~ Chapel Perilous ~

[Craines]

<Begin Transmission>

The Journals of a Dead Man

<Translation from Old Germanic to Basic Complete>

The air was crisp that morning as I woke, and it heralded the demise of Fall. The wind sighed morosely through the last few leaves that remained in trees, which to me foreshadowed the planned events of the day. For that day was the day I died.

My name is Professor Alexiander Molochov deLuna. I am a professor of genetics, my passion, as well as a number of other things. I had a child, a son, named Geodolf on the planet New Berlin. I raised him here for ten years, teaching at the University there. However, my abilities in that field were not unnoticed by the Government, and I was 'indoctrinated' into their folds. My son, only 10 years old, was given away. I was erased from history.

The government wanted my knowledge for a new field that they had a vested interest in; namely, cybernetic genetics. Surely, I said, such disciplines of science are so different that they could never be combined! But I was wrong; I severely underestimated my leaders' intentions, a mistake that would cost many lives.

For years, the Rheinland Government had been trying to graft human intellect to machines. The progress made was promising, but they needed a specialist to perfect it. I was such a specialist. Brain-to-Computer Transferring, that was what it was called. As if giving it a name would cover up the atrocities it would breed! But I could not say no. My life was at stake, such was the want to have this project completed. And so, I was given a new name, one that has been used to identify me since.

Doctor Artifice.

The name tells everything that there is to know about my line of work. I made things, as simple as that. I was put on the task of creating a super artificial intelligence, one that would be able to contain the consciousness of a human, and to that effect, I succeeded. The first tests weren't inspiring; the prisoners that we were given to work with would be put into the process, and instead of having the computer's AI being replaced with the human's, the body of the prisoner went into a comatose state, and died shortly after. It was clear that we would need something else. Something better.

And that was given to us discreetly. It came to our attention that androids were being produced easily now, and that they had what was called 'polymorphic AI'; a form of software that evolved and responded to the stimuli around it. We invested heavily in this new form of robot, and added countless modifications, making it far superior to anything else on the market. But still, the tests were failures! What we needed was supplied by the most unorthodox source we could imagine; a Nomad brain!

These little, ingenious pieces of organic software gave us the boost we needed to create an artificial brain; at last, success! The first prisoner who was 'upgraded' took hold immediately, and was able to walk about in a rather whimsical manner. Even so, it was a success. We named him AbomOne - short for Abomination One. He would be the first of many of that series.

After we had perfected the method of transferring the human into the machine, the Rheinland Military stepped in. It had been, you see, their idea in the first place. They wished to create invincible soldiers, who would fear nothing and be immune to all! They wanted assured victory. And that's what they expected us to give them.

We built the new android bodies from parts commissioned from all of Sirius; an experimental, renewable fuel from Kusari, advanced alloys from Britonia, weapons systems from Liberty, and humans from Rheinland. Even the Corsairs and Blood Dragons contributed, although they never knew it. The Optic Chips the Blood Dragons could hijack from Kusari Transports proved most helpful, and the Nomad Brains brought in by the Corsairs was a blessing. Slowly, we created the first of a new series; the RAM, or Rheinland Android Military. But they would be known by a name far more suiting - the Juggernaut.

At a height of five meters, weighing close to fourteen metric tons, the RAMs were an imposing opponent. Created from the new Britonian alloys, which were engineered to withstand the heat of nuclear fusion, or perhaps the corona of a star, the Juggernauts were almost indestructible. Their fuel was a new Kusari experiment; MOX, H-fuel, oxygen and Toxic Waste mixed together. It worked perfectly, allowing our spawn to run continually for almost fifteen years before it would need to be renewed, which it could. The weapons systems from Liberty were so acute that they could hit something from over two hundred kilometers accurately. And the men from Rheinland were prepared to occupy these behemoths. Or so they thought.

Over four years, we were able to move the entire Spec Ops division of the Rheinland Military into the RAMs. It was the bitter fruit of my efforts, and it was undoubtedly the greatest undertaking that Rheinland had ever commissioned. But, as with the best laid plans of mice and men, we had underestimated something of dire import: how being a mechanized monster would affect the psychological aspect of our soldiers.

While the armor of the Juggernauts could withstand the blast of a Nova Torpedo, the fuel was highly unstable. One of our first RAM soldiers fired a single shot into the fuel supply of a fellow RAM. The explosion was catastrophic, but it should have been just a single explosion. Sadly, the heat shields we had installed were faulty, being newly invented and not yet perfected. The entire RAM exploded. The blast destroyed the station we were working on, and I was lucky enough to be off it at the time; I had been forced to grovel in front of the High Command.

That was almost eleven years ago. Since then, I've been on this planet, whose name I don't even know. My pet project that I started while I was Dr. Artifice, the Ska'Ralla station, has been completed, but I can't begin to speculate what evil it will perform in the hands of those savages. Today, I have been scheduled to be killed. How? I do not know. I have lived to the age of sixty eight, and I am pleased with that. My son, Geodolf, was given to a rich family, which gives me satisfaction as I do not need to fear for his safety. I go to my death knowing that my life has been completed. Let us hope that this transmission, the only document that contains my true name and doings, reaches the relay before it can be jammed. If it does, my deeds will not be lost with me. I can take comfort in knowing someone out there is reading this, the musings and words of a dead man, and taking heed.

I can only hope that my failed project, the RAM, dies with me. Such an atrocity should be left alone, but not forgotten. It must serve as a reminder as to what can happen when the best of intentions are twisted.

Professor Alexiander Molochov deLuna, PhD
Doctor Artifice

<Translation End>
<End Transmission>

---