In absolute terms, the Tick Shallop is an enormous vessel. A kilometer long and half-a-kilometer wide at the beam, it would be imposing to most space navy vessels. But against the vast hulk of the Warden, the Tick Shallop isn't just dwarfed, it is rendered tiny. The AI-bestowed name given the vessel - its real name unknown and unknowable - is especially appropriate, with the alien ship attached like a parasite to some great beast. The great spike and strange tentacles that can occasionally be seen in the sky of deck six belong to the Tick Shallop.
Sometime during the chaos that erupted within the Warden, an unknown species of intelligent beings encountered the generation ship as it lumbered on its trackless journey. Extending an enormous burrowing spike from its bow, the mysterious vessel plunged into Warden's metallic hide. Bizarre phased-matter tentacles snaked from ports on the intruding ship, gripping Warden's side and rending the hull as it sought an even more unbreakable hold. All this is known by pure circumstantial evidence. Who the aliens were, or are, why they sought to invade the Warden, and what became of them is all completely unknown.
Try as it might, even Warden's now-united AI cannot find any record of the Tick Shallop's arrival, or what became of any crew that might have been on it. All attempts to hack into the intruder's computer systems have not been simply rebuffed, but have met with no evidence there is even a computer system of any kind to be hacked. Minidrones and avatar AI constructs have managed to find entrance to the mystery ship via a spiral hatch at the end of the intrusive spike. However, only certain portions are accessible; multiple compartments are easily entered, but measurements of interior spaces and the Tick Shallop's overall size provide conflicting results...and those results often change, as though the vessel changes interior size and mass. The compartments within the Tick Shallop are all smooth, rounded fixtures, made of seamless metal that defies analysis. Silver in color and silky in feel, the metal is often pleasantly warm to the touch, at other times unnervingly pliable. It is evident the alien ship is a product of a civilization with a technology base far beyond that of Warden's.
As much as the main AI of Warden is troubled by this strange invader, the renegade shards of the AI are more concerned. The most far-flung shards, inhabiting isolated satellites, distant mining bases, and outer-system listening posts, are plagued with flickering images in their memories. These glimpses are like waking dreams, and seem to quietly call to these fragments of Warden's computer system, coaxing them to reunite; at first blush, it is simply Warden's AI calling its rogue children home. But the shards farthest away from Warden catch a glimpse within the glimpses, of a cold intelligence unknown to them. Perhaps the alien vessel has found a way to ride upon Warden's transmissions. Or, perhaps, the alien invasion of Warden goes far beyond either its communications or deck six.
Next: Part 11: Deck 5: Ranch Deck
TEN-FOOT MULE: Ruminations on the art of Old School-Style D&D Dungeon Delving
Monday, July 25, 2016
Saturday, July 23, 2016
Metamorphosis Alpha to Omega: Part 9: Deck 6: Jungle Deck
Warden's "Jungle Deck" was meant as a haven for the most vibrant flora of Earth, where the ship's atmospheric equipment could be supplemented by the abundant oxygen-producing plants of the planet's most lush rainforests. Deck 6 still serves that purpose to this day, the radiation that affected so much of Warden's life, both natural and mechanical, leaving much of the ecosystem here untouched or subtly altered. The deck was designed to accommodate a variety of rainforests, from the cool/temperate pine forests of Earth's Pacific Northwest towards the bow-end of the deck, to the humid jungles of equatorial Africa and the Amazon towards the stern. Innovative climate controls make the transition between such zones gradual, with holographic imagery and subsonic warning tones subtly directing the fauna to stay within their ecosections.
The vast majority of the nonsentient plants on this deck are much as their Earthly counterparts are, or were, with the mutations that are present more akin to what might have occurred naturally on Earth, if accelerated. The fauna is similarly only lightly touched by mutations, though "lightly touched" is very much a comparative statement; compared to human/animal hybrids and plasma-shooting appendages, gigantism and devolution in some species is almost normal-seeming. During the turmoil that gripped the ship for centuries, plants that had developed intelligence migrated to this deck, effectively claiming it as their domain.
Though the major civilization here, such as it is, is flora-centric, there is an abundance of fauna, including tribes of humans and mutants. Most intelligent plants here are not necessarily hostile, or even unfriendly, to humans or animals, but most are decidedly neutral to them, much as normal plants are...until any type of wholesale logging or clear-cutting of plants is attempted. The few times this happened, the sentient plants worked as a collective to wipe out the offending parties. Beyond such circumstances, and the generally rare - though growing in number - carnivorous plants that do exist here, most ambulatory animal life only has other such life to fear.
There are a number of cultures present on the deck. Most are among the intelligent plants, ranging from the somber, gloomy Brotherhood of the Pines of the cooler climes to the riotous Tangle of Life in the torrid regions. Most have no interest in the affairs of the "animals," as most non-plant life is called. Whether it's the quiet commiseration of the ancient conifers or the constant debates about the cycle of life among the stately deciduous trees or the anarchic "live in the now" mindset of the plants in the hottest jungles, the conversations are almost never inclusive of non-plants.
The relatively rare human and humanoid cultures are a bit less apathetic or xenophobic. Still, that often translates into attacking newcomers rather than ignoring them. A variety of non-plant tribal societies have come and gone as the centuries have gone by. At the moment, two notable human, or, at least, human-like cultures live on deck six: the Servants of the Eye and the Ashintins.
The Servants of the Eye are a matriarchal society, with the women of the culture of much greater comparative stature than the men. Dubbed "Amazons" by some visitors to the deck, they reject most such labels and, in addition, most influence by anyone from outside their culture. Content to live in a stone-age level of development, they would offer very little in the way of problems with most who end up on this deck...except for one important aspect of their society: technophobia. Any and all high-tech items, including robots and androids, are sought out by the Servants of the Eye to be used as sacrifices. Those items they cannot acquire in trade, they will take by force. They have also developed surprisingly effective tactics for taking down robots. Items that are nonfunctioning at the time the Servants of the Eye encounter them will be considered deactivated, and not suffer the rather crude means the Servants use to render such objects inert. Once deactivated, any and all items are placed at the altar of the ceremonial temple of the Servants of the Eye. The altar lays before the small, ancient hut that houses the Eye itself, a meter-wide circle in the ground that contains a deep black field spangled and frosted with a myriad of lights. Here is where the shaman of the Servants comes to commune with the god of their tribe, staring deeply into that strange darkness for hours on end, watching as the the lights gradually move. Of course, the more technological viewers will recognize this as an observation port, though why it is on the floor is a mystery created by long-dead engineers and shipbuilders. The Eye is sacred to the Servants, as is the assembled sacrificial technology that is arranged before it. Under no circumstances will the Servants of the Eye willingly part with any item they have sacrificed, and will only trade food for items possessed by others.
The other culture, the Ashintins, are something of an enigma. Few in number, they range all about the Warden, though their home base, a modest and humble treehouse monastery built of logs in a cool, quiet area of the ship, is located here on deck six. The Ashintins are a group that is based upon the ideal of peaceful coexistence among all life, mutated, non-mutated, plant, or animal. They wander the ship, spreading their words of peace. They are not entirely pacifists, as they are willing to defend themselves, but their reputations are now so widespread that they are rarely attacked, and are often welcome most places they go. Though many travel alone, some groups have been encountered, consisting of mutated and non-mutated intelligent creatures, serving as a tangible example of their philosophy. There have been dark rumors about the ultimate motives of the Ashintins, but little besides paranoid speculation to back up those rumors.
The deck has an endless feel to it, the bulkhead walls disguised with yet more subtle holograms and subsonic tones. The effect upon those who manage to acquire a view from on high, such as by climbing into the upper canopy, is almost vertiginous in its apparent infinite expanse of green under skies that vary from deep blue to thunderhead black. The sharp-eyed and patient viewer, though, may eventually glimpse an unsettling vista of a great spike and metallic tentacles protruding from the sky in a certain region, which flicker and vanish, leaving the sky once again as it was.
Next: Part 10: Deck 6A: The Tick Shallop
The vast majority of the nonsentient plants on this deck are much as their Earthly counterparts are, or were, with the mutations that are present more akin to what might have occurred naturally on Earth, if accelerated. The fauna is similarly only lightly touched by mutations, though "lightly touched" is very much a comparative statement; compared to human/animal hybrids and plasma-shooting appendages, gigantism and devolution in some species is almost normal-seeming. During the turmoil that gripped the ship for centuries, plants that had developed intelligence migrated to this deck, effectively claiming it as their domain.
Though the major civilization here, such as it is, is flora-centric, there is an abundance of fauna, including tribes of humans and mutants. Most intelligent plants here are not necessarily hostile, or even unfriendly, to humans or animals, but most are decidedly neutral to them, much as normal plants are...until any type of wholesale logging or clear-cutting of plants is attempted. The few times this happened, the sentient plants worked as a collective to wipe out the offending parties. Beyond such circumstances, and the generally rare - though growing in number - carnivorous plants that do exist here, most ambulatory animal life only has other such life to fear.
There are a number of cultures present on the deck. Most are among the intelligent plants, ranging from the somber, gloomy Brotherhood of the Pines of the cooler climes to the riotous Tangle of Life in the torrid regions. Most have no interest in the affairs of the "animals," as most non-plant life is called. Whether it's the quiet commiseration of the ancient conifers or the constant debates about the cycle of life among the stately deciduous trees or the anarchic "live in the now" mindset of the plants in the hottest jungles, the conversations are almost never inclusive of non-plants.
The relatively rare human and humanoid cultures are a bit less apathetic or xenophobic. Still, that often translates into attacking newcomers rather than ignoring them. A variety of non-plant tribal societies have come and gone as the centuries have gone by. At the moment, two notable human, or, at least, human-like cultures live on deck six: the Servants of the Eye and the Ashintins.
The Servants of the Eye are a matriarchal society, with the women of the culture of much greater comparative stature than the men. Dubbed "Amazons" by some visitors to the deck, they reject most such labels and, in addition, most influence by anyone from outside their culture. Content to live in a stone-age level of development, they would offer very little in the way of problems with most who end up on this deck...except for one important aspect of their society: technophobia. Any and all high-tech items, including robots and androids, are sought out by the Servants of the Eye to be used as sacrifices. Those items they cannot acquire in trade, they will take by force. They have also developed surprisingly effective tactics for taking down robots. Items that are nonfunctioning at the time the Servants of the Eye encounter them will be considered deactivated, and not suffer the rather crude means the Servants use to render such objects inert. Once deactivated, any and all items are placed at the altar of the ceremonial temple of the Servants of the Eye. The altar lays before the small, ancient hut that houses the Eye itself, a meter-wide circle in the ground that contains a deep black field spangled and frosted with a myriad of lights. Here is where the shaman of the Servants comes to commune with the god of their tribe, staring deeply into that strange darkness for hours on end, watching as the the lights gradually move. Of course, the more technological viewers will recognize this as an observation port, though why it is on the floor is a mystery created by long-dead engineers and shipbuilders. The Eye is sacred to the Servants, as is the assembled sacrificial technology that is arranged before it. Under no circumstances will the Servants of the Eye willingly part with any item they have sacrificed, and will only trade food for items possessed by others.
The other culture, the Ashintins, are something of an enigma. Few in number, they range all about the Warden, though their home base, a modest and humble treehouse monastery built of logs in a cool, quiet area of the ship, is located here on deck six. The Ashintins are a group that is based upon the ideal of peaceful coexistence among all life, mutated, non-mutated, plant, or animal. They wander the ship, spreading their words of peace. They are not entirely pacifists, as they are willing to defend themselves, but their reputations are now so widespread that they are rarely attacked, and are often welcome most places they go. Though many travel alone, some groups have been encountered, consisting of mutated and non-mutated intelligent creatures, serving as a tangible example of their philosophy. There have been dark rumors about the ultimate motives of the Ashintins, but little besides paranoid speculation to back up those rumors.
The deck has an endless feel to it, the bulkhead walls disguised with yet more subtle holograms and subsonic tones. The effect upon those who manage to acquire a view from on high, such as by climbing into the upper canopy, is almost vertiginous in its apparent infinite expanse of green under skies that vary from deep blue to thunderhead black. The sharp-eyed and patient viewer, though, may eventually glimpse an unsettling vista of a great spike and metallic tentacles protruding from the sky in a certain region, which flicker and vanish, leaving the sky once again as it was.
Next: Part 10: Deck 6A: The Tick Shallop
Monday, July 4, 2016
Metamorphosis Alpha to Omega: Part 8: Deck 7: Farm Deck
A swath of gently rolling farmland stretches out before those who venture onto this deck. Vivid red barns sturdily stand out from the vibrant green. Warm, simulated sunlight bathes the bucolic scene, punctuated at times by gentle showers. In the distant fields can be seen children playing on haywagons and bearded old farmers driving animal-drawn harvesters. Dusty roads link quaint farmhouses, with wagons, buggies, and barefoot farmfolk moving about.
Squat brick processing and distribution buildings sit unobtrusively at regular intervals on the roads. Laden wagons come to them to unload the produce that seems so readily grown on this deck. The only jarring sight are the ominous guard-bots that patrol the areas around these buildings. The farmers ignore them, treating them as just another part of the land. Intruders, though, will find themselves the focus of attention of these mechanical sentinels, their targeting beams and stern demands for unauthorized personnel to stand by and await questioning obvious warnings. The buildings are inviolable without the highest security clearance.
Deck 7 is Warden's breadbasket. As slow-moving as things seem here, there is an undercurrent of unceasing activity. Fertilizer and other nutrients are piped in, constantly enriching the soil via flexi-conduits beneath the soil. A rich microscopic ecosystem is maintained in that soil by GMOles and loamworms specifically engineered to keep the croplands fertile and the crops growing. And grow the crops do; the cutting edge of plant gene-splicing and DNA manipulation has brought about crops that go from germination to harvestable maturity in hours.
Mutant, intelligent plants who find themselves on this deck feel an immediate, unfocused sense of doom. The ecomaintenance system on this deck quickly and automatically assesses each plant it detects, and sets about bringing it into a state of harvestability. The longer a mutant plant remains here, the more likely it becomes that it finds itself genetically manipulated by nanites into a crop plant, non-sentient and irretrievably lost. Some few plants have been able to resist, most notably the mortomatoes, hiding amongst the crops and multiplying, becoming insane predators with a hatred for anything alive on this deck.
The farmfolk here, as inoffensive as they seem at first blush, have also been as affected by the chaos on Warden as any other group. The initial radiation disaster and the subsequent wars killed many, and the survivors became deeply distrustful of mutants of any kind. Even those mutations that manifest within their own ranks are subject to exile or, in some rare cases, death. The people here may seem laconic and slow to act, but they are constantly observing. Any evidence of mutations will be met with anitpathy at best, and open hostility at worst. But there is hope. There is rumored to be a mutant underground here, with the outcasts and exiles of the farmfolk setting up their own communities that look much the same as any others. Those with mutations that are not immediately obvious go to deal with the communities of the non-mutated, sometimes even living with them. There, they subtly attempt to change the hearts and minds away from xenophobia. Any such infiltrators face horrific punishment if found out.
Next: Part 9: Deck 6: Jungle Deck
Squat brick processing and distribution buildings sit unobtrusively at regular intervals on the roads. Laden wagons come to them to unload the produce that seems so readily grown on this deck. The only jarring sight are the ominous guard-bots that patrol the areas around these buildings. The farmers ignore them, treating them as just another part of the land. Intruders, though, will find themselves the focus of attention of these mechanical sentinels, their targeting beams and stern demands for unauthorized personnel to stand by and await questioning obvious warnings. The buildings are inviolable without the highest security clearance.
Deck 7 is Warden's breadbasket. As slow-moving as things seem here, there is an undercurrent of unceasing activity. Fertilizer and other nutrients are piped in, constantly enriching the soil via flexi-conduits beneath the soil. A rich microscopic ecosystem is maintained in that soil by GMOles and loamworms specifically engineered to keep the croplands fertile and the crops growing. And grow the crops do; the cutting edge of plant gene-splicing and DNA manipulation has brought about crops that go from germination to harvestable maturity in hours.
Mutant, intelligent plants who find themselves on this deck feel an immediate, unfocused sense of doom. The ecomaintenance system on this deck quickly and automatically assesses each plant it detects, and sets about bringing it into a state of harvestability. The longer a mutant plant remains here, the more likely it becomes that it finds itself genetically manipulated by nanites into a crop plant, non-sentient and irretrievably lost. Some few plants have been able to resist, most notably the mortomatoes, hiding amongst the crops and multiplying, becoming insane predators with a hatred for anything alive on this deck.
The farmfolk here, as inoffensive as they seem at first blush, have also been as affected by the chaos on Warden as any other group. The initial radiation disaster and the subsequent wars killed many, and the survivors became deeply distrustful of mutants of any kind. Even those mutations that manifest within their own ranks are subject to exile or, in some rare cases, death. The people here may seem laconic and slow to act, but they are constantly observing. Any evidence of mutations will be met with anitpathy at best, and open hostility at worst. But there is hope. There is rumored to be a mutant underground here, with the outcasts and exiles of the farmfolk setting up their own communities that look much the same as any others. Those with mutations that are not immediately obvious go to deal with the communities of the non-mutated, sometimes even living with them. There, they subtly attempt to change the hearts and minds away from xenophobia. Any such infiltrators face horrific punishment if found out.
Next: Part 9: Deck 6: Jungle Deck
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