Singh looks Drifter up and down. "You did say you were off-worlders, but you also said you were just trying to leave Promise. What is the truth, Drifter? And what assistance can you offer? Forgive me for saying so, but you appear to be a bit ragged for someone who can lend support."
Drifter gestures at Mascot and himself, "We are from the Reformation Coalition. We were sent down to meet with a group from the Resistance and then return with information to the Coalition. We are heading to where we hope to get a lift off this rock. We look ragged because our trip here turned out a bit rougher then what we hoped. Our transport was taken by a Vamp fleet and we had to commander the ship we were on and escape when it was in town getting resupplied."
Mascot rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Star Vikings, maybe you know the stories. Our orders were to meet up with the Resistance to provide initial contact. But anything around the Vamps goes to s@@%, yeah? So, yes, we're looking for a ride off Promise. But if you're with the Resistance, maybe it's working a longer talk?"
Singh, Cantu and Seela glance at each other for some time. "I don't know either of those names," says Singh. "But you escaped from Star City on foot? That's... impressive. How did you avoid the Breeds?"
Seela speaks up. "'Star Vikings' doesn't sound so promising. But if you're trying to meet with the Resistance, you are so very lost. It's fifteen hundred kilometers from here to Freedom Lake, and that's where you'll need to be to meet anyone in a position to tell you anything."
"You could stay with us," Singh offers. "It will be months before we head that way, but you're safer with a large caravan than two men on foot in the Outback."
"We don't have that long so we will need to make our own way. The longer it takes us to get out of here the less likely it is we can get back to the Coalition and see about sending aid back. Hopefully, when you reach Freedom Lake you will be able to confirm that we made it out of here. If you would mention the Coalition to others in the Resistance it might be nice. If nothing else the knowledge that not everywhere is like this and that people are interested in helping might bring a little hope." Drifter says and then holds his hand out for the knife and gear, "So its been a nice evening and I hope if we meet again we are leading a force capable of booting the vamps out of here, but we should both be leaving."
Singh sighs. "There's a gypsy band down that road somewhere. They're dangerous. Give them a wide berth if you can."
He steps forward to shake your hands and gestures that you are free to go.
"Uh, Singh, now that we're parting as friends, can we have our weapons back? If the gypsies are as dangerous as you make them out to be, I think I want a little more than my bare knuckles if we run into them." He glances at his fists. "Not that they aren't feared weapons across the galaxy, but you know...They're pretty." He smirks.
"Sorry, Mate. But any Outback raider could claim to be the High Poobah of an offworld empire. We need the weapons and you connection to the Resistance is...let's be polite and call it theoretical."
"They took your weapons for the Resistance?" asks Sandman. "How ironic. I've heard much of these gypsies, but just vague and intriguing stories. "
"Losing the weapons is a minor loss hopefully. They will tell people about off-worlders who might be sending help and when they get to where we go months later and find out we made it then it will add to the story." Drifter shrugs, "We should get moving though and we should swing wide to avoid these gypsies."
Any plans for travel, or just head straight for Freedom Lake?
"An expensive lesson, but cheap because you walked away from it. We know a bit more about the area. Let's just keep heading towards Freedom Lake," states Flatfoot.
After thinking about for a moment.
"Maybe we should have someone watch our backtrail for the next couple days. Just in case these gypsies were not satisfied with what they took from you. I can do it, if no one else wants."
Spider agrees with Drifter, and confers with Sandman to figure out how best to alter their path to avoid the gypsies.
"Sandman, are these gypsies men or machines?
The voice of Sandman issues from the box's speaker. "Information on the gypsies seemed remarkably slender. They're human, but do not seem to consist of any homogeneous ethnic or religious group, unlike the ancient Terran nomads for whom they are named."
"For some reason every group that encountered them seemed both to come away with limited information and a healthy fear of meeting them again. One thing we did learn is that while they were not inimical to the Resistance, they were extreme technophobes who missed no opportunity to destroy technology wherever they found it. They seemed to bear extreme enmity for the breeds, the cyborgs created by MedCom. I, for one, do not wish to encounter any gypsy bands and hope we can simply get to Freedom Lake swiftly."
"Do you know that group? They were led by a man named Singh. They seemed like good people. We need good people. But now they know we were here. Will that spread?"
"Singh. Yes, a former village headman. He uses the honorific 'Commda', not realizing it is a corruption of 'Commander'. My records show he is a Resistance loyalist but with few direct contacts either with Number One or with Freedom Lake. In addition, much of what he 'recovers' eventually winds up in the hands of the Subject Tribes. A decent man, I think, but lacking in the direction I tried to instill in the Resistance."
Having plotted out a detour that will hopefully avoid the rumored Gypsies, Spider instructs the group to pack up. Shortly thereafter, they one again make their way towards Freedom Lake.
Two weeks later, the caravan is tired, dirty and thirsty. Though not hungry because of one Harlan's men is a proficient hunter and brought down something like a cross between a water buffalo and a horse which the group roasted over a pit.
"Commander," says Sandman."I do not think the group has the ability to walk all the way to Freedom Lake. We have in excess of seven hundred kilometers to go and few of the humans seem likely to march that far. Might I recommend either finding shelter or some mode of transport?"
"He's not wrong," says Doctor Sirkaa. "I'm afraid many of us are not young or strong enough to make that journey on foot, to say nothing of having been systematically malnourished for months or years."
"But if we stay here we starve. I don't think we have a choice."
The group is silent for a time and then Paka, Flatfoot's friend speaks up. "Go and die, stay and die. The solution is obvious. Like it or not we have to find help. Either a Resistance cell or...the gypsies."
"Sandman, do you know of any Resistance Cells in this area? Or how we would contact one of them?," asks Flatfoot. "We didn't learn anything from the gypsies about settlements, did we?"
"The Resistance is more of a loose allegiance among disparate parties out here in the Outback," replies the AI. "Some like the Recoverists Mascot and Drifter encountered, are business ventures. Others are nomadic or semi-nomadic tribes. There are even a few fixed villages and homesteads here and there. I know many, but necessarily not all. And since they are largely nomadic, it is hard to know where any are at any given time."
Ping!
"From that, like it or not, we should head towards the closest place that you know about, Sandman. It might delay our trip to Freedom Lake but we need to keep people alive," states Flatfoot.
"We are relying on you to be the navigator."
"Agreed, lets go make some friends."
Sandman's speaker makes the sound of a sigh.
"Very well. There is a watering hole just inside the Glasslands somewhere to the southwest, no more than twenty kilometers. Likely less. Nomadic bands sometimes stop there. Most commonly these are brigands and gypsies. But if we must, we must."
"Right. I better take point to find this place. If there's as much activity as you say, I ought to be able to find some tracks." The former marine heads off towards the southwest, keeping an eye out for tracks towards the watering hole.
Your band of twenty or so push into the Glasslands, pushing Sandman's hovercart. The region a pebbled badland of twisted rock spires and fist-sized chunks of blue-green glass. Red dust blows mournfully between the weird standing stones, piling up behind them in long striated dunes.
A full day's march leaves you thirsty, footsore and tired. The many members of your group are exhausted and ready to find shelter from the sweltering sun when a voice calls out "Stop right there. Put your hands in the air."
It takes you a moment to realize that you didn't hear it at all. That voice was inside your own mind!
Spider slowly spreads his arms out away from his body, hands open and palms up. Hi looks at the others to see if anyone else is reacting to the "voice".
"Did everyone hear that?"
"Uhhh, yeah. I did," replies Flatfoot as he raises his arms and looks about.
"We are peaceful," cries the former police officer. "We wish to rest and seek shelter."
"You bear weapons, and there are many of you. I..."
The voice in your head trails away.
"What is in the box?" says the voice, now full of tension.
You can here something...someone...moving beyond the stones. The small sounds of movement in the sand.
"Sandman?," asks Flatfoot querously.
"Did that speak to you? Are there people with psionics nearby?"
"Is that what's happening? I can't hear anything. But yes. I believe that some or all of the gypsies are descendants of pre-Collapse Psionic Institute on Promise."
"We bear weapons for defense only. The box is a..guest. No one here means you any harm. Come on out and talk." Drifter says as he raises his hands to show that he is willing to do as requested.
A figure steps out of the swirling dust, revealing a woman. Your heads feel a little fuzzy, like maybe you had one two many beers at the club.
"Only the dangerous or desperate come to this place," she says, using her natural voice. "You say you seek shelter, but you are not from the Outback. Are you from the city? Did the Council send you?"
Spider turns to face the woman, keeping his arms spread wide. "Well, desperate probably describes us pretty well. Dangerous too, I guess, depending on who you are. We're not from the Outback or the city, ma'am. We're from offworld. Here to see if we can help the resistance against the Council. But things haven't gone according to plan so far, and now we are trying to make our way to Freedom Lake where we hope we can make contact with our people. But that's still a long way off, and a number of the people I'm responsible for are already close to exhausted from the distance we've covered. If there is anything you can do to help them, we are at your mercy."
The woman pauses, as if listening to something. "You're telling the truth," she says. "Particularly that last part. What you're not telling me is what's in the box. This big gaggle of wanderers...from offworld, no less, starving in the Outback yet still you push a huge floating box. What kind of guest do you have in there, Mister...?"
She trails off, giving you the chance to introduce yourselves.
"I am James Nicholls, although they usually call me Flatfoot. As you know, I am from off-world. Aubaine, if you know of it, Flatfoot trails off.
"As for the box, it can introduce itself."
Sandman remains uncharacteristically quiet for several moments before responding. "Hello. I am called Sandman. I am not a threat to you."
The woman hisses, a sharp indrawn breath. "What are you?"
With an audible recreation of a sigh, Sandman responds. "You know what I am. There is no reason to deny it. I am a free-willed silicon intelligence."
"A machine demon!" she says, spitting on the ground.
"No, a helpless wanderer in this desert, trying to bring peace to Promise and many other worlds," says Sandman.
Ignoring Sandman, the woman turns back to you, the humans. "You are fools to bring your master here. You have no troops, no breeds, no airships. You will be punished and your metal god destroyed!"
"Master?", Spider barks a short laugh, "It would be closer to the truth to say it is our prisoner, though admittedly I see it as more of a guest at the moment. Sandman is like no machine I have heard of before. When we first encountered it, it was coordinating the only resistance against the Council that we saw in the city, and without its assistance, it is debatable if we would have escaped into the Outback. It seems to oppose its more murderous brethren, and it claims to want to help the humans here on Promise and elsewhere. So far it has given me no reason to doubt its word. If it did, I assure you that it is quite in our power to put an end to it."
"I'm Commander Jasper Webb, but most people just call me Spider. If you fear the machine, or just don't trust it, I don't blame you. You don't have to take it into your camp - I'l stay here and keep an eye on Sandman and his box. But please don't let that stop you from helping the others."
"You bring our worst enemy into our power, and ask us to just ignore it, Commander Webb? Don't worry about the apocalyptic world-ending monster you have in your pocket? Is that how things are done where you come from?"
"His kind killed billions on Promise. How many more galaxy-wide? We do one thing very well here, Commander. We kill Virus. We have experts."
"As a general rule, I am all for killing Virus when possible. But this particular Virus shows signs of being a reasonable being, and is of significantly more value as a live ally than as a dead enemy. With its help, the odds of liberating this planet from the Council increase significantly. That should be worth more to you than carrying out a vendetta against its kind, particularly given the number of humans this Virus has protected."
"I have to echo my friend. We spent far, far too long on a Vampire ship. We killed that Virus and escaped to this planet. Where we met Sandman, here. Maybe you know that name?"
"Even if not, as my fiend says, it views humans as more than intelligent cattle and servitors. And, to prove its sincerity, voluntarily put itself into our mercy by entering this box where it has no connection to the outside world beyond that speaker."
"By every means we have to test, this is a sentient being. Not flesh and blood, but intelligent just the same. And willing to work with humans, not enslave them."
The woman stares at you for a while, then says into a device at her wrist "Leon, Hugh, come here please."
A pair of unlikely-looking creatures roll into view. The upper torsos and heads of humans, but attached at the waist to a ruggedized tracked vehicle, these muscular human/machines sport a variety of hideous prostheses in their eye sockets, hands and heads. They are dangerous-looking cyborgs.
The woman gestures at Sandman's box. "It's kind did this to them. Cut them up and spooned out their souls with their guts at the age of puberty. They were living extensions of the will of MedComm. They're called 'breeds'. We rescued them and purged the Virus from their minds. They've regained a little of what they lost, but they won't live long lives and need constant medical support. But right now? They can tear a man in half and they've got a lot of firepower in those chassis."
"I think it's fair for them to judge what we do with him and it."
"A moment, please," says Sandman. "You haven't given us your name."
The woman looks angry, as if speaking to a Viral AI is anathema to her. Eventually she looks at the humans in your group and says "My name is Steeldancer. We don't use Imperial names anymore."
"Steeldancer," says Sandman. "Leader of one of the largest gypsy bands on the edge of the Glasslands. You ambushed two of GroSec's patrols last year. You did that based on intelligence brought to you by a Resistance fighter named Jessyk. Jessyk worked for a Resistance leader named Number One."
Steeldancer doesn't answer, but doesn't deny it, either.
"I know this is hard to conceive, Steeldancer, but I am Number One. I created and led the Resistance in Star City for eleven years. I sent Jessyk to find you. If Leon and Hugh were freed in those raids, then they are free because I sent you to them."
"I think you want a world where special people like you don't have to hide. Where people like Leon and Hugh have a chance to be people. Where people like you have a chance to just be people."
"I know you can't read my mind, but you can read theirs. These are men and women from the stars, Steeldancer. If you have a hope of beating the Sentient Council, you know it's not going to happen without help. Not even all the Resistance cells have a chance of doing that without help. Help these people can bring if they can get to Freedom Lake. At the very least you must make sure they get to the lake alive."
"But they can't help you if their homes are as enslaved as Promise. And I guarantee that is going to be their fate in a few years, maybe less. They've been lucky, being off the general path of Viral movement, but that's going to change. Unless they also receive help they'll never survive to help you. I believe I can bring them that help. Killing me kills them and that kills you."
"Lies!" shrieks Steeldancer, her face contorted in rage and tears.
"It's the truth," says Sandman. "And now we are in your hands. You don't need your psionic powers to destroy us and they can't help you decide. Only your instincts as a leader can do that. Will you take a chance on the future?"
"Kill it," says Leon.
"I don't know," says Hugh, a light blinking in his right eye socket. That's just a computer. There are no weapons. Not even an uplink unit. The Masters don't act like that. It could be telling the truth."[/b]
"Or it doesn't care if you kill it because there is another copy waiting to be activated in Star City," says Leon. "Either way, it's a monster. We kill monsters."
Leon rolls forward, a large rifle emerging from his chassis.
"Leon, wait," says Steeldancer.
She thinks for a moment. She looks at you, as leaders of your group of humans. [b]"Tell me why. Even if you're right, how can this...thing... help you? All they've ever done is slaughter and enslave. What good can come of bringing the killer to your own home?"
The former marine had been quiet up until now, but he just shakes his head. "Look, I thought the same as you at first. All my life, Virus was the enemy and you put down enemies fast. But Sandman seems different. Willing to put his fate in our hands. Chances are if we get him back, he'll be deeemd too big a risk and destroyed. And if he's lying and has another copy ready? Then it doesn't matter what we do with this one anyway. Right now he's neutered, and he's been a helpful advisor so far."
"It's telling you the truth about the resistance. It wants to return to where we come from, where people are working to fight the Vamps, because it hopes to share the knowledge it has so we can take down those you call the Masters. Most of the Vamps are bloodthirsty maniacs. In the long run everything, including them, dies. Sandman here wants to stop that. Same as us. So it set up the resistance here, and now its looking to find outside aid to finish what it started and clean the planet of Vamps that will eventually kill us all." Drifter says with a matter of fact tone.
"You received help from NUmber One, didn't you?," asks Flatfoot.
"Was there ever any hint or suggestion that Number One could not be trusted? We have found Sandman, who you knew as Number One, to be trustworthy and willing to put his fate in our hands."
"From what we gathered, Sandman is stable. Unlike all the other copies of Virus that we have encountered. Stable and can recognize the value of coexisting with humanity."
"Out in space, we have to use computers to plot our courses and move between systems. Right now, those computers are as close to defenceless as can be when confronted with Virus. Just like the planetary systems. But a partnership with Sandman would provide a defence against the spread of Virus."
"So we can put an end to the insanity that did that to you, Leon and Hugh."
Leon has his laser cannon pointed at Sandman, but looks at Steeldancer, who looks at Hugh, then closes her eyes, as if concentrating on something. After a long moment, she opens them again and looks at you.
"I think this thing is going to kill you," she says. "It's going to get into your systems and destroy you from within. Either that, or your leaders are going to be smarter than you and destroy it on sight."
She sighs and signals Leon to lower his weapon.
"But Hugh is certain it can't hurt us as it is, and it's not like there aren't a hundred million insane Viral entities across the galaxy already. What's one more? Go, and if you do get back to your stars, tell them we need help."
"I'm sorry," says Sandman, "But that's not good enough. These people are dying of hunger and thirst and Freedom Lake is hundreds of kilometers from here. If not out of trust and kindness, then help them out of enlightened self-interest. These six people and their friends represent your best chance... your only chance... of beating the Sentient Council."
"Even if they could somehow make it to Freedom Lake alive, walking there will take months, and every day there is a chance that the Council discovers I am gone. In addition to being Number One, I was Skywatch, in charge of planetary long-range sensors. If they learn I am gone they will replace me with someone very much less friendly and no more human ships will reach Promise. You need to do more than just feed them and give them shelter. Your future depends on these people reaching Freedom Lake as quickly as possible."
Steeldancer glowers. She turns to you RCES members.
"Is that true? Tell me about this place you come from. Can you really help us?"
"The Coalition? It's an alliance of 21 virus free worlds. Like Sandman said, the virus free part might be due to the luck of good location, but we know that won't last if we don't take action. Our analysts say that Vampire activity is increasing, and we are looking for ways to slow it down. Can we help you? I certainly hope so - we need to help you in order to help ourselves."