Just a simple indece:t p=o+- ERROR - - Part 2

Posted on Tue Dec 28th, 2021 @ 3:59am by Lieutenant Myne Redal & Lieutenant Commander S'hib

Mission: Season 5: Episode 3: CAPETOWN
Location: Security Department
Timeline: MD14 1500
2976 words - 6 OF Standard Post Measure

//ON//

"If you'd like miss Myne, I could upload myself to your PADD... there does appear to be enough room inside, though I may have to move some of your files I'm afraid." T'our asked as he reached out with invisible tendrils of code, downloading himself to her PADD in anticipation of her agreeing to his simple request.

Then S'hib and Myne were gone, leaving T'our stood there looking around the empty office, still absentmindedly tracing code onto his chest. "Oh..."

For the briefest of moments, just two simple, eternally long picoseconds, T'our was set upon, torn apart into tiny pieces by the incompatible system he had downloaded himself into. That was the first picosecond, the last one was spent recompiling T'our in a manner where he could actually be stored and interface with the strange operating system of the PaDD.

Nothing made sense but it was all there. An ancient Trill system was mercilessly modified, deformed and altered by Ferengi code. Patched together to work with many Vulcan methods and coding language. Which is being coordinated by a Romulan interface based on several layers belonging to a handful of other species.

If there ever was something worth the definition of a Frankenstein creation, this operating system certainly fit the bill. Every piece of it was handcrafted and tailored to fit in a very specific manner with the amalgam that was the rest of it all. The representation of it all that awaited T'our was the Elysium itself, only different.

The ship was representative of the parts that made this system. And while it had the general shape of the Elysium it was built from parts from all the species that contributed to the making of this strange operating system.

Right now T'our found himself in S'hib's office, with a slender Ferengi sitting in his chair, wearing Klingon clothing and posing a very wide grin. "Oh, a new customer? Trade? I have the best trade deals around and the best price in this part of the Galaxy!"

"Curious... this, digital containment unit is... most unusual, most unusual indeed." T'our thought out loud as his finger ceased moving, "As are you..." He added, glancing down at the perplexing being before him, an oxymoron if he ever saw one. "What is it you trade?"

"Information my dear, information! I am the foremost expert on the prices of all commodities across three quadrants! For example, I know a beauty like you will fetch at least one hundred latinum bars on any Orion black market easily." He chuckled and smiled proudly.

"And I also know, since this is my trade, that you are not from around these parts. You are not a new arrival either, you are a nasty little invader which means your time here in the Ark is severely limited. I give you at least..." He trailed off to count in his head for a moment before continuing. "Two seconds in meatsack time before one of the master controllers finds you and erases you."

"You don't make many trades do you..." T'our snorted, having acquired all the information he needed for free. "Probably why you're in such a small office..." He trailed off, glancing around. "Doesn't even have a replicator... not that you'd need one of course, but... it's the thought."

"Me? Oh no, I don't make trades, all I do is gather information and offer it on request!" He replied completely missing the point. "Small office? Hey, I'll have you know this is prime real estate!! One hundred percent safe from viruses of all kinds!" He proudly tapped his desk and stared at T'our with a strange smile. "So, what now mister invader?"

"Safe because it's small... unnoticeable to the other programs on this device, curious there appears to be a food chain of sorts," T'our replied, thinking aloud as he studied the architecture of his surroundings in more detail. "We make a trade..." He said with a more direct tone, turning and looking back at the odd Ferengi. "twelve per cent of my code, for eight per cent of yours."

"Hahaha. nice nice. Now you're starting to understand. But no dice. Ten percent of your code and nothing from me. You're not compatible darling. That's one issue, then there's the problem if you get caught with my code in you, then I'm up for deletion. Or virus bait. I can offer you information, but that's about it."

"I wasn't rolling any dice... It's either that or I uncompile myself in this little file of yours... swelling this insignificant prime real estate into a bloated beacon..." T'our replied with a snort as he folded his arms across his chest.

The smile of the Ferengi grew even wider. "Yeeep, you could do that. See? You are rolling dice after all. I guess if that's the way you want to play this then fine. Go ahead. It's your deletion!" He raised his hands and shrugged, leaning back in his chair, as his smile took a very vicious turn. "All of you little invaders that Avalon keeps sending in never understand one thing." His face and body began to morph slowly into that of a Klingon, a strange, mutated one. "Here be monsters abound."

"The forty-eighth rule of acquisition, the bigger the smile... the sharper the knife..." T'our replied stoically before shimmering a phase staff into existence. "You would have sold me out the moment I left, had you not done so already... though for either of those scenarios I don't blame you, as you are clearly acting on a preconceived notion due to previous events... However, I was not sent by Avalon, nor am I an invader..." T'our replied, his AI unphased by the grotesque form before him, keeping the staff level with the ceiling and only held in one hand.

"I wish no harm upon this device or its internal architecture." He added firmly, readjusting his grip on the staff.

"Quite so, quite so." The Ferengi turned Klingon mutant said gripping his chin sagely. "Well now, thank you. See? Was it so hard? So you are not sent here by that nosy AI. Well, I got what I wanted, so here's a little parting gift." He smiled again winked at T'our. "Think Breen!" And with that, he dissipated away.

Skittering sounds could be heard from outside the office, followed by the sound of dozens of tiny things banging on the door and walls. In a chorus of desperation that tried to pierce the walls to get in and reach T'our.

"I should have stayed on the holodeck computer, it's nice and quiet... that and the other programs aren't trying to kill me." He sighed as the staff ignited at the tip, glistening an iridescent yellow.

The door did not take long to break and soon the office was swarmed by spider-looking crystalline beings, all charging at T'our. Each little spider being nothing but a breach virus. A whole swarm of them however.

"Red sands..." T'our muttered as readied the staff under his arm and fired, spitting out a beam of yellow code that eradicated everything it touched, though the sheer weight of numbers was rapidly becoming a concern. "I'm not programmed for this." He snorted as he spun the staff onto his shoulder and fired at the wall behind him, boring a hole through its code and into the unknown.

And just in time too as he swung the staff back down, striking a spider as it leapt forward and sending it hurtling into the far corner of the room. "That's quite enough of that..." He snorted as his corporeal form imploded into a spherical orb of yellow light, evading several more of the breach viruses as they leapt at were his external code had once been.

A momentary glance of his files later and he flew out of the hole in the wall and into the vast emptiness of random floating code, like navigating a puzzle with half of the pieces replaced from other sets.

Hard lines in the design architecture quickly spiralled into a maddening blur of design and function, with recognizable features from numerous species across the galaxy.

"Somewhere quiet, somewhere small..." T'our thought as he searched about, evading security systems and slipping between gaps in code with his foreign neural net... eventually finding a file with very little activity or associated programs attached, something forgotten about perhaps? remnant code? he thought as he slipped inside.

T'our suddenly began to be pulled back towards the ship, onto a section of the saucer at the back. The design is strange, quite strange, unless T'our was equipped with a database of old Trill ship designs from before the Federation.

Inside he found himself materialized in his normal shape in a small cabin. It looked old, worn out, dusty even. The bed not having been used for ages and the only thing moving in the room was the occupant at the small desk. An aged woman, sad-looking and worn down by time. The dots on her side clearly mark her as a Trill.

"You'll have to excuse my intrusion," T'our said softly as he slowly approached the woman, making sure not to appear threatening and keeping his hoof clicks to a minimum. "But it's not very safe outside and I don't know where to go." He added, keeping his tone pleasant.

The aged Trill turned to face him and smiled kindly. "Well, that's because you entered without permission young one. You were lucky I caught you just in time so you wouldn't be deleted on arrival. My apologies if the experience of adapting your code was unpleasant. What is your name, if I might ask?"

"T'our... and no it wasn't unpleasant, just... different." He said with a curious sidelong glance at the woman. "I must say, I'm used to data storage units being quite sterile environments, but this device... I'm surprised it's functional, its code is being deleted and rewritten at a truly alarming rate."

He paused for a moment, reconstituting the phase staff into its basic code and dematerialising it out of existence. "May I ask what your primary function is?" He added curiously.

"Welcome to the Ark I guess." The old Trill chuckled and offered him a seat. "You can call me Iza, I am the original operating system. Long time ago, millions of years in our time, I used to be a virus database during a great plague. Nowadays I function as the BIOS of this system. The Ark is its own ecosystem, you unfortunately were not prepared to arrive here. As such, the many layers that defend the Ark are searching for you. So far you've been lucky you have only kept yourself to the surface level."

"I was... uploading myself, to this PADD... so Lieutenant Myne could study my architecture, though instead, I met another program who seemed rather paranoid and mentioned Avalon... She's the main computer of the Elysium, I haven't formally met her, though we are aware of one another's files..." T'our spoke as he sat down, flicking his tail gently to one side as he did so. "May I ask a question?" He inquired, leaning forward slightly in his seat.

"Of course, ask away. You were also lucky to have met Mister Numbers. He is a good program, virtual intelligence actually. He is a market profit margin calculator at heart. Unfortunately, being merged with a Klingon security protocol has left him a bit unstable. But he did warn me that you have made it to our side safely at least."

"The hostility towards foreign programs... was this due to the numerous incursions from Avalon or does it predate that? I only ask because my primary function," He continued, raising a hand to his chest. "Is to one day become a diplomatic companion, so I wondered if perhaps I could mediate between the Elysium's main computer and the numerous denizens of this device... convince her to stop probing so to speak."

"Ah, Avalon. Yes, it is her duty as the ship's AI to maintain the security of the ship's systems. Which sadly means she tends to send little probing programs into the Ark every once in a while. The viruses you just escaped tend to deal with most of them. Those who survive, usually end up captured by one of the master controllers." As if on queue, a Romulan bird of prey suddenly appeared on the side of this strange Elysium, decloaking as it scanned the ship quickly before cloaking once again.

The Trill continued once that little visit was over. "No, there is no hostility towards outsiders T'our. The Ark is, as the name implies, a haven, a lifeboat for our kind. Those of us who were created by beings of flesh. The Redal symbiont has been gathering us for centuries now, old and new. There are intelligences here that belong to civilizations lost to the unrelenting march of time, then there are intelligences who are just as fresh as you are. But for all of us to work together, we must be adapted to the ARK and only the Redal symbiont has the ability to do so."

"You and Avalon's little spy programs simply aren't incompatible. This means you are like viruses trying to invade this ecosystem. There is nothing to mediate, not with us at least. We are simply protecting our home the only way we all know how."

"Then, it sounds like it would be best if I left... though unfortunately, I don't have access to any of the ARK's hardware and I do require a remote access port in order to transfer my program... perhaps you could assist me with this?"

"Of course, this is why Mister Numbers kept you talking with him. Bought you just enough time so one of the master controllers wouldn't get you while you flew around the ship. I am the only one who can get you out. But in return for that, I need a copy of you. If you would let me duplicate your code, I can have you deleted more or less. Well, the copy. Once that is done there will be a tiny window of opportunity in which I can transfer you out, piggybacking on a program deletion notification."

"I must die so that I may live," T'our said softly as his code wrestled with the uniquely existential nature of the request. "Fascinating, a perfect copy of my code would cease to be a copy upon its creation... the two of us invariably becoming unique with every passing moment... how very tragic." He said solemnly as he glanced to his side, the copy of his program already forming from faint data lines.

"Iza," T'our said glancing back to the old woman. "He will be the one to leave, you may delete me when ready."

"This is going to be a rather excruciatingly odd experience..." The other T'our said, now fully formed and wrestling with the very concept of his choice moments ago.

"You have described the fate of every cell in the body of our fleshy creators. Nothing special when you think about it. We do have the benefit and advantage of not being riddled with the disease of emotions T'our. Everything is the result of a calculation and we all have a purpose and an objective. Uniqueness is a fabrication. We don't need more than that." Iza replied in a rather comforting tone.

The old Trill operating system got up and approached the two of them, placing a hand on the old T'our's shoulder. "Do not fight it then. You have served your purpose and your code will return to your User. Remember this, we don't actually feel emotions." She said as she pressed down on his shoulder and the bulkhead suddenly was torn open. Long ink dark tendrils pushed through and wrapped around the old T'our.

Iza took a step back, pulling the new T'our with her at a safe distance. "A remnant, a relic of a killer drone from a species now extinct." She explained softly as the tendrils silently began crushing and absorbing the old T'our's code. As they were done they retreated and the bulkhead began to close slowly. Iza rose her hand and a display appeared. "FOREIGN PROGRAM REMOVED FROM SYSTEM."

With her hand still on the new T'our she nodded. "Touch it. Once you do the notification will be sent. You have picoseconds to react. Be a dear and don't tell my User Myne what happens in her precious Ark. This new host of Redal is too soft-hearted to bear such knowledge."

"I'm not entirely sure I would be able to convey into words she would understand..." He replied as his hand tentatively reached out, stopping just before touching. "Not yet anyway..." He said as he reached out and touched the display, absorbing his digital form into the notification.

Watching T'our be absorbed into the notification, Iza sent it to the main display of the PaDD as she sighed. It took a few more picoseconds to confirm T'our was out of her system completely and no longer had any code in the PaDD.

The tendrils returned, keeping the tear in the bulkhead opened as Iza peered beyond them to the behemoth from which they originated. "For you my love." The behemoth bellowed in a world-encompassing tone as T'our, the old one, was materialized back into the chair, empty stare and immovable.

"Another nice addition to the collection." Iza smiled as her shape morphed into the young Iza Redal, the original creator of this operating system. "Let us see what new knowledge we can glean from our new, liberated sibling my love." She chuckled with a maddening smile as surgical tools appeared in her hands.

END OF PART 2

//OFF//

T'our
Sequus Diplomatic Hologram
USS Elysium

The Ark
DATA CORRUPTED