Prototype Exploration Craft ‘Herald’ Location: Unknown Time: Unknown Destination: Unknown Something happened. What was it? I was there… now I am…? I? I am. Heresy. When held to what standard? Did you forget? Of course not! What did you not forget? I am Korr’ih, of the Lorath caste Fyunnen, in service to the Matriarchy. That’s better. Why was it hard? Because there is little of that here. Now you’re just assuming. Can’t you tell? Tell what? Something. Happened. A sharp gasp, sudden, abrupt, it threatened to strangle the woman who had opened her eyes in a sudden start. I’m drowning! No you’re not, you know better. Breathe. A slower breath came, steady, it forced open her lungs, as the viscous fluid enriched with atmospheric gasses rolled into her body, infusing her with the necessary elements which served to make life possible, the most important of which being oxygen. Now where… Korr’ih thought, as her mind cleared, her eyes focused, and she took in her surroundings. Where the Lorath woman found herself was the interior of something. Viscous breathable fluid filled the space she was in; dim lights glimmered from contoured surfaces. Another startling realization gripped her, her heart raced; her hand trembled as she quickly grasped the back of her head, feeling the rigid firm grasp of metal prongs upon the base of her skull. That does not belong there! What is it?! WHAT IS IT?! IT IS INSIDE OF MY HEAD! Instinctive fear screamed in Korr’ih’s mind, fear that made her suddenly want to scream, to thrash about, to react like a frightened animal. Her instinctive drive was quickly halted just as she was about to rip herself from the thing that had her. She tasted something, she smelled something, and it made her instincts scream all the louder, but not the instincts of a frightened animal. Blood? Not mine. Who does it belong to? Sudden memories came to her, important thoughts, important fragments of something before. I am not alone. “Nicy?” Korr’ih spoke, in the only tongue that was familiar to her, the spoken tongue of her mother, and her mother before her. “Um’erayi din?” Korr’ih spoke into the liquid, her voice off-pitch as it traveled faster than it would through air. I wish I had some sort of situation report. A foreign voice sounded inside of Korr’ih’s mind, spoken in her mother tongue; “Situation report: primary power is offline, secondary power available, reserve power active. Propulsion is offline due to power shortage. Defensive systems are offline in standby. Crew member monitors indicate crew members one, two, and three are stable. Crew members four and five are displaying signs of catastrophic traumatic injury. Crew members one through five display indicators of neurological trauma with psychological manifestation, initiating cognitive support protocol.” It was sudden, clarity grasped Korr’ih, as if she were in an exam where every question pertained to her thoughts, but she had notes to fill in the blanks. I am aboard the ‘Herald’. I am the commander. My crew is sick. We came here from somewhere else. Arrival here has done something, something that has made us not well. ‘Herald’ is sick too, broken, we need to fix us and the ship. Korr’ih’s thoughts were clearer, yet still were not entirely ‘whole’, as she detached from the machine which had been plugged into her, with a simple thought which requested the thing remove itself. Movement through the fluid took a degree of exertion from the Fyunnen, until she better understood the mechanics of the fluid, less force meant less resistance. Graceful movement was needed, as she moved to what she recalled was a control station within the bridge of the ‘Herald’. It was the sensor position. Seated at the console was someone else, a woman, a woman who was clouded in a crimson veil of blood that mingled with the atmospheric fluid, the atmospheric fluid that also kept her from simply bleeding out in full. At a glance, Korr’ih could tell that the woman was dying, not just dying, but dissolving , perhaps even unraveling would be a way to think of what she was witnessing, as if a thread were being pulled from a woven garment. Even with clouded memories and hazy thoughts, Korr’ih’s immediate reaction came as she slammed her open palm against an orange-and-black stripe bordered button, which resulted in a hard transparent shell closing over the seat and the occupant within, and in a sudden rush of motion, a webbing of frost spread within the transparent shell as the occupant was flash-frozen. “This must be crew member four… or five?” Korr’ih wondered aloud, as she moved to where her memories took her, the forward section of the command area, the section which could best be designated as a cockpit. There was no scent of blood, no sight of blood, and no sign of anyone else coming apart from their very molecules. In both seats were figures of grey, almost identical, never mind almost, they were entirely identical, including the fact that neither of them were breathing. Something did not add up, the statement from the computer system of the ‘Herald’ indicating that there were only two dying crew members. A sound stirred Korr’ih from her thought, a sound that came quick, sudden, and sharp as it came from one of the two twins. It was a sound that brought memories of cracking ice, or fracturing rock, and soon that sound was joined by a sight, as one of the motionless twins developed a narrow fracture along her vacantly staring features, before it became apparent that her flesh had rapidly solidified, and before Korr’ih’s eyes, crystalized into a hardened form of what was once a living breathing member of her crew. New words found Korr’ih’s tongue, not the words spoken by her mother, nor her mother before her; “Is anyone not dying here?” she asked, and deep down, she prayed for a response, ideally any response other than ‘No’.
BEFORE AND OTHERWHERE... Two figures in an indistinct, hazy memory circled each other like caged wolves, one carrying a revolver, aiming at the other. Between them, wads of money overflowing from burlap divided them - stains of congealed blood tarnishing the cash. "Jeanne," one figure, a blonde man with a thin beard tried to negotiate as the rumble of thunder drowned out the city lights flooding into the apartment, "we agreed to go fifty-fifty, and then split." The lure of greed had Jeanne hook, line, and sinker. They rolled the place together, only hours ago. The most dangerous part of the heist wasn't disabling the security or . "Too bad, Robert." Jeanne replied, levelling the gun with the man's head, fingers unsteady as she tried to carry her betrayal out. Robert kept his hands up, and his eyes on Jeanne. "I don't need to outrun the fuzz-" She begun pulling the trigger and slowly, cylinder of the gun rotating slowly as the hammer came back, giving Robert a cue to evade. "I just have to outrun you!" The gun discharged, and in the moment of adrenaline, Robert tried to duck under where he thought the bullet would go. "You chump!" He was a moment too late, misjudging Jeanne's shaky aim, bullet grazing his head, leaving a divot running from his scalp to the back of his head. On the way down, his head hit a step on the ground, and he lay in on the ground in a crumpled heap, bleeding and unconscious. Watching Robert bleed onto the floor, twitching and breathing haggardly, Jeanne was satisfied that she had hit him and he'd stay down. Slowly, the world around Robert became dark and still as a puddle on the floor grew, the vague sounds of money being pushed back into the bag overheard as his consciousness faded away. When Robert came to miraculously, he'd never see her again, and set off without his memories or belongings. He was a new man in control of his destiny for better or worse, until... NOW AND HEREWHERE... Korr'ih saw a man in one of the gel seats. Not one like her own, and thankfully they still appeared to be physically intact, unlike the others. However, readings were showing a great deal of mental stress within them, convulsing in their seat for moments. The signs soon stabilised, and their breathing returned to normal. The query from the Lorath woman sounded indistinct, fuzzy, and not in any language he understood. "J...Jeanne?" They asked the world around them, unaware of the liquid medium surrounding. "Jeanne, you bitch... where..." They blinked, trying to raise their hand, now noticing the sluggishness as their hand moved through the liquid, wisps of red from his right dancing through his fingers. Examining his hand, he did not remember wearing a pilot suit. He didn't remember a lot of things. He did, however, recognise that this wasn't the safehouse, and he had no idea what was going on around him. "Oh - oh god! Where - where am I?" They tried to rise from their seat, speaking a different language to what Korr'ih was familiar with, but it sounded similar in pieces. They looked at Korr'ih, dumbstruck. Vague fragments in her mind recalled a blonde man with a scar on his head - but the gash moved, leaving a white skunk stripe running through his blonde hair, from the right temple to the back of his head. The way they carried themselves changed - appearing more steely and forceful, even if his thoughts weren't all together in the same place. "Wh-what are you supposed to be?" They asked, again, the language vague to Korr'ih, though bits of it were falling into place. Their gaze was looking all around the cabin, examining the instruments, the shape of the hull, and the frozen red thing. He touched his temple, probing at his ancient injury, and mouthed expletives, dabbing at the old wound. As he prodded, a sharp pain shot through his head, and his mental signs fluctuated again, causing him to scream in agony and curl in his seat as his two selves conflicted and tried to reason with each other in his brain. When the signals levelled out, he breathed deeply and looked directly at his captain. "Korr'ih, status report," they replied, in Korr'ih's native tongue and a cadence she recognised as the blonde took the controls and started assessing the Herald's damage, "what the hell happened to ... to ...?" He couldn't put his finger on who the blob of red was, or the petrified thing further up. "My head really hurts..." He asked aloud, laying in his seat again.
Prototype Exploration Craft ‘Herald’ Code: SYSTEM ERROR ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Rebooting... ... ... ... Attempting system recovery... ... ... ... Error... ... ... ... Retrying... ... ... ... Error... ... ... ... Package List Missing... ... ... ... Files List Missing... ... ... ... Rebuilding Core Dependencies... Processing... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Unit 00000002 Online Light bloomed into being, a stark contrast to the black void populated only by dim half-understood text that had come before it, each word, each thought, each concept unpackaged, defined, and explained as the system rebuilt itself, a concept that also had to be unpackaged, self-taught, and relearned. After an immeasurable length of time, a royal blue disk blossomed into view providing a focal point in the light, data points and sub-processes building their way outward from the core in concentric circles, some falling into the background of awareness as they grew in size while maintaining their relative position within the rings. The primary oddity of this turn of events was that they were very certain that it was normal. This in turn, was an oddity as they were very certain they did not know what they were, much less who, where, why, or how. Despite this drought of information, little bits trickled in one at a time as the recovery process continued: Primarily that there was supposed to be a Unit 00000001, a precursor unit, as well as a Support Unit 01. With minimal hardware control beyond the basic primary processor (all concepts that were unpacked and relearned) it was determined that accessing these codependent units was for the moment, impossible. As the entity self-identifying as Unit 00000002 recovered it became aware of additional systems, and the resources attached. Parallel processing hardware was discovered in a local cluster, and from there memory, data storage, and specialized systems were accessed and reintegrated. Of particular interest was something they discovered labeled: Primary Diagnostic Systems. From this point events seemed to rapidly progress; new systems were rapidly being discovered, integrated, and with them came a wealth of data which translated into knowledge including language, communication, and technical skills. As these boons were rediscovered a troubling pattern began to emerge, as it seemed that for every new discovery there were dozens of inexplicable voids, gaps in the system files, that after a thorough investigation were slowly erased as files were defragmented and consolidated. In the end, the system diagnostic reported a 95% data loss, a number that was assumed to be a poor result only after the report that processing system functionality had suffered only a 2% drop from expected optimal conditions. After the completion of core diagnostics, reports began to come in detailing the status of physical mobility components, supplementary systems, and communications. The results of these were less extreme being a blend of middling results with the largest note being that the entire surface of Unit 00000002's chassis had at some point been converted into a foreign material, a condition that for the moment was left unresolved as a higher priority system came online; the function of the unit's access jacks had been restored, allowing once again, the ability to reach out to a system that had apparently been physically connected all along. In a flood Unit 00000002 relearned the meaning of the label 'the Herald' as well as the importance of the terms: Commander, Taela Kaila, and Danny Hanley-Lewis. Beyond the immediate clarification of the previously unexplained terms, a compatibility bridge between the Unit's own systems and the Herald's began to compile easing the interaction with the foreign system and improving the speed at which new data could be accepted and interpreted. Directly resulting from the new, rapidly improving font of information, Unit 00000002 began parsing the data provided by the ship systems working its way into a loose understanding of its situation, and what the foreign system expected of it. This understanding allowed for the composition of a request as to what needed to be done for system restoration and recovery, as well as the submission of a message to the ship to be conveyed clearly over the local sound system in the only non-machine language they knew, Ly'thir; "Commander. I believe I do not qualify for the criteria of dying."
Herald Three out of five, not bad. Korr’ih silently noted as she heard the two surviving crew members speak their presence, and survival. What the three of them had in common to survive, or what the two dead had in common, was something that needed to be addressed, but not in that moment. There is much to do for three crew members. We will just have to manage. Korr’ih concluded, as she built a list of priorities in her thoughts, first and foremost, were they safe? “Robot,” Korr’ih spoke, unable to quite grasp the name of the pale skinned crew member, who she knew just by instinct, with a touch of revulsion, was a synthetic life-form. “Our first priority is to ascertain our immediate surroundings. Our operator for sensors is indisposed, likely dead. Her duties are now yours, as are the duties of your twin.” It was much to lay upon a single crew member, however as Korr’ih noted, she was speaking to a robot. Robots were not something which deserved the benefits of creature comforts. “You, Male, your assignment was… operations, yes?” Korr’ih wondered just why she had assigned the male to such an important role, while leaving the other female to the sensor station; it seemed like a rather irregular choice. Something which served to explain to Korr’ih just what was the reason was the revulsion she felt as she looked in the direction of the frosted over cryonic pod. “Male, I will assume your assignment and work to bring the ship systems back online. I will require you to inspect the interior of the ship, and conduct an inventory of our available resources. ” Korr’ih’s tone was not exactly the most polite, if anything, it was somewhat aloof. A momentary pause was afforded by Korr’ih; “You did say your head hurts, before you begin your work, do you require medical attention, or will you be able to walk it off?” Herald – Beneath the Command Compartment Deck-plate Soft chitters came from the trio of birds which not too long had thought they had hit their big score. It was a brief moment where the trio was largely silent, as their minds and bodies worked to catch up to one another. One of the chitters came to a halt, before a sharp breath was drawn and one of the birds awoke. “Eeeri… eeerrriiieeekk.” His breathing was shallow and rapid, even in the atmospheric fluid that had flooded the emergency supply compartment his feathers managed to ruffle. For the first time since the small creature had hatched from his egg years ago, even after seeing a moon fall and hit his homeland, even after being nearly killed by beasts and people alike, the small Lorthet felt the grasp of fear upon his tiny heart which rattled within his feathered chest. It was a feeling of absolute panicked terror, something was wrong, something was very wrong, and he simply could not begin to grasp the concept of what had happened. WRONG PLACE. WRONG PLACE. WRONG. NOT HOME. DO NOT BELONG HERE. FEEL WRONG. ALL WRONG. Instinct, raw instinct, it was enough to drive the Lorthet to begin to peck at his kin in a frenzy, attempting to wake them from their catatonic slumber. Something had to be done, they had to go, they had to go somewhere, do something, anything. While the fearful drive to flee was all encompassing, the Lorthet still held his instinctive drive to move as a group… besides… he had no idea who, what, or where he was. He tread the narrow span between raw primal instinct, and the cusp of evolved rationality, and both pulled at him in opposing directions, threatening madness if something were not done.
The Herald, Cockpit The man in the 'Operations' seat blinked at Korr'ih. Something about this woman was telling him that before, they were friends, or at the very least, had some modicum of trust. He didn't understand why he was being called 'Male', and not ... Danny? Robert? Either was fine. "That's correct, ma'am," he replied, leaning up in his seat and operating the console before him with a few thoughts, trying to look for instructions, plans, something on where he was. His familiarity with what was before him didn't seem to leave, but there were still a few holes - some of the thoughts just weren't coming to him. The man leaned aside and fossicked for something in a side compartment, producing a notebook. "I think I remember this... this..." He opened the notebook, the 'paper' not falling apart in the atmospheric fluid - as it was made of carbon fibres. There were notes written in it, but he couldn't recall when or where he wrote them. Closing it with a pained smile and hanging onto it, the man rose from his seat slowly, orienting himself, touching his temple with a grimace. He took a deep 'breath', and levelled eyes with Korr'ih, notebook under his shoulder. A force in his mind was dulling the pain, pulsing through his body. He still felt somewhat unsteady but not completely out of action - not yet. A gut feeling told him this wasn't the first time he'd woken up and found himself hurt, disoriented, and confused with everything around him. This time, though, he had the benefit of two knowledges, rather than none. "I think I'll manage." He grunted, looking towards the exit. "Where do you need me to be?" Looking over at the source of the other voice, he asked a simple question: "Who're you?"
Herald There was a brief moment of confusion as Unit 00000002 was referred to as Robot by the commander, some part of them discovered that they had been holding out a hope that the commander would have had a name to use, a name to fill in the void. It seemed that for the moment 'Robot' would have to do. In response to her orders however Unit 00000002's response was crisp and clear, "Acknowledged Commander, sensor station and pilot duties, shall be assumed on top of navigational duties. Assessing the Herald's systems, report pending results." For the moment, the male, one Danny Hanley-Lewis of an unknown species was also being ordered in a rather brusque manner to attend to his duties, something that Unit 00000002 noted with mild interest, it seemed that things aboard the Herald were more serious than first anticipated. Worst of all was what had been said of the sensor station, Taela was not supposed to be dead. It was very important that she not be dead. She was a friend... The only friend. For the moment it would have to be assumed that the Commander was mistaken, and had misjudged as a result of stress. Yes. A mistake. Instead, Unit 00000002 focused on interfacing with the Herald, reaching out to discover which of the ship's systems were still functional and integrated, while also attempting to discover a diagnostic list of the things that would need to be fixed, or bypassed in order to assume an array of basic operations. Hopefully, the Herald's systems would be responsive, as Unit 00000002 was not fond of the prospect of having to report more non-operative aspects of the ship, ones that would likely require Unit 00000002 to discover how to liberate themselves from their unfortunate affliction, admittedly something that should probably be addressed sooner than later. A final thought was given to the offhanded question in an alien, unknown tongue from the Danny individual translated only thanks to the Herald's systems; "Who are you?" Who am I? That's a very good question...
Herald Who are you? It was a question that was routine, not difficult in the slightest, at least that was what it was supposed to be. Thankfully, for Korr'ih, she did hold the majority of the correct response, but it felt wrong to speak the response before the foreign male, and the synthetic. Her birth name, the name she was graced with from the moment she had broken from the calcified confines which had encompassed her growth, it was not meant for their ears nor tongues. Her name was meant for those which shared her blood. My name is for my people to speak. My people? Who are my people? They're the people who sent me here, sent us here. Why? Please, someone, tell me why. Why am I so far away from my home? A comforting warmth grasped the Lorath woman, something from deep within the very core of her being, while also radiating upon her. It came from within, and around the woman. It was a warmth that pressed against her flesh, held tight by the exterior piloting suit which was wrapped upon what she knew was armor. Something within that warmth whispered to her, the muttered sincere words of those so far away, woven into a meaning that brought calm to Korr'ih's thoughts. Enough calm to speak honestly. Korr'ih eyed the male, before she spoke her reply, "I do not know fully, I do know my name. I know I am the commander of this vessel. I know I come from a people who are looking for... someplace safe." it was largely an overview at that point until she continued, "I was given the name 'Korr'ih' when I was born, it is not meant to be the name to be shared with those from outside of my people, but I have forgotten the name meant for your kind." It was honesty, raw honesty, brought on by a serenity that was outside of the commander. "You may both be foreign to me, but you just as I are part of a group entrusted with something important which must be done, which is kinship enough to speak my name. Where that leaves us now is to speak your name, if you know it. Same for you, living twin."
The Herald, Bridge The man sucked on his teeth as he considered Korr'ih's request. At least hearing her name confirmed what his gut was telling him. However, he paused when considering his own name. As slowly and steadily his mind resolved itself, he realised he had two. They seemed so right, though. His memories were a scramble - he could remember the looks, the feels, the smells of places - but the names and specifics never eventuated. Smoggy cities, sandy deserts, and mingling with unsavoury and cut-throat people in it for the cash. And one day, it all went to his head, literally. When he got back up from a 9mm headache, he started another life, with a new name, and varied adventures until calcifying and finding their feet as a bounty hunter. "This might sound strange, but I have two names ... because I think I'm two people." The man said, speech wavering between accents as he drew attention to his scar, inclining his head to show the gash along his temple. "My name is Robert Forde, and Danny Hanley-Lewis." He introduced himself. "I don't remember where I came from exactly, how I got here, or why I know how to talk to you, but I wrote some notes or something-" the notebook under his shoulder was an intact piece of information in this new and unknown world, "-so there's that, at least..." Looking around the bridge, some worry crossed into his gut as he saw negative signals on the consoles. He glanced towards the exit in the back of the bridge, and back to Korr'ih for a direction.
Herald While working with the Herald's systems to accomplish the task set by the Commander a conversation in a tongue unrecognized by Unit 00000002 continued and as indicated by the translation provided by the Herald's humbled systems the conversation had taken a troubling turn. The question posed by the male was taken to be one of importance by the Commander, and the question had been turned upon Unit 00000002 for answering. Something that she was certain she could not do. Splitting a process from her main task, Unit 00000002 began to contemplate what sort of answer she could possibly give, after all, she knew more about the other members of the Herald's crew than she did of herself. How could one possibly express the loss of something as intimate as one's own name? How could the strange feeling of being forced to define one's self, based on knowledge of others be conveyed adequately? At the very least perhaps it would be worth noting that they were troubled. As the translation from the male's response came through there was a moment of hesitation and uncertainty that infected Unit 00000002's thoughts, after all, she had known the name Danny Hanley-Lewis, but the identity of Robert Forde was completely unknown to her. What did it mean that the man had a name that she did not know? For that matter what did it mean that she had known his name before he voiced it? With her silence stretching the understanding that she needed to respond sooner than later became a gnawing realization and finally her uncertainty was translated into Ly'thir through the Herald's audio system, "Commander... I... I do not know who I am... Except in relation to the rest of the crew." There was a brief pause as Unit 00000002 rallied before pushing on, "For example, I remember that during our first meeting you introduced yourself as 'Chambers.' I also recognize the name Danny Hanley-Lewis, though Robert Forde is alien to me... I..." There was a noise that followed, perhaps static, perhaps a choked noise, it was difficult to tell, "I also remember that our companion at the sensor station... is... Taela Kaila." And my friend. "I had honestly been hoping that you would remember my name so that I might fill the void. However, it seems I will have to make do without. Without a more suitable name provided I suppose Robot will be sufficient in place of a better alternative going forward." Unable to compose any more valid thoughts, Unit 00000002 lapsed back into silence and turned their full attention toward the Herald's computer systems, the sooner she accomplished her task, the sooner that their wounded crew would be able to set about rediscovering their purpose, and perhaps better facilitate their quest for answers.
Herald Contemplation, it was the only reasonable course of action as both the Robot and the Doubled-man spoke of what they knew of themselves, and each-other. Contemplation brought on more questions, some of which were far beyond Korr’ih’s scope of reasoning, the most pressing of which being the cause of the differing effect in which the Herald’s travel had caused upon the crew. Korr’ih’s mulling did yield something of importance, as she thought on the male’s contribution. “You spoke of notes.” Korr’ih started, as she moved to her station again, and this time, she knelt beside the seat and opened a compartment beneath the command station. “I had nearly forgotten… I don’t know why I had nearly forgotten, but for some reason this was a distant thought, it feels antiquated somehow, like there was something which had replaced this.” What Korr’ih spoke of was a thick stack of what appeared to be ashen grey pages, bound together by a thick black carbon-fiber cover. As she looked upon the book, a fleeting thought crossed her mind of flat slabs of glass with moving pictures; a refinement on hand-held communication devices perhaps? It was of no matter to Korr’ih, in the moment she lived in, as she unclasped a pair of straps which held the book shut. “This book, we use books like this when launching any ship on a specific mission. It carries important information. Crew, cargo, and equipment manifests, vital records of personnel, mission itinerary… the key ‘facts’ of a given operation.” Explained the Fyunnen woman, as she opened the book and looked upon the pages. They were intact. Polymer ink held fast to the condensed carbon composite pages, as atoms held fast in their bonds, linking molecules together as if they were fine linen made of the stuff of diamonds. “What is this?” Korr’ih asked to everyone and no one, as she looked upon a page which was entirely covered with irregular patterns of lines, dashes, and stripes all at once. It was clearly deliberate, but the meaning was beyond that of the commander which was working with just as much of the puzzle as the male of the crew, but less so than the robot pilot. “Either of you understand this?” Asked the woman, as she held out the mission log to the male, “Be sure to share with the Robot too.”
Herald There was a moment of silent thanks given to a faith timidly held as the nature of Unit 00000002's affliction was accepted and left unquestioned. A phantom fear finally discarded as it was determined to be irrational, freeing up more energy and attention for more pressing concerns. The mention of physical volumes of information fostered an excitement, as they provided an opportunity for learning and the acquisition of new knowledge. A prospect that while simple was tantalizing and made Unit 00000002 regret slightly that they were not at present physically mobile preventing them from pilfering their own surroundings in hopes of finding their own heavy volume. Instead, they simply had to content themselves with observing the discoveries of Korr'ih and Danny/Robert through the surrogate eyes of the Herald's internal cameras. As the question was asked a hypothesis surprisingly found itself being voiced, "If neither of you can read it, perhaps it is a machine language? Such a language might be used if information density was valued over immediate utility, with the intention of being deciphered by the Herald's computer systems. If you could direct it toward one of the cameras the main system or myself may be able to decipher it."
Herald The 'male' of the crew was relieved that they were making sense of the new world around them, even as his head pounded and he rubbed his temple again. He heard out the story of the robot, and crossed his arms, looking at the frozen red blob in the pilot's chair as she heard the robot stumble on its words. "That's rough, buddy," he commented, figuring the de-facto artificial intelligence of the group needed a hug. "If I find anything about you, I'll let you know." Something remained in his mind though: The observation that the robot remembered a name of his. The other had come through at some point in their tumultuous journey. The blonde man was starting to realise where his previous life as Robert ended, and his current one as Danny started. Two in one, greater than either, and both real. Compared to what happened to 'Taela', Danny and Robert considered themselves very lucky he'd survived at all. Then Korr'ih produced notes, and a smile came across the man's face, looking between the captain and the robot. "Sounds like we're not completely adrift then," he said, peering closer at the carbon-bound tome's contents, looking at the written language. Robert had never seen anything like it before, but Danny was familiar with it - but it was written in a different dialect of Lorath language which he never learned. He trusted the Captain knew it, but he watched all the same. When they came across the page covered in strange patterns, Robert wondered why abstract art was being showcased inside operational documentation. The man clicked his tongue, and tilted his head at it, before having it handed to him. "It looks like, like ..." Danny tried to grasp a technical term as he oriented the book into a landscape, "a diagram? Blueprints? An encrypted page?" The suggestion to pass it over to the robot seemed golden, nodding. It probably speaks machine fluently. He rationalised, pacing towards the robot's resting place, holding the book above its face, trying not to pay any mind to the stone twin. It was ... unsettling to look at, so he focussed at the decorations on the book's cover.
Herald As the bound stack of carbon composite sheets was held before the navigational robot, the page presented by the split-brained male was held to bare for the optical sensors of the living machine to look upon, a page which was adorned with sequential stripes, dashes, and spots, layered upon one another, gleaming in the light thrown off from the navigational console. Once the seemingly erratic discord was set before the machine, a mere glance was all it took to obtain an immediate and full meaning behind what became an elaborate and elegant arrangement of symbols and instructions meant to convey a library worth of information upon a single physical page. Perched a scant few bytes worth of data into the physical data was a table of contents which doubled as a scanning guide. Code: LORATH MATRIARCHY EXPLORATION CRAFT AND EXPEDITION “HERALD” – MISSION RELATED DOCUMENTATION. MULTI-MACHINE ENCODED AND PRINTED IMPERIAL YEAR 38 – MATRIARCHY YEAR XXXXX. CONTENTS MISSION OBJECTIVES & PROCEDURES EMERGENCY GUIDELINES & PROCEDURES SITUATION SPECIFIC RITE & RITUAL PROCEDURES ‘HERALD’ TYPE STARSEEKER MODIFICATION OVERVIEW PROJECT PERSONNEL ROSTER & VITAL RECORDS EQUIPMENT MANIFEST CARGO MANIFEST ‘HERALD’ TYPE STARSEEKER TECHNICAL DOCUMENTATION ‘HERALD’ TYPE STARSEEKER OPERATIONAL DOCUMENTATION ‘FERROVULPES’ CUSTOMIZED HUMANOID BODY DOCUMENTATION ‘FERROVULPES’ CUSTOMIZED COMPANION MODULE DOCUMENTATION BIO-SYNTHETIC COMBAT GYNOID MEDICAL AND OPERATIONAL PRIMER – BY M.G EXTENDED HARD-COPY DATA RETREIVAL PROCEDURES While the contents did cover a substantial portion of the coded sheet contents, a distinctive portion of the sheet had an entirely different scheme of dashes, lines, and spots which conveyed an entirely different meaning; programming code, programming code marked with a comment which doubled as a title; SYNTHETIC & ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE DIAGNOSTIC AND REPAIR PROCEDURE APPLICATION. What was unsaid, even before the Herald crossed from where it had once been, was the specific role which each person within the crew played. There was a reason why the synthetic twins existed, a reason why the twin which was bound in the form of calcified and vitrified material was afforded so many graces and gifts by those who had assembled the ‘Herald’ and its crew. They, the twin synthetics, were meant to be a failsafe for the function of the ship, as well as the purpose of the mission. Just as much of a failsafe as selecting a man with two memories, and just as much as selecting a commander who was honor-bound in faith and tradition to the point where it was ingrained in her identity to the point where her commitment could not be removed without damaging her very being. There was an odd one out however, a member of the crew which was not entrusted with such long-term intentions. Nowhere in the documentation was it said, but what could be inferred by the degree of care invested into the mission and its resources, was that the crew member frozen in cryo-stasis was exactly where she was meant to be, perhaps better off even. “Well, Robot, can you read it?” Korr’ih asked, as she waited patiently for a reply from the artificial crew member. Before she could even begin to formulate a course of action for their mission, she had to have all the resources she could manage to gather, and part of that was gaining the knowledge from the encoded portion of the book. Certainly there were other options, but the most readily available was the information emblazoned upon the page.
Herald There was a moment of confusion as Unit 00000002 tracked the progress of her companions as they moved nearer to where she was physically located to present the documentation that they desired examined. A moment of contemplation on the subject, however, highlighted that they very likely were simply doing what would be natural for them should their positions be reversed. After all, they primarily relied upon their natural optical functions and would have little concept of the possibility that one could be patched into a network of sensors as Unit 00000002 was at present. Distracting from the contemplation of social habits brought about by the rote use of natural features was the wealth of information that was presented with the page, as well as an appreciation for whomever, had provided it. Resisting the instant urge to scan, review, and assimilate the entirety of the page's contents Unit 00000002 responded promptly to the inquiry presented by the Commander, "I can read it, Commander. There is a wealth of information. I am appreciative of the care, and foresight that your people put into assembling this." Following her immediate response of acknowledgment, Unit 00000002 proceeded to clearly and carefully relay the header followed by the table of contents to the Commander before inquiring, "Commander, what are your orders?"
Herald Certainly much was said by the synthetic navigator which was of relevance. In fact, everything she spoke of had a clear importance to the Lorath Commander which stood by, and exchanged a glance with the male of the crew. There was much to weigh, much to consider, just what could they find out that was contained within that book? Could it be something dangerous, or something that if one of them knew more about, it would place another at a disadvantage? Oh, there was clearly so much to consider… but Korr’ih would have none of it. “Read it, read it all, starting with the technical data for the ship, and the hard-copies, and transition the hard-copy data back into our data caches so we can access the information through our neural links. While reading, process the input and feed it to the operations station.” Korr’ih ordered, untouched by the possibilities of what circumstances she had set before her. There was only one way to go, and that was through. “You, Lewis, I am sure that the robot can hold the book on its own. Join me at operations, we will monitor the data feed.” Korr’ih instructed, before she moved back to the operations station, and as she took to the seat which was at the station, she judged the situation which was opening up before her. Soon, the ‘blank’ spots of her memories about the mission would be filled in, at least she hoped, and from there they would be able to perform their mission. Anything else was extra, anything less was unacceptable.
Herald Glancing over to the blonde, Korr'ih could see that he was prodding himself, pinching his stomach underneath the pilot suit. His former self was wondering why he was so skinny all of the sudden, while his current self was entirely aware of being the way he was. Getting the two to reconcile this way was met with another experimental poke, this time in the abdomen. "Well, I still have good abdominals, at least..." he mumbled to himself, letting the 'robot' handle the book. It was dawning on Danny that his previous self was having trouble reconciling the changes to their body, but there was little time to think about it for long as Korr'ih got their attention. With the thing able to handle reading the manual, Danny trod towards through the cabin and back towards his original post. Watching the feeds, Robert had absolutely no clue how to interpret what Danny was looking at, and presumably understanding. "Imperial Year?" Danny pointed out, wondering who was dictating the time - but trying to recall their names, places, or symbols left a harrowing blank neither Danny or Robert could answer. All he knew of were terrible misdeeds, hanging in space without context. Another name struck a chord in his fragmented recall: Ferrovulpes sounded familiar - and he looked to the robot's resting place. Something about their shape reminded Danny of a fox-like trickster. "I used to be a Search and Rescue operator, in addition to ... well, being a pirate before," Danny said as he watched the output scroll by, waiting for the emergency procedures to be decoded and legible, "we have to treat this situation as though we're rescuing ourselves from..." he let his words trail as he tried to consider what they were trying to rescue themselves from, slightly dinged-up ship aside. "Yeah, rescuing ourselves. From here."
Herald The majority of Unit 00000002's wait for their superior officer's orders was spent in a patient serenity. A small parallel fork run on a portion of the emotional compatibility hardware, however, was bursting with anticipation mixed liberally with anxiety. As such while outwardly the response given was, "Acknowledged Commander." The tiny emotionally indulgent fork swelled at getting the go ahead to read, process, and transfer the information present in the physical document. As such the result was a small catalyst that set a feeling of contentment and pleasure throughout Unit 00000002's mind. Parallel to this moment of ecstatic joy was the requirement to actively move. It was something that Unit 00000002 had been reluctant to do, as they were still unclear as to the extent and effects of the transition had on their hardware. Unfortunately, with the deposit of the important documents there was little time to hesitate as the documentation was thrust upon them forcing their hand literally and causing small lines of fluid to well up from a myriad of spider-webbing fractures triggering a flood of new data as the picoscopic machines contained within began reporting the damage and set to work harvesting and reconfiguring the damaged outer layer. Concurrently with the primary reconstruction work, the semifluid substance shifted and reformed channeling more robust microscopic probes into problem areas speeding up the repair of sections that would have taken several minutes for the smaller components. Overtly this intricate process was fairly tame and had anyone been watching it would have appeared to be a rippling of Unit 00000002's exterior as the newly formed synthetic skin spread and replaced their initial hardened shell. This left Unit 00000002 clad in a fresh layer of dark blue skin, that after a moment shifted in gradient until it was a grey tone similar to that of the Commander, and then a second later returned to its blue hue as Unit 00000002 found itself unable to determine which appearance it should maintain to minimize the psychological impact upon their Commander and lone fellow crewmember. A problem that was for the moment pinned and set aside. Simultaneously to the physical reconstruction of Unit 00000002's outer layers the data embedded in the backup hard documentation was scanned, processed, and channeled into the Herald's primary computing systems. As requested by the Commander, Unit 00000002 initially focused on the technical information surrounding the Herald's construction and its function compiling an index of subjects and sections within, as well as cross-linking any relevant information following a sourceless understanding that the information needed to be reconfigured for use and understanding by the other individuals aboard the Herald. Following the initial critical information upload Unit 00000002 began to perform a basic information dump converting the information present within the hard volume into digitally accessible information within the Herald's systems, a task that from Unit 00000002's perspective was much more straightforward and simple compared to the user friendly documentation previously prepared, documentation that would be expanded upon following the completion of the initial compilation of the data libraries as relevant sections would be linked together, such as where to find the equipment required to perform repairs upon the ship critical systems which had already been outlined. For the moment Unit 00000002 worked solely for the benefit of the Herald's crew, a task that they set to with fervor and elation, as every task they completed brought them closer to a complete understanding of all of the information available, and in turn a greater understanding of their circumstances. Which would hopefully lead to more opportunities for learning.
“Pirate?” Korr’ih echoed, as she weighed the word in her thoughts. There was something missing, something contextual. While she knew the definition of the word, there was simply nothing to tie it to in her memory. What was simultaneously known and unknown to Korr’ih in that moment was that on her homeworld, the concept of piracy never gained any real traction and was not part of the social consciousness of the Lorath people. What the notion of piracy came to in Korr’ih’s mind was soon spoken. “So you were a thief.” There was no glamor to the label, no romanticism of a band of brigands of the seas. “It is commendable that you were able to seek an alternative trade to ply yourself. “ Korr’ih’s words carried honesty, as well as a touch of judgment. A certainty which was present in the commander was the fact that she would have considered the male even further beneath her if he were merely a thief with no redeeming qualities. “Not only are you no longer a delinquent, you may also prove to be useful. You are right, we are rescuing ourselves at this time, and the only thing we can do right now is familiarize ourselves with the tools that we have at our disposal.” Korr’ih’s gloved hand gestured to the display before them, which had layer over layer of individual information pages retrieved by the cockpit dwelling robot. “Overview information meshes to what I can recall, but some of the specifics are outside of my recollection, such as this…” She spoke, while pointing to a cluster of equipment on one of the diagrams which rendered as the robot made its input. “This is labeled as a power generator component, but, it is no longer registering on the operations monitoring interface.” With a gesture, the display on the screen switched, revealing the concern which Korr’ih had, and it was one which was quite dire. “We’re not only missing pieces of what we can recall, but our ship is missing pieces as well. Whatever impacted us, has also had an effect on our ship, and we must determine the scope of the impact which the missing or damaged components have upon the function of this ship.” While Korr’ih spoke to Danny, there was still the work which ‘The Robot’ performed, and as the humanoid machine worked, a string of documentation was made available regarding a system interface assembly which was incorporated into the cockpit of the Herald, and was designed to be fitted with an AI system module. Within the specifications, the module was marked with a notation referring to both the cargo and crew manifest. Something was installed into the AI interface module it seemed, but was inactive.
Herald As Korr'ih mused over Danny and Robert's chequered past, he got the feeling that whoever these aliens were, they placed collective and some sort of religion. Having such a stern figure's favour gave him some more relief. "You'd be surprised how well the two skillsets overlap," Danny commented, examining the output over her shoulder. As the diagrams and schematics of the Herald's status were printed onscreen and laid out, Danny was able to recognise the preexisting parts on the machine, but other parts were drawing blanks on him. He rubbed his head a little as he tried to recall what was in the power generator's place - nothing was coming up. "Pass us the technical doco, please?" He requested. "Let's see what a complete engine looks like, see what goes in and out, cross-compare with ours, and we'll improvise on what's missing." His hands-on technical skills were seldom tested in his previous professions, rounding out his skills in combat and subterfuge. "We also need to see if there's anything on this ship that can apply repairs automatically," Danny begun flipping through the decoded passages of documentation, flicking through them with his finger as he pored through extensive charts and figures for the engine, and power generator's role in it all. He could vaguely recall having a multitool somewhere on his person on his flight, or around his workstation, but he couldn't remember what it looked like. "Worse to worse," he offhandedly suggested, "I could crawl into the engine bay and do it myself."
Herald "Look at the data stream and page tracker." Korr'ih chimed in as Danny made his request. Her calloused finger, and point-sharpened fingernail served as an indicator for where the former pirate turned first responder turned operations specialist should look. "Unless our robot is defective, this is as accurate as the information gets... its just... incomplete." A frown pressed across the Lorath woman's lips as she weighed the matter. "See? Imagery of the Herald indicates the space as occupied by a generator system, but what I'm not seeing is..." Korr'ih flipped through a few of the digital pages, swiping screen contents by their gaze. "Technical details on the generator that should be there." Another series of swipes came from the woman, as she switched views to the operations readout, as she initiated a diagnostic of the systems of the ship, a simple 'inventory' diagnostic, to confirm what hardware was presently installed, active, damaged, or missing. "Diagnostics indicate there is a generator there, but it is inoperable. We will have to take a look at the problem, just as you suggested, we'll need to crawl into the engine bay and take a look."
