War. War never changes. - Word of Jawnconnor

The trick is to take the lessons learned from the last war, apply any warfighting technology changes to equipment, tailor doctrine to equipment, and then trust the analysts to determine what type of war you are most likely to be fighting next.

That's why we're going to be deploying to the Gobi Desert now that we've completed our Arctic Training with our mountaineering gear and muzzle loading muskets after training for sword fighting formations. - Colonel Graphthorn, Age of Paranoia, Resource Wars Era

This is the stupidest shit I've seen in my life. - Random Private, any war, ever, anywhere

Doctor Marco Igwe AKA Chrome Peter, looked up as the door whooshed open and the sound of heavy footsteps filled the control and data center. There were nearly two hundred other specialists working at their own consoles in the room and most of them glanced up then looked back down at their display screens rather than stare at the newcomer for long.

To them he was an outsider. To their eyes he had almost no business being inside the control room, where the complex and demanding work to keep the SUDS working and repair its systems took place.

He wasn't one of them. He wasn't someone of high intellect. He wasn't a specialist in esoteric programming languages. He wasn't a data analysis specialist.

To the people working on the computers, the new arrival was little more than a barbarian. A high tech barbarian, enabled and enhanced by the work of those better than him who refused to put aside the baser, darker instincts of mankind and become more enlightened.

They all knew that if they had deigned to enter his field, they would have been legendary. Their keen analytical minds, able to parse out the smallest variable and program the most complex and sublime datasets and algorithms, would have enabled them to show just how ineffective others were.

But they had chosen to apply their intellect to bettering mankind and the universe, unlike the unwelcome barbarian in their midst.

More than a few of the workers wrinkled their noses or showed other signs of distaste at what the barbarian was carrying. A big Cutting Bar Mk 1, inlaid, engraved, and embossed, rode on one hip. On the other was a heavy, ugly gun that had the burning symbol of the Holy TerraSol Imperium on it. Some knew that the red light and the digital counter that read "120" meant that the weapon was loaded. They were appalled that the barbarian would bring a loaded gun into a place of intellect and reason.

The barbarian stalked up to Dr Marco Igwe and stopped. There was the hiss of releasing pressure, streams of vapor squirting from the neck seal. The hands came up and removed the helmet, revealing a dark skinned man with facial tattoos and scarring.

"Cleared out," the barbarian rumbled.

Doctor Igwe nodded, not looking up. "Good. I can have Legion send in a repair team to fix it. That should let us begin to repair the time dilation issues between the layers. We'll have 1:1 across the SUDS structure once that system is fully online."

"I'm gonna go find Matty and..." the barbarian started to say.

"I've got some android holdout on Gamma Layer. They've pulled three of the big creation engines offline," Doctor Igwe said, still not looking up. "Legion is ready to transport you there."

The barbarian gave a long suffering sigh. "Might as well take them out before they get dug in."

Doctor Igwe nodded, an obvious dismissal. The barbarian waited a heartbeat or two, gave another long suffering sigh, and put their helmet back on.

The scientists and doctors in the control room felt a surge of relief when the barbarian left, the boots of his power armor stomping as he withdrew.

-----

The whoosh of the door heralded that the barbarian was back. He thudded up to Doctor Igwe again, this time followed by a crude looking canine cybernetic chassis.

Most of the workers felt it was cruel not to either put down the suffering creature or have it transferred to a healthy body instead of the crude cybernetic systems that kept the Friend Plague damaged tissue alive.

The barbarian's armor was dinged and scraped, a handful of pock marks in the middle of the chest.

"Gottem. Thanks for telling me they had tanks and Jaegermek support," the barbarian said once he took off his helmet to reveal his sweaty face. "That would have been nice to know before I dropped in on them."

"Good job on resynching the creation engines to the system," Doctor Igwe said.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna go find..."

"There's a pack of Screaming Ones numbering in the tens of thousands on Beta Layer. They're near one of the population centers and have been drifting in that direction," Doctor Igwe said. He made a tossing motion to the barbarian. "They're going to have to be handled immediately. The population center is from one of the Extinction of Life Event Recovery Protocol sweeps, mostly kids."

The barbarian sighed. "I'll get right on it."

The barbarian and the cybernetic canine tromped out.

The workers went back to the their tasks.

-----

The door whooshed open and the barbarian stalked in again, his armored boots thudding on the floor. There was the faint traces of electricity around the gauntlets and the feet of the armor and more than a few workers quietly wished that the barbarian would degauss before entering a workspace with so much sensitive equipment.

"Yeah, done," the barbarian growled, the voice synthesizer crackling.

"Got some clone soldiers from the Council of Eternity here on Alpha Layer. They ambushed and destroyed an automated worker column," Doctor Igwe said.

"Fine," the barbarian snarled, turning and stomping out.

Most of the workers felt that the barbarian should show Doctor Igwe a bit more respect.

-----

Again the barbarian tromped in. This time there was screams of shock and horror as the barbarian stomped across the floor. His armor was scorched across the chest and there were divots in the shoulder pauldrons. The sign of the Digital Omnimessiah, which the researchers, doctors, and scientists knew was just a rogue AI, was burning brightly on the man's chest.

He had a severed head in one hand, the ragged neck stump leaking blood on the polished floor. Small cleaning robots emerged from concealed panels and chirped as they rushed out and cleaned up the blood drops on the floor.

The barbarian tossed the severed head onto Doctor Igwe's console, sending blood spattering.

"There," the barbarian said, the vocoder harsh. He turned as Doctor Igwe cursed.

"Dammit. The blood got into the keyboard," Doctor Igwe said, pushing himself back from his work station.

"Don't give a fuck," the barbarian snarled, heading for the door.

"There's more androids on Sigma Layer," Doctor Igwe called out. "We need to figure out..."

"Tell someone who gives a fuck, Doctor," the barbarian growled.

The door shut with a whoosh.

The Overproject Director lifted up the head, eyeballling it with distaste. He moved over to the large scale waste reclamation and dropped it in. He looked at the drops of blood on the polished tile, gave a sigh, and moved back to his work station.

After a moment there was a swirl of black dust, which everyone who worked there knew was just a trick of nanites, and another one of those people manifested.

"'Sup, Petey?" the newcomer asked. He was slender, bald, without even eyebrows, with dark skin.

More than a few of the workers recognized the telltale features of a dahlit on the lean androgynous man. Some of them were privately outraged that the newcomer would address the Overproject Director in a such a brazen and disrespectful manner.

"We've got androids on Sigma Layer. We need to know where they keep spawning from and take out the ones there," Doctor Igwe said. "I'm pretty sure that they've got thinkers somewhere."

The slender man sighed. "All right. I'll get Matty, Kalki, and Dax. We'll take care of it," the slender man said.

Doctor Igwe nodded, his attention back on his displays.

The slender man stood there for a moment, then his brow wrinkled like he was lifting one eyebrow.

"Yeah, talk to you when we get back, Pete," the man said, then collapsed into sparkling black dust that dissolved before it touched the floor.

-----

The slender man appeared in a swirl of black dust. He held the blocky and rough featured head of a Thinker Android in his hand. He tossed it on Doctor Igwe's desk, sending notes and dataslates flying.

"Here's one of your friends," the dahlit stated.

Doctor Igwe turned from the datascreens and stared at the slender man. "Good. There's more of them on Sigma Layer. I think they're the ones running up Council of Eternity clone forces."

"Good for them," the dahlit said cheerily. "Give them my best!" he turned and started to walk away.

Doctor Igwe made a tossing motion. "They're right there. Take care of them."

The dahlit stopped for a moment, clenching his fists. "Fine."

He vanished in a swirl of nanite dust.

Doctor Igwe turned back to his work, mumbling to himself as he stared at the garbled and damaged code streaming by on his monitors.

-----

The dahlit appeared again, this time holding a struggling android.

The doctors, scientists, and researchers all screamed as the dahlit threw the Thinker Android face down on Doctor Igwe's work station, holding onto the back of its neck as if its artificial muscles didn't make the android stronger than any human being ever could be.

Doctor Igwe cursed as he pushed himself back, rolling back on his chair, his hands and feet lifted.

"DAMMIT, DHRUV!" he snapped.

The dahlit stared at Doctor Igwe as he pulled a pistol from his equipment adorned belt and shoved the barrel against the joint of the shoulders and the neck.

He was still staring at Doctor Igwe as he pulled the trigger three times, sending white android blood and clear fluid spraying across the room. The artificial muscle and bone shattered and the head came off as hydrostatic shock split the skin. Several of the researchers cried out in alarm as the fluids from the android splattered them.

Doctor Igwe swallowed and stared at the dahlit, his expression going remote. The dahlit let go of the android, the body falling to the floor, and kicked the head over to Doctor Igwe.

"I assume that, from your display, that particular android is somehow..." Doctor Igwe started to say.

"Fuck off, Pete," the dahlit snapped.

Before anyone could say anything, the dahlit vanished in a swirl of glittering black dust.

-----

The room was quiet. One of the break rooms in the endless labyrinth of work stations, monitoring stations, personnel quarters, and server farms.

Four men, two women, a goat, and a DOG2.0 unit stood around a table, all staring at the digital map that swept by underneath the surface of the smart table.

"There's a Thinker Group out there," Daxin said.

Menhit merely nodded, puffing on her pipe. Bellona just stared, her eyes of purple fire unblinking.

Matthias tapped the map. "They only need, what, four for a Thinker Group? It goes up exponentially or quadraticly instead of linearly for each new Thinker added, right?"

"Right, basically," Legion said. He reached down and scratched the goat's back. "Instead of three thinkers just tripling the group's analysis powers it cubes it."

Matthias nodded. "I never can remember. I just know you prioritize the Thinkers in any engagement."

"Don't you remember the Second Artificial Sentience War?" Dhruv asked.

"Happened before I was born," Matty said, shrugging.

The door whooshed open and Pete stalked in, his fists clenched.

"Daxin, can I talk to you?" Pete asked.

Menhit drifted away, leaving behind a trail of pipe smoke. Bellona just moved over to the couch, sitting down and primly crossing her knees. Dhruv gave Pete a sour look and went over to sit down next to where Kalki and Matthias had sat down.

FIDO and the goat went over and laid down in front of Dhruv.

Daxin didn't turn around, just kept staring at the map.

"Say your piece, Pete," Daxin said slowly.

"I have sixteen urgent missions for all of you," Pete said.

"I'm sure you're mom's proud," Daxin said, his voice low, soft, and slow.

"I need you to clear out those threats!" Pete said.

"I'm sure you do," Daxin said. He tapped an icon on the edge of the smarttable and the map vanished, the top going dark.

"I'm not enjoying talking to your back, Daxin," Pete said.

"I'm not enjoying hearing you fucking yap at me," Daxin said.

"I want you and the others to start working your way down the priority threat list," Pete said, his face reddening, pointing at the group sitting on the couches.

"Want in one hand, shit in the other, see which one you can eat out of first," Daxin snapped.

"What is your problem, Daxin?" Pete snapped back.

"You!" Daxin shouted, turning around. "You are! You're not the fucking boss of me, Pete. You're not the boss of any of us. You wanna be the boss, you go back to that pack of assholes you've surrounded yourself with."

"Did you think I wouldn't see how some of them looked at me?" Dhruv said, his voice careful but still full of venom. "Like they were Brahmin or Kshatriya and that I needed to clean their rooms or wipe their asses for them?"

"Nice job at bringing back that old bullshit that nobody wanted or needed any more, Pete," Daxin added. "Pete, they're the same kind of people, exactly the same kind, that took us and turned us into the Immortals and set us against Humanity, and you've got us stepping and fetching for them."

"Are you kidding?" Pete asked, gritting his teeth. "They don't give a fuck about you. They've got their own jobs."

"You should have checked the SUDS for people who could have done the jobs and gotten them instead of a bunch of relics," Daxin said.

"Relics? Like us? Daxin, they know this system. It would take me years, for each of them, to catch someone up on what we're doing here. Even if I could find someone with the skillsets and the basic knowledge, it would take years, maybe decades, if at all, to get them up to speed," Pete said. "Dammit, Daxin, I need you to go clear those threats."

Daxin shook his head. "No. You want us to. You can send some of those big fucking warbots."

"From what I remember of Anthill, you could do it yourself with a twenty millimeter autocannon just as well as any of us can," Kalki said, leaning back on the couch and putting one arm across the back.

Bellona leaned her head back against Kalki's arm, closing her eyes.

"That wasn't me," Pete snapped. "That was what the Imperium did to me."

"Find someone else to do your stupid shit, Pete," Daxin said. "We're not your slaves. You're not the High Command. You're our brother, but that's it. Nothing more, nothing less."

Pete gritted his teeth, turning red. "I'm trying to process these records. Don't you want people to be brought back? Don't you want..."

"If you mention my wife and daughters to me, Pete, I will push your fucking face through the top of this table with my bare fucking hands," Daxin growled.

"Fine. You still need to go out and clear these threats. They put vital systems at risk," Pete said.

"You're not the fucking boss of me at all, Doctor," Daxin finished. "Go order around your techs if you want to play rooster. Otherwise, piss off."

"I'll talk to you after I get a chance to cool off," Pete said. "There's no talking to you when you're blood's up."

The gathering watched as Peter stalked to the door, his back rigid with anger.

When the door closed there was silence for a moment.

"Fuck this," Daxin said. He turned to the couch. "Anyone know where one of Momma's Boys are?"

"I know where at least one is," Mehnit said.

"Where's that?" Daxin asked, struggling to regain his composure.

Menhit smiled. "Exactly where it makes sense for him to be but the last place you'd look."

Daxin nodded.

-----

Daxin stared at the hexagonal chamber. The armaglass walls were red and white swirls with gold flecks in them. The door was open, revealing a twenty meter across chamber. He turned back to the man leaning back in the chair, his feet up on the desk, a beer in his hand and an old rifle across his lap.

"I thought it was locked out," Daxin said.

The guy shrugged. "Long answer: yes with a but; short answer: no with an and."

"Whatever," Daxin snapped.

The man held out his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, hey, easy, friend. I can explain it if you want."

Daxin rubbed under his eyes with the heels of his hands. "It's not you."

There was silence for a moment.

"Momma said this would happen," the man said quietly. He shrugged when everyone looked at him. "She said that you wouldn't be able to stay together for long before you started arguing," he shrugged again. "I get it."

"And she's always right?" Kalki asked, his voice more curious than accusing.

The guy shrugged again. "Here you are," he said. He looked at the monitor from between the gap between the toes of his boots. "OK. Got a clear window."

He sat up and typed rapidly. "There's not very many choices right now. A couple hours, a couple days, maybe more choices will line up, but right now you've only got a handful. Do you want to go as a group, or do you want to go together?"

There was mumbling and Daxin turned to the guy, who was drinking out of the brown glass beer bottle and looking at Daxin out of the corner of his eye.

"What's a good one. One that we can get moving, that isn't full of shades, but we aren't going to get mobbed?" Daxin asked.

"Got a Crusade of Wrath and a Dark Crusade of Light set of pads that are open. Both are in realspace, so that's a plus," the guy said.

"I'll take the Dark Crusade of Light one," Daxin said.

"As will I," Bellona said.

"Do you have one for Earth?" Menhit asked.

The man checked the numbers. "Two. Old Cairo, Egypt," he said. "That window's only open for about eight more minutes," he consulted his numbers. "Got another one. Not sure. Looks like South America, old research station."

"I will take Cairo," Menhit said. She stood up. "It has been a pleasure to be reunited with all of you, but I have other responsibilities to attend to."

Everyone, even Daxin, moved over to embrace her. She bent down, scratched the goat and the DOG2.0, then stood up. "I am ready."

"Go in and close the door," the man said.

The others watched. Dhruv noted silently that the alarms didn't go off.

"I will take the South American one. Dancer and I both," Kalki said.

The man nodded. "When the door opens, have at it. I'll transfer you."

Matthias took one at Centauri-421. Bellona took one to Rigel-7.

Daxin watched Dhruv enter the mat-trans unit, leaning against the desk.

When it was over the man behind the work station looked up, cracking open another beer.

"She knew you'd want to go last. So nobody knew where you went," he said.

Daxin nodded, his neck muscles tight and stiff.

"She also said that she is what she is, that what I am about to say is only her nature," the man said.

Daxin sighed. "All right. Let's hear it."

"My mother offers you two choices. The first, well," he made a sweeping gesture at the mat-trans. "Just go to a random spot that we have an open window for."

"And the other?" Daxin asked. He tensed inside.

"A one time use pad. It'll burn out once it's used," the man said. He shrugged. "Mom said that if you took it, there's no going back. You will have to confront your past. That the past is waiting there for you, if you have the courage to face it."

Daxin nodded.

"That one."