Eight of Twelve (Yellir) - Unsanctioned Movement

[Ryan Fender]

((Main Engineering, Mid Level — USS Artemis-A))

Precise and robotic movements accompanied the many in her collective. Eight of Twelve’s mind was dominated by the chattering thoughts of others that linked with her and they moved through engineering. A primary task had been granted to them, secure engineering, and now, what was once a pristinely clean engine room, had now been laid waste to. 

Bodies were strewn about, slumped over consoles, dead still against the deck — the unassimilated were disposed of and neutralized without so much of a ceremonial thought. But this task had been left unfulfilled. That constant noise that filtered into the fore and backgrounds of her mind was keeping count. Amidst the precise thoughts and ordering of thousands of voices, every time one has been slain, a face was forever burned into the mind of the collective. 

Currently with no excess need to move, Eight of Twelve stood over a Verdant and athletically framed officer. Something almost stirred within, almost as if some part of them still expected themselves to feel something, but everything felt dulled. The view of the outside world was empty and cold, analytical in ways that only benefited the collective memories of the link she shared. 

Phaser fire was distant, slowly fading into the outer reaches of the engine room as fewer and fewer unassimilated remained.

OBSERVATION: MID LEVEL SECURED, AWAITING FURTHER INSTRUCTION 

STATEMENT: BEGIN ACCESSING INTERNAL SCANNER ARRAY 

STATEMENT: WE UNDERSTAND

The collective or engineers left on the mid level motioned as one. Each strode with purpose in every step, moving at just the right pace for their bodies and promptly keeping up with one another. The memories of each stirred as objectives were fed from one to another, with a coordinated attack they made their strike. 

With each encryption they moved beyond they had left behind something of their own. Codes in a language far more complex than mere binary, an apocrypha of alphanumeric characters had laid itself at the collective's feet. Complex webs of coding had been forged in key places within the main computer, the language itself made sense in its own way. But the way it was puppeted out through Eight of Twelve’s hands did not at all feel familiar.

As unfamiliar as it was to Hallia, there was no greater understanding to it by the individual drone. They each forged parts of complex webs, one building the skeleton, as the others filled in the guts, understanding of its directive and meaning was only then found within one another. 

ACCESSING: INTERNAL SCANNERS, DIVERTING PARTIAL CONTROL

STATEMENT: UNSANCTIONED MOVEMENT, LOWER LEVEL, DIVERTING DRONES.

QUERY: WHAT IS OUR OBJECTIVE?

TAG/TBC

_____________________

Lieutenant Hallia Yellir 

Chief Engineer

USS Artemis-A

G239409EK0