Lh'owon calling (To the cyborgs of death): Let's Play Marathon 2: Durandal.

[chiasaur11]

Ever had everything disappear out from under you?

Not just figuratively. One second, it looked like I'd be going back to peaceful semiretirement, with the ship saved, Leela back online, and all right in the world. The next?

The next second I'm on an alien world, armed with only a pistol. Pfhor corpses fill the hallway ahead, and I thought I saw a handful of guys with pistols and cybernetic implants to the eye socket running down the hall.

I had an idea as to the reasons behind the scenario. As usual, I desperately hoped I was wrong.

I saw a monitor displaying the logo of the good old Marathon. If Leela was calling, my opinion of her just jumped from appreciation to outright adulation.




It wasn't. Durandal. Joy of joys. And, given the fact this isn't Earth or Tau Ceti IV, I was now completely dependent on a mad AI for a ticket back to civilization.



I managed to find the chip he mentioned, guarded by a Pfhor defense drone.
Fast, agile, lightly armed, fragile...

Obviously not primarily a combatant. Well...

Probably not a primary combatant. I'd had a lot of Pfhor military designs break quick to a couple of punches. Combine that with the missing Mjolnir and I have another reason to skip introspection.



I met with a few of the members of the local human militia on my way to the second uplink location. They started falling back as soon as I showed. Either they knew I'd handle it fine, or they figured I'd cause damage to all parties.

No sense in worrying. Complete the job, and maybe I'll get back to some activity that doesn't involve being shot at repeatedly.



Huh. Built in translator. Durandal'd been working on the armor beyond the simple change to the shield chargers.

Drones were for maintenance, it looked like. Awful well armed for it.



Ah. Durandal'd brought back the MA-75. At least he was considering firepower requirements for cleaning this area. And a quick check revealed the thing had more kick than the older model.

Not enough to compensate for being shanghaied to Lh'owon, though.

Ah. The water storage tank that was being troublesome. I dropped the drones.

Why should alien slavers get better lives than me? Water poisoning is a nasty death. And if anyone deserves it, they do.



Well. What do we have here?

A shotgun teleported right in front of me as soon as I dropped the drones. Seemed someone up there approved.

Durandal had outdone himself with this thing. Fast reload, tolerable kickback, amazing firepower...

He was an artist. I hated to admit it, but this thing wasn't just cleverly designed, it was obviously a labor of love.

He may be a megalomaniacal psychopath, but he obviously had a gift.



Right. One more uplink and we're done.



17 years and the galactic core?

Suddenly all hope of rescue evaporated. I didn't ask for this job. I did what I did on the Marathon because I had to. My life was on the line, the lives of every human in the Tau Ceti system were on the line, and I couldn't duck.

Now? Now it had exactly nothing to do with me. It was a mad AI organizing a war between two alien species I'd be happier to have never met. Sure, some colonists might follow up on moral grounds, but me?

I honestly could not care less.