TRANSPONDER: RNC-Prospero, Buro des Marinenachrichtendiensts
A Battlecruiser doomed to be dismantled has found new purpose beyond Rheinland's borders. During an age long past it served as a devoted messenger for the Federalists. Compared to other Capital Ships of the same class, Prospero was one of the more outdated models - perhaps by intention or lack of resources to service the hull of a once proud participant in the 80-year old war with the GMG. Even so, this handicap allowed the Federalists to use it as a courier of illicit goods, marines, and vital information in the form of documents and letters rather than risk a data breach over long range communications.
Unlike other capital vessels that were equally damaged, technologically redundant or considered as a cumbersome surplus, Prospero escaped the chopping block by the hairs. It managed to find yet another purpose as a mercenary's newfound temporary home and successor to the 'Wayfarer'. It saw rudimentary upgrades to fit the role of a mobile staging point and long range recon for the Buro, although many of its components remain well below what can be considered 'basic' in terms of combat. As such it relies exclusively on a quick way out of any situation and automated defenses managed by a basic threat/response Artificial Intelligence usually seen on Weapon Platforms. Despite now having enough crew of both human and automated robots to handle every one of the Prospero's modules without the need of a backwards compatible A.I, both the Buro and the unofficial Commanding Officer prefer not revealing what the Prospero actually does outside of Rheinland space by association. Thus, it maintains the guise of a Cruiser manned by a skeleton crew until the reactor finally succumbs to wear and tear.
HIGH-RANKING CREW:
- Louis Sewall: Head of Security
- ED-22 "Seidr": Lead Scientist
- ED-12 "Ullr": 'Zero-One' Scavenging Team Leader (3 members: ED-8 "Perth"; ED-12 "Ullr"; ED-1 "Isaz";
- Benjamin Krohn: Automated Defenses Caretaker
- Lanzo Meyer: Acting Commanding Officer (Public)
- Vincent 'Caliban' Abrams: Acting Commanding Officer (Hidden)
- Leonore Graf: Comms Specialist (Radio)
- Gisela Krämer: Comms Specialist (Neural Net/ basic)
INVENTORY:
»Item No.1 & Item No.2
Two thermonuclear bombs obtained through various dealings. One's manufacturer is Kemwer Munitions, while the other has been developed by APM. Item No.1 (Kemwer) has been used during the destruction of 'RV-Wayfarer' after the vessel has been compromised by alien influence, forcing Caliban to look into re-activating the bomb developed by APM in order to secure 'The Prospero' in the same way.
»Item No.8
A near perfect imitation of Caliban's former self in the form of an android developed by FuTech Innovations and modified by 'Ampere' to serve as a secondary body to be controlled from a distance. Mainly used for diplomatic meetings, this model lacks the greater offensive capabilities advertised by FuTech due to software compatibility issues.
NOTE: User must undergo psychiatric evaluation after every use. Episodes of personality dissociation may occur.
»Item No.26
Dubbed as 'MALWARE' or 'AMPERE'. A semi-sentient Gammu AI consciousness harvested from Caliban's vessel roughly three months after upgrading said ship with poorly understood Gammu technology - developed by The Core - and subsequently 'tamed' by Lane Hackers. Highly adaptive and reclusive, 'AMPERE' is both an asset and an enigma.
»Item No.32
Caliban, also known as 'Vincent Abrams'. Mercenary, scientist - posthuman. After his organic carcass gave in to excessive damage, Caliban resorted to cybernetic augmentations. In the end most organic components have been replaced by higher-performing hardware and thus effectively becoming more machine than human. The current frame values a blend of brute force and a highly sophisticated cortex chip to aid with electronic warfare.
Long past a self-imposed expiration date and suffering from the effects of cybernetics, drug abuse and the constant use of a 'secondary body', Item No.32 is no longer fit for physical activities or extensive piloting/combat sessions in space. While outside either activities, Item No.32 resides in an isolated environment containing numerous dedicated servers and life support devices. Periodic maintenance efforts have proven to slow down decay, but without a more permanent solution there is no guarantee that his condition will improve.
NOTE: Just like his ship, Caliban uses a combination of augments from different manufacturers:
'52' is composed of a 'battery device' and five separate hybrid weapons. A rudimentary approach to employing some of The Wild's own weapons against a previously unknown species of aliens that relate to the Nomads (known as 'Sentinels'). Highly unstable and prone to periodic malfunction.
NOTE: The battery has a relatively short lifespan and must be unmounted in order to charge aboard the RNC-Prospero. Additionally, overuse can result in the battery shorting out and bringing down the ship's electrical grid - main power core included.
»MODEL: 90-ARKM-N9V4 "Lurker" Rheinland Very Heavy Fighter
»POWERCORE1: ARKM-PW3V.4(v3)
»POWERCORE#2: [ERROR: UNKNOWN DEVICE CONNECTED]
»SCANNER ARRAY: Minified Spyglass Scanner
»ELECTRONICS: GMU.AI/APM Electronics
»ENGINE: OMG-ONG-210 Engine Array
»SHIELDING: Adapted AI Shields (Experimental)
»AFTERBURNERS: Adapted AI Thrusters (Experimental)
»WEAPONRY: [ERROR:'Item No.52'UNRECOGNIZED]
»SHIP NAME: Caliban
»TRANSPONDER: None
A salvaged 90-ARKM-N9 "Valkyrie" Rheinland Very Heavy Fighter from Bering whose chassis was put back into a more manageable state by Bristol Constructions and Manufacturing, now belonging to the lone mercenary known as "Caliban". The hull has later been modified by its new Pilot to commemorate another Valkyrie's death. Vincent's. A scientist who had always yearned for one, yet the very day he had his wish granted was the day his own life had come to an end - possibly granting another's wish. It was the last reminder to the person Caliban used to be, forever gone and now replaced by a new ship bearing small mementos on the hull, taking back to the days when he used to love. To feel. To explore beyond what anyone could have imagined. A futile attempt to remain unchanged in a constantly changing world.
The new Valkyrie still holds the hull plate indicating its manufacturing date: 822 A.S. It also holds additional plates with different etchings into them covered by burn marks all welded on top of the original. The ship's internals are nothing to what a standard issue variant would have. The usual military-grade electronics were originally missing as were the sensors, scanner and weapons. Those are replaced by compatible aftermarket components which are cheaper to maintain, but also offering a weaker performance overall. The only high-quality internal part of the ship is the powerplant refurbished and put back into function by ALG in an under-the-table deal between them and Caliban.
As of late 829 A.S through 830 A.S the ship has seen multiple improvements across the board. The powerplant has been optimized by the user to match the performance of a newly built variant, with small improvisations to energy management. The Scanner Array and Engines have also been replaced with highly advanced variants, vastly improving the ship's performance during assignments in the more harsh areas of Sirius.
These upgrades have not stopped, however. As time passed so have relations changed. In some cases they've improved. In others: they devolved into plain hostility. Over time, "Caliban" has reintroduced Military-grade hardware to the ship to make up for irreplaceable parts such as the powercore and general updates to the cockpit. More recent events have unfortunately pushed the pilot towards implementing what can be considered as "scorned technology", officially tarnishing the ship's reputation as a symbol of 'rebirth'. It has gained a new name as this new iteration has passed the final safety trials (although barely): 90-ARKM-N9v4 "Lurker" Rheinland Very Heavy Fighter.
It represents a haunting approach to the term of "Chimaera". A blasphemous blend of different types and grades of human hardware, Core-tainted Gammu technology and the some of The Wild's first attempts to emulate their masters' fangs acquired through unknown means.
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
Prospero's hull whined against the elements as asteroids were scratching against the hull. Every move of the poorly attached plates rippled across a wider surface, further pushing the myriad of hanging cables that were laid bare as if they were being taken by underwater currents.
In the bowels of this decaying corpse, a lone ship was left in an equal or worse state to gain dust as there was no apparent solution in sight. Vincent was gone in one of his godforsaken quests deep in The Omicrons to continue the vicious cycle of damaging and repairing himself. Months passed since he last visited his own quarters, let alone the forgotten pet project vessel he left behind: a Xeno Bomber he purchased for later use. It had partially repaired internals and weapon systems, but the hull - especially the belly - was corroded to the very core.
With a quick twist and pull of a crowbar into the Aggressor's hull, half of the bomber's rotting metal 'skin' fell off in a domino fashion. Ullr, Vincent's trusted scavenger and soldier droid was to blame for the commotion. He was a combat droid with a hunched over processing unit - the head - and a back which ever so slightly arched forward. Like many other of his kind, this one was stripped down to its skeletal frame showcasing all of its innards. Cables, hydraulics and sparse mechanical muscles building up the whole being. Ullr was always more of a fashionista' in the more grotesque sense, often donning rags and torn clothes over his frame to stand out from others. It made him feel protected, in a way.
A singular, large infrared sensor shined a dim red linear beam of light over the Aggressor's carcass. Annoyed mechanical chittering and static left Ullr's damaged voicebox as he grabbed himself by the head, seeming to be shocked by a sudden realization. His articulated feet danced erratically on the metal floor, not knowing what to make of the damage he thought he caused. Only the careful caress of his shoulder calmed the panicked droid. He already knew who was behind him: a sibling, as humans tend to put it.
Seidr turned her so called 'little brother' around and arranged the rags on him to prevent them from falling due to his previously chaotic movement. Her soothing voicebox did the rest.
[There now, little bro. Are you alright? Are you hurt? What happened?]
[Erratic mechanical chittering.]
He replied in turn, gesticulating with his arms in a motion that told his story in the hangar so far. How he saw the ship in an advanced state of decay, how he thought he could help by ripping off the rusted, cancer-like plates and put on new ones. Ullr's arms flayed around in panic after pointing at the large chunk of compromised metal under the Aggressor and the still-setting brown colored rust cloud.
[Calm down! The bad cloud does not affect us, okay?] she grabbed him with both hands, stopping the panicked frenzy like a time freeze and orienting his hands to stand once again by his body in a hunched over position. Her optical sensor locked with his red eye in a caring fashion. [Do you want to make it feel better? We can do that.]
The little soldier sighed with a certain metallic reverb in his voicebox. Time froze between the two machines who now locked eyes at an arm's reach. Ullr reached out clumsily with his left hand in the right pocket of his comically long coat stitched together with dirty white rags and punctured leather. It was an awkward struggle to pull out whatever hid in the confines of a hole-ridden pocket, but the eventual success revealed an empty can of M.C Finnigan's Chicken Soup - the label had a poorly written note on it, as if the one who wrote it had two left hands: 'Chkn sup. tke in case of flu, okey bby?' with a red marker on top. It was all muddy and still carried the spoiled smell of condiments -- not that the droids could sense that. Seidr chuckled, trying her best not to break her brother's fantasy with the harsh reality she saw before her optic. Looking behind him there was a ship that needed more than just a good soup. To her, that thing needed a funeral and two flowers over its grave. Vincent was not known for a logical approach on most problems, but this felt like he just threw it all out the window and himself with it for good measure.
[Good idea! Get the soup ready. I'll take care of what I can here, alright? Just...] she paused, considering what the human crew would think of them. [This is a secret mission, okay? Be sneaky. We don't want to let the others know we're juicing up Caliban's abandonware. It will be a surprise!]
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
Seidr labored away in the Aggressor's cockpit, gutting wires and consoles not unlike a surgeon performing an autopsy on a dried up cadaver. Her mechanical joints whined and shook the more she obsessed herself with solving the issue at hand. To Seidr, it was an unpleasant experience which begged for something - anything - to go wrong. She did the very same thing roughly seven years ago in The Wayfarer's command room and against the clock. The Research Station it was attached to was damaged beyond repair and many of the automated crew did not make it out on account of there not being enough space aboard a derelict Dunlin-class Frigate. It is where she met Ullr - where he lost his plating and voicebox, too.
The price of programming an AI with freedom of action in mind is that survival becomes a core directive - an urge towards self preservation. And almost every one of the crew she worked with aboard Vincent's home had it. Memories clawed their way back as the research droid stared into the wires' flashing sparks: she was the first aboard The Wayfarer. And had to watch everyone else fight their way to the Dunlin. Her hands had a mind of their own, gripping a plasma shotgun and weakly firing upon her own kin alongside a ragged mercenary who still had flesh to spare - cybernetical enhancements welded upon a still living meatsuit. Back in the day Vincent did not yet have a helmet - the consequences of a botched assassination were still visible. His fiery orange hair was already grayed out and parts were poorly shaven away to allow the wide, scarred gashes and stitches to heal. And of course, back then he had the excuse of not completely understanding who he was. To her it was no excuse, however.
The bridge linking Vincent's Dunlin and the Research Station was under siege. Seidr was horrified, knowing that every trigger pull meant a dead droid. Had she refused to comply, there were another 10 to take her place - a lose-lose situation like no other. Just when she thought the numbers were finally dwindling, one of the droids charged in with a propane tank for armor on its torso. It was the only shot she took without feeling sorry. To throw oneself towards a selfish death that could doom everyone nearby motivated her to instinctively aim for center-mass. Vincent noticed the barrel of her shotgun focused on the propane tank as she stood up. His eyes widened as he looked to the side, seeing a ball of plasma leave the weapon.
To Seidr, the whole world had stopped. Her optics' focus shifted erratically with the realization of the error she made. Vincent was there, frozen, pushing the barrel of the shotgun down with his left hand as he turned. His scarred visage left out a feeling of shock - dread, even. As soon as the plasma bolt would hit, everyone would find themselves incinerated to a crisp and vented into space. That split second felt like it stretched for minutes, prolonging the torture of seeing her life flash before her optics. And when bolt finally hit, the whole world came crashing down.
Sudden sparks from the Aggressor's console forced Seidr out of that eternal moment. She had almost finished repairing that piece of hardware, but connecting the wrong wires caused a multitude of errors to show up on the screen. She cursed at herself for making such a stupid mistake. Hours of hard work were thrown away because she accidentally jump-started the bomber's engine array. The process failed, but did it did not do so without a consequence.
Ullr was not far behind with the unintelligible cursing in the form of angry, mechanical chittering and random beeping. As soon as the console flipped a bunch of the Xeno Bomber's functions did the same. He was under the ship's belly at the time, working towards fixing coolant from oozing out like puss. It was no clean job for sure, but he knew how to do it well enough to pass basic safety checks. Suddenly a stream of rancid coolant and soot sprayed Ullr's optics array and rags through one of the busted pipes. He rolled away from the ship on a home-made skateboard with a fast and abrupt push of his legs, frantically trying to clear his sight. His imminent approach to the hangar's wall and the commotion caused prior had prompted Seidr to perk out of the 'nest' and look around. She was too late to warn her younger sibling, though.
[He-Hey watch ou--!!]
A large thump echoed across the hangar followed by sound of metal pipes hitting the cold floor. Ullr left out a whiny, tired sigh in the form of a long beep. It was barely morning and problems already began to rise out of that carcass like vermin running rampant across a field of wheat.
"Test the sharpness of your sword against another. And when that is not enough, unsheathe your cunning as the hidden dagger that ends the fight."
![[Image: VeemYgt.gif]](https://i.imgur.com/VeemYgt.gif)
![[Image: FRRZY5R.png]](https://i.imgur.com/FRRZY5R.png)