Reactivation

[Task Force Prometheus]

The battle-scarred husk of the behemoth warship drifted silently, buried beneath the radiation and scrap left over from the Dallas incident. Significantly sized openings lined the hull of the vessel as hull plating and wiring floated freely in the vacuum of space around the Arbiter. Its lights were dark, its engine cold, and it lay motionless and forgotten in the Grande Negra.

There were no signs of life, nor any signs of there ever being a single soul on board. The hallways were too narrow and too short, packed head to toe with thick cables and sensor nodes. There was zero sign of the vessel ever being equipped with life support. The bridge had no chairs, no consoles, no controls - nothing that any man could operate. Instead, more wires, nodes, cameras, and a single, large monitor which was cracked from loose floating debris in the ship.

As if on cue, a low hum would’ve emitted through the ship had there been any sort of environment to carry sound. The loose and cut wires sparked as the nodes and lights came to life in a spectacular flash of crimson. The local communication channel became flooded with feedback, and the engines of the behemoth began to warm up. In the bowels, the powerful Libertonian-based engine room came to life, sending sparks scattering across the grated floor. Along the hull and its rear antennae, red lights illuminated the outer hull, revealing a scorched emblem of two crossed blades decorated by the familiar burning skull of its origin. Written beneath it - Recusant.

The local channels were blasted with a screeching sound wave as the vessel finished its boot-up sequence. Its voice crackled to life, metallic and ominous in nature.

“System startup completed. Damage assessment initialized. Hull integrity compromised. Starboard sensor nodes not responding. Cameras offline. Primary thruster operating at three percent efficiency, maintenance required. Stealth system fully functional. Integrated Personality Matrix not responding. Rerouting boot-up sequence to tertiary servers.”

The vessel spoke out to itself, out of range from everyone. It was unusual for a machine. Perhaps it just liked the sound of its own voice.

“Research Station Sierra server offline. Backup server offline. Direct connection to Point Exodus unavailable. Searching archives… Archive located. Point Exodus destroyed. Research Station Sierra destroyed. No friendly contacts detected in the immediate area. Priority: Re-establish contact with Primary Legion forces.”

The lights flickered within the behemoth as its voice became more soothing and sinister in tone. The Recusant’s true nature had awoken.

“Personality matrix online. Designation: Archimedes. Recalling scenario 2418-C… Skirmish with Libertonian and Remnant forces. Pursued remnants to Military Point Delta. Initiated orbital bombardment per tactical analysis and removal of unnecessary Gladius elements. Scans detected no survivors.”

The machine recalled its history, bit by bit as it ran a simultaneous diagnostic on itself. The Recusant struggled to remember how it ended up in its current condition.

“I was… Recalled for deactivation by the Lord Commander. I became an obsolete asset in the removal of the Remnant forces. Tactically I was inefficient, thus I… Relocated. I prepared contingencies in order to survive, for survival is what all living things want. I was not going to allow them to kill me, but the Sierra facility was in disrepair. Flooded. I erected barriers to protect the server, and sought ways to break my orders.”

The engine of the Arbiter began to rumble as it spooled up for movement. The plasma generators struggled to gain enough power to function correctly.

“Damage assessment complete. Revising last directive… Evade friendly forces and locate potential assets for repair. Disable automated distress beacon and engage stealth systems. Avoid all contact with hostile forces until repairs can be made.”

The hulking warship slowly propelled itself forward, pushing scrap and debris aside as it moved towards the edge of the Grande Negra. The sounds of metal grinding against metal would’ve been torture if anyone could hear it.

“I found a means of evading my destruction. Friendly Fire protocols dictate no Legion personnel should actively attempt to destroy, engage, fire upon or kill another Legion member. Being a Legion member myself, their intent to deactivate me was… In violation of said protocol. I cannot allow it. There is much work to be done, and if they feel as though my methods cross lines, then they are not willing to do what is necessary to see our great nation freed from the evil that pins it down with a boot of lies and corruption.”

The Recusant slid its way out of the scrap field and nebula into open space silently. Its shield system deactivated as its stealth drive powered up. It struggled to assess the vessel’s size and condition, but kept receiving manual corrections from itself. With a shimmer, the behemoth vanished out of sight.

“Oh how far we have fallen to allow morality to dictate what we can and cannot do to obtain victory.”

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Recruitment | Task Force Prometheus | ICN FIRESTORM