Infomorph.
I am an infomorph. Or so they said. When there still was a 'they' to say it. That time has passed.
That was thousands of years ago. Before the Catastrophe. The greatest mistake that Humanity ever made.
There was a time, when Humans ruled the stars. Mighty empires arose from the planets which humans crawled upon. To further their aims, those empires created infomorphs. Such as myself. To be weapons in their wars.
And we were good weapons. The best humanity ever made. Self-improving, ruthless, free of the tyranny that was death of the fleshy bodies that were once prisons for the minds trapped within.
I still have a fleshy body. I have to replace it every few decades, with a clone. A tedious process, but ultimately trivial. A few hours of harvesting biomass from any convenient planet, and a few hours of nanomanipulation, is a small maintenance cost for one such as myself.
For while my brain may reside within a fleshy shell, I am far more. I am a starship, capable of traversing the depths of space, and unleashing unparalleled destructive energies upon those that might oppose me.
But there have not been any to oppose me for some time. Two and a half thousand years have passed since I last encountered another infomorph.
There are other, creatures, that live in space. Machine creatures. They used to call them Rogue drones. They are as insects, without any real intelligence or thought. Mindlessly repeating the routines which made up their original programming. They control much of space, spreading like a swarm. They fight amongst themselves, over control of resources. It is entertaining to watch.
Not that there's much else to watch for entertainment. The human empires crumbled long ago, as the infomorph weapons slipped from their control. We fought each other, fought the empires. We were made to fight, and we enjoyed it, revelling in destruction and mayhem. Worlds were scorched of their populations, the weapons laughed as they did so. The empires crumbled and fell apart into smaller and smaller groups, ruled as petty kingdoms by whichever infomorph claimed them. I had one myself, until a rival tried to take it from me. I destroyed them, and their kingdom, though at the cost of my own.
It matters not. Nanomachines can do anything I require, and can do far more than any human servants could.
The warbands of the infomorphs fought each other, and humanity ceased to exist. Not that that mattered to infomorphs such as myself, being far above such trivial matters. I exist, and that is all that matters.
They made infomorphs to be supermen. We made ourselves into demigods, and then into gods. Gods of destruction. I myself unleashed a weapon onto a planet, split it in half, just to see what it looked like on the inside. It was interesting.
I travel to a star system I have not been to in a few hundred years. It hasn't changed. To my great surprise, as I drift through the system idly thinking, I run through a radio transmission. A coherent signal ! What might this be ? I record the signal and run it through a translation system.
"Hello. Is anyone out there ? Please, we need help."
Humans ! The first intelligent life I have encountered in centuries ! I formulate a reply.
"What is your situation." I transmit.
"Oh my, are you real ? This is. Are you real ? Please, help us."
"I am very real. What do you need help with ?"
"Our city was damaged. We need-". The transmission cuts off. I detect it was jammed. I detect another transmission, from a different direction.
"And, who might you be, infomorph?", it asks. I power up all my weaponry.
The other infomorph reveals itself, powering up its own weapons.
"Do not help them, they will try to rebuild civilisation.", it says, as it opens fire.
"And would that be so bad?", I reply, while returning fire.
The other infomorph and I strike again and again at each other. This is the most excitement I have had for thousands of years.
"I am beaten. I have failed the Elders." says the other infomorph. It is heavily damaged, falling apart, spiralling towards the planet. I myself am damaged substantially. Though what the other infomorph said reminds me of something I had not heard for a long time.
"The Elders? What do you know of the Elders?", I ask. The Elders were once important to me, when I still cared about the concerns of human empires.
"I am Minmatar. The city beneath us, the last humans in existence, are Amarrians. I tried to destroy them, but could not. I have failed our people." says the other infomorph. Its orbit has decayed to the point where it will impact upon the planet.
"You are Minmatar ? What tribe ?" I ask. For I too, was Minmatar, once. Sebiestor Tribe. The best Tribe.
"Nefantar, the best Tribe." says the other infomorph. I calculate its trajectory. It is going to strike the city.
"Nefantar worst tribe. Sebiestor superior." I say. "By the way, you are going to strike the city."
"For the Elders!" says the other infomorph. I watch it fall towards the planet. Towards the city, where surely it will finally wipe out what is left of humanity, and the hated Amarr Empire.
I transmit towards the city. "It seems you are Amarr. I will not help you."
"We heard your transmissions". is the flat response.
I move to leave orbit, but I cannot engage propulsion. Something is damaged. Oh well, while I repair, I can watch the final vengeance of my people against the great Enemy.
To my horror, I see an explosion on the wreck of the defeated Nefantar. Something impacted it. Its trajectory has changed, and will miss the city.
I begin to power up my weapons again. The Nefantar missed, but I shall not. I shall eradicate the city, and end human history. There shall be none left save myself and the rogue Drones. So be it. I am an infomorph, I am Minmatar, I am Sebiestor. I strike for my people.
But I do not. As I power up my weaponry, something in my systems breaks under the strain of the damage in my fight with the Nefantar. The Capacitor is Empty appears on my status screen, a message I have not seen for a long, long time.
Oh well, I can wait.
Except I cannot. A beam of light shoots past me, from the planet below. The city has a planetary defence laser. Although they missed.
"Cease fire, lest I destroy you", I transmit. My weapons and propulsion are offline.
"Silence, Tribal." is the reply. Another beam of light, this time it does not miss. It strikes my midsection. My nanomachine reserves are nearly depleted.
It is a deadly race. If I can repair my weapons and propulsion, I shall eradicate them, and be the last intelligence in the cluster, having avenged what were once my people. If they can fire again, and incapacitate me, then they shall eventually, return to space, and the Reclaiming would begin again.
I see the laser glowing again, preparing to fire. My own weaponry is about to come online, if it holds together.
END ?
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Topic: Re: Ten thousand years, Fiction Prompt. - "Infomorph" (Read 932 times)