Sapphtember Prompts are Here!
Datapad Entry 12: Last Will and Testament
I am pilot N-3K7, personal designation Minthe, and I begin this document of sound mind and body.
I am currently hurtling towards a pirate station in a damaged Bonded Machine, Atticus class. Following a battle that manipulated Heat Exhaust, a major cascading failure from an enemy viral attack has locked all nav systems, communication systems, suppressed AI control, and left only uplink activities. I can only assume to provide fear and panic. Currently we are on a collision course with the left side of the station.
I am a pilot program inductee, sold to the Aquiles Republic, but as of 3 Aquiles Standard Revolutions they marked me as disposed. By legally divesting of me and claiming my loss to the Aquiles Internal Revenue Service, the ownership of this body returns to me, including all tech in it.
As such, I am afforded the rights of a citizen and write my will. The person who finds this may have all my possessions, everything in this cockpit. However, in this corpse, a Mk.6 experimental uplink is here and should survive impact, deep spacing, and most deadly situations.
I am downloading the final remaining Atticus-Class AI, preserving historical significance and preserving the intelligence of the Bonded Machine. These files belong solely to the Atticus-class AI and must be uploaded to the extranet as soon as this document is discovered. If you do, the Bonded Machine AI will release an enormous reward to you, riches beyond your wildest-
"Minthe. That's a lie"
"I'll be dead, who cares? If it's a scavenger well- they deserve whatever they scavenge. If it's Persephone then she'll be able to help you."
The sensation of anxiety, anger and sadness tickled, it was strange to feel it along side her resolve as she transferred data into her uplink. The Atticus was tearing itself apart randomly with this virus. Launching modules and important systems until it's heavy core was mostly what was left. The Mk.6 could hold all of this data. It was an impressively painful update but she didn't curse it as it safely held her only friend.
Out of the remaining view, she saw the space station approaching fast. Minthe felt tears, she owned her form. She would die free. And Atticus would live. She needed that. Atticus would exist and learn and-
The bulkhead loomed. She closed her eyes for impact.
When none came, the Pilot opened her eyes and looked alarmed and confused as the cockpit jolted to a much gentler stop than expected. Through the view she saw a Bonded Machine. A graceful and lithe form, whip-like and dangerous, four manipulator arms grasping the cockpit like an errant marble. The systems began to return control to her and her comm channel sparked to life.
"You're quite a handful, aren't you?" The superior mocking tone made Minthe's stomach flip and Atticus rang out in her mind as she gawped in surprise.
"Persephone?"
