What Am I Supposed to Be?: Where Is She!?

No Search and Rescue mission brought System Error 123 to Faedin. Instead, the black-armored, blue-visored protogen was here for personal reasons. Sunlight broke through the canopy of giant mushroom trees, casting long shows across Systor’s grey and white fur and making their blue accents nearly fade into the darkness. Magnus, Dr. Mal, or one of the protogen soldiers might have come here to use the spaceport. Systor’s recovered memories did mention spaceships and outer space, so it seemed to be a logical conclusion.

 

With their red lighting dimmed, the protogen stalked around the Olearius Spaceport, trying to stay out of sight. They were getting tired of being taken by surprise all the time. Systor pulled their brown cloak tight and snuck around the docked ships. Pilots and crews chatted while fixing, loading, and unloading ships. No one mentioned anything useful, although there was mention of a “spore storm” soon. If that were what it sounded like, Systor wouldn’t stick around longer. The idea of having to deep clean their system without proper equipment would be a nightmare they’d rather avoid.

 

As the blue-visored protogen was about to give up and leave, a white ship shaped like a long, thin trapezoid with two rectangular wings that retracted landed at the spaceport. Blue lights up the hull of this ship, along with black accent lines. Suddenly, everyone who was milling about disappeared as if they remembered important appointments they had forgotten. A door opened on the side of the spaceship opened, and two protogen in silver armor and black visors stepped out to look around. Each looked made of an average Vertivix, around the same height as Systor. With their blaster rifles, the guards scanned the area using their different vision spectrums. Knowing they might spot them, Systor ducked behind a running generator to hide their heat signature.

 

“Back on the ship, you two,” a voice from inside growled. The guards looked back as a shorter protogen in red armor and orange visor stepped out of the ship. Their orders were obeyed without question, leaving them standing at the bottom of the ramp by themselves. “This planet stinks. I hope you let me raze these mushroom forests soon.”

 

The red protogen appeared to be conversing with someone as they walked away. Systor assumed they were using the communication device built into the visor to talk to an unseen person. The black-armored protogen followed behind the smaller red-armored one while remaining out of sight. While tailing them, Systor tried to glimpse pieces of the conversation but coulddn’t get close enough without being spotted. Eventually, their path led them to a large cathedral carved from an ancient fallen tree. Sunlight glimmered through the tops of the giant mushroom trees to dance across the building’s stained glass windows. Whoever made this building in the ancient past had done a beautiful job chiseling all the ornate designs and mushroom motifs into its facade.

 

Inside the Mushroom Cathedral, light coming in through the stained glass windows formed multicolored patterns on the walls and floors. All the pews had been pushed out of the way, creating a large empty space. It looked like someone was setting up for a dance party. Cultivated mushrooms and fungi hung from the ceilings, giving the impression of a hanging garden. Edging along the elaborately carved walls, Systor realized there was no cover, and it was time to strike.

 

“Tell me where Dr. Mal is and I’ll make this quick,” the black-armored protogen demanded as they stepped forward, unsheathing their hard-light energy wrist blades.

 

“You challenge Ardeat,” the shorter red-armored protogen asked, insulted as they turned to face Systor. “Gamma? I should’ve known a defective like you would have the gall to talk to me like that!”

 

Flamethrowers ignited around Ardeats hands as they stepped forward. In an elaborate display of dance technique, the red-armored protogen shot flames around as they nimbly moved around the room. Systor was confused by this show and waited for their moment to make their move. Fire licked at the wood walls as the show continued as if an unheard song choreographed this display. Finally, after a few minutes, Systor decided they had enough and summoned their Support Gauntlets. A high-pressure blast of water from the black gloves ended Ardeat’s dance number prematurely and extinguished all the flames.

 

“Where is Mal,” Systor loudly demanded, stomping toward the smaller protogen. “I will carve the information out of your body if I have to!”

 

“Fine! If you insist on being uncivilized then I shall turn on the heat on this dance floor,” Ardeat scoffed with an annoyed growl. Flames erupted brighter and hotter than before, engulfing the smaller red-armored protogen in an inferno. Not even remotely phased, Systor unleashed a torrent of water from the Support Gauntlets that doused the fires and sent Ardeat tumbling into a wall. “I will not be defeated this easily! I am a warrior.”

 

“A warrior that was sent to die,” Systor hissed as they lifted the red armored protogen into the air by their chest plate. With the point of a wrist blade at the throat of Ardeat the taller blue-visored protogen let it nick the skin enough to send trickle of blood run down the hard-light weapon. “One last time. Same question.”

 

“I’m on my new space base. I’ll tell the drones to bring you up,” Mal’s voice erupted from Ardeat’s visor. An electrical shock ripped through the red-armored protogen’s body, causing it to go limp. There was a loud beep, and a countdown started on Ardeat’s visor.

 

Systor immediately knew what that meant and quickly carried their self-destructing opponent outside. If they blew up inside the cathedral, it would take the whole building down. The guild might be a little upset if System Error 123 destroyed an important building on a member planet. Once outside, the black armor protogen used their Jet Boosters to fly into the sky before using the Support Gauntlets to throw the body higher into the air. Cutting the power to their flight engines as Ardeat exploded, Systor managed to avoid the worst of the blast. Their Shield Generator kicked to life and absorbed the heat the protogen couldn’t avoid.

 

Back on the ground, Systor made their way back to the spaceport. This time, there was no need for stealth as they walked directly to the ship Ardeat arrived in. Two drone protogen greeted them, not saying anything. Together, they just stared at Systor as if waiting for something.

 

“Prepare for take off. I need to round up some help,” Systor ordered the drones. It felt wrong to do that to members of their race that Dr. Mal converted to protogen just like them. However, unlike Systor, these didn’t have independent thought as they were fully brain-controlled. Hopefully, there was a way to fix that and set their people free again.