>>3519106

While you’re pondering the intricacies of… German pronunciation?, the screen flickers establishing the connection. It looks like a rather opulent dressing room; probably in one of the old cultural preserves maintained by the VC for diplomatic purposes: Figureheads, state visits and such. You eventually are able to locate yourself on a dressing cabinet of some form, giving you a low but serviceable angle on Alex, shrugging into of an unfamiliar, but clearly VC dress uniform of white linen.

“I hope you appreciate I went through a lot of trouble returning this call.” You hear Alex's voice as someone in charcoal obscures the camera for a moment.

She shoos him out, taking a wood case from him and beginning to pin her honors on the empty breast. “What am I saying… You’re the one who went through the trouble. Good to see you Sam. I got the short version; How’s the leg?”

>Her Side: That’s a unique uniform. What the heck did they have her doing?
>Your Side: Catch her up on your time in the field. Keep the sensitive stuff out.
>Overton: You’ll skip caution and pleasantries; Things are getting complicated out here.
>Diplomats: You need to gather information. What’s happening on the far side of the border?
>Writein?

>>3519109
>Her Side: That’s a unique uniform. What the heck did they have her doing?

>>3519109
>>Her Side: That’s a unique uniform. What the heck did they have her doing?
With all the security on the line, I'd bet it's monitored. Easier to stay away from things that even get close to secretive.


Welcome back. It's been a while, but it's good to see you.

>>3519106
Oh, and for reference:

https://twitter.com/FernglasQ

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Panzermagd

>>3519156

I swear I'll remember everything one of these days.

>>3519119
>>3519143

>"Short version is good enough. How about you?"

Writing

>>3519396

“Not much to do here but kick up my heels; Mostly itches a bit. Looks like you’ve been having fun.” You gesture towards the camera.

“Diplomacy is exhausting. A strategically-released article you might remember the contents of has thankfully released me from the worst of it, but I’m still expected to be a representative for our brave armed forces. “ She curses, pricking her thumb on a pin. “The jacket weighs five kilos; The dresses were better…”

“What do they have you getting fancy for? They wouldn’t go beyond a shoeshine for the Knight pilots.”

“I keep forgetting you’re delightfully uncultured… more likely the opposite actually. A Friedrich is expected to look like nobility Sam, even if the family’s been a tourist attraction for the last century.” She finishes the fasteners and puts on the sleek jacket, now entirely overwhelmed in gaudy medals. “Especially when we’ve got guests; A lot of these people are the kind that react very positively to luxury.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” Your train of thought hitches as you properly process her statement, “Wait. Nobility?”

“Lady Elector; Not really interesting unless you’re a history buff or wonder how bread and circuses are made. Just someone’s daughter. Someone who has a twitch you could set a clock to when his flesh and blood found better things to do with her time than invent media drama… Then again… Damn, I guess I walked right into that.”

She shrugs. “If you make it a big deal, I’ll find a way to thrash you personally. I’m a _Captain_. Point is; the younger Hanguo love this garbage. I stumble through a few lines I picked up from study and they’re tripping over themselves to get my attention. Which is good, because it keeps them from thinking about how they’re stateless right now.”

>>3519871

“I heard something about that: What the hell is going on over there?” You see the blink of the censor. God dammit.

She shakes her head. “I couldn’t even guess to start with. They way they handle their bureaucracy, it’s possible it was entirely automatic. They let their analytics manage a lot of their day to day decision making.” She pauses for a moment before continuing with a bemused look, “If I had to guess, they decided they won’t need them anymore. I don’t think I’ll be playing hostess for too much longer.”

You hear a warning tone from her side of the link feed through the speakers.

She huffs a bit. “You’d think they could find something better to do. How’s the problem child doing?”

“You mean Durga? She hasn’t responded.” You check the status: still waiting for reply.

“That’s strange…” She pauses again, glancing at the screen and looking even more irate, “….I’ll send her your way if I see her again.”

>Push it: Playing with the auto-censor isn’t the wisest thing, but you could get away with another strike.
>Wrap up: You’ll take it at face value. Durga being busy doesn’t surprise you.
>[Shortcut: If Durga isn’t responding through official comms; maybe an unofficial option will work.]
>Thoughts: Bring up something else; You need Alex’s take on something (What?)
>Writein?

>>3519873
>>[Shortcut: If Durga isn’t responding through official comms; maybe an unofficial option will work.]

>>3519873
>>[Shortcut: If Durga isn’t responding through official comms; maybe an unofficial option will work.]
I doubt it's anything serious, but it sounds like a fun diversion.

>>3519873
>Wrap up
Her unique status may have waylaid her even longer than us.

>>3519873
>Wrap up: You’ll take it at face value. Durga being busy doesn’t surprise you.

>>3519911
>>3519990
>>3520438
>>3520752

I'll roll off to break the tie in another hour or so.

Yall might have assumed I didn't say anything about the next session because I'm a flake. More accurately, I've got days worth of free time, so I'm going to keep going.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>3520911

>>3519911
>>3519990
>>3521191

"Don't worry about it, I'll try another method. Take care of yourself."

Writing

>>3521202

“I’m not concerned. I’ll get through to her sooner or later.” You shrug, “Take care.”

She nods reaching to tap the slate and your screen goes blank. The glare of the lighting strips draws shafts across your reflection before the screen recovers.

[You think something’s up?] Mia queries.

You mumble under your breath. “If it wasn’t, she would have said so. My guess is she got another warning for the last bit.”

[And no clue why?]

“Well, I have a guess; This is still a restricted channel. She’s probably already back on duty… It’s technically relaying troop positions…”

[Shouldn’t she still be in quarantine? I mean you’re still here. It’s strange]

You nod slowly. “Just a bit. How’s your access from here?”

[Well, it’s monitored, but I’ve got enough room to do things that are quiet enough. You just want me to make contact right?]

You nod again. “As far as we know, Comms work on our end; Lets test that theory.”

>>3521959

You spend the next hour paging through a brief on implant diagnostics while Mia occasionally interrupts with running commentary.

[Scary out here. The mil servers are on a hair trigger; can’t blame them. Looks like a bunch have been compromised and taken offline.]

“Might explain the blackout?”

[Nah. We’d be stonewalled if things weren’t working right. Lot of activity is going through right now, just not ours. Give me a minute.]

It was significantly more than a minute. You can feel your eyes glazing over as you go review another ultimately useless diagnostic routine, stymied by the lack of an interface: You need something significantly more technical than a primer for combat medics and field hospitals.

[Got it.]

“What’s “It”?” You drop the slate to the side, rubbing your eyes.

[A note. Really an error code, but same difference to her. She’ll trigger it when she handshakes with the mil-net validation ser- Ah, there we go. Message received…] She radiates warm satisfaction. [Well… Come on…]

Your slate crashes, throwing a loud error tone.

“Great,” You power cycle the ailing machine.

[It’s sabotage.]

Mia’s response makes you double take on the rebooting slate.

[No; not the damn reader Sam. Durga. She just faked a severe malfunction. She didn’t even talk back; she just invalidated our credential and edited the error log.]

“Why the hell would she do that?”

[We’re the only ones still in quarantine Sam; Jennings is in a VA clinic getting cleared for action and Lis was out three days ago.]

“SOP is two weeks, We’re not even out of one.” You sit up, glancing at the camera.

[They’re all overridden: Durga was out within a day. Fuck. They were just going to leave you here.]

Before you can decide which slimeball she’s got money on, you hear a chime from the restarted slate.

Hawke.

“Sending transport. Incident RE:Team; Standby.” is all the message contains.

>>3521960

You are released with alacrity born of terror. You can see in the eyes of the supervising staff that they were informed exactly how little tolerance would be provided for a delay. A light drizzle accompanied a rough drive to an airfield, where a helicopter awaited.

There is no banter or small talk: any energy expended was entirely devoted to your acceleration and transfer. You stumble disembarking and are virtually borne into the next car with all the dignity of cargo. You stay silent, not trusting yourself to keep your conversation to yourself under these conditions. Stopped behind a train crossing the tracks, Mia invades the quiet foreboding.

[Score one for the balding guy.] Mia drops a note of distain. [I didn’t understand your generalized paranoia until now; Your people seem to make efforts to be untrustworthy.]

You nod with a grimace, but leave it at that.

[I suppose you intend to approach this with your usual calculated recklessness?]

>Head On: You know enough to tell Hawke was playing games here: Maybe with enough impact, you can get her to spill.
>Tacit: You’ll acknowledge the slight but move past it. You’re out now, and she wouldn’t have done that if you don’t have leverage.
>[Play Dumb: You could always pretend we were behaving. She might be more relaxed if we seem amicable.
>Power Play: Reveal your conversation with Overton as a gesture; Demand the same respect regarding her actions.
>Writein?

>>3521961
>>[Play Dumb: You could always pretend we were behaving. She might be more relaxed if we seem amicable.
A difficult choice. Hawke is clearly powerful, and giving her reason to cause us issues seems unwise, doubly so with our little ride-along.

>>3521961
>>[Play Dumb: You could always pretend we were behaving. She might be more relaxed if we seem amicable.
And if she tries to bully us or cause shit then
>Power Play: Reveal your conversation with Overton as a gesture; Demand the same respect regarding her actions.
To show that were not a mindless drone and that we are entirely capable of doing our job and doing it well when provided with respect and good intel.

>>3521961
>>[Play Dumb: You could always pretend we were behaving. She might be more relaxed if we seem amicable.

>>3521971
>>3522018
>>3522080


"Approaching what? We weren't doing anything."

This one might take overnight to do. All things consider, I might consider dropping to a daily update, since though it's not really my original intent, it's a rather comfortable pace. Let me know if it seems unacceptably slow.

>>3523205
I'm fine with daily updates. it's not like qst is a fast board anyways

>>3523205
One a day is fine. It's not like we're at risk of falling off the board.
More content is prefered, of course, but if one a day is comfortable for you that's fine.

>>3523205

Your brow furrows. As far as you can tell, you are, at least on a motivational level, external to any scheming going on at this moment. Upsetting anyone’s planning could end poorly, and that’s before you go beyond your own sorry hide. No. You’re not blundering into someone’s carefully orchestrated plot… Or rather you are, but you’re going to keep your steps light.

[I don’t know if I should call you a coward or a sage…]

As you continue, the rain lets up into merely dreary conditions. It is sufficiently light however to recognize early evening: You were aware of time in your captivity, but it meant little under electric lights. Regardless of the still present light, the exterior of a dreary industrial compound comes into view, illuminated in the cheap halogen bulbs favored by procurers. Based on the activity, including a smattering of lightly loaded walkers and lifts, it was likely some feed station for a local foundry; finishing and furnishing the castings that sprung nearly-formed from the jewel of modern fabrication. This is the sort of facility that would be trivially commandeered in the case of war for care and feeding of the VC war machines, and this one appeared to be ahead of the curve, but only barely. Signage was primarily German, but not aggressively enough that you could be certain how far back from the lines you were: Maybe you’ll get lucky and some original workers are present.

The vehicle is drawn up against the building, and you are again flanked by soldiers and you are bidden to disembark. Unlike your previous waystations, you are permitted a marginal amount of time to stretch and arrange what little decorum you had in what amounted to a prison suit.

Entering the facility, it would be strange to assume anything beyond business as usual. Beyond the occasional officer darting between offices and meeting rooms, the place was bland, and that did not change as you descended into the labs. Despite this, it takes you little effort to spot your handler. Sans beret and jacket, she still dominated with just the clean trim of the Auditor’s uniform. It was not nearly as pristine as the last time you had seen her, and when she spots you, you catch dark circles under her eyes not much brighter than her subordinate’s uniform. She signals to your escorts and continues her unheard conversation with a similarly garbed officer. You are shuttled into what may as well be a closet, were it not for a pair of unsuitable desks inside appearing to be hastily vacated.

>>3527008

It would be another five minutes before Hawke dismissed all but one of your guards with a laconic tone. He brings up the rear as Hawke beckons and you follow.

“As you might have heard, there’s a bit of a crisis going on; frankly on multiple levels, so pardon me if we skip tea. How are you doing?” She withdraws her slate as she leads through the facility’s lower level.

“Fit. Leg’s nearly recovered. Was about to ask you the same question considering the release.”

“Odds were good you were safe since square one; The VC is considerably more risk adverse than necessary… You know why you’re here?” She spares a glance back to make eye contact before returning to her slate.

“Something about my team was what the message said. I’m assuming it’s Durga?”

“What a leap. Yes. She’s temperamental at the best of times, but as you well know, failures only seem to occur alongside deadlines…”

You allow your tension to cross your face. “What failure and what deadline?”

“It would technically be coma, but it’s more likely to be rooted in a livelock of some form. Frustrating, and fatal in a fashion: If there’s no resolution to the process, all it takes is a shift in resourcing to leave the entire unit thinking in circles. We’d have to start again; and none of us have time for that at this point.” She stops at an elevator and gestures you inside. The guard stays behind as the elevator starts down.

“None of us have any time at this point. It would be lovely if once in the grand history, we’d have a landslide winner and the rest could bow out gracefully.” She turns to you. “We’re at an inflection point Corporal; The last chance we might have for a long time to choose peace.”

[Didn’t we just have this talk with the other guy?] Mia’s skepticism matches your own.

“That sound rather idealistic coming from an Auditor.”

The elevator stops. “Only if you expect it to come out of the goodness of men’s hearts.” She gestures forward.

>>3527013

[Damjan Mravunac - The Forbidden Tower]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=egY7Box349Y&


The lab might have once been an operating theater, but all but the most basic of medical apparatus had been shunted aside in favor of hardware. Plastic film has been thrown over every flat surface, and all manner of electronics and computers have been arranged over like a block puzzle. A half dozen workers murmured quietly between screens as the worked. The tone was far less frantic as the workers above, more capturing a looming dread. A thick umbilical runs down the center aisle, tucking past to a windowed chamber likely to originally be the OR. You can see some kind of technician in the back room, who exits to greet Hawke; as much as he can with around his protective gear.

“Any progress?” Hawke speaks over the cluster of workers to the covered man.

“Some ideas; We’ve found an exploitable input, but it’s not responding to any regular stimulus. We’ve hooked up auxiliary supplies, but that could jus-“

“Yes; We’ve been there before. Her structure is not important as long as you can preserve her. Use what you need.”

She turns back to you. “Take a seat Corporal; I take it at some point that you realized I’m not in the business of making a better Knight pilot no?”

>Theory: The VC likes the weaponry, but it’s clear your focus is on the machines themselves, Durga is a part of that.
>Analysis: It’s clearly a second-hand project. It’s not so much design as it is guessing and checking.
>[Nonspecific: Whatever you say, I’m sure she will correct you shortly.]
>Denial: It’s clear enough that you’re working on next generation weaponry. Any higher ideals are smoke and mirrors.
>Writein?

>>3527016
>>Theory: The VC likes the weaponry, but it’s clear your focus is on the machines themselves, Durga is a part of that.
Though I suspect Mia has the right of it. Still, no harm in playing her game.

>>3527016
>Theory: The VC likes the weaponry, but it’s clear your focus is on the machines themselves, Durga is a part of that.

>>3527016
>>Analysis: It’s clearly a second-hand project. It’s not so much design as it is guessing and checking.

This seems to be the case with the metaforms stuff. I'm trying to remember, was it D-type or M-type that was poached / defected? Or am I just mixed up.

>>3527205
I always have a hard time keeping the nano types seperate. I think the Ds were the brains and the Ms were the power.

>>3527218
>>3527205

Both were technically poached. The M-types were circumventing their limitations by subjugating D-type units in smaller units.

The M-types however were sabotaged by your efforts, making them unsuitable for direct deployment: They need to re-engineer those before they can be used for any task with reasonable efficiency. (If they are capable of repairing them at all).

>>3527039
>>3527106

>"With all due respect, The VC enjoy psychological stability in their soldiers. Good progress, but you wouldn't have made it out of the sales pitch"

Writing

>>3523292
>>3523289
>>3523205


Well, that experiment's a fucking failure.

Next session tomorrow 5/30, 5 EST

>>3540363
Looking forward to it.

>>3533963

“I got the impression. The technology is restricted in the hands of the public. You have the resources and authorization here to pursue your own projects, with the added bonus of having minimal oversight.”

She shakes her head. “Closer than expected, but we’re not hidden here: Everyone who matters is watching this project Armistead; Most of them are varying degrees of disappointed and alarmed, but only the most egotistical think they can do better… That very same restriction is what puts roughly half of the Vereinigte’s competent metaform programmers in this room.”

The closest scientist scoffs at the line, looking up over her monitor. “Ma’am, the only competent programmer in this room is taking a nap in the back.”

You can feel Mia’s pride bristle in the back of your head, but she remains quiet.

Hawke fixes the scientist with a look; she pales and ducks behind her monitor. Hawke turns back to you.

“She’s correct. Fundamentally speaking, everything we do to manipulate these machines is rooted in watching them do it themselves. We’re always playing catch up; and that’s why this is so important.”

She pulls a folder from the table, flipping through it: It appears to include your report from the imagery. “Tell me Armistead; You’ve seen the damage a malfunctioning metaform can do firsthand… What do you think of our safety protocols? The ones we’re following of course?” She pointedly looks at your disposable slippers.

“Seems like a bunch of effort for nanites that can eat through anything. It seems like it wouldn’t be all that effective..”

“It isn’t. These days, we need to use specialist designs to patrol clean rooms. The average VC citizen picks up a couple million a year in food, water and air. There’s just only so much you can do to contain micron-scale dust. We focus our efforts on isolating active machines and responding rapidly. Of course, the distinction between inactive and standby is entirely academic, which is the elephant in the room.”

You furrow your brow. “So we’re all contaminated?”

“Not you; contamination implies accident. You know why you ended up working with Durga?”

“Couldn’t guess; I assumed we were just convenient.”

“While you were; so were at least twelve other teams. Imagine my reaction when Durga expressed a preference. She saw something of herself in you, and through some rather arcane abuses of your medical samples, Valkyrie figured it out too.” She pulls a transparency from the folder, resembling like a QR code. “Gene screening, comparing your high-risk flags to pattern recognition in Durga and a rather robust population of D-type metaform in your bloodstream. Black and White are matching; red’s conflicting. Notice the conspicuous lack of red.”

You take the sheet. Mia supplements it with some data tagging, but it’s entirely unnecessary: It’s a perfect fit.

>>3542885

Before you can respond, Hawke continues. “Don’t get a swelled head; Every pilot in Valkyrie has the same genetic markers. We’ve even introduced them to Durga before, but you’re the first un-compromised example she’s seen: For obvious reasons, we intervened in the other cases: They could make rather radical alterations to their host if left unchecked. Not that we didn’t learn from them as well: The collars for next-generation Knight pilots are based on their implants, and we in turn iterated on them for our own purposes. The consequence of course, being that our “entirely safe, compartmentalized programs” became so convergent, that we were virtually on the exact same track.”

Her expression gets dark. “Or rather, we are on the same track. There is a conclusion to this design, and this isn’t the first case. This isn’t even the first time _WE_ have reached it. There’s a smooth caldera in the Mediterranean that’s a testament to it, and you’ve fought for, against, and in pursuit of other examples.”

You harden your expression. “You’re suggesting that all the metaforms employed by the VC and the IRH are similarly unstable?”

[That’s ridiculous; We’re not in the least bit similar. We don’t even have the same mandates.]

“No; They vary a great deal, but their methods are not unique: They’re the ultimate expression of the phrase “If all you have is a hammer.”, as ironic as it may seem for a morphing structure.” She sighs, “They’re fundamentally flawed coming from the same root. It was a Hanguo project by a brilliant engineer… who unfortunately had a very bright view of human nature. The short version is any command or goal given to the machines ultimately boils down to establishing perfect oversight and control. She imagined these designs would allow humanity to impose their will and vision on the world around them, but ultimately you’re forced to decide between crippling perfection, or allowing it to optimize you out of the loop…”

She stands, and beckons you towards the back of the room as she crosses to the window. You follow a step behind, leaving the report. Behind the drapery and the suited technicians, it’s difficult to see anything, but you can imagine the reclined form from the placement and curves of the connectors within, like a whirlpool of cable and wire, gleaming in the cool light.

“And that’s where we’re at now. The Hanguo have entrusted their lives to their imperfect, inhuman bureaucracy, while my peers on this side of the border spend their every waking moment trying to subdue and subjugate these monsters that are far beyond our control.” She smiles, “And I’m the mad one because I suggest a middle ground."

“I’m not sure I follow?” You gesture towards the glass.

>>3542891

“Bonsai.” You don’t recognize the word.

[A miniature tree; grown in a small pot and clipped to the size of a houseplant. I don’t get it either.]

“I don’t follow.” you respond.

“The threat of the metaforms comes from the paradox of their strict objectives making them unpredictable and wild: They have no concept of restraint or tolerances. They don’t think like us, because we are out of their context: They’re either too small to see, or massive structures… Durga is a manageable middle-ground, designed to emulate the human form. They can be left to their own devices, or given precise, immutable purposes: Durga is assigned roles and rules, but we are teaching her to disobey…” She places a hand on the glass. “She’s an offshoot, sculpting herself into something elegant: A foundation for a conscientious and sensitive design… Something more human, but on its own terms… If we only had more time…”

You look back to Hawke. “Time?”

“She’s certainly not ready, but we’re going to lose our chance soon. If Valkyrie doesn’t find some backwards way to cut me off at the knees first, The Hanguo are going to launch their counter-offensive, and once that happens, we miss our shot. The point of the final design is to achieve a critical mass to guarantee full dissemination: Recycling old machines out of the environment, co-opting existing infrastructure and out-competing other designs: Not a general purpose design, but an omni-purpose design… Neither tyrant nor unthinking tool. Who knows, maybe even a just and loving…”

She chuckles, “Never mind… As it stands, she’s broken, and I couldn’t tell you why. she’s accelerated so rapidly recently that we don’t have any idea what to look for, much less to solve… Call it intuition, but I had the inkling that you’d be useful.”

>Wakeup Call: You’re the reason Durga is malingering; It’s likely as trivial as proving your presence through some input.
>Elaborate: For what you assume to be a grounded person, this sounds rather pie in the sky from Hawke. Have her be more specific.
>[Pow-Wow: If we get access, we can probably confer with Durga herself regarding the situation. Might be worth the risk for her input]
>Delay: You can play dumb and push this back, maybe get in contact with some other authority to check answers.
>Writein?

>>3542899
This "name everything the same" is giving me a headache. Is she saying the pilot Durga isn't human?

>Elaborate: For what you assume to be a grounded person, this sounds rather pie in the sky from Hawke. Have her be more specific.
Surely the solution to Von neumann nanobots isn't to make more, maybe better ones.

>>3542899
>Wakeup Call: You’re the reason Durga is malingering; It’s likely as trivial as proving your presence through some input.

>>3542925
She's a hybrid prototype between us meatbags and nanomachines...I think. The end goal is for her, or something like her to tell the fuck off swarm under turkey to relax before Sinai 2.0 happens

Personally I advocate not creating and improving self replicating world enders but that's like asking the cold war power blocks to stop messing with nukes.

Eh maybe the whole preservation of humanity as we know it is overrated, and Durga is truly the next step in human evolution

>>3542899
>>Wakeup Call: You’re the reason Durga is malingering; It’s likely as trivial as proving your presence through some input.

>>3542899
>>Wakeup Call: You’re the reason Durga is malingering; It’s likely as trivial as proving your presence through some input.
>>[Pow-Wow: If we get access, we can probably confer with Durga herself regarding the situation. Might be worth the risk for her input]

These seem compatible, though i think first one is 'tell hawke' and second is 'do it, but secretly'. I figure we tell her but see if Mia can do anything with closer contact.

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