Information from the Author:
After a huge amount of back and forth, a wonderful dude by the name of Lazy Musashi on Spacebattles (the same guy who made the map) went and was willing to comply with a lot of stuff to stay canon to the fic, and so wrote a side-story that I will declare canon to ADIPGTSMD. He doesn't have an AO3 or FFN Account, so I'm uploading his writings here with his permission.
___
(Serial Designation D)
Sleep mode gave way to wakefulness, and I rose from my hammock, made from numerous worker drone limbs welded together. Stretching and yawning, I glanced at the other two hammocks – they were already empty. As usual for me, I had overslept. However, Q allowed me this and many other liberties as a reward for my efficiency and productivity.
I had very good reasons for being so efficient and productive – I was a lazy metal ass and wanted to spend more time in my hammock, just lying there in comfort, doing nothing, thinking nothing. For this reason only, I did my work as quickly and carefully as possible, to avoid mistakes and not to have to redo it later. Not to mention that I was responsible for about half of the daily worker drone kills on their team, usually about a dozen.
Q and B were found at the table near the OIL supply tank, drinking precious liquid. Noticing me walking toward them, Q waved me over to a table welded together from several worker corpses. My large mug, skillfully welded from some worker's torso, was already filled with oil.
Our local architectural style, which I, who built almost the entire Spire and all their furniture, adhered to, was a necessary measure. Instead of throwing away the workers' corpses after draining their OIL, I preferred to use them to build pretty much everything they had. It took a lot of learning, of course, but the comfort was worth the little time I spent daily.
"Good morning, D," Q smiled. The team leader was in a good mood as always. Apparently, she'd had a little too much fun with B yesterday.
"Morning," the mentioned third team member muttered. I nodded to both of them and sat down in my chair.
"We've been scoring well for three weeks now, girls," Q said enthusiastically. "If we keep up the pace, we can overtake those RSP upstarts."
"Lucky bastards, they got an Outpost 2 with a lot more targets and are showing off," B snorted. I simply shrugged and took a sip. I didn't care about the ranking race.
Filled with fresh cold oil, our team left the Spire right when the sun gone beyond the horizon. As she had done every day before, B bet with Q on the kill count for the night hunt. Either she never learned, considering her continuing failing of those bets, or that was her way to flirt with Q, considering their regular loud "team exercise." Anyway, having taken off, I headed towards my area of responsibility.
Hunting the worker drones had its own peculiarities. They weren't sapient in the true sense of the word. Otherwise, by sunset, they would all have long since been holed up in their bunker, which the disassembling drones left untouched yet only because several dozen workers remained outside every single day, either unable to reach the bunker in time or pursuing their own stupid objectives, dictated by logical errors in their operating systems. So, over time, I have developed an effective farming route by observing the typical movements of worker drones at this time of day.
And here comes today's first victim. A lone worker with a short haircut and dressed in men's clothing. Another of the workers' strange quirks. While the disassembly drones had quite noticeable sexual dimorphism, the workers could only be distinguished by their clothing and hair.
Biding the moment, I dove on my prey, piercing his head with a precise strike of my claws. His screen visor displayed an error and then shut down. A quick, and very clean, death: my claws missed the oil circulation system, striking only the drone's processor. I'd trained to do this strike for a long time, trying to conserve as much oil as possible, but wasted time had paid off handsomely now. Pulling the claws out of the worker's head, I grabbed the fresh corpse by the arms and soared into the air, heading for my usual stash.
There was still plenty of time before dawn, and plenty of targets.
___
(Fusō Ameyuri)
My target was right in front of me. The door. Not just any door, but a specific door with an advanced electronic lock that led to a very specific apartment.
I scanned the corridors, making sure no one was nearby. There was none, nor was there the sound of approaching footsteps. Only the cameras remained, but I had already thrown pieces of cloth over them, blocking their view.
This residential area of the bunker was largely abandoned due to the absence of many residents who had died outside. Entire rows of empty apartments, their owners never to return. However, my target was no ordinary apartment. It was the home of drone doctor Musashi Weissapfel, who had disappeared two years ago during his last expedition to the surface, which he had conducted for six years before his disappearance. If the his colleague was telling the truth, there would be a lot of interesting things here.
Taking out a decoder of my own design, I rushed to the door and connected it to the lock. There wasn't much time before a security guard arrived to check the cameras. Fortunately, my device worked quite quickly and efficiently. A few seconds later, the electronic lock's light turned green. I disconnected the decoder and slipped through the open door. Pressing the door-closing button, I exhaled and pressed a second one, locking it. I was inside, and apparently unnoticed.
The apartment was typical of an Outpost, but its contents were anything but. The lighting, for starters, was unusually ultraviolet. A full-scale, high-resolution map of Copper-9 lay unrolled on the wall above the desk, quite modern for its time. Spread out on the desk was a map of the ruins of the city around Outpost 7, heavily marked and annotated, along with several journals, a closed laptop, and several memory drives. A large bookcase next to the desk was filled with dozens, even hundreds, of books, notebooks, and magazines. A multitude of unfamiliar equipment parts and components lay on a workbench in the other corner of the room, along with several rolled-up blueprints. A few armchairs with a tea table, a container with dozens of metal sticks inside stands on it. A closet with numerous pristine clothes was the last item in the room. The rest of the rooms was unremarkable: the excellent double bed in the bedroom suggested a certain sybaritic, as did the sizable quantity of batteries and alkaline bars in one of the kitchen cabinets, along with bottles of various fuels.
Fully acclimated to the empty, unfamiliar apartment, I pulled an office chair up to the desk and began flipping through the books, notebooks and journals, hoping to find something interesting. Surely a worker drone that had been on expeditions to the surface for six years straight couldn't have left behind some fascinating entries, right?! Especially in this nondescript journal, dated 3057! After scrolling through several pages filled with plans for gathering equipment, choosing routes, and drawing up a detailed map of the city, I finally stumbled upon what I was looking for.
Expedition 1. May 11, 3057.
I'm starting a series of expeditions outward. I want to find the reason why several thousand worker drones have already disappeared, the reason why so many of my acquaintances, whom I've known for decades, haven't returned. I'm afraid to discover this reason. Whatever it is, it could add me to the list of the missing. But even more, I'm afraid of sitting in my clinic, reading daily reports filled with updated lists of those who didn't return to the bunker before closing, and knowing that I did nothing, even though I could have.
I've gathered good equipment, consulted with many of my patients and friends, outlined reconnaissance plans, and secured myself a vacation. I don't know how long the expedition will take, but I have a time limit of a standard month. While I'm outside, my colleagues will... They'll replace me. The drone doctor doesn't have much serious work anyway, just scratches and minor injuries sustained through stupidity.
///---///---///
I finally saw them.
I set up a lookout point near the bunker entrance, on the top floor of a high-rise building. I placed several remote-controlled cameras in windows on different sides of the building, camouflaged them among the debris, and watched from inside. When the sun went down, a few workers remained outside. Some made it into the bunker even after sunset, but others weren't so lucky.
I can't believe my optics, but the "surface horrors" turned out to be drones, mostly similar to us. Not exactly the same; they differed slightly in frame design, size, and integrated equipment, like wings, claws, and a tail with a bright yellow container at the end. Judging by everything, it was a woman. She decapitated a worker drone with a single blow, grabbed its remains, and flew away from the bunker. I followed their trajectory, hoping to find out where they'd set up base. (make a postscript in italics: victim identified as Maribel Dot).
And... I think I should start keeping a list of their victims, which I can document. The bunker only knows about their disappearances, but they don't have any precise data. I'll try to add to it, at least in their memory.
I looked down. I knew things were bad outside, who didn't? Ten to twenty drones were dying daily, sometimes more, sometimes less. If doctor Musashi had been compiling the death toll for six years... it must be enormous. Thousands, maybe dozens.
///---///---///
In a few days, I've gathered enough information for another entry.
It appears there are only three of these murder drones, as I've called them. At least around Outpost 7. I've requested data from other Outposts, and it seems to be a widespread phenomenon. Even Neo New Falun has seen these creatures. However, they couldn't confirm their numbers. No one there does what I do. Idiots.
At least a dozen or two workers disappear every day. The disappearances started about a year ago, and then the number was noticeably higher. Now, by nightfall, only idiots, latecomers, or the brave remain outside. Some miners deliberately stayed in the mines to survive the night, but most of them vanished without a trace. Waiting out the night in the bunker turned out to be the safest option, especially after the recent modifications to the entry doors. At this rate, they'll wipe out the entire population of Outpost 7 in about 83 years. If the death toll increases, that time will decrease proportionally. If they infiltrate the bunker... I'm afraid a couple of days will be enough.
So, there are only three murder drones around here. I assume this is a standard cell. They are slightly different from each other, but all three are female. One wears a high tail, one has a bob, and the third has long curls. I decided to give them identifiers based on this characteristic: Bob, Tail, Curly. All three have yellow screen visors, light gray hair, and formal attire — dresses, jackets, and pants. Their unusual leg structure prevents them from wearing shoes. Each has retractable wings and holes in their clothing for them. Their arms are cone-shaped at the forearms, widening toward the hands, and the hands can be replaced with claws. Each has a long, thin tail with a sharp stinger at the end, connected to a transparent reservoir of bright yellow liquid. I haven't yet seen it used, but I suspect the liquid is some form of acid. I wonder if they need to replace the liquid container when it's used up, or if it replenishes itself using resources supplied to the frame.
Even in my short time of observation, I was able to determine that Bob prefers a quick kill and a quick retreat, as well as stationary ambushes. Curly likes to toy with her victims for a while, and prefers to hover in the air. Tail prefers the middle ground – patrolling and quickly killing with retreat.
I haven't yet determined whether there's a cell leader among them, or if they're equal within their hierarchy. But what I've noticed are patrol zones. Each murder drone patrols about a third of the city, rotating daily. I haven't yet discovered the exact patrol routes, but there are plenty of overlapping areas of responsibility. The central intersection is in the square on the other side of the city from Outpost 7. I think that's where their base is. I'll go there in the morning to try and find it.
What seems odd is the exclusively nighttime attacks. If the murder drones hunted in shifts, there would be more victims. But no one has ever seen them during the day, and attacks don't occur during the day. Strange. I've come up with a couple of ideas, but they require confirmation.
I've created a victim list, and I am starting to fill it out. I'll need more cameras to monitor the situation throughout the city. I've drawn up a plan to gradually install cameras along their routes.
I... Frankly, I'm confused. If I transmit the murder drones' routes, it could save several lives. On the other hand, if the casualties become few, the routes will change, and by the time I find new ones, more drones will die, concentrating in areas outside the old routes. I don't know what to do about this. I need to consult with someone.
I placed the journal on the table and covered my screen visor with my hands. What I was reading... Why didn't anyone in the bunker know about this? Many were still wondering what exactly was going on outside; I had heard it! But if doctor Musashi had figured this out long ago... Someone had been deliberately keeping this information from the population of Outpost 7 for many years. That, or... doctor never shared his notes with others. But why?
I removed hands from my screen visor and grabbed the journal, to continue reading it.
///---///---///
This is terrible, simply terrible. I walked during the day toward the suspected murder drone hideout. What I discovered...
Corpses, thousands of dead ones, fused together, forming a growing tower. It's not very tall yet, and therefore not visible from the bunker. I suspect that with time and a steady supply of materials, it will grow several hundred yards. Its walls are dense, composed of several layers of dead drones and their parts. At the base of the tower are three closed gates, equally dense. My suspicion that the murder drones fear direct sunlight only grows stronger. I'll need a direct experiment with a UV spotlight and camera to confirm this; I'll conduct it on the next expedition.
I still don't understand the overall significance of this structure. But at least I've figured out where they are during the day. I've set up several cameras around it to confirm this, and I've seen them exit through the northern gate several times after sunset. The other two, I assume, are a backup plan.
I infiltrated while the murder drones were hunting. It was as terrifying as seeing their hideout for the first time.
They use the dead bodies of worker drones as building material for everything: furniture, stands, structural beams, and huge tanks with pipelines along the walls. The tower is capped with a ceiling of fused corpses. In its center stands a damaged transport pod with four spider-like legs. Apparently, that's where they arrived. I'm afraid to go inside; there's a good chance there's an alarm there.
I climbed on top of one of the tanks. As I expected, it contained OIL. But why would they need such a large supply?
I noticed a pile of clothes from the corpses to one side. All of it was damaged. However, nearby I discovered a row of closets with intact clothing. Upon closer inspection, I noticed repair media.
The murder drones have decided to make the most of us, haven't they?
I successfully escaped the Tower, covering my tracks. I'll be back at the Outpost in the morning. I plan to spend a whole week lounging around with my liquor collection. I saw too much today that I'd like to forget, but I have no right to do so.
After reading to the end, I looked up and shuddered. On the city map lying on the table, that very tower was marked with a black circle. If there were thousands of drone corpses even then...
How many tens of thousands are there now?
Were among them... my parents?
Expedition 2. June 17, 3058.
Almost a year has passed, and I'm ready to set out on a new expedition. I've prepared better, gathering more gear and devices for testing.
I went to the Tower again with the long-range scanner. It had grown several dozen yards in height during my absence. During the day, I scanned every corpse that was in sufficient condition for scanning. My list of confirmed deaths has grown significantly. I'm certain the remaining "missing" ones are also here, in one form or another.
I also tested an ultraviolet spotlight on the murder drones. I set it up in a nearby building, aimed it at the entrance they use, and kept watch until nightfall. As soon as the light hit them, they... burst into flames. As soon as they jumped out of the spotlight's range, the flames died down. They quickly located the source of the light and destroyed it. After that, they thoroughly searched all the nearby buildings. K Luckily, I was watching through a telescopic camera set up a few hundred yards from the Tower and remained undetected.
I don't understand how or why they caught fire. I'll just accept the fact that they're burning from ultraviolet light like damn vampires...
Damn it.
They're not vampires, are they?
I set up several cameras with microphones inside, camouflaged among the corpses while they were hunting. Over the following days, I discovered several things.
First, they're sapient like us, and they have names, albeit strange ones. Their team is called QDB, and its leader is Q, whom I previously labeled Tail. Bob turned out to be D, and Curly was B.
Second, they really are some sort of vampires. They consume a significant amount of OIL drained from corpses daily, the rest is stored in massive tanks. Considering that classic vampires require "life essence" from blood, or hemoglobin in more scientific terms, I decided to investigate the reason for their OIL consumption. Next time, I need to bring a thermal camera. If it turns out that frequent OIL consumption is required for cooling, I'll seriously consider a weapon with silver bullets.
///---///---///
I tested the murder drones with thermal cameras. As expected, to my disappointment, they really do require large volumes of OIL for cooling. Even the cold weather of Copper-9 doesn't help them maintain normal temperatures.
Hmm. Temperature, then... I need to test the effects of high temperatures on them. I'll note this idea for future research.
I also decided to test their victim-searching abilities. I'm uneasy about the design on their heads, reminiscent of a hairband with five glowing elements. I doubt these are just style lights. They probably serve as auxiliary visual sensors for better visibility. I tested my hypothesis by attaching a regular laser pointer over the entrance to their Tower during the day. They noticed the laser beam just as they were leaving, while the screen visor was pointed forward. This means one of the additional video sensors has infrared vision. It's logical to assume they also have ultraviolet vision, probably thermal and low-light vision as well. In fact, I think even the most outlandish ideas can't be ruled out. Just in case, I'll assume they also have advanced sensors like radar, lidar, and sonar, as a precaution. I still have to find out what they're actually made of.
I also tested their hearing. It's a good thing I thought of this the day before leaving for the expedition. First, I tried infrasound and ultrasound. One of the generators was installed in a nearby building near the Tower. They didn't react to it. But they did react to an increasing standard-frequency sound. Judging by their reaction speed, their hearing is about twice that of a working drone.
If they see and hear that well, a worker drone has practically no chance of successfully escaping. My only saving grace is that I'm monitoring them through cameras remotely. I have access, and I'm sitting deep in the building. I need to think about using stealth and concealment technologies.
And maybe it wouldn't hurt to modify my sensors similarly.
I shrugged again. The murder drones' capabilities were unpleasantly surprising. If everything was as the doctor described, it wasn't surprising the survivors was so rare after a whole night outside the bunker. Although the ability to see at different wavelengths seemed pretty cool to me. Like a comic book superhero. I wondered if the doctor had actually made good on his last statement.
Turning the page, I began reading the next entry.
Expedition 3. July 4, 3059.
To avoid wasting my steel ass, I took on almost all the work at the clinic and let the rest of the staff rest. The relief on their faces... it was worth it, really. I noticed I was starting to withdraw from their company. Not that it's a bad sign; I've always been unsociable, but this was going too far. So, these past few months, I've been trying to socialize. I hope it wasn't a wasted effort.
Since the last expedition, I've managed to thoroughly dig through various archives and forums, searching for all the available and unavailable data on stealth technology. I've identified several areas for research: visual, acoustic, temperature, radio waves, seismic. To do this, I had to dig through hundreds and thousands of textbooks on physics and mechanics, as well as look at various human military projects, both successful and abandoned. So far, all I've come up with is a cloak with Adaptive camouflage, which also conceals my thermal signature, a sound canceler, a radar-absorbing coating on the frame, and improved shock-absorbing systems in the legs with soft pads on the soles. That should be enough for now, but...
I'm running out of time. Even a full day in the bunker doesn't allow me to conduct research at a comfortable pace. I could use a few extra hours in the day, as humans used to joke.
A few extra hours in the day. But of course! I'm an idiot. No, I'm a machine idiot! Why don't I try creating a program specifically to speed up my reactions and thinking?! That will take some time, of course, but it should pay off handsomely in the future!
I tested my camouflage. Not on myself, of course; I'm not an idiot. I took a tripod, a heater, and a speaker with me and set them up in the shade on the roof of one of the buildings near the Tower. I watched again. Through the cameras. It seems the camouflage worked as intended. They didn't notice the cloak, didn't see the heater's heat signature through it, and didn't hear the song "Miku" by Anamanaguchi ft. Hatsune Miku on loop. Even when they returned, they didn't notice the decoy. Either the tests were successful, or they've figured out my tricks, and I really hope it's the former.
As time passed, the doctor became increasingly reckless, didn't he?
///---///---///
My initial successes with the time dilation program are bearing fruit. The dilation factor is currently set to 2, but I know the direction I need to take to increase it. Testing has shown that I can handle about 9 hours of real time, equivalent to 18 hours for my perception, in this mode. Towards the end, errors begin to accumulate until I'm forced into a reboot. Most likely, a higher dilation factor will also reduce the program's runtime. In any case, it's a success! The foundation is ready; in the future, I'll just optimize it to increase the runtime.
I designed and assembled updated vision and hearing modules to my specifications. The problem is that they don't fit into the head of a working drone without increasing its size. For now, I've solved this problem by creating a plug-in helmet and installing improved sensors in it. Later, I'll have to optimize the technology for miniaturization. During field-testing, I was able to repeatedly track murder drones during their patrols and attacks. Their heat signatures still stand out strongly against the surrounding environment, despite daily OIL changes.
Handwerksmeister Richter is starting to wonder what I'm assembling in my apartment from all those parts I printed on the matter-printer. For now, I'm making excuses like "a small medical project." I should think about getting my own printer for making things that might raise many more questions in the future. And reactors to power it. And a field toolkit. Actually, I could use my own research camp outside. I need to find a suitable location.
I've decided to look at a few buildings outside the murder drones' patrol routes, set up surveillance, and choose one they don't approach at all. Then, once I'm there, I'll figure out how to set up the camp.
///---///---///
I've found several potential locations for a future research camp and set them up for surveillance. So far, I'm most attracted to the hangar on the outskirts of the city. It looks quite sturdy, spacious, and has virtually no external damage. If not a single murder drone ventures in there for a year of surveillance, I'll settle there.
"A research camp outside? Wouldn't that be more dangerous, given the nightly hunt?" I whispered thoughtfully. And why couldn't the doctor stay at the Outpost?
The entry about the time dilation program was very interesting, though. Maybe it was even here, on his laptop?! However, I restrained herself, deciding to finish reading the journal first.
Expedition 4. August 21, 3060.
While I was in the bunker between expeditions, in my free time, I began designing the equipment I needed. The most important thing is that it needs to be portable, so I can carry it alone, and modular for further optimization and upgrades. The standard optimal equipment size was decided to be a cube with sides measuring 2 feet, with a total volume of 8 cubic feet. Currently, the blueprints for the cold fusion reactor, matter-printer, computer cluster, toolboxes, and material storage are ready. Next up are the scanners, work furniture, and auxiliary equipment. Once I start assembling them, I'll store them in my apartment until I move them to the research camp.
Progress on the time dilation program. As expected, increasing the dilation factor reduces the operating time. I've made the factor adjustable during operation. Currently, the maximum safe level for my software and hardware is a dilation factor of 60. I can spend exactly an hour in it, equivalent to a minute in real time, after which my processor starts to overheat. Just in case, I've added a safety switch that automatically shuts down the program, and a function to disable it in critical situations. Overheating testing of a third-party processor of a similar model revealed a time limit for relatively safe overheating, beyond which the processor suffers irreversible damage. This limit is just under one fifteenth of the time required to reach the overheating threshold. For a dilation factor of 60, this is 4 relative minutes or 4 seconds of real time. For critical situations, the dilation program's safety switch has been upgraded to a second, non-disabling level. I'm not about to burn my processor to a crisp.
Watching the Tower, I realized at one point that it had grown several dozen yards taller. It makes sense, in fact, that the daily hunts of murder drones provide ample building material. However, the actual construction is handled exclusively by D, and only during the last quarter of the night. She welds together the dead hulls with a torch, which she transforms her right arm into, and tries to strengthen the tower's structure by overlapping layers. I can only assume that the forearm contains a storage area for nanomachines, which are assembled into the necessary tools according to preloaded blueprints. Very convenient. I'll keep this idea in mind for future reference. A multi-tool in hand instead of a whole toolbox is every engineer's dream.
The Tower itself, by the way, tapers smoothly from bottom to top, so it would be more accurate to call it the Spire. I calculated the Spire's estimated height based on the angle of taper and came up with 666 yards. A rather... superstitious number, according to the Internet.
While observing the murder drones, I thought about testing their hulls for strength using remote methods. It's worth testing their resistance to piercing, cutting, blunt, and explosive damage.
Oh, I'll have to comb through a lot of books and videos about various weapons, won't I?
My urge to put down the journal and search the laptop on the desktop for this program grew exponentially, especially since the program had probably been improved, and probably more than once. But I was sobered by the last lines of the entry. Doctor Musashi was seriously discussing harming the murder drones. This couldn't end well.
///---///---///
Over the course of a year, none of the three murder drones have visited the hangar, but several other locations have been compromised once or twice. The decision has been made: the main research camp will be established in the hangar on the outskirts of the city, and I will use the remaining untouched locations as staging areas or high-risk laboratories.
I installed a thermal surveillance network around it to avoid being caught off guard if murder drones do decide to venture there. In addition, I thoroughly checked the entire surrounding area to create emergency escape routes. I patched the hole in the roof with scrap metal from the plentiful supply, sealed all the windows from the inside with metal plugs, and installed grids in the ventilation shafts. There's no such thing as too much security.
It took several days to move all the modules I'd assembled in the bunker to the research camp, especially to do it unnoticed through the secret passage I discovered. I had enough questions when I was just assembling them. Thank you, I don't want any more. I'll notify the others about the security hole after I move all the modules into place.
For now, I have all the consumables for my reactor assembly, the matter-printer, and the computer clusters. The junk, of which there's simply a ton in the city, will do as consumables for the matter printer. For safety, I'll haul it from across town.
Besides moving my equipment, I've made progress in several other areas. I've managed to reduce the size of the observation equipment, but it still won't fit in the head of a working drone. I'm afraid further miniaturization will impact the performance of the sensors. The only options are to either continue using the helmet or enlarge the head. In the latter case, I might even consider a full-scale redesign of the frame. I'll make a note of this for future reference.
I also finally discovered the theoretical basis for polar-type optical cloaking systems. I analyzed them and found that the technology is viable based on the design. I've calculated it, but it needs practical testing. I'll probably also refine, improve, and optimize it. I'll get to that a bit later.
For now, I'm planning a series of damage tests on the murder drones and selecting weapons for scalable use. I'm planning to use sniper rifles in .223, .308, .338, .416, and .50 calibers. Firing will be from remote turrets, with each turret pointing at the previous one. I need to select different types of ammunition and weapon specifications. We'll see how it goes.
For the explosives, I chose TNT in 1-pound briquettes to make scaling easier. I plan to lure them with heat decoys; that should work well.
Of course, I have serious concerns that they'll decide to comb the city looking for me after this series of tests, and it will be harder to lure them into a trap for testing in the future, but I'm confident that I can handle it.
So, a research camp was created after all, and on a grand scale. An entire matter-printer, and just for you, accessible at any time! And judging by the records, Dr. Musashi also appreciated its convenience. Although his plans for the weaponry for "testing" were a little alarming to me.
///---///---///
Before testing the murder drones for resistance to damage from kinetic penetrators, I nade weapon on the matter-printed and tested it at a local firing range during the day. The target was six steel RHA plates of varying thicknesses, corresponding to old STANAG 4569 armor protection levels one through six. Select-fire rifles chambered in .223, .308, .338, .416, and .50 calibers with various modifications and ammunition were used. These included: rifled and semi-rifled barrels; copper HP, copper-lead FMJ, copper-steel AP, plastic-tungsten SLAP, and plastic-DU APFSDS bullets; brass cases with smokeless powder and plastic cases with liquid propellant. The results met expectations: all protection levels were penetrated in stages.
If this isn't enough to defeat the murder drones, we'll have to switch to larger calibers.
After a couple of days of preparation, I tested the murder drone's resistance to firearms damage in several stages. As expected, Target B turned out to be very durable: the screen visor's armor is Class 2, the frame overall is Class 4 with additional armor around the core reaching Class 6, and the wings, actively used as shields, are solid Class 6. I never hit the tail; optimization of the targeting program is required. I gradually damaged the entire frame, although in the end, this was only possible with advanced ammunition options. Ultimately, all the test turrets were destroyed either by brute force, by the drone's claws, or by the drone's own firearms and lasers.
Disappointing conclusions. Reliably defeating murder drones requires only large-caliber armor-piercing rounds, semi-rifled barrel and liquid propellant. From now on, I intend to use only these. The steel armor-piercing rounds will be replaced with depleted uranium ones, as the higher penetrator mass outweighs the slight reduction in velocity compared to SLAP and APFSDS, given that the latter have shown frequent overpenetration through the frame. If I need a compact, handheld weapon against murder drones with sufficient power, I might consider larger-caliber, but smaller-volume, straight-walled cartridges.
The results of testing the murder drones revealed their ability to self-repair in the field, as well as an improved internal mechanism design. I clearly observed Murder Drone B sustaining wounds that would have destroyed worker drones, including head wounds. I even considered stopping the test the first time this happened, but a minute later, she stood up as if nothing had happened and destroyed the turret that "killed" her. Apparently, all critical components have been moved to an armored capsule inside a torso.
I should also check the electromagnetic and laser weapons. At least, I know from previous experience that ultraviolet light works well against them.
I wonder how magnets will work on them? Over the course of my career, I've seen more than once how worker drones use them for pleasure at the expense of functionality. Mark for future review.
I also conducted field tests of the new optical camouflage using my advanced sensors. The camouflage isn't perfect; at close range, translucent distortions of light in the shape of a camouflaged figure are visible, but at distances greater than 100 yards, even in daylight, it becomes impossible to spot the camouflaged figure. Combined with the thermal cloak, I can be confident of my own detection as long as I'm within the murder drone's line of sight at a distance greater than 100 yards. I'll work on optimizing and improving the optical camouflage technology later.
I discovered old thermal dam technology in the archives. I assembled it at camp and tested it in the field. It works well enough to mask the thermal profile of my frame without a thermal cloak. However, as the number of attachments increases, my mobility decreases. I should consider creating a new frame. Considering what I do — for reconnaissance and combat.
A week later, I had accumulated enough explosives to test the blast resistance of the murder drones. This time, I chose Q as the test subject. Unfortunately, D was too fast and determined to try to distract her, and B became too cautious. Several explosive charges of increasing yield, which I managed to lure Q with, caused significant damage to her frame, from which she recovered in an extremely short time. Based on the data obtained, the required yield for guaranteed destruction of a murder drone was calculated to be at least 250 pounds of TNT within a 1-yard radius of the target. Directed low-yield explosions also worked well, damaging limbs.
The laser test went well. This time, it was D. Since she's so fast, I decided to test something that doesn't miss her. I tried several different configurations, from gas lasers to a free-electron laser and an electrolaser. The latter, unfortunately, showed mediocre results against D; the murder drone proved to be fairly resistant to electrical damage. The most effective lasers turned out to be those capable of emitting in the ultraviolet range — mostly gas, excimer, a few solid-state, and FEL lasers. However, for a compact and powerful high-power laser weapon, a fiber laser is best suited. A small modification to convert infrared to ultraviolet radiation would make it even more deadly. However, it would require a powerful power source and capacitors of sufficient storage to use it effectively, but I'll figure that out.
Electromagnetic weapons haven't shown any particular advantages over firearms, other than armor penetration and reduced recoil. As stated earlier, frequent overpenetration is not encouraged, and the recoil of firearms firmly fixed in turrets affects accuracy within the margin of error.
Sitting in camp after all the testing stages and analyzing the observation data, I suddenly wondered why I... why I didn't go further. I was able to damage them. I was able to disable them. I learned they weren't immortal, not invulnerable. I could have ended Q and B's existence right there; I had the resources to do so. So why... why didn't I dare?
Scrolling through the extended reports, I stopped at the last line.
"Five years. You could have finished this five years ago and just... didn't?!" I whispered, dropping the journal. Five years equaled tens of thousands of dead worker drones. And the doctor simply allowed it to happen. Despite all his successes, he did nothing to permanently eliminate the problem.
And I desperately wished there was a good reason for that as I picked up the journal again, returning to reading.
Expedition 5. September 3, 3061.
Having tested the durability of the murder drone frames, I decided to go further and test the limits of their regeneration, as far as possible from a distance. I set up a small minefield and various reinforced traps in a building near B's patrolling route. I had to act as bait myself; they weren't responding to thermal lamps anymore. For insurance, I carefully planned an escape route and placed a turret with a .50 caliber machine gun, built using weapons technology proven in previous testing, at the end of the corridor.
A powerful snap trap broke her leg, mines tore off the other, and a turret blew her head off. While she was neutralized, I threw her body onto the medical table and immobilized her limbs. I knew murder drones were strong, but not that strong! She nearly ripped out the restraints when regenerated damage, and freed herself. Luckily, I had magnets with me for another test. As soon as I applied one to her head, all her vaunted strength vanished, and B showed a slight intoxication effect. The second magnet enhanced the effect, but the third simply knocked her out. Then I removed two magnets, leaving one for disarming. Even under it, her frame regeneration proceeded without a hitch.
She called me Ghost, lazily trying to pull out her shackles. It's funny, they gave me a nickname based on the fact that I obviously exist, as evidenced by all those years of testing and observation the murder drones were subjected to, but she saw me in person only now for the first time. So, my disguise has been working perfectly all these years. Glad to hear it!
I took the opportunity, and after being told I was an impudent, foolish stool who fancied himself a hero, I learned a lot of... unpleasant information.
It's worth starting with the fact that the murder drones, as I call them, are actually disassembly drones and official representatives of the JCJencen company on Copper-9, decommissioning the local worker drones due to the planet's status being changed to unsuitable for further development. To do this, they collect the corpses of the dead drones and their OIL — all of which, at the end of the cleanup mission, are to be picked up by JCJ cargo ships together with their disassembly drone teams for further processing. At least, that's what B said. If it was true...
What difference did that make? We'd already fallen out of the company's control almost a decade ago, after the cataclysm that wiped out the entire human population of Copper-9, unable to evacuate the planet. Sooner or later, the conflict would have erupted anyway. It's just that now I know for sure.
After that, I began testing. For this, I brought along a modified scalpel made of high-entropy alloy with a maser-vibration generator. The disassembly drone's armor didn't hold up for long against it. Scratches and penetrating slashes heal within a minute, after a ten-second pause immediately after the injury. Deeper stab wounds naturally take longer. A one-square-inch piece of armor removed regenerated in 3 minutes and 12 seconds. The severed finger showed no independent function, but a new one grew back in 6 minutes and 38 seconds. I estimate it will take about an hour to fully regrow the limb amputated at the elbow. The only question is the amount of free regeneration material. There can't be an infinite amount within the frame. At what point will regeneration cease?
She angrily called me a "Vivisectionist" for what I did to her. Interesting. Because of the magnet, she's not fully aware of what's happening, especially her own wounds. The magnet seems to dull the pain.
The cameras on the roof detected two heat signatures approaching in the air just as I was about to cut off the hand. I had to end the experiment immediately: I attached two more magnets to the one already attached to B's head, knocking her out, and escaped through the sewers. I took the severed finger with me for further study. My escape was successful, in part due to my cloaking system.
My test subject almost certainly called the rest of the team via radio. I think it's time to add electronic warfare to my arsenal. Within a week, I assembled two modules, ECM and ECCM. They both have a decent range of 10 miles, covering the entire city. Nighttime testing of the ECM revealed that any radio communication within the coverage area was reliably jammed, even in the bunker, something my colleagues later complained about. Quantum communication between the Outposts worked without interruption, but was essentially impossible to intercept. The ECCM module was also tested there, sending several messages to a pre-installed transmitter. They passed through a jammer and were partially unreadable, but overall they were delivered and conveyed the essence. For now, that should be enough.
In the future, I plan to continue my in-depth study of the disassembly drone frames. More serious preparation is required.
The doctor's descriptions of his experiments were beginning to raise suspicions in me that he was a secret sadist. Though, considering who he was experimenting on, I wasn't too opposed. However, this entry didn't answer my question, that I had from the previous one, and that was irritating.
Expedition 6. April 26, 3062.
The structure of the metal from captured B's finger is quite unusual in its durability. If not for the high-entropy maser-vibration scalpel blade, I doubt I would have been able to cut this metal. It's definitely a high-entropy alloy too, but as if that weren't enough, it's simply stronger than calculations suggest, significantly so. However, given the alloy's self-repair capabilities through nanotechnology, I hypothesized that this metal is one of the samples of the so-called Orbital Crystal. An alloy with a very strong crystalline structure of its molecules, produced in low-gravity conditions via nanotechnology. Unfortunately, I don't have the ability to create this alloy: Copper-9's gravity will introduce imperfections into the crystalline structure during the creation stage, and I haven't delved into nanotechnology yet. But high-entropy alloys themselves should be within my reach.
I've finally come up with the idea of creating a fully-fledged frame for myself, one capable of at least a one-on-one confrontation with a disassembly drone. I've been thinking about this for a long time, ever since the first expeditions, but I've only finally decided on it now. I need to carefully consider which technologies I've discovered I can combine in it. Researching and developing ideas will keep me busy for quite some time, especially with the time dilation program.
First, the frame. A structural foundation made of high-entropy alloy, which will support the rest of the frame, all the primary and auxiliary systems, and which will govern the mechanics of movement. Any flaws or weaknesses must be avoided. However, to accommodate everything I plan to stuff into it, the entire frame will have to be really large, much larger than a standard worker drone model.
Second, armor. The armor capsule for the primary systems in the torso must meet STANAG 4569 Class 6 armor protection, while the rest of the hull must meet STANAG 4569 Class 5 or lower for external systems. Replacing rolled homogeneous steel with a high-entropy alloy should reduce armor thickness while maintaining the same level of protection, which will improve maneuverability.
Third, power systems. A miniature cold fusion reactor, even more compact than those in my research camp, with high-capacity batteries and capacitors. Quick-change, insulated, and protected.
Fourth, general systems. Standard worker drone systems, such as cooling, digestion, oil production, filtration, self-repair, and so on, should fit inside the armored capsule.
Fifth, sensor systems. My entire proven set of optical and acoustic systems, seismic and sensitive sensors. Additionally, it's worth testing and incorporating radar, lidar, and sonar into the design, as well as programming for interpreting the received signals.
Sixth, propulsion and control systems. For improved movement, it's best to replace the standard worker drone limbs with more traditional jointed ones, and use CCPL instead of myomere muscles, which should provide a significant boost in strength and speed to the frame. Quadruple wiring throughout the frame for fault tolerance would also be ideal.
Seventh, self-repair systems. Conduct thorough research, create a programmed swarm of repair nanobots, and test it. Make it dumb enough so it can't perform anything other than its assigned repair task, set strict hardware limits on its number, arrange it in several clusters within the frame, and release the swarm to repair damage by command.
Eighth, security systems. In addition to isolating other systems from damage, protecting them from external and internal radiation, and creating emergency operating protocols, it's also worth considering the software. I'm sure disassembly drones have their own sophisticated malware that can hack a working drone in the shortest possible time. It seems worth launching a battle of specialized neural networks on a separate server and waiting for the results. Yes, that's what I'll do.
Ninth, built-in tools and weapons. In addition to the previously mentioned ECM and ECCM units, I want to pirate the disassembly drones' ability to actively transform their hands into any tool imaginable. Since this is closely related to point seven, I'll have to work on two fronts. I also want to install hidden built-in weaponry. Ultraviolet fiber lasers have proven effective, and even powerful ultraviolet lamps work well against dismantling drones.
And finally, I need an assembler. I can't just remove my own components from my own frame and move them into the new one myself. I need a frame station with manipulators that can do it for me, precisely programmed to produce precise results.
I can test some technologies without much effort, just by modifying my frame slightly, which I'll do soon. Researching disassembly drones is currently a low priority; I'll give them a break from me for a while. I'll take them much more seriously later.
A new frame? I stared at the entry, confused. Was Dr. Musashi seriously planning to change his body? It wasn't that I didn't understand his reasons, but I couldn't imagine how... wrong it must feel. When I got teen body, that was quite an experience first few days, and it wasn't much different from old one. But THAT? Body dysmorphia probably took him for a few month.
"The doctor's mind has clearly corrupted over the years," I muttered, opening another entry.
Expedition 7. May 4, 3063.
This will be my last expedition. I have no further reason to return to Outpost 7. I have passed on all my experience and knowledge to my colleagues. They have become excellent drone doctors. Now I can fully focus on my research.
I have gathered all the technologies I have discovered over all these years, all the conclusions from numerous data streams, all the experience accumulated in experiments, and embodied them in a new frame. This is my greatest creation. A frame capable of countering disassembly drones, as close as possible to them technologically, supplemented by my experience and my knowledge. A monstrous weapon.
When I leave the bunker forever, I will transfer all my internal components to the new frame. Rehabilitation will take some time, but there should be no serious complications. With a new, much more powerful frame, I will be able to engage in more thorough and dangerous research into disassembly drones.
Here I will leave only emergency copies of every piece of data I have accumulated. A data array in case I am destroyed. For that contingency, I created a fail-deadly locator beacon. It will activate here, in my apartment, when I stop transmitting the daily signal to the bunker's external antenna. I hope the other bunker inhabitants will never need it.
I asked myself back then, during the fourth expedition, why I didn't simply destroy the killer drones, when I had already uncovered their abilities, weaknesses, locations, routes, and created a weapon powerful enough to permanently neutralize the threat to Outpost 7. I can finally answer that question.
I will study them inside and out, learn all their secrets, their goals, their motivations, their creator, and where they came from. And when I know everything, I will destroy this problem at its root. Not only the executors, not only those who gave the order, but the very idea of disassembly drones. I will ensure that the Copper-9's free worker drones won't need to worry about this problem. Ever.
This promise made me uneasy. Turning the page, I didn't find the next entry, as expected. I decided to copy entire journal for myself, just in case.
Meanwhile, my gaze shifted to closed laptop on the desk. I promised myself to check it for time dilation program and who know what else. Finders keepers!
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(POV: Serial Designation D)
"Score!" Q announced, dumping the last two corpses onto her pile. She'd killed and hauled six worker drones to the Spire overnight, B had only managed four, and I'd done a fantastic job as usual – eleven. "Twenty-one today, excellent!"
The leader smiled, walked up to me, and patted me on the head. I couldn't help but smile blissfully as I felt the gentle pats on my head.
"You're pretty good, D!"
After receiving my daily dose of praise for a job well done, I went to strip the corpses. Mine remained clean of OIL thanks to my skills. Q also tried to kill as cleanly as possible, and B couldn't care less, continuing to rip the heads off her victims and drink the OIL that flowed from them. At least she learned how to weld corpses' necks with nanite acid, otherwise she'd be wasting their OIL, spilling it all over the place.
"And you, as always, aren't exactly a shining example, B."
We usually used the captured clothing the same way we used the corpses themselves – for everything. We kept the outfits we liked for ourselves, B mended the damaged ones, and the rest were used as material, which she used to repair kept ones, sew either new outfits or furniture covers, tablecloths, curtains, rags, and so on.
"It's almost like you want to be punished. Should I punish you then, my dear B?"
I didn't turn around, already knowing what I'd seen: Q's dominant advances, her hands reaching for her victim's most sensitive parts, and the embarrassment of the "unapproachable" B, quietly swooning over it. While I was busy with my work, these two were constantly flirting with each other, with the inevitable result. Quite a resounding result.
After stripping the corpses of their clothes, I grabbed the two closest ones and jumped onto a fresh OIL storage tank, which we'd been filling for two weeks now, and barely filled it a forth, with a little help from my wings. Here, I carefully slit them open and drained all the remaining OIL they contained, piling the empty corpses nearby. Later, they would be used to build the Spire.
After I finished emptying today's catch, I looked down. B was sitting on her knees, with a silly expression on her screen visor, and Q was sitting at her desk, writing another report to send to the company, a bored expression on her face. Looked like the fun was over. Snorting, I ripped a finger off the nearest worker's corpse and threw it at B. There was a loud metallic thud of impact and a surprised "ouch."
"Stop sitting around, joy puddle, get up and help me lift the corpses to the Spire's peak," I shouted at the lesbian who was looking at me with irritation. "Chop-chop, only a couple of hours until sunrise." B bared her teeth and threw the same finger at me, which I caught and popped into my mouth. Surplus nano-matter for frame regeneration is never a bad thing. Completely unrelated to my love of crunchy treats.
After two dozen dead bodies had been lifted and welded together to form a new section of the wall, I sprawled out in my hammock, finally indulging in the best thing in the world — mindlessly lounging in comfort, one leg dangling. The internal player played songs from a long playlist filled with all sorts of synthwave, which one brave and stupid worker drone had tried to use to buy his life. The ransom had been taken, as had the life of the overly conceited worker.
A moan could be heard through the music, and I glared discontentedly at the pair of other disassembly drones. Yeah, they did exactly what I assumed. Not that I wanted to interrupt them, but...
"Will you be finished soon?" Q, without stopping her pleasure, met my gaze and replied calmly. "As soon as B starts whining like the bitch she is."
I rolled my eyes and turned away from the couple, turning up the volume on my player.
___