"Anima, give me the designs for the X-fourteen pipeline, will you?"
The artificial lynx bowed calmly and gestured, the image of a decidedly-mundane section of piping appearing above the fox's lap, a scrolling list of facts, figures and other generic and predictable data values appearing in tandem. By all rights the decision to create pumping stations connected by pipelines that were sixty percent energy constructions was effectively reordering the entire oil market to be far more efficient. At this juncture…though…it was so indescribably dull. With one hand he spun the projection in circles, dismissively lobbing it around the room only for it to rebound back to where it had begun.
"Estimated time of completion?"
Anima paused in her service, her own hard-light image freezing as her distant mind sifted through billions of files of data to find the one pertaining to the query. AAs the document was selected motion returned and once again she inclined her head a fraction, eyes half-closed as she delivered the report. "The main pumping stations are almost sixty percent prepared to be linked to the refineries and factories, though secondary and tertiary stations are far less consistent in their percentages. The range appears to be from approximately four percent to a maximum of thirty-two. Eight percent of stations are ahead of schedule, while two percent are experiencing delays caused by the deep excavation interfering with tectonic movements."
"Wonderful. And of course, we can't do anything about that until we subjugate the Nihilist. Are our forces having any success in that area?"
Another pause, another data excavation from the vast system archives. "No." The reply needed no explanation. He already knew what the Nihilist was capable of, and where it came from. A beast of varying size and structure that emerged whenever any living thing went to a certain depth, it was a manifestation of the will at the centre of the planet, the giant gem that was the Master Beryl. While the gem on Mobius harboured an enigmatic god, the mind at the core of his world was an intelligence in no way related to a higher power. It represented the sentience of the world itself and its appearance was ever its methods of preventing the incursion of mortal beings into proximity with its mind. To drill teams appeared as an unbreakable mass of blinking eyes that would morph into gnashing jaws should they persist. Geologists found crystals that grew in front of their eyes to bar the way, going so far as to integrate the researchers into itself should they attempt to damage the faceted barrier. Thus far only Miles himself had been permitted access to the core, a sign that much of the populace had taken as divine providence and such a feat served as one of many reasons for his continued governing of the planet he called home. Even he was not safe from its force and at the centre of the planet, even shielded by the most powerful excavation gear he was capable of producing his internal sensors had begun detecting a dangerous rise in body temperature and fluctuations of blood pressure, accompanied by the initial stages of living atrophication in the presence of the enormous crystal. His subsequent flight from the centre of the planet had not been subject to a return journey, and attempts made by those to follow in his footsteps had been met by similar fates as had the rest of the expeditions.
"Have samples been recovered?"
"Many examples of physical an audio data have been recovered by survivors, but the anomalies appear to fade before any physical specimens can be acquired. When specimens have not disappeared immediately, those attempting to extract samples either are unable to damage even small sections, or are integrated into the mass as with previous cases. There appears to be no consistency and there have been equal odds of meeting an impenetrable surface as there have been workers lost to integration. We are dealing with increasing numbers of cases of PTSD and psychosomatic injuries from those who do return."
Frowning, the fox rested his head against one fist, the other hand drumming a beat against the leather armchair. The Nihilist was the only mystery he had yet to solve, and as ever it continued to interfere with every well-laid plan he conjured. Even if it was simply the maintenance of his world and people there was that creature to consider as an unchangeable factor. How could you form an effective political strategy if you did not hold all the necessary cards? He needed more readings before he could take hold of the planetary being – as of yet he did not know if it was simply an instinctive guardian or a sentient being. Establishing that would be his priority, then.
"Recall all parties." Standing slowly Miles balled his free hand into a fist, shutting the hologram down and striding to the window of the study. "Tell them that the exploration will be on hold until further notice. The dig sites are not to be disturbed until my signal. Until then all geologists and archaeologists are to take long-range readings only, and sent any anomalies to the archive immediately for analysis. Get Scourge in here, I have a job for him."
"Already done." Anima's image flickered and disappeared and for a brief while the fox was alone. Repairs to the castle had hardly taken a great deal of time once the Freedom Fighters had vacated the premises; Sonic and Scourge had formed the greater part of the destruction, with the behemoth of Matthias only adding to the rubble that had littered the throne room. The old prince's biology had been a treat to explore in his spare time and he would miss the experiments. With such widespread and total access to the Moebian's internal structure he had been a perfect candidate for testing bionics and biotech. Now he would have to acquire a new subject.
A soft knock sounded at the door and a faint smirk crested his face. There was one small mercy to the trouble that had been caused, a success that had been the sole cause of his machinations in the first place.
"Enter." Behind him the door edged open and a figure stepped through, limbs whirring softly as he stepped in, turned, and closed the door quietly behind himself. Recalling the state he had been found in Miles laughed a callous, cold chuckle and then turned to address Scourge. To say the hedgehog was a changed Moebian could not have been further from the truth. He was still the sadistic, perverted psychopath he ever was, the difference lay in his body that was no longer under his control. One arm was now a smooth set of pistons wrapped in bundles of fibre, psychoconductive to allow the channelling of Anarchy energy into his palm and its manifestation as his signature anarchy attacks. Physically it lacked the strength of Scourge himself and was limited by its artificiality but served its purpose as to provide his weapon with manual dexterity. Through the rest of the unfortunate's bone and muscular structure ran a complex neural matrix that capped his nervous system at the cranium, dividing head from the rest of his body. Control passed to a combat AI coded to Anima and Miles' command, bypassing the need to control the hedgehog's mental functions. With direct physiological control there was no chance of him managing to override their safeties through brute force or ignorance and better yet…he had to live through it all. He knew everything he was doing and even when he was given control of his mouth that was as far as his agency went, and he was hating every minute of it.
Miles took great pleasure in the suffering of the creature only good as an attack dog.
"I hate you." The hedgehog spoke through gritted teeth, control over his vocal cords relinquished for a brief interval. It was almost his way of saying 'hello' these days.
"Of course you do." The fox dismissed his words with a wave. "You're deploying to sector eighteen. Control, activate protocol ninety-four, sub-procedure six. Shore up defences and subjugate immediate threats."
For the past six years, sector eighteen – a small continent off the main coast – had been the stronghold of the Moebian resistance group opposing his rule over the planet. Having gone undetected for half of its lifespan the stronghold boasted a considerable defensive foothold, with enough weaponry, facilities and supplies to maintain a siege indefinitely. Every now and then the troops committed to the annexation of the resistance would buckle and an insurgency force would break through the perimeter, forcing him to temporarily deploy additional troops to re-establish his control of the immediate locality. This was to be Scourge's first field-test with his metallic upgrades, and if they performed well he would be ready for more extensive deployment. The rebel faction was the perfect way to push his bionics to the limit, their technology progressing at an admirable rate. In fact, it was the only reason they were still alive.
With the resources of an entire planet available and his vast intellect the guiding hand it was well within his power to wipe this meagre warband away in a surge of guns and technology. However, every time he sent some new piece of equipment against them they adapted. Their own techs developed countermeasures and repelled him. At that moment he modified his technology to resist them, and so the cycle continued, with him stress-testing and improving his designs with each skirmish. As long as they could adapt to counter his technologies he would continue using them to improve. Once they outlived their usefulness he would surgically remove them and be done with it. They had yet to comprehend the fact that nothing on this planet lived without his choosing and should they continue to prove themselves worthwhile they would remain ignorant of such a fact for many years to come.
Galvanised into action the routines in Scourge's robotics activated, locking down his biological properties before he could form a reply. When he opened his mouth instead droned the dull monotone of an automated voice delivering a report. "Deploying. Letha force authorised?"
"If you detect VIPs, knock them out and return them to the base perimeter. Any other targets are to be eliminated permanently."
"Objectives confirmed. Mobilising." Upright, Scourge left the way he had come in, now firmly within the grip of the processor guiding his motions. Even at high speeds the system could keep up. The processor situated in his skull interpreted the information taken in by Scourge's senses and set them to the motor controls. The travel time from sense to processor to response motor resulted in an unnoticeable latency, the delay cancelled out by the phenomenal speeds the hedgehog was capable of reaching. Against conventional targets, Moebian or robotic he was still unmatched. Now he was robbed of freedom he was useful.
Turning back to the window he addressed his AI aide once again. "Anima, give me an estimate for his operational time. I want to know how long it'll take for him to get back."
"Provided his biological siphon remains active, he will return within two hours. Maximum operational time is estimated at twenty-four hours approximately. In the event of a total siphon failure his systems will force deactivation if he cannot be returned to his station within one hour."
"What are the chances of that occurring?"
"Unlikely. Separate siphons are active across multiple body sections. Total failure in the event of critical injury is unlikely. The most likely cause of failure is the expenditure of power before he can be returned to base. His biological hardware is the most likely and accessible flaw."
"I'm aware." It was Anima's programming to warn him of potential problems, but she rarely caught them before he did even with her prestigious processing power. "There will be further modification in the future, when we have completed testing of his current systems. His core needs to be maintained for us to have a functioning adept without the use of a Beryl. A pure synthetic being is of no use to me."
"Initial results suggest the link to the Anarchy Node is genetic. If this is the case his connection to the Node will be impossible to maintain in a primarily synthetic body." Lifting one hand a cluster of pixels formed an image, a sphere festooned with pipes and tubes. "His organs can be replaced but the hypothesis is that the more of his DNA that is removed, the weaker his powers will become."
"Explore all possible options. I will grow tired of his tirade of insults eventually. They are humorous for now, but I will soon require a pawn that is completely obedient."
"I feel like we're missing something." Tails lay back in his chair, crossing his legs idly as he mulled over the options. His body mostly rejuvenated from the stress it had suffered in past months, work was once again on his mind. "We're not getting the right responses." Though he had now returned the losses sustained by the team recently still weighed heavily and they needed some form of support. Nicole's battalions could not afford them the swift, mobile support they desired at the level of a strike team. Like the Acorn Military, battalion soldiers were designed for frontline combat, and as such many were now away running recon or border patrol, or launching armoured assaults on key Robotnik structures. When the distance between her and them grew too far each squad fell back on conventional programming, interacting with units around them to form a cohesive and efficient fighting force, albeit somewhat predictable. Operating over such long range without real independent thought left them at a major disadvantage. They needed creativity.
"Why not just use Veracity's original sequences?" Beside him Nicole sat, twirling her fingers, projecting the coding that represented her initial findings on virtual intelligence. "Before he bonded to Metallix, he was still mostly unshackled."
"He was a combat robot." Tails replied after a pause, "and these sequences are flawed. From what you've told me he wasn't active for very long, and his merging of minds with Metallix may have been his saviour. At the level of information he was processing he couldn't have lasted for much longer like that. He would have burned out. We need to simplify the streams of data without them losing their value." Delving into Metallix's code for the necessary components was an option; he certainly had the electronic complexity to handle it. Unfortunately almost the same limitations applied – he was designed for combat and only combat. His original design and software would need modification and refinement before he was ready for a new body and permanent activation. They wanted these minds to be like Nicole, to be able to interact with the team on a personal and daily basis. They wanted friends, not swords. And so, much of this would have to be customised or scrapped and redesigned.
"Take a look at this." Waving aside Veracity's old sequencing the lynx pulled a fresh wave of data onto the screen, constructing a sphere from the information and picking away pieces of it until only the skeleton remained. "We might not know how to get there, but we know what we're looking for."
"Nicole, what exactly am I looking at?"
The AI smiled to herself in a moment of professional pride. "This is me…or part of me. When I was building Veracity I wanted a code that would modify itself on the fly, so I logged myself in on one of my personalised Onslaughts and then took readings based on processing done inside the unit itself. This is what I got; half an hour of the stuff. I couldn't replicate it precisely, so I had to improvise as best I could."
"Adapted natural code in an artificial setting?"
She nodded. "I was a glitch; entirely random. You can't replicate that sort of thing or increase the chances of it happening. So, I did my best to duplicate the patterns and algorithms I generated by being in that processor. The base lines were simple enough…" A second imaged formed, overlaying the first and highlighting the duplicate parts. "…but I'm missing the higher functions. I can't purposefully create the randomness in an evolutionary brain."
"That's why it's evolutionary. It's made by mistakes, not design." The fox furrowed his brow. "Maybe we can use a semi-organic design? If we could construct a neural webbing from organic material then bond it to an artificial base, would that work?"
"I think we'd need a willing participant for what is essentially a lobotomy. We've not got the technology to be mapping brain functions at that level, and even then we'd have to account for decay." Closing the twinned images the lynx hastily constructed another, a wire frame of connections within the generic sphere of influence. "The moment we introduce something physically organic into the equation, we have to account for constant maintenance and operational time. It might be possible, but I can't be sure of the results or of the necessary work after the fact."
"So, not a viable long-term solution then. How about taking brain scans from someone and then mapping them onto a digital template? It may not give us the exact result, but it might be a step in the right direction." Tails turned the thought over in his head, acknowledging Nicole's agreement with a passive nod. With her own personal data she had been developing constructed intelligence theory for a while now, and her experience and preliminary work was proving valuable to their efforts. The entire day had been spent brainstorming ideas. Perhaps it was time to relax a little.
"I'm going to see Fiona." He announced, standing. "She's a biologist and doctor, maybe she has some idea."
As he turned for the door, Nicole chuckled, giving him pause. "Have you asked her out yet?"
The joke was growing somewhat tiresome already – their interaction in the hospital had done a lot; wonders had been worked, but they weren't…like that. He wasn't prepared to think that way just yet.
But he smiled anyway. "Give it time."
"Makes me a freak show and then I can't even enjoy it…"
Leaves were torn from low branches as he passed them, his speed generating enough force to pull them away without even the benefit of contact. He got what was going on – Miles was having some fun with his new toy, putting it through its paces…didn't mean a thing that he was along for the ride. There wasn't even the courtesy of pain; everything was numb with no control over his senses or movements. Watching pain inflicted with no ability to feel the result or any chance of enjoying the other pleasures of life was robbing him of his will to live.
Bullets ripped through the air around him, too fast for their firers to keep up with, passing by into the undergrowth. Yeah, amazing – he was literally the only target for miles and they still couldn't hit him.
Abruptly he jerked sideways and he felt his body react beneath him, pushing up and away from the ground, curling away into a ball. He didn't feel the momentary loss of speed, nor the rush of liquid as he passed through one soldier's chest, leaving a gaping rent and little to call Moebian. His armour, a thin weave to camouflage him against the forest, had not shielded him from Scourge's anarchy sight nor the force of his charge. Another guerrilla fell a moment later, automatic weapon spraying bullets skyward, corpse left behind in a trail of blood and viscera. Two kills and still he felt nothing.
His presence drew the other advance squad out of hiding, rising from cover with weapons blazing. Still moving his body jinked to avoid overlapping fields of fire, carving a ragged path away from the centre of the circle. Veteran hands followed him just out of reach, tracer fire pulping foliage as fast as he did.
Reaching the edge he switched direction in an instant, rocketing off sideways and transforming the motion into a single circle. He came upon his first target and halted, the armoured Moebian swinging his gun towads his chin in a practise move. Scourge's hand lashed out to catch it, gripping the stock and twisting sideways, his remaining hand fastening over his opponent's face. His hand snapped sideways and brought with it a sickening crunch of snapping bone before he moved again. Around him the other soldiers began to move, falling back from his position into something resembling a firing line. He followed, overtaking the rearguard, arm swinging out to catch them on the neck as they turned to fire. The blow crushed the soldier's windpipe and he crumpled against the blow, the hedgehog pivoting at the waist and hurling the corpse into his friend before he could find his aim.
He went down in a tangle of limbs, his colleagues twisting to cover him. Suppression fire flicked in his direction and once again the robotic mind in his drove him to action, dropping low and darting forward beneath their shots.
Steady aim saw a burst of fire glance from his shoulder in a burst of energy and he shuddered with the impact, the sensation catching him off-guard.
"You bastards actually hit me," he laughed raucously, "good fuckin' job!"
Before they could even form a cohesive firing line, now down four men, he was on them, a butcher. Once again his hand came across one man's throat, this time lifting him into the air and then powering him into the ground. In his support a colleague came to his aid, thrusting with a long, serrated combat knife. The adept pushed off the ground with his hand, slamming both feet into his target's chin. Another neck snapped from the force of the blow, the man below him crushed under the weight of hedgehog and bionics combined.
As his feet returned to earth he released both targets and came to standing, hand rising to interject the barrel of an enemy rifle, palm outstretched. Instinctively with the gesture Scourge fired, a hail of anarchy needs passing through the aggressor in a bloody mist of particles, spinning again and repeating the story with two more targets.
The final target was less fortunate. His comrades dead the sergeant persevered, heavy pistol rounds flashing away into the forest with only a blur to aim at.
[VIP recognised. VIP confirmed. Initiating return protocol.]
Not a single shot landed, the unfortunate's only indication as to the whereabouts of his target coming in the form of two solid blows, one to each temple. The shock and pressure was too much for his senses, collapsing into the mud, everything black. A steel grip fastened on his collar and lifted him, eyes passing over identification markings.
[Returning to resistance gun line.]
Taking off once again, Scourge had forgotten the battle in which he had been an observer. That feeling…the energy coursing through his veins…you couldn't take that away. Miles robbed him of his senses and his control, but that smug git couldn't get everything right. Fancy tech, lots of science and metal limbs, and he still couldn't get rid of that.
He had felt that.
A/N: Well, welcome back everyone. Honestly, I didn't expect to be back on FFN to release this anytime soon, but I thought that at some point I should finally get around to doing so. Ruthless takes place between the Metallix and Poisoned Cosmos arc, setting you up for what has become a favourite story.