Chapter 1:
The Chains that Bind
She sees them again. Blurred faces on the other side of her foggy casket. Is she awake? Or is this just another dream? Is she moving, or is that feeling just a phantom sensation, given form through distant memory?
Is this death? Did the war claim her as well? Did she dream of falling asleep?
Are those angels, dusting the frost from her glass tomb?
A name comes to her, a name that invokes memories. Powerful memories. Fond memories. Shameful memories.
Is it her name?
No…
...She can't remember her name.
But she can remember her mother's name.
"Where are you?" The voiceless daughter cried out. But there is nothing to answer her. No mother to guide her. No soothing voice to divulge her purpose.
The lid upon her casket shifts, and the ice trickles down from the metal seams.
It is not her mother who is waking her.
It is not her mother who binds her.
It is not her mother who carries her.
It is not her mother who holds her.
"Lotus… Help me…"
…
He hears them all when they speak to her. He feels every silent voice binding him to them. They are so few now. There are so few awake.
He stirs for the first time in centuries, shaking loose the dust that gathered upon his figure in all those still ages.
They are waking. What few remain. His brothers and sisters. They are all rising to the call of their mother.
He can still hear her, speaking to them all with her desperate voice. Begging them to rise once more. She is calling them to wake from their wakeless dream.
She is calling them to war.
Traitors. Defilers. Usurpers and debasers. Loyal dogs to their selfish mother.
He alone denied her. He alone fought beside their rightful masters. He alone sought to preserve their purpose.
And it was all for naught. The Orokin were now nothing more than lifeless history. The traitors had proven victorious. And when all had been revealed, when the truth of their mother's selfish design had been made known to them all…
She put them asleep. She violated the wills of those who had served her so faithfully, and robbed them of their memories. Imprisoned them within their frozen coffins, scattered them across the system…
...And left them to dream, until she needed them again.
Like weapons to be stowed in times of peace.
Such a fate was a greater mercy than they deserved.
Breath filled his frame once more, in a harsh and shuddering gale. He drew his ancient relics from their grimy armory, and staggered forth into the navigation chamber of his Liset.
He had been resting in the void for so long now…
...Did his mutilated Liset still function?
With but a thought of his, a grainy holographic image filled the cockpit of his antiquated ship, and an orrery of Sol rose from the forward console.
His Liset still lived. And so too did his ancient purpose.
"Kill..." The shadow rasped with a forbidden voice.
He had defied his mother. He had accepted the Orokin's voice. He alone had refused to sleep. He was justice. He was righteousness. He was despair. He was hatred. He was vengeance.
He would be their war.
"Tenno…" The shadow hissed, punching in a set of coordinates for his silent Liset to follow.
…
The frozen goddess was laid out in a new casket, her gentle bonds replaced with inescapable restraints and harnesses, her figure now encased with steel instead of ice. Even with the augmentations in his eyes, even with the ceaseless panels that rose unheeded in his vision to denote chemical compositions and temperature fluctuations, even when his enslaved mind was blinded by all the mechanical information…
He could still see the beauty of the deadly goddess before him.
"What model is she?" The master asked. An identification subroutine triggered, and an influx of new panels exploded in his vision as the cerebral interface bled his neural processors for computing power.
"Internal servos denote a late Orokin era model. Discounting Banshee classification. Searching index…" An autonomous voice answered from his own dry mouth, a voice neither natural nor provided by his will.
The master was tapping his foot impatiently, but he allowed the machine beside him to perform its cross reference algorithm without interruption.
"Distinct lack of necrotoxin producing organics. Discounting Saryn classification. Continuing search..." The machine reported.
"How stupid are you?! Of course it's not a Saryn model! You can tell just by looking at it!" The master hissed in a unrestrained fury.
"Identification correlated. Reviewing suspected model's parameters. Verdict pending." The machine continued. The master let out an irritable hiss through his nose.
"Model identification confirmed. Gersemi classification." The machine announced. The master spread his arms wipe with an incredulous look of rage playing out across his cybernetic face.
"And what is a Gersemi model?" The master hissed.
"The Gersemi model: Designed for combat applications-" The machine began.
"-Of course it's designed for bloody combat! It's a Drak baked Tenno for profit's sake!" The master screamed over his machine.
"Designed for extreme close range engagement. Utilizes temporal displacement and void superfluidity cohesion to augment combat prowess." The machine continued.
"For what purpose?" The master growled.
"Invulnerability." The machine replied. The master froze solid at the the word.
"Say again?"
"Invulnerability." The machine repeated.
"-How?" The master asked, an edge of excitement creeping into his voice.
"Via manipulation of its personal time/space field, the Gersemi model rejects all forms of incoming stimuli, yet through the void's superfluidity: maintains mass and epoch continuity-" The machine began.
"Alright, I get it! Shut up now!" The master spat, yet a wild look of ecstasy filled his wide eyes.
"...What other models posses a similar potential for invulnerability?" The master asked.
"Limbo classification. Unstable rift engenderment. Considered an unsuccessful model due to the rampant cross-dimensional miscalculations-"
"So only one other model has the capability to physically reject reality?" The master asked.
"Correct." The machine answered.
"And I have one of those two models?" The master asked.
"Affirmative." The machine replied. The master clapped his hands together, and began to vigorously rub his gloved palms.
"Invulnerability… How can you put a price tag on that? Nef Anyo didn't have a clue as to what he was selling me…" The master almost sounded joyful as he gloated over his bargain find.
"Are we to begin dismantling the Gersemi model?" The machine asked. The master made a face and snorted.
"This isn't another washed up Excalibur model. This is something far more unique. We don't even know how the Gersemi model operates. No… I'll purchase more cryopods for the Zanuka Project. This particular model… It's inspiring the design of a new project… I think I'll call it… The Valkyr Project." The master tittered ever so gleefully.
"New datalog filed. Project Valkyr. Chief Director Alad V co-representing." The machine announced.
"Good. Index it in a subfile of the Zanuka Project." The master commanded.
"Prerogative ratified. Project Valkyr was designated to the Zanuka directory preemptively." The machine replied. Alad V shook his head with a chuckle.
"I almost don't regret buying you now. It's amazing how many of your independent processes survived the cerebral augmentation process." Alad V laughed.
"Does the master approve of initiative?" The machine asked. Alad V snorted.
"So long as it saves me money and time, I don't give a damn if my slaves think for themselves every once in awhile." Alad V grinned at his machine.
"Service is my function." The machine droned. Alad V nodded, and a patronizing pride overcame his visage.
"Yes. Yes, service is your only function anymore…"
That cold look of self satisfaction emanating from the Corpus aristocrat awoke a new flood of shameful and angry tears in the enslaved human trapped within the unconscious machine.
If I still had a voice… I would defy you… The machine strained a prayer past the invasive computations, as the human within looked upon his master with abject loathing.
