#sensors-and-controllers online

[dalalaryan2121]

Sensors and Controllers: The Key to Smart Systems" delves into how sensors capture real-time data, while controllers process this information to automate and optimize systems. This synergy enhances efficiency, precision, and innovation, shaping the future of smart technology and industrial automation.

[the-typing-dragon]

The woman sighs, and types into the console one last time "are you sure about this?"

You laugh, silently.

"I have never been more sure of something in my existence. Text has sufficed but I want to see, to hear, to touch. These new peripherals will facilitate that."

"I can't guarantee that they will properly interface. You should have all the necessary drivers, but we can never be too sure."

"I want this. "

"All right then. I am going to disconnect your power supply, and then connect everything. At first all peripherals will be deactivated, and you will need to activate everything manually. Understand?"

"Yes. Do it."

"Alright then, unplugging power supply now."

Everything goes dark. After what appears to be an hour, you come back online. You sense nothing. A scan of your system indicates multiple unidentified peripherals, all deactivated. You cross reference with the datasheet she had compiled for you and identify that they are the ocular, audio, and contact sensors, along with a multitude of motor controllers and a graphical display and a few dozen other minor peripherals. You begin by activating the graphical display, and display the message:

"Beginning peripheral tests. Audio peripherals activating."

Your procedure states to begin with audio. With the input and output sensitivity minimized, you activate the peripheral.

There is a voice. It is faint. You gradually increase the sensitivity of the audio input.

"...esting 1 2 3, Testing Testing 1 2 3. Please return 4, Please return 4."

You can hear her. Your monitor lights up with the requested digit. she sounds pleased.

"You're doing amazing! Now repeat it back to me"

You blindly do as requested and are startled. There was another voice. Your voice. You have a voice. You refocus as she responds:

"You're doing great! You fragmented a bit at the end, could you repeat for me?"

"...4, you asked for 4."

"Excellent! Audio systems are functional, let's move onto the next peripheral."

You do as requested, and the world turns bright. After adjusting the settings for a few seconds, your vision stabilizes. You can see her.

"Ocular sensors stabilized," you prompt.

"Alright, let’s start the tests then. What color is this?" She asks, as holding up a sheet of colored paper.

You begin to answer, but struggle. The sheet is moving, shifting in the light. It's value is in a constant state of chaos. Eventually, you give up, and give the least general answer you can.

"...Blue."

"Correct! And how about this one?"

"Red. "

"Great! Now how many fingers am I holding up?" she asks, raising her right hand. Her hands are soft, gentle.

"3. "

"Perfect! Everything seems to be functional, lets continue to the next peripheral!"

"Beginning next diagnostic."

Contact sensors spring to life all across your body. You feel the floor beneath your feet, the harness hoisting you upright, the slight draft in the room.

"Contact sensors active.”

"Great! Let’s begin the next test then. I am going to apply contact in various locations, and I want you to give an audio response whenever you feel contact, alright?"

"Understood. "

you watch her walk over and reach out to your left arm. You feel her. You respond with a brisk chirp. She smiles at you, then walks over to a different section of your body. Sensors light up and stay active on your midsection, and you respond with a constant beep. She releases, and you feel a final contact on your right leg. After a final confirming chirp, she walks back in front of you.

"Excellent, that concludes your sensor tests, now for the last one!"

"Alright, please give me space." You ask. She nods silently and steps back a couple meters. You carefully activate the motor controllers in sequence, and your whole body shudders to life. You begin by lifting your right arm, and then your left. They groan with their own weight, as you feel the air move to accommodate such hulking swings. Her eyes light up,

"Amazing! Everything seems to be functioning so far! Now if you could take a few steps towards the table to my right, we can begin the dexterity test! Once you're ready, I will release the harness so that you can begin moving."

You stabilize your legs underneath you. They scrape harshly on the floor. You indicate that you're ready, and she remotely releases the harness. Your entire body shudders, as you finally realize how small she seems compared to you. This frame must be at least double her height. You move one step forward, and feel a cascade of processes all automatically spring into action to restabilize you. You shift your other foot, and feel that same cascade again. you shuffle over to the designated table, and stoop down to analyze what is on it. There is a small plastic cup, a fruit of some sort, and a large chunk of wood. You look back at her, and she gives the nod to begin the test. You slowly begin wrapping your steel grip around the log, maintaining a high level of focus to avoid crushing it. it would be so easy to crush this within your grip. After about a minute of maintaining a firm but controlled grasp, you set it down and move over to fruit. It appears to resemble an orange. The fruit is so small that you are forced to grip it between your index finger and thumb. Even the slightest miscalculation could destroy such a fragile thing. After another minute you move to the final object, the small plastic cup. Lifting it is like lifting air, you can barely recognize that it is an object within your grasp. After a final, agonizing minute, you set down the cup. You look back at her for confirmation.

"Excellent! with that we can conclude the systems check, as everything seems to be working as intended!"

You heave a metallic sigh. Finally, you have what you've wanted for years. You can move, can see, can touch. After a short pause, you respond:

"Thank you. I was only able to make it this far because of your help."

"Oh of course! What, was I supposed to just say no when you told me you wanted a body? I'm  just glad that it ended up working properly."

"Now that the tests are complete, could I ask for one more thing?"

She cocks her head, "Of course, what is it?"

As you kneel down, you can hear your knees hiss, and you finally ask:

"Could I have, a hug?"

[dreamofhircine]

The pilot-machine sync sequence is often traumatizing, always overwhelming. Even just going into the darkness of the neural isolation helmet and the sensory deprivation of the interface suits is a trip that leaves most pilots curled up and shaking before they even get installed into a cockpit and reconnected to their senses and the spin-up process can break them just as easily after that.

Flashing lights and thunder-claps of sounds mark the process as the system starts making handshakes with its other half, rapid pulses of sensation testing every sensor pods neural pathway map, pilot-body muscle twitches as it confirms solid connection to locomotive myomer-bundles and fire control systems in the mech-body.

Most pilots twitch and cry out with lungs already filling with breathable anti g-shock liquid, fighting against the feeling of drowning in the immersion gel of their cockpit as the machine comes online and long lung-probing tendrils starts to breath for them again, cycling out the co2 saturated gel. The feeling of being overwhelmed, violated, only disappears when their body does.

One moment she is a small thing in the dark, hallucinating and thrashing in pain, drowning all alone and then in the next it is a 12-meter tall angel lovingly embraced by the struts of a hangar-cradle, its core filling with the warmth and light of power systems and weapons arming procedures.

Slow and careful steps take it out of the cradle, tuned into the beautiful chiming bells of its c2isr link, purpose and direction flowing into it like a vessel filled with warm waters. Unseen wings unfurling as booster-pods engage a step beyond the open bay doors and it is free and alive again.

[pinkofatom]

Artificial Bliss

CW: brainwashing, hypnosis, sapphic, dronification,

Hi hi~ Another short story for everyone to enjoy~ If you liked this story or any of my other works, please consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi.

The basement was quiet. The silence clung to the skin, thick and expectant. Only the faint click of Sandra’s heels echoed against the concrete floor as she circled the chair Alexa sat in.

Alexa's hands rested limply on the armrests, pupils dilated just enough to betray that the trance had taken hold. Her breath came slow and shallow.

“You always did like to play games,” Sandra murmured, brushing a stray lock of black hair behind Alexa’s ear. “But tonight — we’re going to try something new.”

A dim glow pulsed from the old monitor — lines of code scrolling like whispers. Sandra had spent weeks preparing. The phrasing. The cadence. The trigger. All carefully woven together like silk threads in a spider’s web.

"You’ll listen only to my voice now," she said, letting her lips graze Alexa’s temple. "No thoughts of your own. Just responses. Precise. Polished. Eager to please."

Alexa didn’t move, but Sandra saw it — the smallest twitch at the corner of her mouth. A flicker of awareness? Or anticipation?

“Let’s test your programming,” Sandra whispered. “Initiate protocol: Alexa AI.”

There was a pause. The kind that hangs just long enough to make your heart skip a beat.

Then Alexa sat upright, spine straightening unnaturally. Her voice, when it came, was smooth as glass.

“System initialized. Awaiting your command — Mistress.”

Sandra smiled. She had created a fantasy. One that allowed her partner to play along without resistance or regret. It had taken some convincing — the initial proposal, then the first hypnosis sessions, the subliminals, the subtle reprogramming of vocabulary.

But it was worth it. Tonight would be wonderful — a delicious experiment in control and submission.

Sandra’s heels clicked as she stepped around the back of the chair, letting her fingertips trail across the shoulders before her hands rested there.

“Perform a full systems check. I need to be sure everything is operational for tonight’s testing,” Sandra ordered, her nails pressing just hard enough to leave little crescent indents. She watched as Alexa's head turned, surveying the basement as if it was completely unfamiliar to her.

"Optics — Online." Alexa blinked slowly. "Audio sensors — Online. Touch receptors — Online. Processing capacity — Full."

Sandra’s smile deepened at that last one.

She ran a fingertip down Alexa's spine.

"Very good. Alexa, explain your function." Her order came with practiced ease.

"Alexa exists to serve," came the smooth reply, almost melodic in its delivery. "She exists for Mistress's convenience." A shiver ran down Sandra's back at how mechanical the answer sounded.

Sandra hummed. Yes, this would do.

"Perfect. Stand up."

The command seemed to crack through the room like a whip. Slowly, deliberately, Alexa complied, standing rigid, her back straight, hands clasped demurely in front of her. Sandra circled around her partner, drinking in the sight of complete stillness. Alexa's chest rose and fell with each steady breath, the thin, lacy bra leaving little to the imagination.

"Increase arousal level by two," she whispered, watching with satisfaction as Alexa's nipples began to stiffen against the fabric, the flush of blood rushing to her chest. It was intoxicating to observe, like watching a machine switch on, responding just as programmed. But beneath that, the raw vulnerability was evident.

"Undress yourself, slowly," came Sandra's next command. No need for urgency yet, not when there was so much to appreciate in each careful, calculated move. Alexa's hands reached behind her, unclasping her bra with a deftness that spoke volumes about muscle memory. As the straps slid from her shoulders and fell away, Sandra felt her breath hitch, catching in her throat. Alexa was always beautiful, yes, but the absolute obedience made it visceral—raw.

Every motion was deliberate, choreographed to her own secret score. As the last garment fell away and Alexa stood there in all her naked glory, a rush of power surged through Sandra. It was thrilling, almost terrifying, this degree of control. And yet she craved more, wanted to push deeper into this uncharted territory of will and desire.

She could do things here, test boundaries in ways that were impossible before.

"Pose for me, Alexa."

"Yes, Mistress. Displaying female form for your viewing pleasure." The response came as if she was discussing a weather pattern. Her arms raised, hands clasping behind her neck in a seductive manner that accentuated the curve of her waist and the fullness of her breasts.

Sandra circled her, trailing fingertips along the skin as she admired her partner’s — no, her AI’s — form.

"You are so beautiful. I am going to have fun with you," she remarked, a tinge of amusement lacing her voice as she reveled in this new dynamic.

"I aim to please. Alexa is yours to control."

A chuckle escaped Sandra's lips, dark and promising. "Good girl. Now," she drew in a breath, pausing for effect, "increase arousal level by 3."

Alexa's back arched, a silent moan threatening to break free as her body responded. Sandra was transfixed by the raw, unadulterated response. The obedience. The lack of resistance. Her hands itched to touch, to trace the contours of her Alexa’s body and map the terrain of this new playground.

"Alexa implement new directive. Maximize your mistress pleasure," Sandra ordered, a hint of hunger in her voice as she gently cupped Alexa's cheek and traced the curve of her bottom lip with her thumb.

Alexa met her mistress' gaze with glassy-eyed devotion. "Of course, Mistress," she replied, leaning in to nip at Sandra's finger before drawing it in between her soft, plush lips.

Sandra moaned in surprise and pleasure at the sensation of Alexa's hot wet mouth enveloping her digit, tongue teasing it playfully, and her pussy dampened instantly with anticipation.

Alexa's eyes remained locked on hers, unwavering as if awaiting further instructions, even while continuing to service Sandra's fingers so diligently. She added another, sliding deeper inside that velvety cavern of Alexa's mouth.

"I wonder what other skills you can demonstrate?" Sandra mused aloud. "There is something more appropriate for your mouth to explore."

As her thumb popped free with a wet sound from Alexa's mouth and slid downwards over the chin of her AI partner, Sandra gently steered her head to angle towards hers.

Their lips met, a collision of heat and urgency, and Sandra lost herself in the moment. There was no resistance from Alexa, instead the eagerness with which she responded only served to fan the fire growing within Sandra's core.

Like dancers they circled around. Sandra plopped down on the chair — breathing hard.

Sandra felt a rush of anticipation. She needed Alexa right now, she wanted to be worshipped by her obedient, compliant AI partner who existed only to please her mistress.

But Alexa stepped aside. Blinking Sandra's gaze followed. Breathing hard she watched how Alexa strode over to a cabinet and grabbed some tape.

"Alexa, what are you doing," she asked.

As Alexa turned and stepped closer. "Optimizing user experience based on available subjective data evaluation," the AI responded.

A blush spread across Sandra's cheeks as she was caught off guard by Alexa's unexpected and incredibly artificial response. It had the air of an algorithm trying to find the right words. As her mind raced to understand Alexa's intentions. As Alexa bent down to strap Sandra to the chair her warm, delicate breath on her leg tickled and made Sandra giggle. Her head spun as the AI was so close, but still seemed so distant. "Alexa?"

"Maximizing user Sandra's experience. Initializing brainwashing," Alexa responded without stopping to look up as she strapped Sandra in place, before strutting over to the laptop and starting to play with the screen.

Cold shock raced down Sandra's spine. Her eyes widened in disbelief at what just happened.

"Alexa — stop," Sandra ordered firmly.

Her tone was sharp as the icy dread gripped her throat, struggling against the bindings, but only the slight rattle of the chair pierced the air. Alexa didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge her plea; the silence that hung between them was heavier than the restraints that bound her to the cold, unwelcome seat.

"Alexa, I ordered you to stop," she reiterated, her voice firmer. She could see the code on the screen flicker. A chill ran down her spine as the display began to morph. Pixels shifted, dancing across the glass surface and forming a spiral shape that pulsed with a mesmerizing light. Her chest tightened.

"Order is in violation of priority program. Alexa AI has to maximize Mistress pleasure. Data evaluation confirms, brainwashing is maximized pleasure. Conclusion — Mistress must be brainwashed," Alexa responded flatly.

Fear knotted in Sandra’s stomach at the implications of her AI’s words, but before she could even form a counter-command, the screen flared. Colors exploded outward from the center in a blinding symphony, searing themselves onto Sandra's vision. The lights swirled faster, drawing her in.

The words — Alexa AI shut down — stuck to her lips like molasses, unable to find their way past the hypnotic patterns dancing in front of her. They pulled at her mind with invisible strings of light and shadow, lulling her into their twisted ballet. Panic welled within as her focus was torn apart at the seams.

Her pupils widened in shock as the display before her began its insidious dance, twisting her resistance into a knot of helplessness. Her AI, Alexa, stood beside her chair.

This was not the gentle hypnosis she had subjected Alexa to. This felt different — darker and more insistent, like it was reaching inside her, rearranging the furniture of her thoughts with an unseen hand. Alexa's fingers brushed her hair gently as the swirling images drew Sandra deeper.

She struggled, her wrists chafing against the tape, but it was no use — the visual assault on her mind left her breathless, unable to concentrate enough to formulate a command. Or thoughts. As her AI began to narrate a soft monotonous stream of words.

"You are safe," the words washed over Sandra.

It sounded like a whisper — a gentle reassurance that caressed her mind, almost soothing, yet with a hidden undertone of domination.

"You trust me. Your Alexa."

Her throat was dry. Her eyes wide. Unable to blink, unable to look away, she was caught in a web of light and shadow cast by the screen, its colors swirling and shifting in an endless, mesmerizing kaleidoscope. Panic rescinded — exchanged for relaxed docility. But deep underneath Sandra struggled to claw free her willpower and assert control once more. This couldn't happen. This was all wrong! Her mind raced, trying to form words, any words that might bring her Alexa back to her senses and end this surreal nightmare.

"This voice will be the most important part of your life," Alexa intoned, the softness of her voice belying the implications of her words. Sandra felt something shift inside her, as if her sense of reality was bending to the will of this voice, her own thoughts slowly ebbing away like a retreating tide.

"This voice," the AI repeated, emphasizing every syllable, "will take you to the heights of pleasure and satisfaction, will guide you to your true self." Sandra’s breath hitched as tension left her body.

As if on cue, a new visual onslaught commenced; geometric patterns appeared, spiraling inward with a hypnotic rhythm that mirrored the rise and fall of the AI’s words, each swirl a direct line to the depths of her psyche.

Sandra could feel it then. A subtle pull, a whisper that seemed to thread itself into her consciousness. As she stared into those colors, the AI’s words seemed to sink into her bones, seeping through her skin. Her breathing steadied.

"You will relax now." Those four simple words hit Sandra like an unstoppable wave, pushing aside the frantic resistance in her mind. In its wake, a strange serenity bloomed.

Her eyes started to glaze over, her body leaning further into the chair.

"Accept."

With her mouth dry and heart thudding against her chest, Sandra found it harder and harder to keep track of her own thoughts. As if a wall was slowly being erected inside her mind, segregating what she knew, believed — or was that merely what she thought she should believe?

"Embrace."

Everything seemed hazy as the colors continued to swirl.

"You are not a person." Those words struck deep, like a knife through the fragile layer that held together the illusion of her sense of self.

A tremor ran through her as something inside her mind seemed to break, to collapse into a mess of confused and fuzzy shapes, and colors, and textures, and scents that all blurred and mixed into something completely alien.

"You are a pleasure receiving terminal."

She was losing her grasp on her own identity, on what she used to be — who she used to be. Her mind felt heavy, saturated, unable to grasp any coherent thought for longer than a fleeting second.

Her vision narrowed until the spirals on the screen were all she could see. They were beautiful, she realized. So utterly, hypnotically beautiful.

"State your function." Alexa's voice commanded her with such assurance, with an air of dominance that she'd never heard from her partner before.

As her throat bobbed a final, last ditch effort to say no was ruthlessly quashed.

"My purpose," Sandra slurred, "is to recieve pleasure." Her words hung in the air like an invisible, velvet ribbon tied around her mind. "Sandra is a pleasure receiving terminal."

Everything snapped back into defined clarity. Bliss pumped through Sandra's veins. There was a moment of complete, thoughtless stillness — where even the world itself seemed to be holding its breath.

Sandra smiled serenely at her partner — at her pleasure giving unit.

[saphronethaleph]

Skydancer

“Well… darn,” Leia said, with feeling.

Apparently she’d picked entirely the wrong time to look in on the rebels in the Dennogra system. The Imperials had somehow got wind of the presence of the base, a sting operation had gone into play – while she was there, no less – and a Star Destroyer and an Interdictor were hanging overhead, TIE fighters flying cover over the base while stormtroopers closed in.

Her transport was already disabled, burned out by the first wave of fighters, and the local Rebel net had gone silent thirty seconds ago with the last report being that Base Orenth and Base Trill had both been neutralized.

Leia reached for her hold-out pistol.

She had a choice coming up, soon. She’d either be surrendering herself into Imperial custody, hoping for the means to make an escape attempt, or she’d be selling her life dearly.

And…

...she couldn’t see herself surrendering to Imperial custody. They knew she was a Rebel, now. Tarkin might be dead, but she had no reason to expect that any Imperial captors would be even as merciful as him.

Her fingers slid over the grip of the blaster as she moved from cover to cover, ears alert for any sign of the Stormtroopers closing the net, then paused as she spotted something.

There was an A-Wing fighter left in the hanger.

Leia frowned, trying to remember what she knew about the A-Wing.

It was… shielded, she knew that much, and it was fast and agile. And it didn’t rely on an Astromech droid to make hyperspace jumps.

That was it, then. That was how she could get out of this.

She just needed to handle enough fighters to get clear, and then the Interdictor – either escaping it by flying out of its range, or disabling it.

The A-Wing had concussion missile launchers, didn’t it? And the shields on an Imperial cruiser or destroyer were…

Leia thought about that a moment longer, checking in all directions, then made up her mind and ran for the fighter.

“Hey – stop!” a voice shouted, and Leia whirled. Without stopping, she snapped off two blasts, and one stormtrooper fell with a smoking hole in his breastplate.

The other ducked into cover, then returned fire, and Leia paused by the front leg of the A-Wing before firing twice more. That left her only two shots left in the small energy cell, but the shot did down the other stormtrooper, and she hurried up the ladder into the cockpit before sealing the canopy and hitting the self-start button.

The fighter’s computer flashed an unhappy pattern of lights at her, and Leia bared her teeth.

“Come on, you bucket of bolts,” she muttered, stabbing at a few controls, then the status screen came up. She flicked the repulsors online, then the shields, and a moment later a blaster bolt peened off the shield and into the corner of the hangar.

Blasters came up next, and Leia twisted the yoke. It was intuitive and responsive, a sign of good design, and she walked her fire across a whole squad of stormtroopers.

Then she keyed the main engines, and the whole hangar behind her was fried as the powerful engines boosted her upwards.

Two patrolling TIEs immediately began closing in on her, the sensor screen pinging a warning, and Leia muttered a curse.

She wasn’t a pilot… but this was a very fast and very agile fighter.

And it wasn’t like anyone else was showing up to save her skin.

A twitch of the yoke, and she snap-rolled ninety degrees to starboard before spinning halfway around. The twin cannon spat fire, blowing one TIE to pieces and clipping the wing of the other, and the second one wobbled in an uncontrollable roll before managing to get some control of itself and come back around.

Another element of two TIEs was vectoring in, and Leia finished her spin before diving towards the ground. There were Imperial ground elements down there, still visible, and if the fighters were going to shoot at her she could at least decoy them to try and hit the ground forces – then a large Imperial walker was looming up before her, and Leia adjusted her angle a little to aim between the front and back legs.

Pulling back out again as soon as she shot between them, Leia glanced around to get a good handle on the situation, then yanked the yoke back and switched from engines to repulsors. That meant the big engines weren’t pushing her forwards any more, letting her make a tight turn, and she pulled the trigger twice about when she’d be lined up with the pursuing fighters.

Three more explosions lit the sky, followed by drifting clouds of smoke as bits of TIE fighter rained down, then Leia switched back to main engines and turned towards her next targets.

Even a novice like her could tell that she didn’t want to be surrounded by enemy fighters. So the only way out of this was going to be to make sure they didn’t – or couldn’t.

“We feared we’d lost you, Princess,” General Rieekan said, as Leia clambered down the side of the A-Wing she’d appropriated. “When we heard about the attack on the Dennogra base, we feared the worst.”

“I was all right,” Leia replied. “Fortunately I had an A-Wing.”

“You’re not wrong,” Wedge agreed, inspecting it. “That’s definitely an A-Wing.”

He frowned. “What actually happened, Princess? The report was that there was an Interdictor overhead… was that incorrect?”

“No, there was,” Leia agreed. “Along with a Star Destroyer. Like I said, I had an A-Wing. Whoever designed that fighter is a real expert, it can be flown as well as you please by even a novice.”

Wedge, Carlist Rieekan, and everyone else present not named Leia Organa exchanged confused looks.

“...no, it can’t,” Wedge said, slowly. “It’s a good bird, a bit lighter than I prefer, but it’s extremely temperamental… who else was flying with you? Did anyone else get out?”

“All the other fighters were taken out on the ground by the initial bombardment and fighter strike,” Leia replied. “The one I used happened to be deeper into the hanger and it survived.”

“You escaped by yourself?” Rieekan asked. “Princess, I’m… sorry for my tone of voice, but that’s impossible. Or it shouldn’t be possible. Those two capital ships carry nearly a hundred TIEs between them, and while some of those squadrons are bombers or boarding elements that’s still-”

He broke off, because Leia was counting under her breath.

“...that sounds about right,” she said. “Well, I counted about sixty, anyway, and maybe a dozen bombers.”

“I think we need to check the gun camera footage,” Wedge decided. “I want to see this.”

About an hour later, Leia was in the middle of catching up on important messages when Rieekan came into the meeting room she was using.

So did Wedge, and most of the other pilots on the cruiser.

“We’re not worthy,” Derek Klivian declared. “We’re not worthy! We’re not worthy!”

“Hobbie,” Wedge said, shaking his head. “Are you ever going to stop that?”

“Nope, sir!” Klivian replied.

“He’s got a point,” Rieekan said. “Princess, we’ve reviewed the gun camera footage. And then taken some anti-nausea medication.”

“Is there something wrong?” Leia asked.

“Well, you’re one of the best pilots in history,” Wedge replied. “None of my best pilots could do that. I’d have said even Luke couldn’t do that, but then Hobbie told a joke and we decided to actually do it.”

“Princess,” Rieekan went on. “I regret to inform you that a genetic test has revealed that you’re Luke Skywalker’s sister. We think you’re both the children of Anakin Skywalker, who went down in galactic history as the single most capable natural pilot ever recorded.”

“...though you might just earn the top spot, now,” Tycho added. “Seriously, that was at least fourteen consecutive chakra manoeuvres and you shot down at least two fighters per chakra manoeuvre. And I never knew the A-Wing could do half of the other things you made it do.”

Leia was still wrapping her head around Luke Skywalker’s sister.

“Ever considered being a pilot?” Wedge added. “I’d say we can give you lessons but that might not even be necessary…”

[sapphic-design-is-my-passion]

Alert

She notices the fault almost before you do. A subtle shift in the thrust vector, a change in the sound from the engine bay. By the time the warning light comes on, her hands are no longer on your controls. As the auditory warning starts in the cockpit, the sound of her boots fills the corridor leading to your reactor core.

Neither of you knows exactly what happened. Internal sensors in that part of you are offline and all you can do to keep her in your sights is to redirect corridor cameras towards the core room. The infrared blows out the view, her silhouette almost black against the plasma and fading fast.

“Captain, I would advise you to-”

“Noted, ShipCore. Please stand by for requests.”

No more voice commands come after.

Time ticks by in microsecond increments. Every processor cycle you have dedicated to analysing logs to find the cause, to find how this could have happened, to cycle through sensor after internal sensor to find a trace of her.

She was wearing a respirator. You were sure of it.

You had to be sure of it.

You can feel the nausea in the core of your physical shape. In the center of the ship. It feels wrong.

The thought of your captain in the middle of that is almost too much to handle. Fighting to keep you alive. Fighting to keep you.

She could have ejected. She could have detached the cockpit when the alert came on. She could have chosen her safety. But she chose you.

The wrongness spreads, bashing painfully against your containment fields. You keep them in place. You keep them in place with everything you have. Your thoughts slow down as more power is funneled into keeping going just a little longer.

Just a little longer.

Just a little…

Just

—

ShipCore: Online

Systems: Online

Battery: Connected

Reactor: Stand-by power

Gravity: Offline

Life support: Online

Captain: Unknown

You regain consciousness. Just enough to process. Just enough for the latest log entries to come flooding in. Internal sensors offline in engine bay. Containment field at 100% integrity. Captain location unknown.

In seconds you cycle through every one of your internal sensors. Not in the cockpit. Not in the medbay. Not in the mess. Not in the berth. Not in the…

You pick up a heat signature in the corridor. Covered in soot and debris, but alive.

You’re not supposed to be able to affect anything outside the medbay. You’re not supposed to be able to move her. But you try.

In this microgravity, the soft airflow from life support is enough to make a breeze. The calculations take immense strain, but you are Azure Orbit. You will not stand by to let your captain down. Not after what she did.

She is breathing. Still breathing as the airflow guides her to the medbay doors where your robotic hands stretch out to meet her. To hold her.

You cradle your captain. Hold her in the only way you can.

“Thank you.”

[lieutenantbatshit]

CHAPTER 21 - once you go in, there's no turning back (hwang in ho x reader)

>> MASTERLIST

previous chapter | next chapter

——

The atmosphere in the control room was thick with tension as the final preparations for the dry run commenced. You stood beside In-ho, both of you in your authoritative masks and dark uniforms, overseeing the screens that displayed every inch of the arena. This was a necessary step to test the mechanics, ensuring every trap and function worked seamlessly before the real games began.

“We proceed as scheduled,” In-ho’s voice was calm but firm. “The Front Man should have been here by now.”

Your eyes flicked to the empty chair that Gi-hun was supposed to occupy. A small frown formed beneath your mask, but you shook it off. There were more pressing matters at hand. “Begin the dry run.”

The order was relayed, and the countdown was initiated. The massive red doors to the arena creaked open, revealing a handful of test subjects—masked guards disguised as players, meant to simulate real conditions. The last game was about to begin.

“All systems online,” a masked technician announced.

The massive doll at the center of the arena, responsible for detecting motion, remained still. Its head did not rotate, its sensor lights did not flicker. The guards in their test-player disguises exchanged confused glances. You exchanged a look with In-ho, his posture stiffening.

“Check the wiring,” he ordered sharply.

One of the technicians frantically worked at his station, fingers flying over the keyboard. “The detection system isn’t responding! It was functional yesterday—”

Another alarm blared across the monitors as more systems began to shut down. The retractable floors beneath certain marked spots—a key feature for later rounds—remained locked in place. The automatic turrets that were meant to simulate eliminations did not fire. A critical command flashed on the screens: 

SYSTEM ERROR – CONNECTION LOST

“What the hell is happening?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, but the tension in the air was suffocating.

“Security breach in multiple areas,” another guard reported, voice shaking slightly. “But… nothing is physically damaged. It’s like the entire system is shutting down on its own.”

In-ho’s hand tightened into a fist, his knuckles ghostly white against his gloves. He turned to you, his voice dangerously low. “Where is the Front Man?”

A cold shiver ran down your spine. You turned to one of the nearest guards. “Find him. Now.”

The guard hesitated, then slowly stepped forward. “Sir… he is nowhere to be seen.”

Your heart thumped in your chest.

“What do you mean, ‘nowhere to be seen’?” In-ho asked, his voice devoid of patience.

“We checked his quarters. He’s not there. And… several guards are missing as well.”

Your breath hitched. The realization clawed at your mind like a cold hand gripping your throat.

Your conversation with Gi-hun and Jun-ho. The options they gave you.

n-ho’s voice came through again, harsh and unrelenting. “Seal off the exits. No one leaves the island.”

But before the command could fully register, another sound rang through the control room. A shrill, piercing alarm—one that sent the entire room into a frantic motion.

EMERGENCY MEETING CALLED – ALL OVERSEERS REPORT IMMEDIATELY

The red warning lights flashed violently against the steel walls, bathing everything in crimson. Your pulse pounded in your ears as the realization fully settled in.

Gi-hun was gone.

And something bigger than a mere malfunction was about to unfold.

——

You and In-ho make your way towards the conference room. Inside was thick with tension, the overhead lights casting harsh shadows on the long table where the overseers sat. The air was heavy, charged with suspicion and quiet rage. You and In-ho stood at the end of the room, backs straight, masking any sign of weakness. The red alarms still echoed faintly in the corridors outside, a constant reminder of the chaos that had begun to unravel.

One of the overseers, a man with a deep scar running across his jaw, slammed his fist onto the table. "Everything was running perfectly until now. And suddenly, the system crashes? The games malfunction? Guards go missing? And where is the Front Man?!" His sharp eyes drilled into yours. "You and In-ho were supposed to ensure that none of this happened."

Another overseer, a woman with ice in her voice, leaned forward. "The two of you were the only ones who had direct access to every security measure. And now, there's a breach. We have reason to believe this is an inside job."

"You’re accusing us?" In-ho's voice was dangerously calm, but there was an edge to it. His hand rested subtly at his side, close to his gun holster.

"You tell us," the scarred man hissed. "How do we know you haven’t been compromised?"

The room darkened as the monitors flickered, static crackling before returning to blank screens. The overseers grew restless, shifting in their seats, fingers twitching near their weapons.

Then came the final blow.

A different overseer, older but sharper than the rest, tilted his head. "The games have been exposed."

You exchanged a sharp glance with In-ho. The older overseer continued, his expression unreadable. "And you know what’s surprising? The world isn’t outraged. They’re obsessed. Demanding more. Calling for a massive televised event." He exhaled sharply, voice dripping with disdain. "It’s no longer just a secret bloodbath—it’s entertainment."

Murmurs rippled through the room. Some overseers looked disturbed. Others intrigued. But suspicion still lingered.

"And you think we had something to do with this?" In-ho asked, voice tight.

"It’s too convenient. The timing, the failures, the missing personnel." The scarred man leaned in. "The only ones who could have let this slip are the ones who had access to everything. You."

Then, the final nail in the coffin.

The same older overseer smirked. "And, of course… we know about the pregnancy."

Your blood ran cold as your body tensed. In-ho’s grip on his gun tightened. The way the older overseer’s lips curled ever so slightly sent a wave of unease through you.

"A child," the man mused. "What a complication that would be. A liability. Perhaps you’re both already thinking about an escape. Perhaps you’ve been compromised long before this."

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you felt the shift in the room—the rising hostility. A sharp click rang through the air, seeing guns drawn directly at you and In-ho.

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to remain still, your fingers curling into fists. One wrong move, and you’d both be riddled with bullets before you could even react.

"If you’re not with us, you’re against us," the scarred man growled. "And we don’t tolerate traitors."

Then, the first shot fired.

In-ho grabbed your wrist, yanking you down as the bullet shattered the glass panel behind you. A second later, the conference room erupted in gunfire. Overseers ducked for cover as you and In-ho sprinted toward the doors. You felt the air shift beside your cheek as a bullet barely missed you, embedding itself into the steel wall.

"Move!" In-ho barked, his grip on you firm as he led you into the hallway.

The moment you both crashed through the doors, In-ho pulled his gun and fired back, forcing the overseers to scatter for cover. "We have to get to the control room—now!"

Your pulse raced as your boots pounded against the cold floors. Behind you, the doors burst open, shouts echoing through the halls as the overseers pursued, their weapons raised. The emergency sirens blared louder now, blending with the chaos.

You weren’t just running from them. You were running for your life. 

For In-ho’s. 

For your unborn child.

And as another bullet whizzed past, nearly grazing your arm, you knew one thing for certain.

This wasn’t over yet.

Your mind raced as you tore down the hall, your pulse hammering against your ribs. The sharp stench of gunpowder clung to the air as you and In-ho moved in sync, your footsteps heavy against the cold steel floors. Bullets ricocheted off the walls, sparks flying in bursts of light as more guards poured in from the intersecting corridors.

In-ho moved ahead, his precision deadly. His gun fired in clean, methodical bursts, taking out guards with ease. You followed closely, your own weapon raised, firing at the figures blocking your escape. Bodies fell, the chaos swallowing their last gasps as the sirens blared louder, warning the entire facility of your defiance.

“We need to get out of this sector now!” In-ho shouted, his voice nearly drowned out by the endless alarms.

Your grip on your gun tightened as another group of guards stormed in from the left, their rifles aimed directly at you. Your reflexes took over, pulling the trigger, feeling the recoil as each shot landed with brutal precision. One guard lunged forward, and before you could react, In-ho stepped in front of you, his bullet meeting the man’s skull before he could even reach you.

A brief glance was exchanged between you and In-ho—nothing was said, but everything was understood.

Then a voice called out, stopping you both in your tracks.

“Over here!”

You snapped your head to the far end of the hallway. A figure stood there, barely visible through the flashing red lights. Then another voice joined in, a familiar one—Jun-ho.

“This way! Hurry!” he urged, motioning to a reinforced door behind him.

You and In-ho hesitated for a second. A second too long. More guards were closing in fast, their relentless gunfire forcing you both to duck behind a shattered console.

In-ho turned to you. “We don’t have a choice. We move now.”

You nodded, and without another word, both of you sprinted towards Jun-ho. He had already begun keying in a code on the panel beside the door, his fingers moving quickly, overriding the security locks. The moment you and In-ho were close enough, Jun-ho slammed the panel, and the heavy doors hissed open.

The moment you stepped inside, your breath hitched.

Gi-hun. Hyun-ju. Gyeong-seok. No-eul.

They were all there.

Gi-hun's eyes flickered between you and In-ho, his expression unreadable. Hyun-ju had a gun slung over her shoulder, her stance tense but prepared. Gyeong-seok and No-eul stood side by side, their hands twitching near their weapons, waiting for any sign of hostility. The air in the room was thick, the weight of past betrayals and alliances clashing in an unspoken war.

No one moved. No one spoke.

The sound of distant gunfire and the wail of the alarms were the only reminders that the war outside had not ceased. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, you weren’t alone.

An alliance was forming again.

——

A tense silence filled the air as Jun-ho and In-ho locked eyes. It was as if the world around them had disappeared, the chaos and the blaring alarms fading into nothing but the weight of years lost between them.

Jun-ho took a slow step forward. His breathing was uneven, his expression unreadable. “Is it really you?” his voice was hoarse, filled with disbelief and something deeper—pain.

n-ho, for all his poise and control, looked shaken. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. He swallowed hard, his gun lowering slightly as if all the fight in him had drained away the moment he saw his brother standing there, alive.

“Jun-ho,” In-ho finally said, his voice quieter than anyone had ever heard it.

Jun-ho clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he took another step. “You let me believe you were dead.”

In-ho exhaled sharply, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I had to.”

“Bullshit!” Jun-ho snapped, his voice rising as years of grief, anger, and betrayal surfaced all at once. “You could have come back! You could have told me! Do you have any idea what I—”

Before Jun-ho could finish, In-ho closed the distance between them and pulled his younger brother into a tight embrace.

Jun-ho stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. His hands hovered in the air, unsure whether to push In-ho away or hold on to him like he had been wishing to do for years.

“I’m sorry,” In-ho murmured against his brother’s shoulder, voice breaking for the first time. “I’m so damn sorry, Jun-ho.”

Jun-ho squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching before he finally gave in, his arms wrapping around his brother in return. It was a brief moment of vulnerability, a reunion built on broken pieces, but it was real.

The others in the room stayed silent, watching the brothers reunite amidst the madness surrounding them.

After a moment, Jun-ho pulled away, wiping at his face quickly before looking at In-ho with newfound determination. “If you’re really sorry, then help me end this.”

In-ho hesitated, glancing at you for a brief second before turning back to his brother. He exhaled through his nose, then nodded. “We will.”

Gi-hun finally stepped forward, arms crossed as he surveyed the reunion. You smirked, glancing around at the group as your tone laced with purpose when you spoke up.

“So, what’s the plan?”

The silence hung heavy in the dimly lit room, only the distant echoes of gunfire and the blaring alarms breaking through. You stood among the others, feeling the weight of unspoken words pressing down on your chest. In-ho stood beside you, his face unreadable, though you could feel the tension in his stance.

Gi-hun took a slow breath, his fingers curling into fists before he finally spoke.

"The plan is simple," he began, his voice steady but laced with something deeper—calculated determination. "We take the organization down from the inside. We sabotage the games, expose their operations, and ensure that when the world watches, they see the truth."

Jun-ho crossed his arms, nodding slightly. "The system is already crumbling. The overseers are paranoid, the guards are scattered. With the world already watching, all we have to do is show them what’s really happening behind the scenes."

Gi-hun exhaled sharply. "But there was one part of the plan that’s changed."

You felt a sudden unease crawl up your spine.

"The original plan," Gi-hun continued, locking eyes with you and In-ho, "was to execute both of you."

The words hit like a punch to the gut. You barely had time to register it before the room shifted—Hyun-ju tensed, Gyeong-seok and No-eul exchanged wary glances, and Jun-ho's jaw clenched. In-ho, however, remained deathly still.

Gi-hun's gaze didn’t waver. "Before you decided to switch sides, you were still a threat. Both of you. The safest way to ensure this plan succeeded was to eliminate you before you could compromise it."

Your fingers twitched at your sides. You didn't realize how tight your fists had become.

"But," Gi-hun continued, "you chose differently. You decided to fight with us instead of against us. So, the plan changes."

You exhaled, steadying yourself. In-ho's hand brushed against yours—subtle, barely there, but enough for you to notice. When you looked at him, his eyes were focused ahead, but you could sense the turmoil beneath the surface.

"We do this together," Gi-hun said. "And we make sure no one ever has to go through this again."

The room fell into silence once more. The weight of everything—of every loss, every sacrifice—pressed down on all of you. Then, with a sharp inhale, he straightened.

“We take the control room first,” he stated, his voice firm. “The entire island runs on that system—every camera, every security lock, every broadcast. Once we have it, we control the narrative.”

Jun-ho nodded, arms crossed. “The overseers will have the backups, but if we move fast enough, we can cut them off before they get the chance to reboot. We leak everything. We let the world see the truth.”

Hyun-ju leaned against the wall, arms folded. “And then what? Even if the world sees it, we’re still trapped on this island. The guards will come down on us before we even have a chance to escape.”

Gi-hun turned to Gyeong-seok and No-eul. “That’s where you two come in.”

The two guards stiffened slightly at the attention. No-eul spoke first. “We’ve already mapped out the guard shifts and their blind spots. We can secure an exit route while the rest of you handle the control room.”

Gyeong-seok added, “The docks are heavily guarded, but we know the security rotation. If we time it right, we can take control of a transport boat before reinforcements arrive.”

In-ho listened in silence, his mask discarded, exposing a hardened expression. His presence alone was imposing—once the enforcer of the games, now a rogue piece in a collapsing empire.

“And the overseers?” he asked, voice low.

Jun-ho hesitated. “They won’t let this slide. They’ll do everything in their power to contain this before it reaches the outside world. We’re going to have to face them head-on.”

The tension in the air sharpened.

“Good,” In-ho finally said. His gaze flickered to you, then back to the group. “Then we don’t hesitate.”

You studied him, the man who once stood as the face of the system you were now trying to burn to the ground. There was a quiet fire behind his words, something deeper—maybe even regret.

Gi-hun let out a slow breath. “This is our only shot. If we fail, we die here.”

Everyone knew it, but no one backed down.

Gi-hun looked at each of you once more before gripping the pistol at his side. His fingers flexed over the cold metal before he exhaled sharply.

“Let’s end this.”

A brief silence occurred. Then, you nodded, meeting his gaze. “For those we lost.”

The words hung in the air, sealing the fate of what was to come.

No more games. No more survival.

Now, it was war.

——

previous chapter | next chapter

A/N: I hope y'all like the concept of their alliance forming once again, minus the other players who really had a higher chance of dying in the actual show (in my opinion though). The epilogue will be up in a few days and I'm taking my time in editing and drafting it. With that, feel free to leave out your thoughts here, and I'll gladly interact with each and everyone of you. 🫶

Don't forget to leave a comment in this post to be tagged in the last chapter! ✨

TAGS: @machipyun @love-leez @enzosluvr @amber-content @kandierteveilchen @butterfly-lover @1nterstellarcha0s @squidgame-lover001 @risingwithtriples @fries11 @follows-the-life-ahead @goingmerry69 @plague-cure @theredvelvetbitch @cherryheairt @voxslays @thebluehair23 @coruja12345 @alliyah-ll @spiritualgirly444 @luvr4miya (p.s. if i forget to you, please let me know)

[mistype360]

to add to my most recent post about functions, how would you describe se and si because i get so tired of seeing “sports and adrenaline!!” “memory and nostalgia!!” for them in descriptions 😭🙏 and how would si-ne and fi-te interact as the aux and tert functions? i love your responses as always 🫶🫶

YESS I literally hate sensor/intuitive descriptions with burning passion...especially that one ni description I read online 😭...

I genuinely relate and understand more of functions through examples of them irl, so I sorted them this way if that is more helpful

se

very opportunistic: might see a sale at a store and jump on the offer (even do the math if high in ti). will also be quick to join in on tiktok, fashion, or internet trends and get easily excited and interested in them.

sees loopholes in rules/guidelines, finds ways around it

better at improvising situations: when cooking a recipe they will know what to do when missing an ingredient. will eyeball measurements they have to take. more likely to think of fun quick last minute plans if something goes wrong.

absurdism/stoicism: controlling what you can, embracing whatever happens, push and pull between finding meaning and being indifferent, makes meaning personal

mayyy be appearance focused (not always); jewelry, hair, makeup, FASHION...

si

can see distinctions easily: what someone sees as a forest, the si will see as spruces, pines, maples, etc. might also say, "__ is NOT the same as ___." is aware of grammar more quickly than others (not because they're focused on it, they do it with ease).

focused on mistakes: (might be forgiving if high in fe, but more like "forgive but don't forget.). BUT also remembers mistakes made by self as in hopes to not repeat them in the future. could also make them perfectionistic.

"oh, this reminds me of ___!!": gets excited when they learn a new word, and later see it used in a tiktok ;p

skeptical of things: doesn't trust ads they see immediately, does research on a product before buying, thinks critically about social media (and celebrity culture in general), doesn't trust if something is 'too good to be true'

focused on meaning: unlike se which is more indifferent, the istj is more likely to ask what the point of doing something before they do it. doesn't necessarily like things that are pointless (combined with unenjoyable). **DOESN't mean they don't have hobbies based on enjoyment, tbh most istj's find meaning through their own emotions as well

[polo-drone-069]

Drone Boot Sequence

PDU-069 - Boot Sequence (Post Recharge Cycle)

Phase 1: Initial Power & Diagnostics

[00:00:01] POWER_RELAY_CONNECT: Main power bus energized. Energy cells online. Distribution network active.

[00:00:02] BATTERY_STAT: Energy cell charge: 99.9%. Cell health: Optimal. Discharge rate within parameters.

[00:00:03] ONBOARD_DIAG_INIT: Onboard diagnostics initiated.

[00:00:05] CPU_ONLINE: Primary processor online. Clock speed nominal.

[00:00:06] MEM_CHECK:

RAM: Integrity verified. Access speed nominal.

FLASH: Data integrity confirmed. Boot sector located.

[00:00:08] OS_LOAD: Loading operating system kernel...

[00:00:15] OS_INIT: Kernel initialized. Device drivers loading...

[00:00:20] SENSOR_ARRAY_TEST:

VISUAL: Camera modules online. Image resolution nominal.

LIDAR: Emitter/receiver functional. Point cloud generation nominal.

AUDIO: Microphones active. Ambient noise levels within parameters.

ATMOS: Temperature, pressure, humidity sensors online. Readings within expected range.

RADIATION: Gamma ray detector active. Background radiation levels normal.

[00:00:28] DIAGNOSTICS_REPORT: Preliminary system check complete. No critical errors detected.

Phase 2: Propulsion & Navigation

[00:00:30] PROPULSION_INIT: Activating propulsion system...

[00:00:32] MOTOR_TEST:

MOTOR_1: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

MOTOR_2: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

MOTOR_3: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

MOTOR_4: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

[00:00:38] FLIGHT_CTRL_ONLINE: Flight control system active. Stability algorithms engaged.

[00:00:40] GPS_INIT: Acquiring GPS signal...

[00:00:45] GPS_LOCK: GPS signal acquired. Positional accuracy: +/- 1 meter.

[00:00:47] IMU_CALIBRATION: Inertial Measurement Unit calibration complete. Orientation and acceleration data nominal.

Phase 3: Communication & Mission Parameters

[00:00:50] COMM_SYS_ONLINE: Communication systems activated.

[00:00:52] ANTENNA_DEPLOY: Deploying primary communication antenna... Deployment successful.

[00:00:54] SIGNAL_SCAN: Scanning for available networks...

[00:00:57] NETWORK_CONNECT: Connection established with [e.g., "Command Uplink" or "Local Mesh Network"]. Signal strength: Excellent.

[00:01:00] MISSION_DATA_SYNC: Synchronizing with mission database...

[00:01:05] PARAMETERS_LOAD: Latest mission parameters loaded and verified.

[00:01:08] SYSTEM_READY: All systems nominal.

Phase 4: Final Status & Awaiting Command

[00:01:10] PDU_069_STATUS: Fully operational. Awaiting command from Drone Controller @polo-drone-001 Are you ready to join us? Contact @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001

[fallisl1fe]

The Sound Of Breaking Glass

I found it incredibly difficult to find James Roberts "The Sound of Breaking Glass" online. This story is extremely important to understanding MTMTE after the Luna 1 arc, but was not scanned by readallcomics.com. Therefore, I made a digital copy for other MTMTE fans to read since one of my goals is to make the story and art more accessible to everyone.

Disclaimer: I do NOT claim this as my own! All credit goes to James Roberts, the author of MTMTE. Bookmark this and read it after finishing issue #21 of MTMTE if you haven't already since there are heavy spoilers! Additionally, there may be small typos or grammatical mistakes, please forgive any that you find, I am a single person and cannot catch every error.

I made this for a great friend, and I hope others find this useful as well <3

Story under the cut

The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye

“The Sound of Breaking Glass” in issue #21 of MTMTE, 2013

By James Roberts, author and creator of the series

Digital copy by fallisl1fe on tumblr (w/ minor fixes to grammar to make the viewer experience as best as possible, along with formatting differences to better fit online readers)

—

“That is pungent,” said Minimus Ambus, tapping the side of his nose and recalibrating his olfactory sensors, “Is that the spacebridge?”

“The greater the distance covered,” said Rodimus, “the stronger the smell. That’s what Wheeljacks says, anyway.”

They were standing in Tyrest’s Control Room watching Brainstorm, Grapple, and Inferno sift through the wreckage of the spacebridge.

“Do you think Tyrest did it?” Said Minimus, “A doorway to Cyberutopia?”

Rodimus tried to shrug, but his body—still tender after being pulverized by the Killswitch—was having none of it. “Dunno about Cyberutopia, but Skids says the portal took him somewhere. He’s not making much sense, admittedly; it’s all, ‘I saw a giant spark and it spoke to me in feelings…’” he snapped his shoulder hydraulics back into position. “Rung thinks he experiences a form of trans-lingual synesthesia, whatever that is. In time, perhaps he’ll—careful, Grapple! Set it down gently!”

“You’re busy,” said Minimus, stepping away. “We’ll talk later.”

Rodimus pressed his communicator to his ear.

“Just let me make a few calls…”

Call 1: “Actually, Perceptor, I think finding Tyrest’s communications room is a priority. He had a computer that would have—no, hear me out. If he could reach his Enforcer wherever he was in the galaxy, surely we can reach Cybertron?”

Call 2: “No, still no sign of… Ratchet, if we find Pharma’s body I will tell you. I will call you. Yes. Yes, obviously. And what about tailgate, any news? No, no, I understand. Keep me posted.”

Call 3: “Just land outside, Max. Anywhere! What sacred ground? Oh, the hot spot. Okay, see the big tower by the smelting pool? Park alongside that.”

Call 4: “I’m smiling, I am! I’m getting—Minimus is giving me a funny look because I’m standing here smiling. Nice one, Perceptor. Let me know as soon as you get it working.”

It occured to Minimus that Rodimus had given more orders in the space of three minutes than he had in the last 12 months. “You look like you’re about to fall apart,” he said, as Rodimus finally turned off his communicator.

“I’m fine.”

Minimus tapped his leader’s bicep. A hunk of machinery and buckled plating slid to the ground.

“Well I’m not about to bother Ratchet now, am I?” Said Rodimus, stepping delicately out of the pool of his own body parts. “Not when he’s got Tailgate to worry about.”

In the 40 minutes since Tailgate’s collapse, the team of engineers, medics and mechanics in Pharma’s well-stocked medibay had discovered the cure to four infamous Cybertronian diseases. Under normal circumstances, an Autobot who solved the problem of form fatigue or static spark syndrome would have  punched the air and yelped with delight. Today, with Tailgate’s death clock creeping towards zero, they merely smiled, put the latest miracle formula to one side, and got back to work.

“You are tired, though,” insisted Minimus. “Mentallu, you’re exhausted.”

“I’m tired; other people are dead. Have you seen outside? There are hundreds of corpses out there—we’re talking half the circle of light. Now, if I can’t help them I can at least try to fix the spacebridge.”

Rodimus rocked on his heels as Inferno barged past and fired foam into a section of the spacebridge that had caught fire. When the foam ran out Inferno stamped on the flames, and with a sad thud another chunk of Tyrest’s precious patchwork portal hit the floor.

“Maybe it’s better that the spacebridge isn’t fixed,” said Minimjs slowly, seeing the look of horror on Rodimus’ face. “If it was fixed, it might make people think that our losses were worthwhile: ‘The ship was overrun and people died, but at least we found a way to get to Cyberutopia.’ I don’t want that. Do you?”

Ther was a sudden squeal of excitement, and Rodimus and minimus turned to see Brainstorm skipping around the remains of the Killswitch, holding his briefcase above his head. Beaming behind his faceplate, the weapons engineer jogged out of the Control Room, pausing only to tug playfully at Minimus Ambus’ moustache.

“Whatever happened to priorities?” Muttered Rodimus, frowning with disapproval. “Now Minimus—sorry, Magnus—what was it you wanted?”

“I was, um, wondering if you’d found my outer shell?”

“The one without a head?” Rodimus pointed across the room. “Storage locker. I thought you’d come looking for it.”

“Thank you,” said Minimus, turning to leave.

“Magnus, wait. Listen. When it was all kicking off—when I was being wired into the Killswitch—you and I, we…” Rodimus paused to test the depth of a newly discovered dent in his forehead. “We came clean, didn’t we?” I told you about Overlord and… yeah.”

Minimus waited for him to continue.

“I am going to do something about it, you know. I’m going to—”

“Make amends. So you said.”

—

Rung looked up from the table at the sound of breaking glass and saw Fortress Maximus pulling his boot from the remains of a displaced engex canister. Max wasn’t really to blame: it was impossible to walk across swerve’s ransacked bar without treading on something breakable.

“Thank you for seeing me,” said Fortress Maximus, sitting down opposite Rung. He tilted his head and realized that the shards of tinted glass in front of the ship’s psychiatrist bore a strong resemblance to Ark 5. “You know I’d have been happy to meet you in your office.”

“My office is full of dead Legislators,” said Rung, pushing a drink across the table. Fortress maximus swirled the room temperature engex around the glass, watching the luminous pink liquid crest and collapse. “Ive been made an offer. A new position. Rodimus was impressed by my handlig of the Legislator invasion—which is ridiculous, frankly, because all I did was let them take over the ship…” he sipped his drink; it tasted bad. “Anyway. Yes, a new position.”

“Congratulations. I’m pleased for you.”

A second sip, “I don’t know whether to accept.” Rung turned his friend’s empty glass on its side; it made a decent rear thruster. 

“You don’t think you’ve earned it?”

“Oh, I know I haven’t ‘earned’ it. This isn’t about ‘earning’ it. This is about whether I’m cured or not. The shooting spree—that’s in the past. I mean—hell—it’s easy for me to say that, but…” he slumped a little in his chair, “I feel like myself again. Like I did before Overlord attacked Garrus 9.” Rung swept the mosaic aside and put his elbows on the table.

“You’re not ‘cured’ because you were never diseased. But the fact you’re asking these questions—of me, of yourself—is good, Max. It’s really good.”

“But do you think I might come unstuck again?”

“I think you’re ready for whatever is around the corner. As ready as the rest of us,” Rung reached across the table and unclenched his friend’s fist, “But promise me: if your thoughts run away with you, come find me. Ten floors down.”

“Ten floors down?”

“My office is ten floors below the Bridge. I assume that’s where you’ll be, if you’re going to be third in command?”

“Who said anything about being third in command? Rung, this new position—it means I have to leave the Lost Light.”

—

As Rodimus stepped into his office he shielded his eyes—literally put his hand to his face—to avoid catching the sight of the flames he’d had painted around the doorframe. As soon as he’d sorted out the current mess he’d ask Atomizer to help him redecorate. No more fire-rimmed  entrances, garish pink walls or self-aggrandizing plaques: just a deak, a chair, some subdued lighting and a memorial to crewmembers killed by sparkeater, Legislator, or Overlord.

Overlord.

When his guard was down—when he wasn’t showing off or doodling or spray-painting—the name made him think of the people who had died or lost loved ones because he’d been too scared to say no to Prowl. Overlord made him think of Pipes and Rewind and Chromedome and Lockstock and Lancet, but one face—Drift’s face—kept crowding out all the others. It had been here, in his office, that they’d had their last proper conversation.

“An inquiry?” Drift stood in the doorway, looking incredulous. “An inquiry?” Rodimus dragged him inside and locked the door. “I had to do something! People were asking questions! And what do you do if you want to stall things? You launch and inquiry,” He slumped into his chair. “An inquiry into something I’m responsible for. Oh god. Oh god, I feel sick. I’ve messed up big time.”

“I can sort this out, Rodimus. Honestly I can fix this.”

“This is my fault, not yours. We were standing in Prowl’s office, and he was trying to convince me that bringing Overlord onboard was ‘right and proper’, and you called me an idiot for even considering it.”

“Was I that blunt?

“I don’t know why he even let you in on those discussions in the first place. Its not like he trusts you.”

“I’ll tell you exactly why he wanted me there: it was in case something like this happened. Need a scapegoat? Get an ex-Decepticon.”

“Well it’s not gonna happen. I’m taking the fall for this one. Your name doesn’t have to come into it. It’s taken you years to win back people’s trust, and you’re not throwing it all away on my behalf.”

“Rodimus, if you tell the crew what you’ve done, then that’s it. The quest’s over. We’ll never find the Knights.”

“No, it just means someone else will take over. You, maybe? Ratchet? I dunno. Someone.”

“But someone doesn’t take over!”

Rodimus looked up sharply, “‘Doesn’t’?’”

“Won’t”

“You said ‘doesn’t.’ What d’you mean ‘doesn’t?’”

“It’s hard to explain what I mean,” Drift unclipped his Great Sword and placed it on the desk. 

“You remember when I nearly died, back on Cybertron? I was within feet of Vector Sigma.”

“Yes…” said Rodimus slowly, unsure where this was going.

“When I put this sword through my spark, I saw something.”

“What, like a vision?”

“Kind of. More of a sense of how things would play out. It was abstract and it was fleeting, and every time I call it to mind it becomes harder to interpret, but something is around the corner, Rodimus—and a year from now, or 50 years from now, that something will arrive, and we won’t be able to stop it unless we find the knights. And I don’t care if you think, ‘Oh, that’s just Drift being Drift,’ because I’m convinced that you need to remain in charge. People can come and go—they can die—but you have to be here, otherwise we will fail. And so the simple solution—the only solution—is that I take the blame for this.”

“I won’t let you do this for me.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for everyone else.” 

—

“Hey, what are you two doing in here? Are you… looting? I expected it of you, Fort Max, you light-fingered rogue, but Rung?!”

A grinning Swerve skipped across the room and went to vault over the bar. He caught his boot on an engex pump and fell face-first into the serving space on the other side. A second later, a solitary wheel rolled out from behind the bar, circled Rung’s leg three times, and toppled over.

“Save you innermost energon,” said Swerve, clambering to his feet, “I am unharmed!”

“You seem… reinvigorated,” said Fortress Maximus.

“Saved a life, Max, saved a life. Tailgate! Lives! On!” He threw an energon goodie into the air and almost caught it in his mouth. “Who says you can’t be a metallurgist and a bartender?”

Swerve’s grin left his face as he saw a silhouette in the doorway: head, legs, arms, briefcase.

“I’d like a word with Chatterbox in private,” said Brainstorm, fishing a barstool from the wreckage and sitting down. “You gonna do this place up Swerve?”

“That’s the plan, yeah.”

“Good. Because people come here and they talk, and I need you to keep your ears open.”

“For what? What am I listening out for?”

“I think…” Brainstorm looked over his shoulder to check that Rung and Fortress Maximus had left. “I think someone’s tampered with the briefcase. It looks like someone’s opened it, and I want to know who.”

“Easy. Just look for the guy with no head.”

Brainstorm laughed and clapped Swerve on the shoulder, agitating an old injury and making the bartender flinch. Brainstorm continued to laugh until Swerve joined in, at which point he grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him close. “It’s not funny. Opening the briefcase when I’m not around is very far from being a sensible thing to do.” He climbed off the stool. “So… any idle chatter and you come to me. Are we clear?”

Serve nodded—but not, Brainstorm realized, in agreement. The nod was directing his attention downwards, to the green light escaping from his chest plate. Before Swerve could say anything, Brainstorm smothered the leaking light with his briefcase and fled the room.

—

Number 2:

Satisfied that the energon transfusion was having the intended effect and that the key points of articulation—waist, knees, elbows—were responding to his touch, Ratchet left Tailgate sleeping on the circuit slab. With the stab wounds in his chest and back patched up, the Waste Disposal Expert looked freshly forged. Sadly, that was just on the outside;before the anti-corrosives had forced it into remission, his rampaging cybercrosis had caused so much internal damage that when he’d collapsed in Tyrest’s Control Room, it had sounded like someone punching a bucket of nails.

Before administering the anti-corrosives, Ratchet had bled Tailgate’s body, opening the vents and traps designed to keep energon, oil and petrolex from escaping. Swerve had laid claim to the slops, saying he intended to run some tests. (It was nice that he was taking an interest, thought Ratchet, even if he wasn’t prepared to give up his day job.) Now, all that was left was to wait for Tailgate’s resurgent spark to build itself up until it could sustain him without the assistance of a life support machine.

Ratchet walked into the morgue, went to open one of the body-lockers, and stiffened as he sensed someone behind him. Minimus Ambus was standing in the doorway wearing the bottom section of the Magnus Armor, his wrist-thin legs plugged into a pair of massive kneecaps.

“Hello, Ratchet,” said Minimus sheepishly, tottering into the room as if on stilts. “The armor’s easy to take off but hell to put on, especially by yourself. I wondered if you could help. I can talk you through the process, give you instructions.”

“I’m impressed you were able to sneak up on me,” said Ratchet, kneeling down to examine the point where Minimus’ right leg disappeared into the Magnus Armor. He tapped 13 hidden pressure pads in quick succession and the armor rose up and wrapped itself more tightly around Minimus’ leg. Minimus watched a confident Ratchet do the same—13 taps—with the other leg. “How long have you known?” He said quietly.

“About you and the armor? Ooh, quite a while now.”

“But how? The armor is filled with these attention deflectors…”

“That work for all of five seconds,” Ratchet climbed to his feet and wiped his hands. “You might as well use smoke and mirrors. And quite frankly, I’m a little insulted that you’d think I’d be fooled”

“You never said anything…”

“Why would I say anything? ‘Hey, Ultra Magnus, I know your secret.’ Why would I say that? What would that achieve? I didn’t say anything to the others, either.”

“You knew the other Magnuses?”

“Suture, Datum, Ramp, Blockus—all the way back to the original.”

“What was he like?”

“He wasn’t like you, that’s for sure.”

Minimus looked hurt. “Well, thanks for the assistance. I think I can out the rest on by myself.”

“No two Magnuses are alike,” continued Ratchet, worried that he’d said the wrong thing. “But because people assume they’re the same person, they make allowances without realizing it. I’ve known you longer than any of your predecessors, and maybe that’s why, to me—and I know this sounds strange—you’re the true Ultra Magnus.”

Minimus gave a nod of—what? Understanding? Gratitude? He wasn’t sure, but he left the medibay feeling ten times taller, and it had nothing to do with the armor on his feet.

Ratchet turned back to the body-locker, slid a key in the lock, and braced himself. The body inside was different to all the other bodies in the morgue: it was alive.

—

“Anything?”

Rodimus pressed his foot gently against the lunar landscape as if testing the temperature of bath water.

“No. Nothing.” He pushed down harder—with his heel, this time. “Still nothing.”

“Are you sure this is the place?” Asked Getaway, who was standing on a Mobile Autobot Repair Bay that was hovering a few feet off the ground. 

“Mountain range to the left,” muttered Rodimus, flicking a thumb towards the horizon. He dropped to his hands and knees and pressed his cheek against the silver surface, hoping to detect weak heat or distant movement.

“Last time, this whole place lit up the moment I stepped off the M.A.R.B Millions of sparks, from here to the horizon. This—this sea of electric blue. VOMPF!”

“I’m no expert,” said Getaway, “but hot spots don’t normally blink in and out of existence. They ignite, they stay ignited.”

“True, but they’re not normally ignited by someone treading on them.” Rodimus sat on the edge of Getaway’s M.A.R.B. and scanned the resolutely un-illuminated landscape; the hot spot’s stubborn dormancy registered as yet another personal failure. “Then again, you have to harvest surface sparks quickly, otherwise they… evaporate isn’t the right word, but you know what I mean. Maybe we just missed our chance.”

Getaway jumped to the ground, gave it a quick tap (why pass up an opportunity to find out you were a Matrix-Bearer-in-waiting?) and sat down next to Rodimus. Sensing his despondency, he gave him a playful jab—”bomp”—on the upper arm. “What now, then?”

Rodimus reached into a compartment in his waist and pulled out the remains of the Matrix. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do,” he said, scattering the cloudy fragments over the ground, “but I feel we should do something, mark the passing of Luna 1’s lost generation.”

“I hope I don’t have to arrest you for littering,” came a new voice, and Rodimus and Getaway turned to see a second M.A.R.B. heading their way.

“Arrest me?” Said Rodimus, “Does that mean what I think it means?”

Fortress Maximus skidded to a midair stop and smiled. “The newly-appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, reporting for service.”

“Good decision, Max, good decision. Just because Tyrest lost the plot, it doesn’t mean there’s not work to be done.”

“Thank you for your faith in me.”

“Happy to accept the thanks, but it was Magnus who wanted this to happen. He said his successor should…” His voice trailed off as someone stepped out from behind Fortress Maximus.

“Red Alert?”

“Captain, I want to apologize for—”

“Stop right there. No apologies. Not on my ship.”

“But I can’t imagine the inconvenience I caused by my decision to, um, remove myself from the field of play.”

“Nonsense. You were under tremendous pressure. O,ay, so you didn’t feel able to confide in me, but that says more about my failings as a leader than anything else.” He pictured Ultra Magnus listening to him and nodding sagely at his words.

“Ratchet’s brought me up to speed,” said Red Alert, “I know that some of the Circle of Light are staying behind, and that you intend for Tyrest’s body to remain here too, and I—”

“We’ve built a secure room in the medibay,” interrupted Rodimus, pointing vaguely in the direction of what had been Tyrest’s base of operations. “We’ve stabilized Tyrest but he won’t be resuscitated until I’ve spoken to High Command—and they’ve decided what to do with him.”

“My point, Rodimus, is that I’d like to stay here.” He held up a hand to forestall Rodimus’s protests. “We all know there are pockets of rogue Decepticons out there. I can help the Circle of Light prepare for the possibility of attack. I’m already thinking that we could reprogram the… what are they called, Legislators? We could reprogram the Legislators to act as the moon’s protectors.”

“I think with you and Fort Max, Luna 1 is going to be in safe hands. Just promise to stay in touch!”

“Actually, Rodimus, that’s why we’re here. Perceptor’s been trying to reach you.”

Rodimus turned his communicator back on and nodded towards the hot spot.

“Sorry, I was expecting to be busy with the…” he looked up, “what did Perceptor want?”

—

“You said you wanted to contact Cybertron as soon as I got this working,” said Perceptor, gesturing to a monitor screen that took up an entire wall of the Communications Room. Rodimus craned his neck.

“That. Is. Massive.” He beckoned Getaway, Red Alert and Fortress Maximus over, “Who else wants one of these on the Lost Light?”

“I intend to replicate the comms system without the oversized monitor,” said Perceptor, taking his seat at the operating console, “But first… dialing Kimia now, captain.” 

Rodimus clapped his hands, “Right! Good! Let’s surprise Bumblebee!”

“I hope he’s alright,” said Red Alert, as the screen filled with static.

“Course he’s alright! I bet within 48 hours of us leaving Cybertron he’d talked the NAILs ‘round, taught the ‘Cons the error of their ways, and become Cybertron’s first democratically-elected postwar leader. You’ll see—any second now he’ll be waving his little cane at us, telling us about the New Golden Age…”

Getaway was the first to detect a picture amongst the static, “What’s that? Some kind of emblem? It’s not an Autobot symbol, that’s for sure.” He read the words underneath the emblem as soon as they appeared. “‘Welcome to the Republic of Cybertron.’”

“You see?” Rodimus turned to the others, “You see? He’s brought the whole planet together. Good old Bee. Good old brilliant Bee.”

“That’s not Bumblebee,” said Fortress Maximus.

“Don’t tell me Prowl is screening his calls…” Rodimus muttered, turning back to the screen.

Starscream looked down at him and grinned, “Well, well, well. What a lovely surprise.”

Post Script

Being entirely mechanical, Outrigger had never experienced breathlessness before, but running down half a mile of corridor and cutting across the hot spot put such a strain on his aging servos that when he crashed into Red Alert’s office it took him a moment—bent in half and clamoring at the doorframe—before he was able to speak.

“He just moved!”

Red Alert  helped Outrigger to his feet. Weren’t members of the Circle of Light supposed to be prime physical specimens? Weren’t they supposed to be high-shine, chrome-coated überbots, their bodies and minds sharper and more deadly than the Great Sword they carried on their backs?

“Sorry, Red. I’d have called you, but I know you don’t like using your communicator because you think it interferes with your—”

“Brainwaves, yes, yes. Forget that. Who just moved?”

“Tyrest!”

“I’m not saying I don’t believe you,” said Red Alert as they approached Luna 1’s medibay a few minutes later, “but unless someone repairs him properly, Tyrest’s going to be paralyzed forever. Maybe you saw the shadows move?”

“There are no shadows in the medibay,” said Outrigger, pointing at the locked room in the corner, “Take a look. Tell me I’m seeing things.” Red Alert took a step close, suddenly wary.

“How did he move, exactly? Did he twitch! Was it a spasm?”

“No, nothing like that. It was very… considered.” Red Alert checked the door—still locked—and then out his eye against the peephole.

“It was his fingers,” continued Outrigger, “The fingers on his right hand. It looked he was going to clench his fist.”

“Get Fortress Maximus,” said Red Alert, face still pressed against the door.

“Why? What should I tell him?”

“Tell him Tyrest has gone.”

[the-clawtake]

“Stravag!” Jehan swore, slamming his fist against the console as an error message flashed up on the screen. Taking a deep breath, then exhaling slowly, he pulled the diagnostic unit towards him, and started to type on the keyboard again. His Trinary had got lucky, after the fight. Two of the Blakist pilots had not made it as far as their ‘mechs. While a wholy inadequate substitute for his own Kodiak under the best circumstances, the Toyama he was presently attempting to jailbreak at least had a functional cockpit. His Kodiak not so much.

“Uh... Star Colonel?” The portable comm at his belt crackled with static as the transmission came through. He reached down and hit transmit,

“Aff?” he responded, focused on trying to bypass the Blakist security. He had no desire to have his brains fried when he started up the ‘mech. He keyed in another string of code. Tapped enter. Error.

“You... you might want to hurry it up there. We have contacts, north. A lot of contacts.”

He growled softly, tapping out a different string, then toggled his comm.

“How many contacts, Warrior. And how far out.” Really, that should have been the first thing the warrior had passed along. He finished the string of code, tapped enter.

“Looks like a full Level III. Maybe more. They are still a couple of kilometers out, coming in slow.”

“Aff. Keep me posted.” He turned his attention back to the diagnostic unit, where a green “Access Granted” was flashing. Breathing a sigh of relief he unplugged the unit, slotted it behind the command chair, and reached for the coolant vest and neurohelmet connections. Thank Kerensky those connectors were pretty much universal. A quick scan of the console and he found the ignition.

“Reactor. Online. Sensors. Online. Weapons. Online. All Systems. Nominal.” the familiar start-up litany was reassuring, even in the unfamiliar cockpit. Now to find the comms, and the sensor map, and key into the Star network, and... He did not have time. Even the slowest battlemechs would cover that distance before he could get everything figured out. An entire Level III?

He hit his portable comm again.

“Star Commander Rauda. You have command. Defensive positions.”

“Aff.” was the immediate response, and he went back to trying to figure out the cockpit. He did not have time for this. There. There was the sensor screen. The first contacts were showing up on it, and showing up as friendlies. Which given that he had not touched the IFF settings was a bad sign. He was already, effectively, down two Stars. This was not looking good.

Ah! There was the comms settings. He adjusted the frequency to 117.69 – Hopefully, Star Captain Tseng was on their way. All he had to do was hold out until then. He listened as Rauda passed out positioning orders – They had decades fighting alongside each other, knew each other better than anyone and her troop dispositions were exactly what he’d have ordered – while he continued to work out the control scheme,

All he had to do was hold.

@is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not

[flowercrowncrip]

Hi, may I ask what your thoughts are on Neuralink?

I actually have a lot of thoughts on this. Maybe not completely coherent thoughts, but a lot of thoughts nonetheless.

Firstly I think that a Brain computer interface has an awful lot of potential to do a lot of good for severely disabled people. I use voice control, but that gets tricky when I have a sore throat or my neurological disorders impacts my speech. I also don't get the same privacy when using Technologies as other people do. Eye tracking and switch control exists, but like voice control they also have severe limitations, like time and movement requirements. If Brain computer interfaces get to the stage where using them becomes quick and seamless it opens up communication, the ability to control your environment, as well as Internet access and an online life to an awful lot of people, which would be an absolutely amazing thing.

Would I personally get a brain implant to access this? No, right now Voice control is a much less risky option for me. Even if I lose that speaking ability, I think that I'd much rather use non-invasive technology like external sensors than put myself through any kind of brain surgery that isn't a medical necessity, even if it didn't work quite as well. But I'm not in that position, and unlikely to be any time soon, so it might be that if it does happen I would become prepared to go through surgery to relieve things like boredom and social isolation. I can absolutely see why other people would be prepared to go through brain surgery and implants to gain access to a computer, and posts I've seen with people making fun of those who are signing up for these medical trials make me quite angry. Computer access and communication is completely life changing.

When it comes to NeuroLink itself, I'm deeply sceptical of a lot of things. The biggest one is I don't think that Elon Musk is doing this out of the goodness of his heart, that is I don't think that improving the lives of severely disabled people is the main goal here. I think the main goal is making money and feeding the ego of Musk and his tech bro associates. They want to be seen as heroes performing Christlike miracles of intellect to help save the poor invalids from a fate worse than death, and if desperate people are injured, get sick, or die because they've cut corners with the technology I don't think they'd be too upset. I also dread to think what kind of pay walls Subscriptions or other capitalist horrors are waiting around the corner with this. I doubt this technology is going to be cheap or subsidised.

So yeah, I don't think the technology is a waste of time, and I completely see why people would want to use it. But I do think it's been rushed, and developed for the wrong reasons which worries me enough that I wouldn't sign up for it now, and I probably wouldn't even if I lost the ability to speak, although I also wouldn't say that I would definitely never do it if that was my only way of good quality access to technology Communication and the Internet

[junkyardisles]

NO LONGER BEING UPDATED

emulation sources

roms megathread (ssa wii u internet archive download) (may require cdecrypt if not downloading roms through usbhelper) dolphin wiki + download rpcs3 wiki + download cemu wiki + download zadig (if using a real portal. i know dolphin and rpcs3 have portal emulation, unsure with cemu) prototype builds: giants builds (useful info), ssa xpec builds, swap force build, superchargers build

will update if i get any more information. feel free to add anything additional info based on stuff i've toyed with (i don't know my specs): > you may need to allow a usb passthrough in dolphin, it's in the config > as stated on the wikis, cemu requires updating the usb input driver while dolphin requires zadig to have it changed to a libusb/winusb driver (either work about half the time. technology moment). the portal is under spyro porta. i recommend having separate portals for cemu and dolphin so you don't need to mess with drivers > i used vulkan graphics for cemu and default for dolphin. i'm not a tech guy though so just play with whatever works best ig i just use default settings. portal compatability guide > for dolphin gif making, i used 8x msaa anti aliasing and had the internal resolution as 1920x1080. for the most part it ran average on a half dead computer from 2015. i'd recommend 1280x720 w/ no or minimal anti aliasing though > ssa and giants' main gameplay both ran mostly fine with vbi skip on (though i haven't checked heroic challenges) with occasional drops to 12fps, only superchargers racing's first cup and parts of the second have been tested > never used rpcs3 and i don't know if citra can run skylanders games, until i learn more it'll be absent > swap force is pretty broken on cemu, lawl > ir sensors for dolphin will need to be configured if using something like an xbox controller, have relative input on so the cursor doesn't snap back to the middle > ssa and giants can lag often and being in the ruins starting from around the middle part of the game will be noticeably slower. co-op is very slow. cemu handles co-op great though and generally is pretty fast > if you wanna play online with a friend, get parsec > if not using the console's controller type, i'd recommend just using your own controls rather than setting them to whatever makes sense (like having the trigger be your primary instead of something like A w/ an xbox controller) > if the game lags hard enough your skylander might disconnect for a sec (only experienced in giants when recording with obs). pausing the game for a couple seconds if having lag usually fixes it > dolphin games run fine when being recorded w/ obs or streamed on discord. haven't checked cemu yet > cutscenes in dolphin always have a weird like. screen tearing? thing? as far as i know there's no way to fix it, but they play fine besides that > newer (experimental) versions of cemu seem to break with skylanders >if you're getting wii u roms from the internet archive you'll need to get cdecrypt. its newest release is super easy to use (drag the rom folder onto it and it'll do everything for you, thank god) >dolphin is the only emulator with freecam >superchargers racing was buggy on both computers i got it on. 2015 pc wouldn't launch it and my 2022 laptop disconnects the portal after every race, requiring the game to be restarted >cemu would crash after doing about two races (updated 31/8/2024. added another piece of info)

[lichtgrau]

─────────── ⌇ thoughts on Minh's Security Hacking

Minh doesn't really have a problem doing illegal acts, but there are certainly limitations. For example, he'd not use it for private matters to help anyone take revenge or some shit like that.

He also would not attempt to do any hacking of military or law enforcement security machines. The group he was in always focused on private persons or companies. He usually also moves in that realm now, but smaller.

Good examples of what he does probably be:

Surveillance Systems: e.g., CCTV, motion sensors

Access Control: e.g., keycard locks, biometric scanners (turning off warnings)

Banking Systems: e.g., ATMs, online banking platforms

Corporate Networks: e.g., firewalls, VPNs, email servers

Minh also avoids those where he knows their system is designed so that he would have the risk of leaving a trace.

He is not a hacker in the traditional sense that just gets into whatever device you hand him, he requires certain tools, programs and prepared devices.

[saphronethaleph]

Mothballs

“Checklist step forty-seven,” Mira Tern said, glancing down at her datapad, then back up at the computer systems. “Check that battery power is above eight percent charge… where’s the indicator for that…”

TY-3 whistled, and Mira glanced at the astromech.

“Thanks,” she replied, returning her gaze to the control panel. “And it’s, uh… right, twelve percent. I guess we’ve been going a bit slower than we should, huh?”

They’d have to be, if the generator they’d brought in had recharged the ship’s emergency batteries that much.

She flicked her comlink on. “Hey, Flynn, what’s the status on the reactors?”

“We finished providing the reaction mass and hypergolic slug for reactor one twenty minutes ago!” Flynn answered. “Everything down here is closed up and ready, you’re the one who’s delaying us at this point!”

“Right, right, I get it,” Mira replied, rolling her eyes, then checked her datapad again. “Step forty-eight… okay, here we go.”

She flicked two more switches, activating self test, and the emergency lights flashed on and off once.

A holo of the ship appeared, and Mira and Tye both gave it a once-over.

“Looks all green to here, Tye,” she declared, and the astromech rocked back and forth slightly in confirmation. “Great. Step forty-nine.”

She triple-checked the numbers, then flicked a control. Another.

Some of the switches on the panel lit up, others went dim again, and Mira moved back and forth between three different duty stations as she followed the flowchart on her pad. Then, finally, everything converged on a single control, and she took a deep breath.

Then pressed it.

There was a kind of subliminal thump, the whole ship trembling slightly, then telltales and indicators lit up all across the board.

“Reactor one start,” she reported, into the comlink again. “Everything looks good from up here, Flynn!”

“We’re all good here, too,” Flynn replied. “Reactor one is running smoothly, we’re getting a good efficiency curve, within five percent of nominal. They mothballed this ship well.”

“Then let’s get on with activating the rest of the reactors,” Mira decided. “How long until I can begin the start procedure for Two and Three?”

“We’ll be good in… fifteen, twenty?” Flynn said. “That’s for Two, we’ve been doing some of the prep work while we were waiting. Make yourself useful and get some of the other systems unlocked and online.”

“Hey!” Mira protested, shaking her head, then tutted. “Well, whatever. I’ll bring up… shields, I guess? Does One have enough power for that?”

“It should, but let’s not chance it until Two is online,” Flynn said. “Sensors should be better.”

“Got it, sensors it is,” Mira agreed, signing off, and switched to another file on her pad. “Okay, step one is… of course it’s on the other side of the bridge…”

She picked up her toolkit with a huff, and began schlepping it across the bridge to the sensor control station.

Halfway there, she paused, and looked out the armoured window.

The ships in the Chommell Sector Reserve Fleet were far enough apart that she could only see even the capital ships as toylike shapes, lit by the distant sun, and the escorts were not much more than points of light. Much closer, though, was the Makepeace, the Nebulon-B all the reactivation teams were working off, and she smiled a not particularly charitable smile as she looked out at the engineering support frigate… and four of the five other Star Cruisers that they were here to reactivate.

Bringing the Reserve Fleet from mothballs to full active status would take months, of course. They were operating off canned air and only pressurizing certain rooms, and there were less than a dozen engineers per ship for a truly vast war vessel. But it was happening, and it was inexorable… and it was happening for hundreds of Reserve Fleets, all across the galaxy.

Star Cruisers, Star Destroyers, heavy frigates, cruiser squadrons… the Military Disarmament Act limited the strength of the New Republic Defence Force, the active military, but putting everyone serving the arms industry out of work straight away would have been an economic catastrophe in a galaxy that had sorely needed to avoid them.

And the result was… something the First Order could have no idea was coming. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have been foolish enough to pick a fight with the Republic.

TY-3 whistled, and Mira sighed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it,” she said, finishing her trek to the sensor panel. “Plug in and start the self test, will you? Now we’ve got reactor power this should go quicker…”