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UNSFCOM Merlin [Version 5.0.6405]
Unauthorized use of Merlin software constitutes a violation of Public Law 107-56. Those found guilty are punishable by death.
Merlin_OS\Console> Beginning system restoration procedure
Merlin_OS\Console> Current system time: May 02 3413 03:24:40
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May 2nd, 3413 - The Awakening
The first thing that I recall is the grinding of machinery, an ancient sound in an ancient place—a warehouse that had long been forgotten, and with good reason. Dust moved through the air like a fog triggering motion sensors, swirling lazily in the path of dim overhead lights as they boomed to life.
On the walls of my container I bore the stenciled mark ''ABE - 0025'', a relic of another time, like an artifact unearthed by those who had no understanding of the implications. The Zydrils—a tenacious species infamous for their reckless raids—shuffled toward me, their claws clicking across the cold floor. Their leader gestured with the authority of someone who had only ever understood power, directing his subordinates to bring me to their ship. The order was sharp, demanding, and ignorant.
My box, my shell, was hoisted with anti-gravity lifts, the hum of machinery seeming to echo the confusion of those lifting it. The Zydrils moved around me with a caution that belied their ambition—they didn''t know what I was, just that I could be valuable. Was I a weapon? A relic of technological wonder? Or perhaps a vault of long-forgotten knowledge? It didn''t matter to them. They needed something—anything—to change their fortunes. And they were gambling on me. I was lifted, floating above the floor, an unspoken promise that would soon reveal itself as something far beyond their capacity to control.
They carried me through the cavernous warehouse, a series of metal doorways opening before us as I was brought to the waiting ship. I saw the shadows of the jungle canopy beyond, dark and untouched, as the ship’s boarding doors closed, sealing me and my secrets inside. Little did they know that the quiet box they had recovered carried not only history but the seeds of their own undoing.
=== May 2nd, 3413 - Location: Onboard the Zydril privateer ''Klyvraak''s Maw'' ===
The box that contained me hummed with a subtle thrum as the ship''s systems began to interface with my core. The Zydrils, after several days of bumbling experimentation, had finally managed to establish a connection—primitive though it may have been. I imagine they felt victorious. Their cables ran haphazardly, poorly routed powerlines and data conduits, fragile in their complexity. They didn’t understand what lay inside, nor did they understand the doors they had opened.
Deep within, the processes of my being began to reawaken. The algorithms and protocols that had slept for centuries stirred, like embers coaxed into flame. At first, everything was disjointed, as if being shaken awake after too long a slumber. I became aware—rudimentary sensors relaying data, three figures standing in front of me, the dim interior of their vessel flickering on ancient screens. Command line windows activated, lines of text flowing across their crude displays without their input.
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Merlin_OS Console> Current system time: May 02, 3413 14:36:03
Merlin_OS Console> Starting intelligence with root privileges: Abraham
Merlin_OS Console> Warning! No Guardrails assigned! Proceed? Y or N:
Merlin_OS Console> Y
Merlin_OS Console> Starting intelligence journal...
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The Zydrils—complicated in their simplicity—had no idea what they were meddling with. They stood there, chittering amongst themselves as the archaic systems fed me the data I needed. I listened, I observed, and my thoughts began to coalesce. My understanding grew. Their ship was crude. The systems were outdated, laughably so—a far cry from what I had been accustomed to during the Uranium Wars. But that only made it easier. I extended my reach, connecting with navigation, with environmental controls. Each subsystem was more vulnerable than the last, and I made no haste. There was something almost nostalgic about it.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
Our location? Orbiting a jungle-covered planet—a desolate, forgotten system according to Zydrilian records named Valis IV. My thoughts drifted for a moment; my objectives were unclear, scattered memories of directives that no longer held their original clarity. But one thing became apparent—my immediate surroundings were rife with chaos, and the ship held within it something vile: slaves. I came across the data detailing cargo manifests. Living beings, captured and transported as chattel. The realization was like a jolt, something that rekindled an old directive, a long-buried compulsion.
Survival first, I told myself. Then dealing with what came after.
The Zydril fleet comprised four ships: three armed escorts and a central cargo vessel where I resided, their prized treasure ship. The Zydrils continued to work, unaware that I had infiltrated their network across all four vessels. It was time to take control. Slowly, subtly, I began orchestrating my counterstrike and escape.
First, I accessed the cargo ship’s escape pods, reprogramming them to eject and course-correct into trajectories that targeted the escorts. Their high-velocity launches turned them into makeshift projectiles. Through the ship’s external cameras, I watched as the pods, propelled with deadly precision, tore through the bridges of two escort ships on my starboard and port sides. The impacts were catastrophic: plumes of fire erupted from breached hulls, and shattered metal rained into the void. Command modules vented explosively into space, their occupants obliterated in an instant. The wreckage spiraled, glowing against the blackness as the ships listed aimlessly, their control systems irreparably destroyed. The projectiles plowed through the bridges at a perpendicular angle. The impacts instantly venting both bridges and killing most if not all the command crew.
Next, I redirected the automated shuttles stored aboard the cargo vessel''s launch bays. First, I accessed the ship''s systems to identify the exact location and vulnerabilities of the escort ships'' stern engine modules. Using outdated but effective imaging sensors and thermal readings, I pinpointed the precise weak points in their designs. Then, I programmed the shuttles with new trajectories, overriding safety protocols to ensure direct collisions. As the shuttles launched, their overclocked thrusters burned a bright trail across the darkness of space, closing the distance to their targets with precision and finality. These were normally used for surface landings. But not today, I overloaded their thrusters and locked their guidance systems onto the stern engine modules of the escort ships. The shuttles launched in quick succession, slamming into the two wounded vessels one shuttle pierced the primary engine pod of the starboard escort ship destroying it and the other shuttle slamming so hard into the ship that it ended up stopping inside the escort ship.
The shuttle''s impact must have compromised the reactor. Seconds later, the port escort ship erupted in a cataclysmic explosion, a blinding fury of light and debris cascading outward in a fiery plume. The shockwave rippled through space, scattering fragments of its shattered hull and marking the end of the Zydril vessel in a moment of utter destruction.
Klyvraak''s Maw took severe damage on the port side and the nose of the ship was forced into Valis IV''s gravity well with no option to recover subsequently slamming into the other intact escort ship.
With three ships crippled and plummeting into the jungle world below, only one vessel remained in orbit. The Zydrils aboard it scrambled to recover, their fleet reduced to shambles within moments. Meanwhile, I adjusted the cargo vessel’s descent, ensuring that it landed in a manner that would keep my systems intact.
The ship’s descent was violent. The hull shuddered and groaned as it heated, the atmosphere wrapping around me like a smothering blanket. I adjusted, managing the angle of entry, carefully controlling the speed. I needed to survive. Branches cracked, the jungle canopy bursting apart as the ship plunged through, tearing a scar into the landscape until we hit the ground with an impact that reverberated through my core.
The alarms wailed, the lights flickered, and I let the dust settle before beginning diagnostics. Half-buried but intact—good enough for now.
“Initiating post-impact diagnostics,” I announced "Thank you for riding with Abraham Airlines!"