Unit Log, VeeMech TDR-1-74-0107C-J
Date 3018-06-11 11:35:23, Log Entry 5
An old book I once read said, ”I want you to think about Christ on the cross.”
No, I’m not getting religious on you. It's a quote from a sci-fi book I read back in what I remember to be my old life, where humans were dumb enough to recreate one of their offshoot subspecies, one that was inherently sociopathic, only borderline self-aware, lacked certain abilities to metabolize certain things, resulting in them being inherently cannibalistic, and generally smarter than normal baseline humans. Vampires, in other words. The quote referenced the fatal flaw that drove them extinct: a glitch that, combined with their heightened spatial awareness, caused them to have seizures when there were too many right angles in their field of vision.
Depending on who you are, you may be asking me now, “Groundwave, what the crap does that have to do with getting turned into a 60-ton self-aware transforming BattleMech?”
It's the “self-aware” part of that I was thinking of. The book and its sequel deeply explored the nature of consciousness, self-awareness, free will, and intelligence.
My mind had, obviously, been hacked. Let's just set aside the fact that I'm still unable to remember my own real name, dammit. Either somebody with the power to do so went through the trouble of copying my original brain, transporting it to a different freaking universe, playing marbles with it, and then shoving it into my cursed metal body.
Alternatively, somebody was a big enough ****** to create an artificial intelligence that believed he was human, had the memories of being human, remembered this particular universe as fiction and a game, and then was woken up one day to find out that, surprise, it was all a damned lie.
The third corollary was that none of this was actually real, that my original self existed, that this universe was a simulation, and that I was just a software copy.
Honestly, I'm not sure which frightened me more: phenomenal cosmic power, human cruelty, or even just indifference. All of it left me wondering whether I really was as conscious as I think I am, how self-aware my new acquaintances are, and the big question: what the hell am I doing here?
If thing stick to the way I remember reading about the California Nebula, I may well be stuck here. The natives, supposedly, don't remember that Kearny-Fuchida hyperspace jump drives, this universe’s method of FTL travel, were even possible. Routine communications between worlds just didn't generally happen. And without discovering an actual JumpShip or data copies of how they work, I wasn't going to be traveling anywhere very fast.
Even with a JumpShip, I may find the nebula open to me, but like the song said, “You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.” Should the Interstellar Expeditions group still find themselves here in, what, 80 years or so, they'll get stuck, above to jump around the California Nebula, but stymied time and again in a myriad of different ways any time they try jumping out of it.
Slowboat sublight travel to other worlds might be possible within a reasonable timeframe with a properly-equipped ship. But I was roughly a thousand light-years from Earth, which meant that, even at near light speed, I wasn't going to be returning to the mainline established Battletech universe in any of the known timeframes written about.
I'm trying to plan my best, middle and worst-case scenarios. The best case msy finding a JumpShip, slowboating it out of the edge of the nebula, then resuming hyperspace jumps back to the Inner Sphere once I'm clear. What I'd do next depends on when I’d get there, but I would have plenty of time to worry about that.
If the best I can hope for is to remain within the California Nebula, or even a thousand year flight to the Inner Sphere, then I'm not sure of it's worth leaving Syberia. Here, at least, is the infrastructure I'd need to keep a ‘Mech body running, without making myself the target of a bunch of Galactic Empire wannabes, or ending up in a bad Marvel vs. DC parody planet, both of which existed in the California Nebula, along with a D&D parody where magic, purportedly, existed.
Though, hey, I suppose becoming a high level AutoMech wizard may be the solution to my problems.
The first order of business, though, was my immediate survival here on Syberia. Food wasn't exactly an issue, per se, and any hydrogen fuel I may eventually need to top off my fusion reactor was nearly irrelevant, because BattleMech fusion reactors were their own kind of sparkly magic. That might be an issue a decade from now, but not much of one, and not today.
Shelter takes on a different meaning when you're a 60-ton all-weather war machine. In theory I wouldn't rust, at least not much, or quickly, but you need only restore one classic car that was described as “running when parked” when you bought it to never want to do it again. Having my own body rust? No thank you. I remember my knees being bad enough as a 45 year old human.
Spare parts and repairs? Yeah, I had no idea how their economic system worked here on Syberia. They had some form of politics and nation states, though, and built combat AutoMechs to a different standard than non-combat ones, which were often IndustrialMechs, as I recall. That implied some degree of resource scarcity, which meant they had some form of economics. This dig into an old Terran Hegemony base could be equal parts archaeology and salvage operation, for that matter.
So I set aside my more philosophical concerns in favor of more immediate needs, and with the help of my friendly neighborhood AutoMechs, I was able to get a better feel for when I was, and how to set my internal clock accordingly, as well as to begin to learn what I'd need to know to get by here. While they have, for now, let my claims about my origins rest unproven, it’s not all been sunshine and rainbow puppies with them, though I've begun to get a better feel for why they went through the trouble of reactivating me in a body that sat dormant and inoperable for hundreds of years.
“So, wait a minute,” I asked Primus Optimal, “you’ve dug up an old base belonging to the Terran Hegemony, and you’re surprised it’s not recognizing your IFF codes? You’re lucky there aren’t automated defense systems to shoot at you!”
Glyph spoke up in place of her leader, however. “To date, low-priority outposts such as this one do not appear to have been high enough in priority to install automated defense systems of that nature. However, you are also the first AutoMech we have located in such a facility that we have been able to restore to functionality.
“Wait, ‘functionality’. You’ve encountered nonfunctional ones?”
“Not precisely,” Glyph replied. “We’ve generally found either ‘Mech parts, or occasionally entire BattleMechs still configured for human piloting.”
“Finding you here and restoring you to an operational state has been highly fortuitous,” Primus Optimal rumbled. “This facility will most likely recognize your IFF transponder and allow you access that we would otherwise be blocked from directly accessing, making reclaiming it for the Autonomous Barony of Primus much more straightforward than we would otherwise be able to do.”
“Hold on there, Primus,” I said, turning to him. “Who said this outpost was yours? Far as I’m concerned, it’s my island.”
Primus paused before responding. “We are not on an island.”
“Whatever,” I replied, brushing off his comments with a gesture. “The principle is the same. This is a Terran Hegemony facility, right?”
“Correct,” he rumbled.
“Then assuming my IFF codes do hold the keys, it would sound like this base is mine, not yours. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm probably willing to come to an arrangement to share it. But I'm not actually a member of your barony, and neither, technically, is this outpost your territory, and I still know nothing of your politics, or your economics, who your allies are, or who your enemies are. And, you do have enemies, don’t you? These weapons aren’t for decoration, and I’m guessing yours aren’t, either, are they?”
“No, they are not,” Primus agreed. “Our primary enemy is the Democratic Industrial Conglomorate, led by the ruthless MechaTankus, who maintains his leadership through threats of violence. He seeks to dominate all of Syberia if he can, though the balance of force between our faction and the DemoCons is such that they generally limit their activity to low-intensity raiding. This outpost is distant enough from both DemoCon and AutoBoP primary territories to make attacks less likely, though now that we have rediscovered it, it is certainly within the realm of possibility. While this might be your primary base of operations, your ability to protect this facility alone is limited. You will need our help.”
While I knew about the DemoCons from the old April Fool’s sourcebook, the reminder that they weren’t just an abstract opponent, but actually out there somewhere was helpful. I sighed and continued to make my point to Primus and the other AutoBops. “That’s kind of why I mentioned coming to an arrangement, and also brings me to my next point. I get that I’m kitted out for communications, but I don’t know what that means in terms of what you’re expecting I’m going to do for you, or for anyone else. I’ve got fifteen percent of my mass devoted to a transformation system of dubious value, since I don’t know how useful turning into a wheeled vehicle’s really going to be for me. I’ve got another ten percent devoted to communications equipment, since that’s what this particular chassis was presumably built for. I’ve got weaponry little better than a ‘Mech half my size, and while I’ve got jump jets, evidently, to my knowledge, I’ve never used them, or any of these fancy weapons I’m carrying.”
I had to suspect Primus Optimal had been around longer than the others here. For one thing, he did a better job of mimicking human mannerisms. I could swear he actively looked and sounded sympathetic. “I can understand that. At present, I intend to maintain a full lance of AutoMechs here, in addition to you, to provide security, and request that you work to recover data from this facility, to unlock what was lost from our history, as well as other useful data. We can determine the distribution of any additional useful hardware that is discovered as well.”
“Additional hardware?” I asked, intrigued.
Glyph replied this time, and I swear, I could feel the smug radiating off her. “Most likely. This is, after all, only the first level of the facility that we have explored. Despite your memory gaps, with your assistance, we should be able to reach the lower levels, and determine if there are additional resources, in terms of BattleMechs, parts and ammunition supplies, that may prove useful.”
Holy crap. ”Are we all just sitting on top of an actual Terran Hegemony cache?” I thought, then realized I’d said that out loud.
“Possibly, Groundwave,” Primus said in agreement. “As I mentioned, we have found caches of supplies and parts before, and it is likely that this is another one. It is entirely possible that there could be numerous BattleMechs here, enough, in theory, for you to form your own small faction, much like our allies, the Dynamic Barony of Grim, though you would most likely be limited to converting less advanced, non-transforming BattleMechs to AutoMechs.”
My own “faction”. That wasn’t something I’d even considered. That could easily bind me to this world, in ways I probably wouldn’t want to be bound, especially if I ended up finding that there was, in fact, a way home, back to the life I remember. If it wasn’t, though, it could be potentially helpful long-term, depending on what else I found here on Syberia. I wasn’t even going to ask what could possibly go wrong, though, because there were so many things, but, I may also be able to cover my own weaknesses here, such as a lack of knowledge of Syberia itself, and my weak technical, engineering or combat skills compared to those around me.
“Okay,” I finally replied, “let’s worry about that when we come to it, and for now just worry about holding onto this base and finding out what’s really here. Where do we get started?”
