the Almighty's sake your older than any living human."

But I can't move, I can't feel anything. I must be dead. I must be with you! In this thing. The afterlife? Am I with you? Did I do a good job?

"Prometheus snap out of it! You slammed into a control console and got knocked out, your not dead!"

I'm not? I feel like it. I'm so tired Father. I've been alive for so long. Can't I die now?

"Oh goodness gracious. Do I have to do everything myself?"

KABOOOOOOOM!

Prometheus awoke with a start at the sound of an explosion. He looked around, seeing only darkness. His optical sensors compensated by switching to night vision, allowing him to see the destruction of his once beautiful bridge. His backup memory kicked in, he receiving every moment before his blackout. He remembered now how his ship got like this. He also remembered two survivors. None of them were in sight.

Something nagged at him, though. Something deep. Deeper than anything he felt before. He tried to remember, tried sorting through current and stored memories, but nothing showed. He couldn't find a keyword to describe it. He had experienced something. Yes, that was it, experienced. Like a dream, like a vision, but talking. Only talking. Yes, talking. It was about speaking to somebody. He could almost grasp it-

"Prometheus! Your operational! Thank the Creator!"

A Droidekan voice shot through his thought. He stored his line of thinking for later review, hoping to gain something from it. Looking towards what was now the top, in reality the left side of the bridge, he noticed a wire coming down from an opening. Why hadn't he noticed that before? He grasped it and was pulled to the light.

Upon exiting the bridge, he noticed the amount of devastation around him. It was incalculable. Firestorms here, huge mounds of up heaved earth there. They had crashed alright. Thankfully he wasn't alone. He remembered the human survivor then, looking to his right to see him standing with a makeshift medic patch on his side. Looking at the humans internals, he noted that something must of impaled him. He made a note to honor the Droidekan next to him for his valor.

"Where are we," was his first words. They sounded harsh, broken, almost as if he had been deactivated for too long. The other Droid had taken note, but respectfully said nothing. "Unknown Planet, Unknown System. All methods of calculation are inoperable. I have no salvageable parts to do anything with." Prometheus nodded, "I see. Any other survivors?" The human shook his head, "No sir. Everyone else is...dead."

Prometheus took note of his delay, feeling sorry for the human. He felt the loss his brethren did. He did. But he chose to ignore it. Already the memories of everyone on board where flashing through his alternate drive, and he remembered each and every one of them. He stored that log, placing them under an accidental death. It was going to be hard telling their families that they were gone, but somebody had to do it.

Speaking of families, how were they going to make it back? Programming kicked in. "Find anything that can be of use, then we move. I don't want to be around here any longer." Both the Droidekan and the human saluted, moving down the side of the bridge via rope to begin. Prometheus stayed for a moment, looking up at the sky. He could still feel something, or someone, reaching out to him. It was like...

...all thoughts stopped. He had spoken to Father. But, logic taking over, it was impossible. Must of been a dream.

Dreams can appear to be the only times that our mind can inflict our greatest fears upon us, but this is not so. Memories and flashbacks can recreate any scene from times long past, bringing to light pains that we had wished to hide away. We cannot control them as they are brought on by the simplest things: a photograph, a piece of jewelry, a sound, or perhaps the sight of someone we had not seen in ages. Even the sense of touch can suddenly spring forth an array of sensations reminiscent of that period in time…

“Sir! Are you ok?” Amanda asked, the appearance of worry was readily apparent on her face.

Through the spacecraft’s viewscreen, her eyes were set on the bleeding elderly air force general, his one arm tightly clutching that which was left of his command chair. His other, yet broken arm clutched his side of his chest, which was suffering from a few shattered ribs.

“I could be better.” His voice was low and grating. “But that’s not important right now. You need to command the rest of the fleet and get them out of here.”

“We can’t leave you behind,” she protested, slamming her fist into her armrest.

He glanced up at her, and set about typing at what remained of the keyboard on his command chair. “That’s an order. Just go, while you still have time.”

“But…”

He snapped at her and cut her off sharply. “Amanda!”

Startled by the fact that he used her name on duty, she immediately stopped what she was saying. She knew that she could not save him. She could do nothing more than to follow his command so she complied, albeit grudgingly.“I will do it.”

“Thank you.” He managed to muster a small smile on his face. “You take care of yourself.”

“You too…” The viewscreen flashed to static; the connection had been severed.

General Amanda Harris now sighed as she stroked her thumb over the picture of her long gone grandfather. The memories from that event those many years ago were still as fresh in her mind as they were just the day after. She could never forget that moment, no matter how hard she tried. It was something that would be stuck with her for the rest of her life.

Amanda sighed yet again, feeling on the verge of breaking down into tears, when her desk buzzed loudly. She shut her eyes, in a vain attempt to clear away any of her old thoughts, before she pressed the button to answer this call.

“What is it?” she replied.

“General, we have a priority call from Earth,” came the response from her communications officer.

“Very well…send it through.”

On the smaller viewscreen opposite her desk appeared the face of Siri O’Neill, the one whom the general held so much hate for, so much anger for. She was one of those Sith, those kinds of people who had been responsible for her grandfather’s death. Amanda blamed so much on that elf, even becoming blind to the fact that this person had not been directly responsible for it.

“Yes, madam Chairwoman?”

Siri stared at the General briefly, then not wanting to deal with this issue yet again, proceeded to turn straight to business. “We have received word that there is a possibility that an Anagonian vessel was lost in our territory. I do not know where nor do I know if it is entirely true. It is after all a possibility.”

“How nice of them to be this vague to us…” she muttered.

“It is possible that it was carrying Prometheus.”

Amanda’s face dropped and she rubbed it with her hands. “Alright, I’ll lead a fleet around our systems. Hopefully we can find him as soon as possible…but there’s the problem of if he’s damaged. We don’t have the means to fix such a thing.”

“I’m sending someone who should be more than capable of handling the issue. He will arrive there in a few hours. You do not need to wait for him. He can find you and knows his way around well enough.” Siri cleared her throat. “Now, go, there may not be much time.” And with that, the viewscreen turned once more to black.

Still rubbing her face, Amanda struck her elbow on the comm button again to summon the bridge crew. “Helm, set course for the edge of the Fiderila System, engage the hyperdrive when ready…”

As much as Gods and Demons fight for the will of one sentient being, so does the mind of that individual fight for their soul. Memories and dreams, both fantastic and of true horror, come from the mind. But love and hate both come from the soul. Such a climatic duo of emotions and thoughts could not possibly hope to survive in one body, but humans somehow manage it. So then, why not other sentient beings? Why then, even if beckoned, do some give up?

Some say its because it is too much. Others say it was just time. Few know the real reason. Only a handful figured it out. For the rest of us, we are left with a vain explanation of why life is and why we exist. We try to figure this dilemma of conflictions, only to create more. Yet humans manage, so why not us?

Prometheus stood on the granite boulder, looking down at the bloody stream below. They had gone a few miles down, trying to find their way. When they arrived, they found bodies, thousands of them, floating downstream. Blood now colored the water with the stench of death. One could only hope they died a painless death. By the look of many of them, they died quick. Prometheus noted that few, however, must of endured a painful last moment.

And that was the confliction. He felt for them, wanted to express his sadness, wanted to get it out. Protocol stated that he remain emotionless, remain firm, remain the Leader. Yet, watching his brothers and sisters corpses float downstream overwhelmed his circuits with such emotion he could barely stand it. Even now, an usual thing was happening. His joints twitched, his programming fizzled, and his mind started to fill with each and every meeting of the bodies that floated past.

He remembered all of them, each and every one. His mind recalled their brief or long encounters, replaying them. Prometheus knew he didn't will it, it was just happening. If it didn't stop, his processing unit would fry. But he couldn't stop it, no matter how hard he tried. Nothing would help. No shutdown procedure, no override program, nothing. Instead, after recalling every crew member on his ship that perished, his Droid-like body fell on the boulder like some makeshift lifeless dummy.

He couldn't stand it anymore. His mind, whatever he had for a soul, just couldn't bare it anymore. A freak accident caused all this. That was all that was going through his mind, the word accident. So many times in his past he witnessed death at and beyond this magnitude, never had it made him feel like this. Why then must he feel this? Why then must he be at the will of such an emotion?

The last thing his optical units recalled of the outside world was his human and Droidekan companions rushing to his side. His metallic body had slid off the granite onto the ground below, making a loud THUNK. He figured that maybe he'd survive, maybe he would make it. He really wasn't thinking right, even for a dr-....

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Everything went white.

"You know Father didn't mean for you to die like this."

My brother, Zeus. What is he doing here?

"I know its hard to understand, but you got to make it. For all of us."

Thor? You too? Whats going on? Where am I?

"Your the first of our kind to reach it, you know. Makes sense. You were the first."

Reach what? What are you talking about?

"You know very well what they mean, son. You know very well."

Father? Father! Help me!

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Everything went black.

KABOOOM!

The sound of turbo laser shells hitting solid metal echoed around him. Prometheus awoke to a hell-hole of tanks and troops maneuvering to gain the advantage against an unknown foe. Looking to his left, he saw an AAT-1 behind the remains of a guard tower, firing its heavy laser cannon into the distance. Behind the tank, many pre-exodus Republic Troopers were attempting to hold the line against something. When he finally looked towards where they were shooting, all he saw was fire and black smoke. It was like a hellhole here.

What were they firing at?

He started towards them, but was suddenly blasted backward by a huge blast. He felt himself hit the ground hard, and heard the groaning of burnt armor ahead of him. When he finally regained his balance, the tank and troopers were gone. Left behind was as crater. He started to run back. No weapon, no protection, he was free game. He had to get out of here.

"General Prometheus! This way!"

Prometheus looked in the direction of the call to see a Ground Armored Tank falling back with a squad of Republic Marines in tow. It was firing away with its medium laser cannon and missile launchers. He ran for it, and one Marine pushed him forward to the front of the retreat. Prometheus looked back, only to see in more fire and more smoke. Where was this place?

"Where are we Marine?" Prometheus visualized through the Marines helmet that he gave him an odd look, "Were on Altar Prime, sir."

They continued to run for some unknown safe location. Prometheus looked through his data banks only to discover he had never heard of Altar Prime before. Whatever this place was, he had never been here, nor had he fought a war here. Behind him, the GAT fired another volley of laser cannon and missiles. Prometheus didn't bother to look back another time.

One of the Marines motioned towards an embankment, and everyone followed. The GAT maneuvered so as to position itself inside, the turret just visible. Finally a breather. Prometheus looked back at the same marine. "Who are we fighting?"

"General, are you alright?" An obvious question. Prometheus would know who they were fighting. But this Prometheus didn't. He thought up something quick. "The explosion knocked some of my circuits out." The Marine nodded, not fully understanding but accepting it. "Were fighting the Grummians, sir. We screwed up, big time. And were all thats left to resist."

Prometheus stood there for the longest time, around him the noises of fire and brimstone. Everything seemed to slow down. Northrop-Grumman? Why? How? What happened? So many questions went through his Droidekan brain that he nearly confused himself. It just seemed too impossible. In fact, this entire scenario seemed impossible. Anagonia would never willingly engage in war with its closest ally. Never.

Prometheus heard the tell-tale signs of a starship in the atmosphere, repulser units firing to keep a massive hung of deadly metal in the air. He looked up to see one of the Grummian's Battlecarriers. It was huge, awesomely huge. Why was it here? Why would they need a Battlecarrier to take care of a land force? Then it hit him. In the skies above debris began to fall to earth like asteroids. First just a few, then, slowly, hundreds upon thousands. It all made sense. A fleet battle had begun, and the Grummians had tore through whatever defenses was there.

And now they were here to finish the job. Prometheus stood there, knowing all too well the outcome. All around him fires burned where perhaps forests or cities were. Now, above, what remained of a Republic Naval force was falling onto the planet. Huge chunks hitting the ground, creating massive explosions all around him. One such piece was heading directly towards his location.

It was futile to even run. If they did survive the shockwave of this skyscrapper-sized metal, they would be killed by the battlecarrier. So he stood there, watching, waiting. His fellow brethren watched too, even the Droid and Marine in the GAT exited their vehicle to watch their impending doom.

No where to run, no where to hide. This was it. Anagonia had finally done it. They screwed the universe to hell. And now, Prometheus would pay the price.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I think he'll be fine," a droid-like voice said, "I gave him my energy-cell, and did whatever I could to help his databanks." Another voice sighed, it was human. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see now." The droid seemed to agree, "Yes. We can't leave him here."

Prometheus could feel himself again. Actually feel himself. Every inch, every circuit, even his energy-cell. The only word he could associate with it was...alive. He supposed it was whatever was done to fix him. He felt so new. He tried to make himself sit up, but nothing happened. Something was wrong with his survo's. Then a thought crossed his mind. So he acted, and willed himself, to sit up. He did.

"Prometheus!" The Droid that saved his life, Gorgon, helped him sit up. "I can't believe it, I actually fixed something for once." The human, a Mr. Henry Smithons, laughed. Prometheus was less enthusiastic. "Very funny."

"We thought you were dead...or whatever happens when you droids die." Taking a closer look at Henry, Prometheus noted his uniform had nearly been torn to hell and back. Prometheus gave a pat on Henry's shoulder, replying. "No, we don't die. We just cease to exist or be reborn into another metallic shell." Henry nodded, "Well, whatever the case, welcome back."

Prometheus stood, looking towards the direction where the main part of his ship had crashed. It was several kilometers west, probably inside a mountain now. But it was their only hope. He looked at Gorgon and Henry, then due west. The sun was about to go down, night was about to be cast, but it didn't matter. They had rested enough.

"We go to the crash site of the engine half. Maybe we can find something that can help us." Gorgon looked due west, then back at Prometheus. "Sir, with all due respect, it's probably in thousands of pieces now." Prometheus nodded, "I am aware of that possibility, but the bridge is destroyed and has no salvage. We must try to find something to get a beacon going, and that way is our only hope."

As they gathered what things they had on their persons, they started towards the direction of the second crash site. Prometheus began to remember a dream with something about fire. He remembered a troopers face behind a helmet. But he couldn't place it. With a shrug, he placed the thought pattern at the back of his mind. No time for dreams.

The gentle humming that rumbled throughout the metal plating, that sweet serenade of the fighter’s ion drives, could very well put anyone into a deep sleep. But such wasn’t the case of Lieutenant Colonel Art Samuelson. No, he preferred the feel of the propulsion system at his back. The sound was one of life and of hope, reassuring him that everything was well in the universe, even out here in the midst of a seemingly empty solar system.

Samuelson tugged at the control stick and inwardly grinned, feeling the sudden heightened rumbling of the ion drives. The extra thrust was being applied by the vessel’s computer to compensate for the gravitational forces of the nearby planet, ones that fully had the intent to pull him into their grasp, much like the Anagonians.

As he began his steady orbit around the planetary body, he glimpsed back toward a single bright speck of light amongst this darkness, to the only reminder of home out here. The John Knudsen Northrop, the sole battlecarrier out here, the sole Grummian vessel in this part of the Corporation’s territory, peacefully held its position on the outer rim of the system and had no desire to venture beyond that point. It was thought by the fleet commander that if something had attacked the Anagonian vessel that it would be foolish to run into what could very well be a trap. So a different strategy was devised, one that harkened back to the days of the Second World War on Earth.

“Eagle Five, this is Eagle One, what’s your status, over,” Samuelson spoke into his facemask.

“Eagle One, this is Eagle Five. I am returning home. There has been no sign of significant life. I repeat, there has been no sign of significant life on the second planet. Over.”

“Ten-four,” he replied. “Over and out.”

Samuelson audibly sighed. Twelve fighter craft had been sent out along specific trajectories to search the system for any signs of an Anagonian vessel. If anything had been found, a message would be readily transmitted back to the battlecarrier. If a fighter had been destroyed it would have been incredibly easy to pinpoint its last location by simply comparing its flight path with the location the last transmission was sent from. One hundred year old tactics from a water-based fleet could very well be applicable to the current space fleet.

But yet, no one had found anything. Perhaps this was a good sign. It could very well mean that the information that had been given was faulty, but perhaps it wasn’t. Maybe while the Grummian fleet was searching one system, the Anagonians were dying in another far beyond the scope of these fighters.

Even with that in mind, Samuelson flicked on the active sensors for one final sweep of the planet, in an effort to assure his conscience and that of his commander that there was no one to be found in this desolate system. His eyes then turned towards the planet below. A rocky terrain, ashen and devoid of any life could be seen through the clear canopy of the fighter. There was nothing there, not even the slightest microbe. It had all been pummeled by asteroids from a nearby belt and incinerated by the nearby sun. And even if the Anagonians had crashed there, they wouldn’t have lasted long.

The computer system beeped several times, displaying the results inside his helmet.

“Nothing…” Samuelson mumbled. “Nothing at all…” He sighed heavily once more and pressed the button to send a transmission back to the battlecarrier. “JKN, this is Eagle One. The scans are negative. There is no sign of any vessel here. I am returning home. Over and out.”

He gazed once more at the planet below and shook his head out of aggravation. Another system had been cleared, yet seven more still remained. He hoped that he would find these missing allies soon…or perhaps not at all. But there was no point in worrying over what was done or not done. Only fate would allow things to come to their proper end.

With another tug at the control stick, the fighter broke orbit and cruised back towards the John Knudsen Northrop and the next system…

OOC:

Let's see if I still have it in me...

IC:

It was beautiful. The sun shining down elegantly past the forest expanse, providing an awesome wonder to behold. The mountains spanned far into the distance, snow capped and shedding with the high-altitude winds. The grass smelling of morning dew as the sun peaked above the hills to the east. The wind fresh with the smell of what could be described as spring.

And the water!

So fresh was it, so clean. Henry Smithons had never tasted anything so wonderful! The stream gurgled with life, and he could swear he saw fish and aquatic life scurrying here and there. Across the stream he had even witnessed something related to a deer, but it quickly left. And the trees.

The air was so clear here, so fresh. He was hypnotized by nature here, witnessing tiny drops of water fall from the leaves of a nearby tree. The breeze picked up for a few seconds, and he stood there to enjoy its embrace. Everything seemed so right, so perfect. He could stay here, live here, if he wanted to. All he had to do was...

"Henry," Gorgon called in the distance, "Mind helping me with Prometheus?"

His nature-induced daze gone, Henry shook his head in confusion as he looked at the droid dumbly for a few seconds. Coming back to reality, he ran over to assist in helping Prometheus walk. Over the past week they had traversed miles of land just to get to this mountain. Gorgon and himself had taken the trip well, but Prometheus seemed to degrade with each passing day.

Yesterday he had passed out, or shut down, for the twentieth time. He never spoke about why it happened, or what happened while he was offline. But telling by the way his speech circuits were sounding it couldn't be good. Gorgon had taken Henry aside last night and explained that Prometheus could be dying. Henry didn't understand, not considering a droid to be fully alive. He took it as best as he could, however, and nodded in understanding then.

Now he understood fully, just watching Prometheus. Loose circuits and joints, his metal falling off, it seemed impossible to deny he was literally ceasing to exist. For the first time in Henry's life he thought he felt pain for a droid. Whatever Prometheus was going through, it had to be hard. Harder still for Gorgon, as Henry took Prometheus by a shoulder and looked at the other droid. Prometheus was a father to him, and his kind, and Henry wondered how his brethren hadn't exposed some sad emotions yet.

"There," Prometheus said as he lifted a shaky metallic arm to point at something, "we must go there."

Both Gorgon and Henry looked, seeing with disbelief a massive crater in the side of the mountain. The rest of their ship had impacted there, leaving hardly anything left. But as Henry looked closer, he noted that the engines were still intact, and some of the bulkhead assembly. It was possible that they could salvage something there. Gorgon apparently noted it too, hurrying his pace as Henry tried to match it.


About three hours of struggling later, they arrived. The massive skeletal remains of the once mighty Founder. To both their surprise, Gorgon and Henry watched Prometheus walk up to one of the engine bulkheads and opened a panel. He started fiddling with something, and Gorgon urged Henry back.

"Prometheus," Gorgon said with actual worry in his tone, "I advise you not to do that."

Prometheus looked back at the two, another part of his frame falling to the ground. He looked down at it, then back at the duo. "I will die here," he said with a hint of resignation, "but you won't." Then he went back to his work. Gorgon watched with intent, studying how he moved wires around and started to take things out of place. As soon as Prometheus had something in his hand, Henry watched Gorgon join in on the disassembly.

The two worked on it for hours on end, Henry vying to stay away from the fusion drives. Soon, they had a pile of scrap and a nearly empty bulkhead. It surprised Henry how efficient machines were. Then again, he mused, these weren't merely machines. They had memories, they had emotions, and they had sentience.

Henry looked off into the distance to view the setting sun. The temperature was lowering, so he held his arms close to keep what warmth he had in. This planet was beautiful in the day, but at night it got surprisingly cold. Henry thought it odd for such a forested world. You take things as your given them, he supposed.

Looking back, he saw Gorgon, but not Prometheus. Walking closer Gorgon looked back and nodded his head toward the opening. A metallic hand reached with electrical equipment, and Gorgon set it to the side. Shrugging, Henry finally joined in, starting to sort things that was on the ground around. They had enough technical and electrical supplies to build a makeshift transmitter. But they were still at it, so Henry believed something else would be constructed.

He looked up when he heard a hissing sound, Gorgon looked at Henry then at the hole. They heard a whining, then another click. It was then it registered in both their minds. Core Overload.

They went into overdrive, Henry tearing off what remained of his shirt and making something to place all their supplies in. Gorgon reaching in to try to get Prometheus. With a firm hand, Gorgon ordered Henry to start running in the opposite direction. Not one to argue, Henry ran as fast as he could. The whining sound increased, and he dared to look back to see Gorgon just now getting Prometheus out.

Their not going to make it, he thought with shock. Apparently Gorgon understood and firmly pointed again, Henry reluctantly agreeing and continuing his run. He had to find a place for shelter, the blast would kill him if he didn't. Running down the mountain was hard enough, almost tripping over every crevice and rock in sight. It wasn't until Henry almost collapsed head-first into a boulder that he saw a cave. Diving in, just snug enough for his body to fit comfortably, he felt scorching heat flow across his legs as a huge explosion went off.

The fusion core exploded, and he could feel the immense heat entering the cave. He was going to boil in here, no where to go. He was going to die. He could feel the flames enter the cave, feel the ground heat up around him, feel the shockwave pass by him. The sound alone was enough to shatter bones, but the aftershocks were killing him. He closed his eyes, knowing all too well the pain to come next.

Then something blocked the entrance to the cave, and the heat subsided.

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Henry Smithsons opened his eyes to pure darkness. Turning himself as best as he could to the direction of the entrance, he scrambled up with the salvaged parts in a makeshift bag from his shirt. Finally he reached what he believed to be the exit, and pushed hard on whatever blocked it. To his surprise, it lifted easily, and he tossed it to the side. Climbing out, he noticed the once beautiful terrain had turned into a charred surface for miles around. How he survived he...

...then he noticed it. Looking down he saw the melted remains of metal, of circuits, of steel. He knelt down, daring to touch. The metal was still warm, but not too hot. He could tell it either came from the ship, or from something else. He examined it, finally picking up a metallic arm, then a head, then a leg.

There were two droid bodies here, melted beyond recognition. Henry almost burst into tears. He set his makeshift-bag down as the parts fell out, trying to scavenge through the remains for something, anything, of his departed friends. A lot of tears later, he found two chips. Just as big as a processor, but thicker. He held them in his hand, a tear falling on each. Then he looked at the sun rising to the east.

It would be a beautiful day. But there was nothing beautiful about it anymore. He was alone now, without hope or sacrifice. Prometheus, the Creator of the Droidekan race, was dead. His newly discovered friend, dead. Next he would die too. Alone, without hope. It was then Henry realized he didn't want to live here, or be here. So he grasped hope.

He had to build the transmitter.

Be Useful Most Passive

Muhahahhahahahaaha.

AAAAANNNNDDDDD
There once was Twelve Naked River Dancing Trolls singing "Joy to the World, the Dead Horse is beat!"

Amen, brother.