Margin of Error

Reynard69 · Friday at 2:22 PM

USSExplorer said:
Though I wonder how Marcus is going to use that knowledge to 'fuck' with the Asari.

Personally, I'd have him find the Thorian on Feros, bring Liara along so he can get the Prothean Cypher. She'd be naive enough at this point she wouldn't question it, and old enough to already be in her nepo-baby job of probing old ruins. Then using her as a connection, coerce his way into a private tour of the main temple of the goddess. If you bring Liara along, her mom might even consider it a date and pull strings FOR you instead of needing you to play politics for it.

Then you've got a choice.

Trick Liara into revealing it to the world.
Or leave behind a quantum communicator, so you have secret access to all of the tech Athame left there for his stupid bimbos.

abominable said:
So if the mars beacon was already handed over,

sorta? The mars "beacon" is an entire archive base. They couldn't just move it, so they set up a human made base around it, and had researchers combing through the terra-byte archives. SUPPOSEDLY they were putting it to good use, but were slowed down by having to manually translate prothean.

abominable said:
Otherwise, wouldnt Liara have been doing her search back in Asari space instead of Mars? She'd have enjoyed better access to the source and to other Prothean experts back home.

Supposedly only the high council of matriarchs knew about it. And their researchers, I'd assume, but maybe members of the council ARE the researchers? They'd be the ones to know when to release something and when not to, if the point is to edge the salarians.

loki98065 said:
buttttttt you know the reapers would have mind whamyed them if they started to look like a real threat.

Fairly sure there were. The Citadel is Reaper Tech, and in both cycles the head of government was in the main control tower beside ghost-boy. It's entirely a fan theory, that this means the council and anyone who meets them becomes indoctrinated, but it makes more sense than anything else.

USSExplorer said:
I never got through all the DLC.

which ones didn't you play? There are online walkthroughs, and I'd be happy to point out any useful easter-eggs

USSExplorer said:
So, eezo is leading to of the universe, but to stop new races using it, they left in place a network that relied on massive quantities of that very substance?
And potentially did the same in other galaxies?

It's a bit of a mess, but...

Eezo is made during supernova, and in anything that is hit by a Neutron Star's polar beams, or a black hole's accretion disk.

If Eezo gets into a star, it speeds up stellar fusion 1000's of times, ensuring that it will go supernova, and do so within a mortal life-time. This is what was happening to the Haestrom Star on that mission for Tali's trial.

Additionally, the Andromeda game added that if a sun full of Eezo explodes, it has a chance create this thing called "The Scourge" with is a stellar sized web of super-durable very hard to detect matter, which unlike most stellar debris, cannot be simply phased through while traveling under mass effect. So, literally, you'll run into it face first and 100's to 1000's of times light speed.

So... HOW DO YOU CLEAN THIS SHIT UP?

If you TELL a mortal race about this, they're inevitably use it for war, to blow up a rival's star on purpose. They'll also probably refuse to even touch the stuff otherwise, meaning that it ending up in a star is more or less inevitable through nautral processes. And the reapers themselves are only so many.

So, they came up with a plan. Or rather, the citadel came up with a plan.

They would convince the mortal races to use the stuff, because it's incredibly useful, and use them to do the cleanup. It's a gold rush after all. Every grain of Eezo is worth an average persons sallary.

Further, in order to delay the inevitable solar dumping being discovered by accident, they used the reaper fleet to drag entire gas giants, into every system in the vicinity of a mass relay.

So, when the cycle starts, the meatbags have gathered all of the eezo for you, it's easy to find and harvest for the construction of another mass relay! The death of the galaxy has been put off for another 50K~ years, and your next cycle can include even more systems! Even more sentient species!

Isn't that efficient?

abominable · Friday at 3:50 PM

Reynard69 said:
sorta? The mars "beacon" is an entire archive base. They couldn't just move it, so they set up a human made base around it, and had researchers combing through the terra-byte archives. SUPPOSEDLY they were putting it to good use, but were slowed down by having to manually translate prothean.

Time for MC to invent the Sinclair Translate App.

USSExplorer · Saturday at 4:04 AM

Reynard69 said:
Personally, I'd have him find the Thorian on Feros

Anything post-FCW is a good while away, and I'm going ot have to dive into the lore of so many worlds (and likely carft further details), it's gonna take me weeks to even start writing those arcs when it's time for them.

Reynard69 said:
They couldn't just move it, so they set up a human made base around it, and had researchers combing through the terra-byte archives. SUPPOSEDLY they were putting it to good use, but were slowed down by having to manually translate prothean.

Manually translating that seems... odd. VIs exist for a reason, and would really help with translating the data. Size and complexity of the language might be a problem, but being told to only use manual translations would raise a few flags. Or it should

Reynard69 said:
which ones didn't you play? There are online walkthroughs, and I'd be happy to point out any useful easter-eggs

Been so long that I can't remember for certain. Def never touched the 'party' DLC and I think the 'Levaithan' one.

Reynard69 said:
Eezo is made during supernova, and in anything that is hit by a Neutron Star's polar beams, or a black hole's accretion disk.

If Eezo gets into a star, it speeds up stellar fusion 1000's of times, ensuring that it will go supernova, and do so within a mortal life-time. This is what was happening to the Haestrom Star on that mission for Tali's trial.

Additionally, the Andromeda game added that if a sun full of Eezo explodes, it has a chance create this thing called "The Scourge" with is a stellar sized web of super-durable very hard to detect matter, which unlike most stellar debris, cannot be simply phased through while traveling under mass effect. So, literally, you'll run into it face first and 100's to 1000's of times light speed.

So... HOW DO YOU CLEAN THIS SHIT UP?

If you TELL a mortal race about this, they're inevitably use it for war, to blow up a rival's star on purpose. They'll also probably refuse to even touch the stuff otherwise, meaning that it ending up in a star is more or less inevitable through nautral processes. And the reapers themselves are only so many.

So, they came up with a plan. Or rather, the citadel came up with a plan.

They would convince the mortal races to use the stuff, because it's incredibly useful, and use them to do the cleanup. It's a gold rush after all. Every grain of Eezo is worth an average persons sallary.

Further, in order to delay the inevitable solar dumping being discovered by accident, they used the reaper fleet to drag entire gas giants, into every system in the vicinity of a mass relay.

So, when the cycle starts, the meatbags have gathered all of the eezo for you, it's easy to find and harvest for the construction of another mass relay! The death of the galaxy has been put off for another 50K~ years, and your next cycle can include even more systems! Even more sentient species!

Isn't that efficient?

Eh, I think I'm going to simply ignore a lot of the 'why' for the Reapers and just go with the 'stopping them' approach.

abominable said:
Time for MC to invent the Sinclair Translate App.

Or, you know, use all the VIs that Earth has already (along with any hidden AIs that likely exist).

abominable · Saturday at 4:24 AM

USSExplorer said:
Or, you know, use all the VIs that Earth has already (along with any hidden AIs that likely exist).

That implies they didnt use that in canon. The point is something different will need to be done or some new factor needs to be introduced if they want more data in a faster timeline.

The crucible plans are simply one example of the data that could be accessed from Mars.

USSExplorer · Saturday at 11:05 AM

0012: Arrival in The Hague
…
In late July, I found myself on a train travelling from Amsterdam to The Hague. The high-speed maglev ensured the journey only took twenty minutes, with most of that taken up by getting on and off the train. Travelling this way was different from how we'd travelled in previous years on our holidays, with my Dad thinking that when I was to return home, I'd be travelling back with this method, so it was worth learning it beforehand.

I only had a single extra suitcase with me as I had little in the way of possessions that I needed to bring. The most important items, the secured comm unit and the datapad with the security software, were with me. They never left my side because I feared what might happen if someone discovered them. I hadn't found a secure location to store them, and my family wasn't even aware the comms device existed.

Another glance out of the window brought the same result. The scenery was rushing past at speeds that made it impossible for anyone to track. Well, almost anyone but I wasn't caring about what passed by outside, merely staring off into space.

"Everything's so flat," Callum commented, his face pressed against the window as if that would make seeing what we were passing easier. "Where are the hills?"

"The Netherlands is below sea level in most places. They built it up from the sea."

"That's mental. You can just make land?"

I chuckled, amused at his behaviour. He was twelve now, having enjoyed his birthday at the beginning of June. He should have already read about the Netherlands, but it seemed he either hadn't or was simply letting himself get lost in the moment. Something I found myself wishing I could do more often.

Next to him, Keira, who had turned eighteen back in March, was busy on her datapad. Based on the flickering lights I saw reflected on her face, watching the latest episode of one of those awful dramas that she enjoyed so much.

The majority of visual entertainment was generated with the help of multiple VIs working in sync. It had reached the point that even I struggled to differentiate between what was real and what wasn't, and only searching for the actors appearing in real locations could confirm the truth, though even there, the chances of VI misdirection weren't impossible.

Still, live-action shows and movies, along with music and theatre, had enjoyed a resurgence in the last fifty or so years. A reaction, I'd concluded, to people wanting to feel a connection with the living person in the role instead of something artificial or fake. Not that, if such celebrities were anything like in my former life, those people lived in the same world as the majority of the planet's population.

"With enough engineering, you can do almost anything," I replied to my brother.

"Is that what you tell yourself?"

I offered my mother a wry smile at her question, but otherwise didn't respond. It was a question in the same vein as every other one she'd asked since I'd confirmed I was moving to The Hague. We'd talked at length over the summer, but the distance between us continued to grow.

***

I looked around as we exited the main station in The Hague, taking in my first sight of the city. As people moved, it was easy to tell those who were regulars from those who weren't, and there were holographic displays announcing arrivals and departures from the station in Dutch, English, French, and German: a sign of the European Federation's continuing multilingual infrastructure.

I'd studied up on the three non-native languages since I'd chosen the Institute, with help for all of them coming from Lars when time allowed. I was more fluent than anyone realised, but I intended to keep that hidden; a trump card I could use if a need ever arose. Plus, revealing that I'd picked up three languages in a few months to the point of semi-comfortable conversation would only draw attention I didn't want. There was no current need to reveal that my skills and intelligence extended beyond physics and related subjects.

***

Once we were in a taxi, one I noted had a human driver and not a dedicated VI as was common elsewhere, my eyes wandered over the skyline of the city I would be calling home for at least the next two years. It might be longer, but that was the term length of the initial contract I'd signed with the Institute, as I felt I might be pulled elsewhere once those two years were up. Specifically off-world, as Mars held the key to the future, I was certain of it.

The Hague was different from Edinburgh in many ways. Newer, cleaner, and better planned, though there were still old, historic buildings around. They were surrounded by modern structures, ones that gleamed with glass and steel, but the city's history hadn't been forgotten.

Trams had predominance on the streets, and bicycle lanes were everywhere. Everything moved with the sort of chaos that could only be organised and established to those who understood it, and as the journey continued, I saw various international flags hanging from several important buildings.

The International Court of Justice and the Permanent Court of Arbitration were both located in the city, as was the European Space Agency's administrative headquarters. It gave the place a clear global appeal that was married perfectly with the local culture.

We emerged from the taxi near my apartment. My family would be staying in a hotel a block away, but everyone was eager to see my new place before they checked in. It was in the Statenkwartier district, near Vredespaleis, and was within walking distance of the Institute.

As I entered the building, I recognised the man behind the counter. The Institute had shared his name and details with me when they sent the codes for the apartment.

"Hello," I said, intentionally using badly accented Dutch. "I'm Marcus Sinclair. You have room for me?" As I spoke, I entered the code I'd been given for confirming who I was.

His eyes narrowed, scanning me over. He would already have known that I was a teenager, not yet able to vote, and I could sense his uncertainty over allowing me to rent a place in his building by myself, even after the Institute had assured him of my credentials.

"Welcome, Mr Sinclair," he replied, his tone brisk and blunt. "Your access codes are active. The Institute handles the arrangements so you won't have to worry about rent, utilities, building maintenance, and so forth."

I smiled and nodded, taking the small fob that acted as the security for the main door as he handed it over. The fob had to be placed against the lock, as back in the twenty-first century, there had been issues with remote hacking of such devices, and laws had been passed to limit their effective range.

"Thank you. I appreciate your help." I let some of my bad accent slip, which made one of his eyebrows rise.

Perhaps he was rejudging me, or perhaps not. I was used to people dismissing me, even with my accomplishments, because of my age, so his doing so was what I'd expected.

The elevator that took us to the fourth floor was quick and silent, and I opened the door before letting my family enter first.

"This is nicer than my student flat."

I smirked at Keira's words, agreeing with her, though I was comparing it to the fully costed one Edinburgh had given me last year. I had two bedrooms now instead of one, though the spare had been converted into a workspace that was likely connected to the Institute. Smart-glass was integrated into the flat throughout, and it had all the furnishings one would expect of a modern, well-maintained space that made clear that the Institute took proper care of its fellows.

"Can you make it show Mars?"

I laughed gently at my brother's question, moving to the smart-glass that covered most of one wall of the living room, to complete his request.

My home for the next two years was exactly what I needed. An ideal place to begin researching what it was that lay locked away inside my mind.

---***---

The following Monday, I was walking to the Institute for my first day of work.

With three papers published, two with my name as the lead, at sixteen, along with a Master of Science, my name was known to many. My papers had drawn attention and it was only logical that others were, curious about how I'd come to the results in those papers, and what I might discover in the future.

The main building of the Institute was modern and clean, no more than a stone's throw from Haagse Bos.

Stepping inside, I caught various conversations taking place in the lobby and elsewhere in a dozen different languages. Most of what was said was beyond my understanding, but I remembered it all and might translate it if anything could potentially be of use.

"Mr Sinclair, welcome to the Institute. Professor Bakker is expecting you."

I smiled at the receptionist, noting several heads turned my way when my name was stated, as she handed me a security access card. The building's security had recognised me as I entered, and my name would've already been known to my new fellow researchers.

"Thank you," I replied as I took the card and then moved forward, the floor marking out the path for me to take. A handy concept, though one that would grow tiresome if it lasted more than a week.

Once I arrived at the Professor's door, I knocked and then waited.

"Enter."

Inside was Professor Hendrik Bakker, the Director of the Institute. From the files they'd sent and my research, I knew his details. Dutch and in his mid-sixties. A distinguished physicist turned administrator who'd built the Institute's reputation as a bridge between pure research and practical application. From deeper digging, I'd learnt he valued unconventional thinking but demanded rigorous methodology, which was precisely what I would be crafting.

"Mr Sinclair. Or should I say, Dr Sinclair?" Professor Bakker said as he stood and extended his arm, his English perfect bar the faint accent.

"I haven't earned that title yet," I replied with a chuckle as we shook.

"Give it time. Please, sit." He spoke with certainty that extended to his smile.

"Your work has generated significant interest," he continued as we sat. "Physical Review Letters doesn't publish trivial papers, and they certainly don't publish sixteen-year-olds unless the work is exceptional."

"The work speaks for itself."

Professor Bakker's smile widened. "Indeed, it does, which is why we wanted you here. The Institute operates on a simple principle: give brilliant minds freedom and resources, then step back. There's no other requirements, simply follow your research where it interests you, publish when you're ready, and collaborate if you wish."

"Just as your offer implied," I commented.

"We find that structure inhibits innovation. You're here for two years, which his renewable if both parties agree. Your stipend covers all living expenses, and while here, you'll have equal access to all our facilities and networks. What you do with that time and access is entirely up to you."

He chuckled at some private joke. "I should mention that you're our youngest fellow by some margin. One of the few that isn't already a Doctor as well. Most of our researchers are in their forties or fifties, and they've spent decades in their fields."

"Will my age be a problem?" I knew it would be. No one could take a sixteen-year-old seriously at first.

"Not if your work continues to be exceptional, but expect scepticism and to be tested. Brilliant minds can be territorial."

"Professor Hoffmann, our Chair of Theoretical Physics, published foundational work on field coherence thirty years ago," he continued, his tone carrying a slight warning. "Work that your theories now extend and, in some areas, supersede. He's not hostile, precisely, but his approval will not come easily."

"I'm familiar with the dynamic."

He chuckled. "I suspected you might be."

***

After the short meeting, Professor Bakker walked me around the campus. Like the other fellows, I'd have a private and well-equipped office, though one of the smaller ones since I wasn't a senior Fellow. There were common areas for meals or collaboration, along with small rooms ideal for quiet work, and most spaces had holographic wall interfaces.

"We have direct access to the EuroHPC network," Professor Bakker explained as we passed the central computing hub of the campus. "Some of the most powerful computational systems in Europe. You'll need approval for large-scale simulations, but for someone with ESA backing, that shouldn't be difficult."

I already had that approval as Dr Larsson had reached out to me, making clear she'd approve almost any request so long as she was copied in on it. That approval would only hold so long as my work continued to match my published papers, which I intended to surpass.

The library was next, and it was a mixture of physical and digital. It had access to virtually every major journal, along with older written books if that was preferred, and the Institute's research database, barring work that was classified in some manner. There were inter-library agreements with various universities in Europe and beyond, with Professor Bakker mentioning that Edinburgh was joining the agreement this year.

My office was on the second floor, and as we passed by a common room, Professor Bakker led me inside at the sound of voices.

"Everyone. This is Marcus Sinclair, our latest fellow."

The three figures in the room turned to face me, and I already knew their bios.

Dr Yuki Nakamura was thirty-nine, Japanese, and worked in quantum information theory. Dr Isabel Cardoso was forty-two, Portuguese, and had her doctorate in astrophysics. Dr Mikhail Volkov was fifty-one, Russian, and focused on applied mathematics. Interestingly, all three were in fields that I predicted would crossover with my work in the coming years.

"Ah, the boy genius," Dr Volkov said, his accent clear. "Two lead papers at sixteen. Remarkable. Let's hope the work holds up under scrutiny."

I smirked at the challenge. One I intended to surpass. "I'm sure it will."

"I read your PRL paper," Dr Cardoso commented, stirring her coffee. "Impressive work."

"Thank you."

"We should talk sometime. I'm working on pulsar navigation systems, and I think that your field geometries might apply."

I nodded, already knowing how it would. I'd guided Elena toward such ideas before she'd returned to Spain. A gift to help with her PhD.

"Looking forward to it."

Dr Nakamura stayed silent, her eyes judging me. No doubt she was sceptical of me because of my age.

"You're here because you're brilliant," Professor Bakker said once we left the room. "But don't forget you're also sixteen. It's acceptable to act your age occasionally." He smiled warmly. "You might even find the experience illuminating."

I returned the smile, though I wasn't sure how to act my age. I'd not been around those my age in years, and now I was surrounded by people who were old enough to be my uncles, aunts, or even grandparents.

It would be another year and a bit before I was eighteen. That was when I could do all the expected things: drink, vote, and get licenses to drive and own a firearm. Even though I'd likely not need the last, I'd still be getting it.

***

The tour ended with us back in the main lobby of the campus.

"Full orientation will be next week," Professor Bakker said as he offered his hand once more. "Formal introductions, administrative details, safety protocols, and the like. Until then, take your time settling into the city, perhaps even meet the other Fellows informally."

"Thank you."

"I look forward to seeing what discoveries you make in the coming years, Mr Sinclair."

---***---

The next two weeks passed in a blur of work and exploration.

That first week had been spent learning my way around the city. The second had been covered by adapting to the Institute. I kept the secured datapad in my office, using the safe provided until I developed a better system at home, while David's comm device remained with me at all times.

Random datapads, still secured but only under standard protocols, were partially filled with ideas and concepts I wanted to explore over the coming years, along with actual notebooks for details I was willing to risk placing in them. All data was separated such that no single device or book could reveal anything even close to complete, as while the Institute offered freedom, that didn't guarantee privacy.

I'd made sure to locate every network point in the Institute, along with mentally cataloguing every conversation I had anywhere in the city. For the first time, I had confirmation of my concerns when I'd located various additional devices in my flat that shouldn't have been there.

I didn't know who placed them, or their exact purposes, but I knew tracking and spying hardware when I saw them. I hadn't removed or disabled them, as I wasn't ready to tip my hand about knowing they were present, but it made clear I was being monitored by someone.

As had become a pattern, one devised to appear normal, I found myself in De Blauwe Reiger. It was a small café near the Institute that had already become my regular working spot. The owner, Erik Janssen, nodded as he saw me enter, and by the time I sat at my table, my regular order was ready.

Janssen was a former journalist; the sort of person who saw patterns where others missed them. Those extended now to his customers and those moving around and outside his café. Since he was aware like that, and connected to many at the Institute, I'd thought he was a spy at first, but he appeared too open and uninterested in anything technical to be one. I could be wrong, but I hoped he wasn't, as the café was a pleasant escape from work and my flat.

"You know they're still talking about you," he said as he placed my cup on the table.

"What are they saying?" I asked, curious to hear what he had overheard, both from the other Fellows and others connected to the Institute.

He shrugged.. "That you're either a genius or a fraud. Maybe both."

"And what do you think?"

A smile touched his weathered face. "I think it's the former, but expect you to prove it during your time at the Institute."

I smirked even as I sipped my coffee. He was far too observant, but he was interesting to be around.

***

That evening in my flat, I mentally went over my first full week at the Institute.

I had a clear idea of how most of the other Fellows felt about me, from dismissive and threatened, to those eager to work together. Dr Laurent, Dr Cardoso, and Dr Schulz all seemed genuinely interested in collaboration. Professor Hoffmann was, as Professor Bakker described, uncertain around me. He wasn't outright dismissive, but he seemed reluctant to engage fully.

Our first meeting had run for nearly an hour, with him challenging me on several points about my papers. I'd explained it all with ease, which had removed some of his initial distrust, but I felt there was still some distance to go before even using each other as sounding boards might be possible.

The same was true of many others, though most were in fields I was unlikely to enter. Still, clear divides were forming, though no one else realised they were there. There were moments when talking, when I could see answers and possible solutions that it would take them weeks or months to realise. I'd not openly suggested any hints to anyone, as I didn't wish to step on anyone's toes in fields outside mine, but it was another sign that the knowledge in my head went far beyond physics, mathematics, and related fields.

That might've felt validating, but I didn't think of it that way.

It proved that I wasn't merely gifted, that my mind wasn't simply able to see connections faster than others my age. No, I was a step above even those considered experts in their fields, and able to spot things they'd otherwise miss, or take ages to locate. Another sign, to an ever-growing list, that I wasn't like anyone else in the world.

The beeping of my public datapad snapped me from those thoughts, revealing the latest message from home.

I'd already had a few messages back and forth with David, making sure to keep things on the public servers. We were just the usual friends keeping in touch, and nothing more.

The family message was from Dad this time. A daily check-in to ensure I was doing okay, and to let me know about Mum's worry. As with each message before, I reassured him I was fine and told him a little of what my day had entailed. It would help Mum with her concerns, and I'd keep doing it until those died down.

I turned and looked out the window, taking in the darkened street and buildings outside. The Hague was a beautiful city. Clean and orderly, and a great place to work. Though in these early days, I was finding it a little lonely.

---***---

abominable · Saturday at 11:43 AM

Get a pet.

USSExplorer · Saturday at 1:13 PM

abominable said:
Get a pet.

abominable · Saturday at 2:17 PM

USSExplorer said:

It better be biotic!

USSExplorer · Saturday at 2:19 PM

abominable said:
It better be biotic!

abominable · Saturday at 3:13 PM

USSExplorer said:

Dafuq you mean bad idea?

Edit: for anyone who doesn't know, Jack has a pet biotic varren in ME3.

Jeff · Saturday at 6:14 PM

Lmao, I'm on Chapter 7, and it's so fucking funny. All those 007-aaaah university students are actually capable of sussing him out they can see underneath the underneath its so dumb

Reynard69 · Saturday at 7:27 PM

USSExplorer said:
Anything post-FCW is a good while away, and I'm going ot have to dive into the lore of so many worlds (and likely carft further details), it's gonna take me weeks to even start writing those arcs when it's time for them.

It would probably be hard to identify the planet early. But then, you wouldn't meet Liara or have to think about the Athame archive until then either.

USSExplorer said:
Manually translating that seems... odd. VIs exist for a reason, and would really help with translating the data. Size and complexity of the language might be a problem, but being told to only use manual translations would raise a few flags. Or it should

Something something about how Prothean data being encoded for people with 4 eyes, 8 pupils and psychometry making it difficult to machine translate, until someone came back with the cypher. Even the citadel had trouble with it, and they've had AI's since before christ was wandering around.

Same way it's hard to translate for Elcore and Hanar, who communicate primarily through Odors and Ultraviolet Bioluminescent Body Language, and thus sound dull and flat to and otherwise perfect universal translator AI.

You could probably get further than the citadel, by positioning 8 camera's and programming the VI's brain to process them properly, but you'll still need that psychometric cypher.

Unless a major point in this fic is to dunk on the aliens, in which case, ignore all of that and have fun.

USSExplorer said:
Been so long that I can't remember for certain. Def never touched the 'party' DLC and I think the 'Levaithan' one.

Party DLC isn't that important. The Illusive man gets stropy, and figures that since he rebuilt you from charcoal once, he could straight out clone you, and tries to steal the normandy. Apart from that, the only important details is that Javic will drop different lore bombs depending on how your relationship web has progressed. The most interesting among them, being that the Asari were entirely different before the Prothean's started engineering them, and that no prothean would ever think of dating another alien... unless it was a asari.

So while he never outright states they're sex dolls.... they're clearly sex dolls.

The Leviathan DLC is a bit more interesting. You get to meet a Leviathan, and find out that, hey, thousands of these things have survived the reaping cycle for the last billion years. And they even remember stuff from before the reaping, so they're either that old, of their psionic abilities are just that strong, that a billion years and who knows how many generations later, they're convinced they're the leviathans from the rebellion.

They've been hiding on ice moons and water worlds with deep trenches this whole time, and communicate through quantum-relay orbs, which can project their psychic ability strongly enough to shut down a reaper. So when you finish the mission, Alliance Wolf-pack cruisers are loaded up with these things so that THEY can hunt down and sure-kill reapers without having to chew through their obscene armor.

You also get to learn that they were empire builders for a billion years before the reaper crisis, and built the citadel and the reapers because they were concerned that the cattle kept killing themselves in new and inventive ways. The Harvest, was the citadel's answer to a society killing itself. Don't bother with preventing their deaths, monitor them and turn their remains into a zombie museum warship!

USSExplorer said:
Eh, I think I'm going to simply ignore a lot of the 'why' for the Reapers and just go with the 'stopping them' approach.

Eh, I suppose that works. But honestly, the eezo plot is more interesting than the AI rebellions plot. And works better for a super engineer MC.

USSExplorer said:
"That's mental. You can just make land?"

~

With enough engineering, you can do almost anything," I replied to my brother.

"Is that what you tell yourself?"

heh, just wait until he starts building O'Neil stations. A country as big as the netherlands, IN SPACE! Sure, it'd cost the GDP of a small country to build, but then, the obvious clients would be countries.

USSExplorer said:
The majority of visual entertainment was generated with the help of multiple VIs working in sync. It had reached the point that even I struggled to differentiate between what was real and what wasn't, and only searching for the actors appearing in real locations could confirm the truth, though even there, the chances of VI misdirection weren't impossible.

Still, live-action shows and movies, along with music and theatre, had enjoyed a resurgence in the last fifty or so years. A reaction, I'd concluded, to people wanting to feel a connection with the living person in the role instead of something artificial or fake. Not that, if such celebrities were anything like in my former life, those people lived in the same world as the majority of the planet's population.

Speaking of... are people still trying to build Wakanda? There have been several attempts since the comics came out, and several more since the movie came out. I can only imagine a VI would be helpful in preventing the projects habitual implosions.

USSExplorer said:
Plus, revealing that I'd picked up three languages in a few months to the point of semi-comfortable conversation would only draw attention I didn't want. There was no current need to reveal that my skills and intelligence extended beyond physics and related subjects.

He'll change his mind when it comes time to translate prothean, I hope.

HughJass · Saturday at 8:37 PM

All this "lone wolf" stuff is getting a bit stale in my opinion. Oh dear he apparently holds unfathomable knowledge that he can't explain, yet somehow doesn't seem to know the plot either... I get wanting to avoid turning into a science experiment, but doing everything isolated from everyone else becomes a hindrance more than something useful eventually and its just getting boring watching him push everyone away and keep them at arms length.

Gordian_Knot · 2026-07-26T03:18:26+0100

USSExplorer said:
grav-sledge

How exactly does this exist if humanity hasn't found element zero yet?

USSExplorer · 2026-07-26T05:02:04+0100

Reynard69 said:
just wait until he starts building O'Neil stations.

And again, my mind goes to only one place when that's mentioned.

babylon-5-season-3-title-sequence-our-last-best-hope-for-victory-intro-babylon-5.gif

Such a damn good show

Reynard69 said:
He'll change his mind when it comes time to translate prothean, I hope.

Publicly? probably not. He'll focus on the language he knows best: Mathematics.
Eezo screws with a lot of rules, but it still has its own. Figure those out, and you have your building blocks.
The actual tetra-bytes+ that the archives might well store, that's on the xenolinguists and the like to handle. He'll be pushing forward with the science.

HughJass said:
All this "lone wolf" stuff is getting a bit stale in my opinion. Oh dear he apparently holds unfathomable knowledge that he can't explain, yet somehow doesn't seem to know the plot either

He doesn't know the plot because that's how I wanted to handle the OC intro. My other stories, and most SI/OC/Isekai stories, have the new MC knowing where they are and what to do from the beginning. I decided to toy with the idea that Marcus didn't. That won't lost much long though, so don't worry about it.

Gordian_Knot said:
How exactly does this exist if humanity hasn't found element zero yet?

Yeah... that doesn't make sense, not without world-building over a minor detail, and somehow I missed it. Changed it to trolley now, so thanks for spotting that.

Reynard69 · 2026-07-26T13:31:54+0100

USSExplorer said:
The actual tetra-bytes+ that the archives might well store, that's on the xenolinguists and the like to handle.

that is amazingly short sighted, but then, I suppose it fits his paranoia

USSExplorer said:
Yeah... that doesn't make sense, not without world-building over a minor detail, and somehow I missed it. Changed it to trolley now, so thanks for spotting that.

Could be static field propulsion. NASA's been messing with the ability to travel along the earths magnetic field lines since the 70's. Even got it to work. It's just not very effective. Add 100 years and a nuclear revolution, maybe it could be.

USSExplorer · 2026-07-27T12:08:10+0100

0013: Research Life
…

September meant I'd been at the Institute for over a month. The days were shortening and the weather cooling, though not to the same degree as in Edinburgh. As had often been the case since I'd started at the Institute, I found myself spending my evenings at work, with two papers since arriving already under review.

The first paper extended my recursive field framework to multi-stage acceleration systems. It offered applications for missions to the other planets, asteroid belt operations, and eventually, when we overcame the issue, for guidance engines for interstellar craft.

The work had taken about two weeks to complete, with most of that because of the need to allow the VIs, here and at locations controlled by ESA, to run through the numbers and confirm my findings. I could've gone faster; the mathematics was completed in a few days in my head, but I wasn't going to reveal how fast I worked so early into my tenure.

The paper had been submitted to the Journal of Spacecraft and Rockets with Dr Okonkwo as co-author, maintaining the connection to Edinburgh even as I built my presence at The Hague. When we'd discussed the work, she'd understood the theory, but admitted that some of the ideas were beyond her.

They would be beyond most, at least until they learned to follow my logic.

The second paper, one that I'd submitted just as September began, was more theoretical. It laid the foundations for field-based mass manipulation, carefully worded to avoid classified elements that had come via my consultancy with ESA. It explored what could be possible, not what might be practical with current technologies: active or theoretical.

For normal researchers, the ideas in the second paper would take years to even reach a point where they could consider publishing it for others to cross-examine and challenge. For those at the Institute, if they committed fully to it, perhaps six months to a year would've been enough. It had taken me little more than a month, and that was while splitting attention initially with the first paper.

That speed, that level of understanding of something with no basis in current science, unsettled me.

***

It was the week after I submitted the second paper that I was called to Professor Bakker's office. The weather, as had been the case for the last week, was overcast and damp, though only light showers had peppered the city so far.

"Mr Sinclair," he said without preamble, "I need to discuss your pace."

"Is there a problem with the work?"

"The work is excellent. That's not the concern." He gestured for me to sit, continuing once I had done so. "The concern is the sustainability. You've submitted two major papers in less than six weeks, all while you're attending every seminar and discussion that even remotely aligns with your projects." He sighed. "Logs show you're here every day for ten to twelve hours, and Dr Hendriks in the library tells me you've accessed more research materials than some fellows use in a year."

"I don't need much sleep. A benefit of the Genetic Enhancement suite I got when young."

"Maybe, but it's not healthy," he replied, with concern evident on his face. "Even for someone with your capabilities."

"I'm fine."

He studied me for a long moment, and then sighed. "I can't force you to slow down, but I'm asking you to consider it. Burnout happens to everyone, whether you're a prodigy or not. I would prefer not to lose you to exhaustion before you're done whatever it is you're building toward."

I nodded, but I knew I wouldn't, as the pace wasn't an issue for me. He saw my reluctance to slow down in my eyes, though he had no way to know the reason why I wouldn't.

"You think you're onto something, don't you?" he asked quietly. "Whatever it is, and I assume it's that spark of genius that everyone seeks but few ever experience. Just make sure it doesn't consume you before you life a long and happy life."

I nodded again. "It won't."

---***---

Mars was the key. I'd known that for some time, but as 2148 rolled on, it became ever more certain. ESA had released new imaging data, and this data confirmed that there were structures beneath Promethei Planum that were larger than initially estimated. Everyone was in an uproar over that, and that the laws of physics seemed to no longer hold over the area. Yet to me, it all made perfect sense, even if I didn't know why.

This certainty went beyond the knowledge locked away in my mind that I was slowly unlocking. I knew what was there, and yet, somehow, didn't, only gaining odd words that carried no weight.

Prothean. Archive. Warning. Cycle.

The first word was one I'd pulled from somewhere before; the latter three were new. Yet all linked to whatever was hidden under Mars' surface. All I could do was hope that when the structures were revealed, the meanings would be unlocked.

To distract myself from a mystery that I couldn't currently solve, I turned to history. The fall of Rome, the collapse of the Bronze Age, and the like. A focus on how societies declined so completely that their achievements could be lost for centuries and millennia. The pattern of civilisations rising, expanding, and then falling.

There was something in there, perhaps the same cycle that was linked to the word Prothean. I'd been drawn to this theme of history like a moth to a flame, and the idea that it was tied to Mars had become stuck in my head, ruining the idea of using history as a distraction. Whatever was going to happen on Mars, the compulsion I felt was undeniable.

***

One evening in the middle of the month, I was stepping out of Erasmus Books. It was a specialist little bookshop run by a Dutch-Moroccan woman that specialised in scientific and academic texts: the sort of place that wouldn't exist if it wasn't near major universities and centres like the Institute, and even then, survived on the interest of those who preferred to read something they could physically touch, or liked to have books adorning their homes.

The owners claimed it was one of the last physical bookstores in the city, if not in the Netherlands, and I was inclined to believe them. being able to hold a book in my hands, even one whose theories and concepts had been proven false by advancements, soothing in a way that I'd never realised until I'd first entered the store. It offered me peace from the mysteries that echoed in my mind and body, and far above on Mars.

I heard the door locking behind me, and moved down the street as aimlessly as I could manage. Above me, the sky was clear and the stars that had mystified and called to humanity since the dawn of time shone down. Whatever Mars revealed, it would lead to those stars, and the dangers that I was certain lay waiting in the darkest points in space.

"Marcus!"

The call of my name snapped me from my musing, and I looked towards the source, seeing a familiar face waving at me from a nearby bar.

"Over here!" Zara Oosterbeek added, her red hair bobbing as she waved.

I waved back, and as those with her began to speak in hushed tones that even I couldn't hear, I pondered heading over. Zara, along with other familiar faces at the bar, was a student from Leiden University, and some of them had slowly begun to engage with me.

I was still younger than any undergraduate, but my name, face, and fame to those that interested in such fields ensured I had their attention. Attention that I found myself moving towards now, as it offered another distraction from the mysteries whose answers would only come when they wanted, not when I demanded.

Nothing serious would come from any of these meetings, but the distractions, along with the chance to engage with those close to my age, were worth a few hours of my time. Perhaps more, if any were interested in taking things further on the promise of no-strings-attached.

***

"You're always here."

I lifted my head from my datapad, ignoring the holographic displays of Mars terrain data that were being displayed on one wall, to see Dr Maren Schulz as she entered the common room. As one of the younger Fellows at the Institute, she was easier to engage with, though she was still more than twice my age.

"So are you," I responded, noting how late it was with a glance at the clock on the wall behind her.

She smiled. "Fair point. What are you working on?"

"Applications of field modulation to navigation. Dr Laurent's work on quantum positioning systems inspired some ideas."

"Can I see?"

I passed her the datapad containing my notes. Everything on it was publicly available to those at the Institute, and there was nothing that would draw attention to me, or at least, not any more than I already had.

She studied them in silence for several minutes, and while waiting, I turned my attention to the Mars data, though there was nothing new there. from the corner of my eye, I watched as her interest shifted from casual to focused, to, as she lifted her head, genuine amazement.

"This is remarkable," she said, even as she handed back the pad as if reluctant to do so. "You've solved three problems I've been stuck on for months. In what, a week?"

I shrugged. "More like three days."

She leaned closer, her eyes locked onto me, and with something shifting behind them. "How does your mind work? I've seen geniuses, I'm even one of them myself, but you're moving at speeds that go beyond that. How?"

A chuckle slipped from me. I'd heard that question a lot and was sure it would continue for years to come. From my Mum, through David, Elena, and Dr Okonkwo, to people at the Institute. It never seemed to stop.

I was slowing down, but it was hard to hold back as much as I was, and even that wasn't slow compared to anyone else. Eventually, I knew I'd have to slow further and find a worthy distraction, but I'd yet to find that distraction.

"I don't know, all I do is that I can see connections. Patterns that seem obvious from the moment I spot them, but that I otherwise wouldn't have considered."

"That's not really an answer."

"It's the only one I have."

Dr Schulz held my gaze for a moment longer and then nodded slowly. "I'm not going to push," she said. "But if you ever want to collaborate on something more formal, I'd be interested. You're the first person I've met in years who makes me feel like I'm learning something new."

My brow rose, displaying my surprise. My brow rose, true surprise the cause. To hear someone as accomplished as her place aside her ego and make an offer so freely was unexpected, and based on her field of expertise, it would be a request I'd accept soon.

"Thank you."

She stood to leave, then paused. "A word of advice, since you're new here. Be careful around Dr Holmberg. He manages the computational resources, but he asks questions when something interests him. Your work, the usage of our analytical systems, and how perfect your models are, has caught his attention."

"What kind of questions?"

"The kind that comes from scientific curiosity rather than threat or suspicion." She offered a small smile. "Just something to keep in mind."

***

Late in the month, I was in my flat, responding to the now-weekly messages from home.

Mum, as always, was asking if I ate regularly and was getting enough sleep. Dad confirmed another transfer of funds, and while I'd yet to dip into the account he and Mum had set up for me, it was handy to have it there if I ever needed it. I had plans on how to use some of it, but for those, I had to be eighteen, which was still more than a year away.

Callum's message was a daily one, as he couldn't resist asking me questions every time they came to mind. Everything was about Mars, and what it might reveal. I told him what I could, skirting around data and information that was still restricted. He'd long since realised that, and disliked me holding back, but understood why I was doing so.

For the first time since moving here, I had a message from Keira. She wanted proof that I had a social life, hinting that she had a friend of a friend at Leiden that she could introduce me to. I agreed to the meeting, though I didn't comment on the fact that I'd already met several students from the university. I wasn't letting her intervene in my life.

There were also messages from Lars and David, but the one that I was looking at, and in many ways, turning over in my head, had come from Elena. Like with my sister, it was the first she'd sent since I'd moved here.

She was doing well in Valencia as she worked towards her PhD, and she talked about the food there and the weather. Nothing more than that, yet the fact she'd reached out at all was unexpected.

I'd not sent anything to her since coming to The Hague, so perhaps this was her reminding me that I still existed, or perhaps she had some other goal in mind. Distance was growing between us, but that was only natural and had nothing to do with what was locked in the depths of my mind.

***

Dr Schulz's warning about Dr Holmberg proved prophetic.

I wasn't actively trying to avoid him, but it only took until nearly the end of the month before I ran into him directly.

"Mr Sinclair," he began, his Swedish accent clear, "I've been reviewing your simulation requests. Interesting work."

"Thank you," I replied, keeping things simple.

"There's a pattern I noticed." He pulled up a holographic chart, indicating he'd been preparing for our encounter. "Your simulations consistently validate predictions that our VI systems don't anticipate. The VIs model the same scenarios, but they don't arrive at your conclusions until after you've already provided the framework."

"VIs correlate, they don't create." That was an answer I'd given regularly over the last few years when someone inquired about how I could seemingly know and be certain of the answers before the VIs confirmed them.

"True." He studied me with unsettling directness. "But most researchers follow a predictable path. Input hypotheses, let the VIs run them and offer suggestions for improvement and then repeat that to refine the process until they get to something that's sound. You seem to be able to skip those steps entirely; as if you already know that the simulations will be perfect before they're run."

"It's pattern recognition," I replied carefully, having caught the hint of suspicion in his tone. "I've developed intuitions about field behaviour that inform my predictions."

"Intuitions." He didn't sound convinced. "That's an interesting word. It usually describes unconscious processing of available information. But your 'intuitions' produce results that go beyond available information."

I kept my expression neutral. "Perhaps my mental processing is more thorough than you realise."

It was, but he'd never discover that. While I was teasing him with my answer, I was giving the truth even though he'd never accept it.

"Perhaps." He held my gaze a moment longer, then turned back to his displays. "If you ever want to discuss your methodology in more detail, I'd be fascinated to learn. The relationship between human intuition and VI analysis is a particular interest of mine."

"I'll keep that in mind."

He nodded and returned to his work, leaving me to handle mine. I doubted I'd ever have that discussion with him.

***

The end of September brought the first corporate direct outreach. Multiple companies and conglomerates sent visitors to the Institute, in a number that, according to Dr Cardoso, was larger than in previous years. She didn't say it, but we both knew, as did others, that the change was because of me.

I met with all of them for as short a time as possible, with only one being worth talking to for more than that. Dr Amanda Reeves had come from Cord-Hislop and was a coworker of Dr Ashford's who had come from the UNAS to see me at his request. She had a PhD from Stanford, and as she explained during our introductions, led the Cord-Hislop team that was applying my published work in practical ways.

"Your field geometry framework is impressive," she said over coffee, as we continued our talk at De Blauwe Reiger after I'd finished speaking with the other representatives. "We've already achieved a seven per cent improvement in efficiency in scaled modelling. That's better than your projections suggested."

As had been the case when we'd first spoken at the Institute, her tone was polite and respectful. She was treating me as an equal and not, as many others had, as a gifted child that could be easily manipulated. It was oddly refreshing, yet I knew she was only doing so to cultivate a connection.

"I prefer to under-promise," I replied, drawing a smirk.

"Smart approach." She stirred her coffee, watching me as she did so. "Cord-Hislop would be very interested in a deeper relationship. We're thinking a full consulting arrangement for now, then perhaps a formal position when you're ready to enter the private sector."

The offer was what I'd expected, and similar to others that had been presented to me earlier in the day. What I'd published had, at least barring the most recent paper, changed the game in small measurable ways that no one else had ever considered.

If she'd seen my last paper or had even an inkling of the theories and concepts that I was unlocking each day, then she'd increase her offer to a level that would shock most. Others, be they nations or conglomerates, might well do the same, but b then I'd have the leverage of more papers and greater reputation to negotiate my terms.

"I'm focused on my fellowship for now."

"Of course," she continued, dismissing the offer as if she never expected me to take the latter half currently. "But think about the resources we could offer. We're talking full laboratory access and the manufacturing capabilities to test your theories in hardware. The compensation would make your stipend here look like pocket change." She paused, the smirk becoming a smile, which added an air of intelligent beauty that I found appealing. "And then there's the access to our advanced programmes. Work that's not published and that might interest someone regarded as a rare prodigy."

"What kind of work?" I wasn't going to accept, but I wouldn't deny I was curious. That the company's name echoed in my head as important in some measurable way was also a factor in my letting her bait me slightly.

Her smile widened. "The kind we'd discuss after you signed the appropriate agreements." I chuckled, tipping my head at her reply. "But let's just say that the Mars situation has everyone reconsidering their propulsion priorities, and your theories are suddenly very relevant to many very important and powerful people."

I nodded, aware of her meaning. She was in the know about much of the same data I was. That would be coming through contacts at NASA or even within the UNAS administration, most likely. She was implying it was a display of influence and power without the need to make it obvious.

"I'll keep the offer in mind when it's time for me to consider my next steps."

Cord-Hislop was likely to be useful, and Dr Reeves appeared genuinely competent. However, I wasn't ready to commit to any formal corporate relationship. Consultancy first, though not for the moment, would at least let me test the waters before diving in. By which point, I should have a better understanding of what it was that remained just out of reach in my mind and memories.

---***---

I woke with a start, cold sweat sticking to my skin.

Fragmented dreams were the cause. The same dreams that had been slowly growing more prevalent since I'd arrived in The Hague. They were centred around the seemingly connected words that echoed in my mind whenever I pondered what was on Mars and what it meant.

I recalled the dream I'd just had; the same one I had most nights now. I dreamed of Mars, but not the one everyone saw each day in the news reports. I saw structures rising from the dust, lights shifting in the darkness, and voices speaking in languages that I shouldn't understand but somehow did, at least in fragments.

Warning. Cycle. Harvest.

Those words had joined the others that rested uncomfortably in my mind, and I should know what they meant. I was more certain of that than anything, yet I couldn't find their meanings or see the connection that linked them and the other words together.

After recovering from the unwanted awakening, I looked at the smart-glass near my bed, confirming the time. It was early morning again, a few weeks before my birthday.

I didn't know what the dreams meant, but I felt they were ticking down to something. The uncertainty over what that was, and what it might bring, along with the aliens and voices in the dark, worried me because I didn't understand what I needed to prepare for.

---***---

The night before my birthday, I stood at my window, watching the lights of The Hague.

Two months had passed at the Institute now, and I'd published two more papers, with another submitted for review. Five papers in total to my name since I'd come here, eight overall. My name was rising rapidly in both the theoretical physics circles and among various industrial figures who were rushing to apply my ideas.

Yet I knew it was only the beginning. That I was only glimpsing things that would change the world.
No, the universe. I wasn't sure if that certainty should make me feel excited or terrified.

Mars was still holding its secrets tightly, even as the fingertips of mankind reached to grasp them. The nightmares were still growing worse, as if things were soon to reach a crescendo, though what that would bring and how it would change everything, even I didn't know. A refreshing if unsettling sensation.

I sighed and looked at the ceiling of my room as I lay in my bed. Tomorrow I'd be seventeen. A marker in life, but just another day of work, another step along the path I'd chosen. Where that path led remained, like Mars' secrets, hidden from me.

I wondered how long that would remain the case.

---***---

abominable · 2026-07-27T14:16:10+0100

USSExplorer said:
I shrugged. "More like three days."

MC: Ah! Woe is me, a ready victim to people intending to dissect my brilliant mind.

Also MC: Lemme just casually correct people that, no, Im even more awesome than they assumed.

USSExplorer · 2026-07-27T14:19:48+0100

abominable said:
MC: Ah! Woe is me, a ready victim to people intending to dissect my brilliant mind.

Also MC: Lemme just casually correct people that, no, Im even more awesome than they assumed.

He's starting to (thankfully) move away from position A to position B. Still got to manage his pace, but far less concerned with those early 'paranoia issues'.
Still possibly a bit unhinged though

abominable · 2026-07-27T14:24:49+0100

USSExplorer said:
He's starting to (thankfully) move away from position A to position B. Still got to manage his pace, but far less concerned with those early 'paranoia issues'.
Still possibly a bit unhinged though

Honestly surprised he hasnt gotten a totally-not-dubious-and-illegal implantation surgery to put a tracking device in his body as a contingency for the inevitable day he gets kidnapped by The Organization.

USSExplorer · 2026-07-27T14:33:10+0100

abominable said:
Honestly surprised he hasnt gotten a totally-not-dubious-and-illegal implantation surgery to put a tracking device in his body as a contingency for the inevitable day he gets kidnapped by The Organization.

Unless he made it himself or asked David to program it to ensure it was unhackable, I doubt he would.
And why assume there's only one Organisation in the world?

eien · 2026-07-27T14:56:37+0100

Im expecting an over reaction to the Reaper revelation, and the MC being,

MC: All the human tech i can think off, anything I can source from other media is on the table.

Everyone Else: (Not understanding the situation) he is the genius of our time, a guiding light to the future.

MC: no you fucking jobbers im trying to make sure we fucking live to the next century. And if I have to make use Monsters to do so I will.

abominable · 2026-07-27T15:48:10+0100

USSExplorer said:
Unless he made it himself or asked David to program it to ensure it was unhackable, I doubt he would.
And why assume there's only one Organisation in the world?

More than one!? Surely he's not THAT paranoid?

Zaion au Solaris · 2026-07-27T17:16:51+0100

eien said:
Im expecting an over reaction to the Reaper revelation, and the MC being,

MC: All the human tech i can think off, anything I can source from other media is on the table.

Everyone Else: (Not understanding the situation) he is the genius of our time, a guiding light to the future.

MC: no you fucking jobbers im trying to make sure we fucking live to the next century. And if I have to make use Monsters to do so I will.

In Before he goes all Gundam Wing and Gundam SEED on this shit. Single man piloted super mechs with absurd particle beam weapons and further enhanced/evolved human pilots and AI partner systems. Let Zero sing!

Margin of Error

Foxes are Fantastic

Versed in the lewd.

Doing what's necessary, even if it causes chaos

Versed in the lewd.

Doing what's necessary, even if it causes chaos

Versed in the lewd.

Doing what's necessary, even if it causes chaos

Versed in the lewd.

Doing what's necessary, even if it causes chaos

Versed in the lewd.

I trust you know where the happy button is?

Foxes are Fantastic

Know what you're doing yet?

I trust you know where the happy button is?

Doing what's necessary, even if it causes chaos

Foxes are Fantastic

Doing what's necessary, even if it causes chaos

Versed in the lewd.

Doing what's necessary, even if it causes chaos

Versed in the lewd.

Doing what's necessary, even if it causes chaos

Not too sore, are you?

Versed in the lewd.

Making the rounds.

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