"Make certain that the framework is secondary to my personality," you command, moving to stand at ease now as you allowed your ever growing confidence to dictate your body language, to allow little things that could only come naturally to shine through.
It was a means of observing yourself, a means of discovering details about yourself that would otherwise not have been revealed. This was the stance of a soldier, this told you that you had military training, that this training had left its mark upon you. This training, that no doubt tempered your efficiency and taught you to appreciate the horrors of war, of battle, of bloodshed.
You knew deep down that the idea of killing in more than self defence made you uncomfortable, that you were prepared to do so, though you would question the necessity of such a course of action. It was what made you stronger than others, it was what made you better than others.
At least that was what you assumed.
It may have been a case that you were the most heartless, blood thirsty bitch in the universe, that you were deployed only when the situation was so dire that it required extermination of the opposition. You doubted it however, you felt that while you had been jaded by an extended life, that the core of your being was that of a good person, a person who stuck to their morals, a person who had carried out these duties for so long to make a difference.
If that wasn't the case, you would tell yourself that it was, over and over, until it was.
You would make a better person of yourself.
For the time being you were free, you were without the rules and regulations that normally restricted you. You were able to explore what it was to be a person once more. Even if you would eventually return to the Imperial Peace Corps, be retired and rebuilt, your experiences would be sychronised with your prior neural backups.
You would grow as a person.
You barely contained your excitement at this concept, sparking a sense of curiosity over the issue, over if you were excited to have a chance to live, a chance to change, or if it was both of these things. A chance to be free, to redefine yourself, to be your own person.
You could establish new confidence, you could act with calm and collected thought, you could come out of this stronger, as professional as ever, yet more level headed. You could overcome the negative traits you had noticed, you could learn to appreciate and value your existance instead of taking it for granted.
You could become anything you wanted.
A beeping chime rang out from the Elder, snapping you back to attention as the mask that hovered before you began to speak once more. "The framework is complete. Uploading will commence when you are ready."
You merely nod, consenting to what you know will be as unpleasent an experience while conscious as being probed and repaired from within was. The hiss of the Elders tools above you had you tense as you subconsciously tilted your head forward, one hand moving to the back of your neck, to move hair you no longer possessed away from your upper spinal port.
Hair.
You could feel hair.
It was only as long as the tip of your finger, but it was regrowing quickly. This was enough to make you smile, despite the unpleasent sensation of that cool metal tendril plugging into the port, despite the pressure of it securing itself in that socket. You could feel the tendril unfurl, connecting with internal parts of your cybnertics, filling your mind with a static buzz as data was uploaded directly, bypassing your conscious mind as that framework was added to your subconscious.
The static buzz seemed to explode in a crescendo of sound as colours swam before your eyes, as you felt yourself briefly growing light headed before you reached back, reluctantly taking hold of that tendril to steady yourself.
Your smile never faded.
You felt hope, not just about your increasing likelyhood of completing what you percieved to be your mission, but over your chances of coming out of it a better person. In losing your memories, you had gained a sense of self, a sense of identity, new ideals to work towards and you had no intention of giving it up again.
"Upload complete," came the elders voice as the metal tendril slid from the port it was interfaced in, as the pressure you felt in the base of your neck eased, as cool metal slid free of the hand holding it. The moment that those words echoed out you stumbled over to the nearest wall, turning to face the Elder as you braced yourself against it. You had time to let what had been uploaded assert its presence, yet you had no time to waste.
"I require further information. If I am to carry out what I percieve to be my mission, I will need to ensure that order is once more established, that the problems faced here are resolved. To that extent, I shall require a map of the area with the facilities marked upon it, replacement attire and supplies. I will also require a tactical assessment from you, as to what you percieve to be the highest priorities."
"Understood. Processing your requests," the Elder stated as the mask that had been your sole company since entering this bunker faded from view, as a topographical map of the area appeared in its place. A map that zoomed out, a map that bore markers for each of the facilities, a map that was centered on your current location.
A map you quickly did your best to commit to memory.
"Keep the map up, number the facilities in order of priority for recovery," you state, watching as the map was dotted with little red numbers, the surface relays being first, followed by primary command, fabrication and cloning and finally, habitation and holding. "What is the justification for these choices?"
"Surface communication will permit access to orbital communication if it is still functional, along with allowing the first attempts for the facilities to interface. If all facilities remain dark, primary command contains supplies and weaponry. Primary command contains the means to launch a fresh satellite network, thus providing communication with the outside world should the current network be inoperable."
You nod slightly, waiting to hear the continued judgement of the Elder.
"Fabrication and cloning would be the next priority from there, as establishing control of it would permit you to clone guards, soldiers if need be, fabricate any equipment that you require using the factories. Habitation and holding would be the final priority. You may potentially require soldiers to establish order there once more, as it houses many thousands of criminals and prisoners of war."
"That brings me to another point. The man that brought me here, the two that stand guard concealed from sight, they are not of the Empire. Explain the situation with them to me, please."
"They are slaves rescued from from one of the neighbouring factions. They have been partially rehabilitated, granted basic cybernetics and are considered valuable members of staff. Due to their cultural differences and understanding of certain situations, their methods of handling certain disputes have been more efficient than our cloned staff."
"Basic cybernetics," you sigh, shaking your head as you do so. "That means that they have been outfitted with means to bend light, then. The facilities went dark, they sought refuge down here with you, and you have been sending them out blind, in an attempt to figure what's happening."
"That is correct."
"That's cold."
"No other course of action was deemed viable. Risking valuable assets such-"
"Assets!?" you snap, pushing away from the wall as you do so. "They, regardless of who or what they may be, are living, breathing people. Calculated risk does not begin to... to..." you falter, realising that arguing with this thing is pointless, that it will merely state in as many ways as it takes, that it was merely working with what was at hand.
They're not the enemy.
They're victims.
"I require supplies, a means of communication, a filtration unit," you snap, tersely as you turn toward the wall furthest from the Elder. "And for you to open this door, this instant."
The door opened with a clunk and a hiss as what you realised were seldom used hydraulics kicked in, hydraulics used typically for overrides, to allow the Elder to lock the facility down where required. Screeching metal filled your ears as the rusty hinges protested, light flooding in, light that felt almost blinding after the dim light of the Elder's display had been all that you had experienced.
As you strode from the room, the man who had brought from you shrank from you, appearing timid in the face of your indignant anger. You were appalled and you were impatient, you wanted to get this entire situation handled as quickly as possible, to make your voice heard to those that you answered to about your disgust at how the AI had managed these people as no more than another resource.
You had heard, though you were uncertain now what the Elders judgement was over what was most important.
What was your first priority once you had your supplies?
Would you leave these people in safety here, or take them with you?
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Topic: Descent (Read 7459 times)