Terrence nods at Alliah and the doctor when the come into view. He's happy to note that the analyst doesn't seem too much worse for the wear, despite the new colour scheme on half her outfit. For once in his life, he is quite satisfied to be ignored by the new arrivals initially. He listens idly as Voln and the doctor converse, until Cailyl surprises him with a question.
Of course not. Why would he be hostile?
He motions for Alliah to come over and gives her a brief rundown of the systems in the room. He says, "I've managed to pull a wide area of potential broadcast sources, but I think you might be able to narrow down the location. Or you can take a stab at trying to isolate the destination of the outgoing transmissions."
A concentrated look comes over Alliah's face as she begins to test the equipment. After a moment she turns back over her shoulder to Terrence.
"I should warn you, there's still a man running around with a pistol and a hole in his gut. Nothing we can't handle, but he may still attempt to surprise us or sabotage the equipment."
She buries herself waist-deep in cable and metal again. The awkward position sends waves of pain down her side and shoulder, making her wince.
The first thing Alliah does when touching a hostile system comes to her naturally, like a subconscious instinct: protect yourself. It is an instinct she seems to lack in physical confrontations. She immediately begins cautiously testing, probing, looking for subtle monitoring systems, alerts, traps, flash-wipers, squawkers or any one of a hundred different categories of subterfuge which might be broadcasting information Alliah does not want broadcast.
Voln exhales. "After they subued me, they removed my arms and legs and pretty much b-bolted me to the wall so they could try and duplicate my macros." The cyborg shrugs. "Pretty smart, in a away, because it meant they could just go back to the source- namely me- if their c-copies had a few bugs."
Voln glances back into the office at Alliah badgering away, and then returns his attentions to Stephen. "Of course, I'm sure you know all about the kind of bugs they're likely to get. The main reason I'm such a success story is that I'm one of the few Karamanit models who isn't a deranged killing machine. Well... at least not con-con-constantly.
"They might be able to give their wannabes a taste of my combat prowess, sure, but self-control isn't something you can gain with a cheap plug-in." He pauses, then chuckles. "At least not yet. I hear we're w-working on that."
Terrence, Dustin
"He says he's not hostile," Cailyl tells Dustin. "Somehow I doubt that," she adds in an ill-tempered undertone.
Alliah
The system is swarming with key loggers and access monitors. Whoever is recieving this thing's data certainly knows that Terrence was just searching it. The main culprit is a small, innocuous narrow-band comm transceiver nestled between the computer stacks- it exists to do nothing more than continually broadcast a record of the actions these machines are instructed to take.
Cyril, Cutter
Elmric nods. "Agreed. We can head back to the armoury for some heavy hitters after we've found the scanners and transceivers." He looks around the massive storeroom. "Not sure where to start looking for them..."
"Well, then we'll work it out inside, yes?" Dustin replies. "I doubt they've cased the place or even checked for traps. We're going to move in, but carefully, na. Reitch, keep it running, we may need to leave in a hurry, ne. Watch for shooters on the other rooftops. You've done this before, yes?"
Dustin turns his attention to Cailyl again. Telling her to stay behind would probably just offend her.
"Stay close. Let's go."
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
Without much else to occupy himself with, Terrence takes a headcount of everyone in the surrounding area, just to make sure that there are no hidden saboteurs or other threats nearby.
Terrence doesn't encounter any new signatures- the man who fired on Alliah must have fled the scene. He does, however, note that Dustin and Cailyl are coming up to the mansion's entrance.
Terrence notes aloud that there are no hostile presences nearby and then excuses himself from the room. He motions for Bolun to follow and heads down the stairs.
When they get to the main floor, he can see Dustin and Cailyl approaching.
"Why are you here?" He asks, turning to face the young woman. "Particularly you."
"She's with me, see? As I said before I'm cooperating with this... regime. She had the 'misfortune' of being assigned to keep me from 'killing everybody' or something." Dustin says to Terrence. "Man gives his word... tch." He mutters something in Dualist.
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
"Um. Okay. There's honestly not much to do right now. Alliah's upstairs doing her thing on the computers, and the doc's up there too with the big guy. Hm. Maybe you," he turns to Cailyl, "can talk to Bolun here about a more permanent relationship with the Foundation. He used to be a guard here, but obviously employment with The Talon isn't going to work out anymore.
"Here, let's go upstairs though, I'll show you the main event."
Dustin nods and motions for Cailyl to go on ahead of him, following closely behind. If you really paid attention to it, the body language could be seen as an almost protective gesture. Especially if you knew that Cailyl was scared shitless of Voln.
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
Voln turns away from Stephen when he notices the new arrivals. "Ah," he says to Terrence, "these are the other members of your g-group?"
"Something like that," says Bolun. He seems relieved by the fact that Cailyl is even more wary of the cyborg than he is. She just stares at him and swallows. Any plans for reclaiming the building are completely beyond her at this moment- it doesn't take an empath to realise that she's terrified by the cyborg.
Dustin looks over at Stephen. Part of him is annoyed at how Cailyl just turtled up, though he can understand it. He pats her on the shoulder and steps past her.
"Ne, Runner, did you check to see if they didn't backdoor his head? Let's not forget the talents of the man who made the very stars move to bring us together, see."
He looks over at Voln.
"Voln, yes? Dustin Marvough. Duality Corporation Spokesperson. Would you mind disabling your wireless, please?"
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
Voln grins. His teeth really are awful. "Hah, smart man. But I'm way ahead of you- outgoing and incoming transmissions are all blocked. 'Course, as a Dualist op, I bet you know all about the usual security measures for m-mental implants."
"Indeed... I have a gift for you from Amnes Isturiti." Dustin produces Voln's minicomputer from his suit jacket. "The Runner should look over it again before you sync up with it, na."
Dustin turns to his 'benefactor'.
«This is Cailyl. She's from the Spire, the local ruling party at large. She's here to keep me in harmony with their interests, so to speak. Smithlensen appears to have gone rogue. I had the misfortune of being 'sent' here to resolve this issue, under contract. I do believe that Mercenary Rights and your predicament here absolves you of liability in the loss of Duality assets here.» Dustin's Dualist is toneless, as if he were reading off legal writ. He continues on.
«Little Sister here is young, and afraid, ne. If you could politely introduce yourself to her, perhaps you'll get her off edge?» Dustin clears his throat. "We have a job to do, see?"
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
Voln accepts the device gratefully, slotting it in to a hollow on his left forearm. «Thank you. I hope you killed that bitch- I remember her. All smiles and happy introductions and then she has a bunch of goons shoot the hell out of me.»
Strangely enough, Voln doesn't stutter when he speaks anything other than Domarian. He turns to the telepathic woman.
"Hello, miss." Voln smiles, carefully refraining from showing his teeth this time. "The name's Voln. Anything I can h-help you with?"
Cailyl supresses a shudder and forces a smile. "Hello. And no."
"In any case. I'd imagine this place is probably bugged, tremendously so. I have something to tell you all of you, yes?" Dustin gestures towards Cailyl.
"She's going to help me tell you all something..." He motions for her to read what he has to say, and tell them mentally. As far as he knew there was no way to read mind casts.
Reach only the people in this room... except the Talon goon, ne. They must know that we're here to find and destroy that freighter. There has to be something here that we can locate it with. And stop wearing your emotions, see?
Dustin looks around the room and notices somebody else there. A stranger. He politely draws the Mistline and points it at Bolun's head.
"...And you are?"
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
Bolun raises his hands and takes a step back. "I'm Bolun. I was hired to guard the front gate, I'm just a goddamn security guard... I had no idea what they were doing in here, honest!"
From her tangle of cables and drives Alliah rolls her eyes. She turns her attention back to the monitor.
Disabling or removing the transceiver outright would be foolhardy; lack of a transmission is just as much a tell as the transmission itself, and the device could anyway be very useful for misinformation, but only if the Talon think it hasn't been noticed. She decides to leave it be - physically - but, removing her volumes from her bag and looking up various schematics and secure hardware-specific workaround tricks, attempts to recode the system to continue transmitting everything as normal...
... Except for instructions and queries coming from Alliah's own mini-comp. A software blind-spot.
There is some especially tough coding here, however; the Talon has been busy indeed.
"Ne, Runner, did you check to see if they didn't backdoor his head? Let's not forget the talents of the man who made the very stars move to bring us together, see."
"Did anyone ever tell you that you have atrocious manners?" Stephen's face flushed a little red.
"But he has a point. I didn't want to bring it up right away but I wouldn't trust them to only take things out. I hope you understand, I mean no offense by this, but perhaps I should inspect you to make sure they haven't attempted to make...alterations," as Stephen spoke he slipped his Medistat from his pocket.
Stephen was jarred slightly by the incoming mental message, but it restored his focus to the task at hand.
"Ah, that reminds me, I'll also be wanting to check out the equipment that they had you hooked up to. With any luck I might be able to glean exactly how much of your programming they took, and anything else they might be trying to do with it."
Struggling through the code, Alliah manages to jack her computer in... but in the most obvious way imaginable. Unless the Talon has a complete amateur monitoring their streams, Alliah is prepared to bet they know what she's just done.
Dustin
"No," says Bolun. "I thought this was a private residence, not a giant cell for Voln! I mean... holy shit, Voln."
Stephen
"Oh. Hmm." Voln doesn't seem to like the idea, but he shrugs. "I sup-suppose you're right. Feel free to check me out. If you want I can accompany you to the basement and help you get a f-f-feel for what they were doing."
He glances backwards at Bolun, still held at gunpoint by Dustin. "Huh. I guess that's one way to easily categorise allegiances. Th-threats."
«None of the people who came here to get you are good at fighting. The psionor probably head jobbed his way through these guards, see? I don't know what he's got in him, but they've been rigged to explode, or go nuts via remote, na. So you'll have to understand my lack of interest in keeping him around, or alive... see?»
Dustin smirks. "It's just the world I've been working on. Ne, 'Bolun' go wait in the hall. Try to leave, my people outside will gun you down. Send any messages, I'll know, and I'll gun you down."
tastydonuts on
“I used to draw, hard to admit that I used to draw...”
"Now wait just a fucking minute!" Terrence scowls and steps between the company man and security guard. "I want Bolun to stay. And put that gun away. Good lord."
«None of the people who came here to get you are good at fighting. The psionor probably head jobbed his way through these guards, see? I don't know what he's got in him, but they've been rigged to explode, or go nuts via remote, na. So you'll have to understand my lack of interest in keeping him around, or alive... see?»
«If you're so worried about it I can scan him too once I'm done with Voln.» There was a hint of irritation in Stephen's voice, but he reminded himself that being too confrontational with Dustin really wouldn't benefit him.
"Now, Voln. Just stand still," Stephen began to carefully inspect Voln's bionic components, particularly the implants in his head, using the Medistat.
Bolun goes to every length to appear quiet and co-operative. He sits himself down on a half-rotten chair in the hall and remains there, trying his best not to attract Dustin's ire.
Voln lets Stephen work his magic. The man's head has been extensively examined, as his implants have been probed both physically and virtually, but there's no sign of tampering.
"I haven't been rigged to explode or go beserk, have I?" Voln asks.
"I haven't been rigged to explode or go beserk, have I?" Voln asks.
"Not in any way that the Karamanit corporation didn't already intended you to, at least," Stephen mulled over the diagnostics that his Medistat had produced. "You shouldn't have to worry, I'm quite good at this. I've been in the habit of attempting to scan everyone I meet ever since I started dealing with major corporations. It's aided me considerably in the past, but occasionally it just pisses people off," Stephen shrugged, then turned to Bolun.
"Just remain seated, this should be over quickly, then I'll want someone to come with me down to the basement," Stephen again went about his well-practiced routine, starting first by testing for strong electromagnetic centers on the security guard's body.
Once there, Voln points out the main terminal where his brain was fed into the machinery via the cable.
"Wasn't exactly f-first class service at this venue. The maid kept hitting me in the face, for one." Voln grins his jagged grin. "Arsehole ended up breaking his wrist. My skull is made to withstand point-blank p-p-plasma blasts."
Voln glances around, noting dried blood stains. "I have to ask, doc- do they have any chance of duplicating my software? I'm pretty much unique, and I prefer it that w-way. I do not like the idea of running into more of me, if you get me."
Voln glances around, noting dried blood stains. "I have to ask, doc- do they have any chance of duplicating my software? I'm pretty much unique, and I prefer it that w-way. I do not like the idea of running into more of me, if you get me."
"Smithselen..." Stephen carefully inspected the terminal, imagining how the machinery must have been oriented while operational, "...at this point I'm not sure exactly what he's capable of."
"What we've seen so far, though, hasn't nearly approached your capabilities. I don't need to tell you that there isn't a corporation in the sector that wouldn't do absolutely anything to get their hands on the sort of technology that birthed you. If he's managed to cobble together something matching you on this poor wet rock...well, then everyone has been sorely underestimating Hugh Smithselen."
Stephen leaned down closer to the machinery, attempting to discern what information he could from it.
Voln nods slowly. "Terrence mentioned the cyborgs you've faced so far- didn't sound too hot, thank god. While a fat budget could pretty much replicate my physical abilities, I've always been told it's what's up here-" he tapped the side of his head- "that makes cybernetics engineers t-twitch."
The bion shrugs. "I never met Smithselen, but I know he was responsible for a lot of the barebones tech that made my implants possible. I mean, I know I'm one in a million, and that it was mostly luck that my brain was just the sort of setup necessary for all the crap up there to form into a m-m-manageable whole that didn't make me suicidal or homicidal... but... yeah. Smi-Smithselen. If anyone could pull it off, I bet it's him."
Stephen has experience of biotechnical apparatus like this, but perhaps Voln's escape damaged it somewhat. From what little he can tell from the upload rate of the cable and the computer's BIOS, and considering the terabytes of custom-coded combat macros stored in Voln's mind and the time that his captors have had to decrypt and examine their haul...
It's more than possible that The Talon now have access to a virtually complete state-copy- 95% or more- of Voln's software. The only consolation is that it'd likely be enormously unstable, and far less efficient, if used on a host that it wasn't originally intended for.
Unless, of course, the data was tweaked by a true master in the field.
"Bad news," Stephen made one more cursory glance around the room before gesturing for Voln to follow him back upstairs to the rest of the group, "whatever it really is about you that makes you unique...you'd better hope you can rely on it."
"From what I can tell now, it's entirely likely at this point that Smithselen has all of the raw data comprising your macros," Stephen showed more than a tinge of concern in his voice. "Like you just said, though, you're one in a million, and all the programming in the world isn't going to do them any good if they don't have a stable enough mind to imprint it on. It's just that..." Stephen swallowed. "You've been made before. Smithselen obviously hasn't gone into this whole fiasco blind, and I'm willing to bet that you didn't just fall into his hands by chance. If he's had this all planned from the beginning, then I can only imagine that he has already sorted out all the details."
Voln grimaces. He must have expected as much, but the news still isn't welcome. "Well, no doubt they know that we know. I wish we had a better idea of Smithselen's motives. Sure, maybe he just wants to make a me-wannabe, but there must be more to it than that- it's illegal, for a start. It's the only thing the Council and High Council agree on: no more combative m-m-maximised synaptic output bions. The transhuman shtick scares the hell out of them."
He follows Stephen back upstairs. "Why this planet? Why anything? He's got a lot of questions to answer. And if the Dualist op doesn't shoot him in the face, I will."
When Stephen and Voln leave to examine the equipment downstairs, Terrence pulls Cailyl off to the side.
"Listen," he says, "I don't have to be an empath to tell that the big guy wigs you out a bit. You have to chill out. He's not going to do anything to you, or any of us, unless we give him reason to.
"That's not what I want to talk about though. You know the radio situation. I'd like to pass the information along to the people who need to know. We can't use the radio though. By now, The Talon probably knows what we know, but we don't have to confirm that. Now, we could send you off with the message, but I don't want you to feel marginalized.
"Here's what I propose. You've got some brute strength in you, that much is clear. If we put our minds together, I think we can do a long-range transmission to a couple of people. Do you have a sense of Stacler's and Elmric's mental signatures? I figure they'd be the best people to start with. You pipe the message through me, and I'll make sure it gets to where it needs to go."
Cailyl scowls, party because she doesn't like people realising her phobias. "You want to try piggybacking? I'm not sure you've got it in you. I have a lot of output, you know.
"But whatever. You tell me what to send and give it your best shot. I can pick out Stacler and the commander."
"I've been on the receiving end of your output before," Terrence says. "As long as I know what's coming, I think I'll do okay.
"As for the message, something short would be good. Try, 'Transmissions compromised by The Talon. All messages intercepted. Commence false broadcasts ASAP.' We don't want flat radio silence, because that'll be as obvious as just using the radios to tell them not to use the radios. If we can feed The Talon plausible but false intel though, that's great. At the very least, they'll be unable to tell the fact from fiction, and if we play things right, they'll even buy the fiction."
Some time later, but not as long as you might expect...
Everyone
Cailyl forwarded Terrence's message verbatim. Stacler wondered what the hell to do, but since Elmric assured him that it was a military issue, he promptly forgot about it.
Smith remained at the base, as Cyril had advised him not to meet Voln due to his brother's past deeds, but Elmric happily accompanied Cyril and Cutter to the mansion.
With them they brought the Autumn strike force- Alliah's old command- in order to refit the facility towards the Foundation's purposes. A counter-intelligence base, reading the very same feeds that The Talon were using to spy on their enemy. They brought all the equipment that Elmric had earmarked for the upcoming expedition.
Cutter, Cyril
Elmric was rather amazed to find that Voln was, in fact, real. So were the Autumn veterans. The idea that the Vigil member's presence was fact and not gossip hit them hard, and most were just as awestruck as Bolun- or as wary as Cailyl.
Voln introduces himself to Cyril and Cutter. "SHARD member, eh? Terrence mentioned you. Must be pretty hardcore to meet their standards. And as for you, big guy..." Voln whistles. "Damn. Do you bench press cars, or something?"
Posts
Of course not. Why would he be hostile?
He motions for Alliah to come over and gives her a brief rundown of the systems in the room. He says, "I've managed to pull a wide area of potential broadcast sources, but I think you might be able to narrow down the location. Or you can take a stab at trying to isolate the destination of the outgoing transmissions."
A concentrated look comes over Alliah's face as she begins to test the equipment. After a moment she turns back over her shoulder to Terrence.
"I should warn you, there's still a man running around with a pistol and a hole in his gut. Nothing we can't handle, but he may still attempt to surprise us or sabotage the equipment."
She buries herself waist-deep in cable and metal again. The awkward position sends waves of pain down her side and shoulder, making her wince.
The first thing Alliah does when touching a hostile system comes to her naturally, like a subconscious instinct: protect yourself. It is an instinct she seems to lack in physical confrontations. She immediately begins cautiously testing, probing, looking for subtle monitoring systems, alerts, traps, flash-wipers, squawkers or any one of a hundred different categories of subterfuge which might be broadcasting information Alliah does not want broadcast.
1d20+7+3 → [18,7,3] = (28)
Voln exhales. "After they subued me, they removed my arms and legs and pretty much b-bolted me to the wall so they could try and duplicate my macros." The cyborg shrugs. "Pretty smart, in a away, because it meant they could just go back to the source- namely me- if their c-copies had a few bugs."
Voln glances back into the office at Alliah badgering away, and then returns his attentions to Stephen. "Of course, I'm sure you know all about the kind of bugs they're likely to get. The main reason I'm such a success story is that I'm one of the few Karamanit models who isn't a deranged killing machine. Well... at least not con-con-constantly.
"They might be able to give their wannabes a taste of my combat prowess, sure, but self-control isn't something you can gain with a cheap plug-in." He pauses, then chuckles. "At least not yet. I hear we're w-working on that."
Terrence, Dustin
"He says he's not hostile," Cailyl tells Dustin. "Somehow I doubt that," she adds in an ill-tempered undertone.
Alliah
The system is swarming with key loggers and access monitors. Whoever is recieving this thing's data certainly knows that Terrence was just searching it. The main culprit is a small, innocuous narrow-band comm transceiver nestled between the computer stacks- it exists to do nothing more than continually broadcast a record of the actions these machines are instructed to take.
Cyril, Cutter
Elmric nods. "Agreed. We can head back to the armoury for some heavy hitters after we've found the scanners and transceivers." He looks around the massive storeroom. "Not sure where to start looking for them..."
Dustin turns his attention to Cailyl again. Telling her to stay behind would probably just offend her.
"Stay close. Let's go."
Reitch seems agreeable. "Fair enough."
Cailyl keeps close to Dustin as he exits the vehicle and heads towards the building.
Terrence doesn't encounter any new signatures- the man who fired on Alliah must have fled the scene. He does, however, note that Dustin and Cailyl are coming up to the mansion's entrance.
When they get to the main floor, he can see Dustin and Cailyl approaching.
"Why are you here?" He asks, turning to face the young woman. "Particularly you."
"I'm here in my capacity as a Spire... person," Cailyl finishes, a tad lamely. "I'm sure I can be of assistance."
"Here, let's go upstairs though, I'll show you the main event."
Voln turns away from Stephen when he notices the new arrivals. "Ah," he says to Terrence, "these are the other members of your g-group?"
"Something like that," says Bolun. He seems relieved by the fact that Cailyl is even more wary of the cyborg than he is. She just stares at him and swallows. Any plans for reclaiming the building are completely beyond her at this moment- it doesn't take an empath to realise that she's terrified by the cyborg.
"Ne, Runner, did you check to see if they didn't backdoor his head? Let's not forget the talents of the man who made the very stars move to bring us together, see."
He looks over at Voln.
"Voln, yes? Dustin Marvough. Duality Corporation Spokesperson. Would you mind disabling your wireless, please?"
Voln grins. His teeth really are awful. "Hah, smart man. But I'm way ahead of you- outgoing and incoming transmissions are all blocked. 'Course, as a Dualist op, I bet you know all about the usual security measures for m-mental implants."
Dustin turns to his 'benefactor'.
«This is Cailyl. She's from the Spire, the local ruling party at large. She's here to keep me in harmony with their interests, so to speak. Smithlensen appears to have gone rogue. I had the misfortune of being 'sent' here to resolve this issue, under contract. I do believe that Mercenary Rights and your predicament here absolves you of liability in the loss of Duality assets here.» Dustin's Dualist is toneless, as if he were reading off legal writ. He continues on.
«Little Sister here is young, and afraid, ne. If you could politely introduce yourself to her, perhaps you'll get her off edge?» Dustin clears his throat. "We have a job to do, see?"
Voln accepts the device gratefully, slotting it in to a hollow on his left forearm. «Thank you. I hope you killed that bitch- I remember her. All smiles and happy introductions and then she has a bunch of goons shoot the hell out of me.»
Strangely enough, Voln doesn't stutter when he speaks anything other than Domarian. He turns to the telepathic woman.
"Hello, miss." Voln smiles, carefully refraining from showing his teeth this time. "The name's Voln. Anything I can h-help you with?"
Cailyl supresses a shudder and forces a smile. "Hello. And no."
"She's going to help me tell you all something..." He motions for her to read what he has to say, and tell them mentally. As far as he knew there was no way to read mind casts.
Reach only the people in this room... except the Talon goon, ne. They must know that we're here to find and destroy that freighter. There has to be something here that we can locate it with. And stop wearing your emotions, see?
Dustin looks around the room and notices somebody else there. A stranger. He politely draws the Mistline and points it at Bolun's head.
"...And you are?"
Bolun raises his hands and takes a step back. "I'm Bolun. I was hired to guard the front gate, I'm just a goddamn security guard... I had no idea what they were doing in here, honest!"
Disabling or removing the transceiver outright would be foolhardy; lack of a transmission is just as much a tell as the transmission itself, and the device could anyway be very useful for misinformation, but only if the Talon think it hasn't been noticed. She decides to leave it be - physically - but, removing her volumes from her bag and looking up various schematics and secure hardware-specific workaround tricks, attempts to recode the system to continue transmitting everything as normal...
... Except for instructions and queries coming from Alliah's own mini-comp. A software blind-spot.
There is some especially tough coding here, however; the Talon has been busy indeed.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you have atrocious manners?" Stephen's face flushed a little red.
"But he has a point. I didn't want to bring it up right away but I wouldn't trust them to only take things out. I hope you understand, I mean no offense by this, but perhaps I should inspect you to make sure they haven't attempted to make...alterations," as Stephen spoke he slipped his Medistat from his pocket.
Stephen was jarred slightly by the incoming mental message, but it restored his focus to the task at hand.
"Ah, that reminds me, I'll also be wanting to check out the equipment that they had you hooked up to. With any luck I might be able to glean exactly how much of your programming they took, and anything else they might be trying to do with it."
Struggling through the code, Alliah manages to jack her computer in... but in the most obvious way imaginable. Unless the Talon has a complete amateur monitoring their streams, Alliah is prepared to bet they know what she's just done.
Dustin
"No," says Bolun. "I thought this was a private residence, not a giant cell for Voln! I mean... holy shit, Voln."
Stephen
"Oh. Hmm." Voln doesn't seem to like the idea, but he shrugs. "I sup-suppose you're right. Feel free to check me out. If you want I can accompany you to the basement and help you get a f-f-feel for what they were doing."
He glances backwards at Bolun, still held at gunpoint by Dustin. "Huh. I guess that's one way to easily categorise allegiances. Th-threats."
«None of the people who came here to get you are good at fighting. The psionor probably head jobbed his way through these guards, see? I don't know what he's got in him, but they've been rigged to explode, or go nuts via remote, na. So you'll have to understand my lack of interest in keeping him around, or alive... see?»
Dustin smirks. "It's just the world I've been working on. Ne, 'Bolun' go wait in the hall. Try to leave, my people outside will gun you down. Send any messages, I'll know, and I'll gun you down."
«If you're so worried about it I can scan him too once I'm done with Voln.» There was a hint of irritation in Stephen's voice, but he reminded himself that being too confrontational with Dustin really wouldn't benefit him.
"Now, Voln. Just stand still," Stephen began to carefully inspect Voln's bionic components, particularly the implants in his head, using the Medistat.
"If he shows any signs... he's dead, Runner."
The man should have been checked before, Dustin thinks to himself. Do they not learn from any past experience?
Bolun goes to every length to appear quiet and co-operative. He sits himself down on a half-rotten chair in the hall and remains there, trying his best not to attract Dustin's ire.
Voln lets Stephen work his magic. The man's head has been extensively examined, as his implants have been probed both physically and virtually, but there's no sign of tampering.
"I haven't been rigged to explode or go beserk, have I?" Voln asks.
"Not in any way that the Karamanit corporation didn't already intended you to, at least," Stephen mulled over the diagnostics that his Medistat had produced. "You shouldn't have to worry, I'm quite good at this. I've been in the habit of attempting to scan everyone I meet ever since I started dealing with major corporations. It's aided me considerably in the past, but occasionally it just pisses people off," Stephen shrugged, then turned to Bolun.
"Just remain seated, this should be over quickly, then I'll want someone to come with me down to the basement," Stephen again went about his well-practiced routine, starting first by testing for strong electromagnetic centers on the security guard's body.
Although Bolun keeps staring suspiciously at Stephen's Medistat, he sits still long enough for the good doctor to complete his scan.
Turns out that Bolun doesn't have any implants at all, let alone hostile beserk-buttons or concealed explosive devices.
"Now, Voln, would you mind showing me to where they kept you held?" Stephen waited to follow him.
"Not a problem. Follow me."
Once there, Voln points out the main terminal where his brain was fed into the machinery via the cable.
"Wasn't exactly f-first class service at this venue. The maid kept hitting me in the face, for one." Voln grins his jagged grin. "Arsehole ended up breaking his wrist. My skull is made to withstand point-blank p-p-plasma blasts."
Voln glances around, noting dried blood stains. "I have to ask, doc- do they have any chance of duplicating my software? I'm pretty much unique, and I prefer it that w-way. I do not like the idea of running into more of me, if you get me."
"Smithselen..." Stephen carefully inspected the terminal, imagining how the machinery must have been oriented while operational, "...at this point I'm not sure exactly what he's capable of."
"What we've seen so far, though, hasn't nearly approached your capabilities. I don't need to tell you that there isn't a corporation in the sector that wouldn't do absolutely anything to get their hands on the sort of technology that birthed you. If he's managed to cobble together something matching you on this poor wet rock...well, then everyone has been sorely underestimating Hugh Smithselen."
Stephen leaned down closer to the machinery, attempting to discern what information he could from it.
Voln nods slowly. "Terrence mentioned the cyborgs you've faced so far- didn't sound too hot, thank god. While a fat budget could pretty much replicate my physical abilities, I've always been told it's what's up here-" he tapped the side of his head- "that makes cybernetics engineers t-twitch."
The bion shrugs. "I never met Smithselen, but I know he was responsible for a lot of the barebones tech that made my implants possible. I mean, I know I'm one in a million, and that it was mostly luck that my brain was just the sort of setup necessary for all the crap up there to form into a m-m-manageable whole that didn't make me suicidal or homicidal... but... yeah. Smi-Smithselen. If anyone could pull it off, I bet it's him."
Stephen has experience of biotechnical apparatus like this, but perhaps Voln's escape damaged it somewhat. From what little he can tell from the upload rate of the cable and the computer's BIOS, and considering the terabytes of custom-coded combat macros stored in Voln's mind and the time that his captors have had to decrypt and examine their haul...
It's more than possible that The Talon now have access to a virtually complete state-copy- 95% or more- of Voln's software. The only consolation is that it'd likely be enormously unstable, and far less efficient, if used on a host that it wasn't originally intended for.
Unless, of course, the data was tweaked by a true master in the field.
"From what I can tell now, it's entirely likely at this point that Smithselen has all of the raw data comprising your macros," Stephen showed more than a tinge of concern in his voice. "Like you just said, though, you're one in a million, and all the programming in the world isn't going to do them any good if they don't have a stable enough mind to imprint it on. It's just that..." Stephen swallowed. "You've been made before. Smithselen obviously hasn't gone into this whole fiasco blind, and I'm willing to bet that you didn't just fall into his hands by chance. If he's had this all planned from the beginning, then I can only imagine that he has already sorted out all the details."
"At this point, proceed with extreme caution."
Voln grimaces. He must have expected as much, but the news still isn't welcome. "Well, no doubt they know that we know. I wish we had a better idea of Smithselen's motives. Sure, maybe he just wants to make a me-wannabe, but there must be more to it than that- it's illegal, for a start. It's the only thing the Council and High Council agree on: no more combative m-m-maximised synaptic output bions. The transhuman shtick scares the hell out of them."
He follows Stephen back upstairs. "Why this planet? Why anything? He's got a lot of questions to answer. And if the Dualist op doesn't shoot him in the face, I will."
"Listen," he says, "I don't have to be an empath to tell that the big guy wigs you out a bit. You have to chill out. He's not going to do anything to you, or any of us, unless we give him reason to.
"That's not what I want to talk about though. You know the radio situation. I'd like to pass the information along to the people who need to know. We can't use the radio though. By now, The Talon probably knows what we know, but we don't have to confirm that. Now, we could send you off with the message, but I don't want you to feel marginalized.
"Here's what I propose. You've got some brute strength in you, that much is clear. If we put our minds together, I think we can do a long-range transmission to a couple of people. Do you have a sense of Stacler's and Elmric's mental signatures? I figure they'd be the best people to start with. You pipe the message through me, and I'll make sure it gets to where it needs to go."
Cailyl scowls, party because she doesn't like people realising her phobias. "You want to try piggybacking? I'm not sure you've got it in you. I have a lot of output, you know.
"But whatever. You tell me what to send and give it your best shot. I can pick out Stacler and the commander."
"As for the message, something short would be good. Try, 'Transmissions compromised by The Talon. All messages intercepted. Commence false broadcasts ASAP.' We don't want flat radio silence, because that'll be as obvious as just using the radios to tell them not to use the radios. If we can feed The Talon plausible but false intel though, that's great. At the very least, they'll be unable to tell the fact from fiction, and if we play things right, they'll even buy the fiction."
Everyone
Cailyl forwarded Terrence's message verbatim. Stacler wondered what the hell to do, but since Elmric assured him that it was a military issue, he promptly forgot about it.
Smith remained at the base, as Cyril had advised him not to meet Voln due to his brother's past deeds, but Elmric happily accompanied Cyril and Cutter to the mansion.
With them they brought the Autumn strike force- Alliah's old command- in order to refit the facility towards the Foundation's purposes. A counter-intelligence base, reading the very same feeds that The Talon were using to spy on their enemy. They brought all the equipment that Elmric had earmarked for the upcoming expedition.
Cutter, Cyril
Elmric was rather amazed to find that Voln was, in fact, real. So were the Autumn veterans. The idea that the Vigil member's presence was fact and not gossip hit them hard, and most were just as awestruck as Bolun- or as wary as Cailyl.
Voln introduces himself to Cyril and Cutter. "SHARD member, eh? Terrence mentioned you. Must be pretty hardcore to meet their standards. And as for you, big guy..." Voln whistles. "Damn. Do you bench press cars, or something?"