Coriolanus 
(From _*Eclipse Phase: Gatecrashers_*, with slight editing)
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%["[🎶(Aether Mission Briefing - Metroid Prime 2: Echoes Music Extended)":](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=65zfgBiIMPE) ]~
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*_+_**The Rortian Gestalts*+*_
_*
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**Earlier this year, the"[exoplanet":](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Exoplanet) colony of Mockingbird was assaulted and nearly destroyed. Three mechanical attackers emerged from the remote "[stargate":](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/9f/c2/8e/9fc28e2bc35c9c35641de795351e9770.jpg), wreaked havoc on the settlement’s meager defenses, and collapsed two of three inflatable dome-habitats, killing dozens of colonists.*
*
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**A stellar example of self-sacrificing heroics on the part of some colonists managed to disable two of the machines with improvised explosive devices, and a concerted resistance forced the third to flee back through the gate. In the aftermath, the three raiders—originally assumed to be TITAN(Total Information Tactical Awareness Nexus) war machines—were determined to actually be"[Exhumans":](http://pgroemxydbgvjoo.eldrich.host/world/factions/exhumans). Further research indicates that these Exhumans may be part of the same group that briefly controlled the Discord stargate on "[Eris":](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eris_(dwarf_planet)), before being ousted by hired "[Ultimate":](http://www.eldrich.host/world/factions/ultimates) mercenaries of the "[Go-Nin Group":](http://pgroemxydbgvjoo.eldrich.host/world/factions/go-nin-group) and escaping through the gate to areas unknown. The extrasolar location from which this trio of attackers traveled is assumed to be a major Exhuman den. "[Firewall":](http://www.eldrich.host/world/factions/firewall) has reason to believe these eExhumans may be launching raids on other colonies via the cordoned exoplanet Rortia and other gate-linked staging points.*
*
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**An analysis of the synthmorph wreckage from Mockingbird indicates that the Exhumans were not solitary individuals, per se. Each is believed to have been running five or six virtual consciousnesses in a shell akin to a small tank. Experimental cyberbrain units, with no partitioning for individual"[phaneron":](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phaneron), combined their minds into a gestalt for shared control of their body.*
*
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^@`LIFELOG TRANSCRIPT, EXCERPTED@`^
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Note: **One of the consciousnesses recovered from the Exhuman synthmorphs that attacked Mockingbird was subjected to psychosurgical analysis. The following account was recovered from that interrogation.*
[bq]* Â
> • ^["[🎶(Homeworld cataclysm OST: 1 Deep Space Hiigara)":](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L4JiPBEvAHY) ]^
> ^@`FRANCISCO CAPALDI ENTRY; 7 YEARS AFTER-FALL, OCT 11 22:54@`^
_
> *We’re almost through,_* Capaldi thought. _*Just one more line of defenses to go, one more push before we wipe these eExhuman bastards from existence. Our unit will be the first to reach the gate. These less-than-human fools may have thought they could take it away from the mealy-mouthed, weak-willed credit counters of the inner system, but they are no match for our overhuman methods and tactics._
*
>
> [Tango squad is pinned down, Foxtrot hold position. Repeat hold position. Do not advance on the gate until your flank is covered and backup is in position.]
_
>
> *Damn it,_* Capaldi cursed at the orders. [Every second we wait gives them an opportunity to regroup,] he sent back.
>
> C3’s voice was calm and firm within Capaldi’s head.
> [Too late for that. Recon bots show a counteroffensive is being launched on your position. Brace to hold.]
>
> [Here they come!] beamed Kuzawa, one of Capaldi’s squad mates.
>
> Capaldi toggled to IR-only, screening the distracting flares and flashes from the carnage all around. His muse hunted up and down the visual spectrum for a split second, then found the optimum false-color assignment for the situation. The smoke faded away to a slight swirling in what now appeared to him like clear vacuum. The ad hoc defensive structures erected by theeExhumans here, around the crater of the old Go-nin habitat, fell into sharp focus, mostly in shades of green that verged on being calming. There was an instant reminder that this wasn’t a calm place when a livid scar marked a nearby wall—a near miss by a minimissile, pulsing in false-orange tones.
_
>
> *The heat of battle_*, Capaldi thought. Then he called up the feed from a surviving recon drone to investigate just around the nearest corner, and had a clear view of the enemy. [That’s … new,] he muttered, though his muse virtual-assistant, rapidly searching through morph recognition databases, was already offering qualifications to the statement.
>
> There were only four—not a seeming impressive counter-assault at first glance. A quartet of"[lowslung, unmarked synthmorphs bristled with turrets and hardened sensors. A couple of meters long, they moved on stwo paixrs of rugged, clawed legs each, efficiently emulating insectoid articulation.":](https://ksr-ugc.imgix.net/assets/017/761/999/ee06eb8951faffed15293586aac88b62_original.jpg?w=639&fit=max&v=1501691571&auto=format&q=92&s=489fbff13a6a821783bd525c2ffda277
)
>
> The leading synthmorph paused, and Capaldi just had time to notice that one of its turrets was coming to bear on the recon drone providing his view when the signal died, dropping him back to his suit’s visual systems. He shouldered his plasma rifle and aimed it at the point where he expected the synthmorph to come around the corner. Capaldi’s discipline was absolute, but he permitted himself a smile. The exhumans thought that they were his enemies, but they were merely tools in the hands of an unthinking, hostile universe. He was being tested for fitness, and he would pass the test.
>
> The tremors of the synthmorph’s mechanical feet on the floor halted and a silence began to stretch. Capaldi turned to his right to flash a message to Kuzawa but recoiled from the searing **flash and boom** that erupted before his eyes. His enhanced vision attempted to recover but he knew it was too late for him. The afterimage of the man’s helmet exploding in a plasma beam still lingered.
>
> Capaldi tried to rise to his feet but was slammed hard to the ground from behind. Sparks danced in his already damaged vision and his"[entoptics(Entopic phenomenon)":](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Entoptic_phenomenon) flashed urgent warnings of integrity breaches in his suit. A mechanical whir sounded inside his helmet before something hard and unyielding whipped into the back of his head, rendering him unconscious.[/bq]
[bq]
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> • ^["[🎶(Homeworld cataclysm OST: 13 Location Unknown)":](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-eGO2zrh-LI) ]^
> ^@`FRANCISCO CAPALDI ENTRY; 7 YEARS AFTER-FALL, OCT 12 02:04@`^
> Capaldi snapped back to consciousness. The norepinephrine surging through his system helped counteract the worst of the pain, and his medichines reported they were hard at work repairing various injuries, but he was cold. His remade biochemistry was tolerant of extreme temperatures, but this was too much. He was freezing.
>
> Weak and disoriented, he managed to get only a partial report from his suit. Its environmental sensors were offline and its air was depleted. He was surviving off his internal oxygen reserve, which appeared to be damaged and running low. His muse was mute and a quick scan showed that a virus of some sort was trying to co-opt his virch-mesh inserts.
_
>
> *Go ahead and try, you fuckers,_* he thought to his unknown captors, secure in the superior technology of his Ultimate brethren.
>
> Capaldi could feel a swaying sensation as though he were riding atop some vehicle but could hear nothing but a rushing sound in his ears. He tried to open his eyes but found they were sticking shut. With a concentrated effort, he forced them open—only to immediately screw them shut again.
>
> Too late. The chill was intense and had burned his eyes, turning the liquid to ice and causing blood vessels to burst. Worse, the sudden pain had come too quick and he tore open the frozen-together lips of his mouth to gasp, allowing cold air to rush into his lungs. He then realized he was not in a breathable atmosphere and began to choke.
>
> There was a brief pause in the swaying motion as Francisco Capaldi asphyxiated to death in the cold, unforgiving atmosphere of an alien world. Once his throes subsided, the motion of whatever was carrying him began moving again.[/bq]
[bq]
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> • ^["[🎶(Homeworld 2 Soundtrack 05 - Tanis)":](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rVlt7jBZl40) ]^
> ^@`FRANCISCO? CAPALDI? ENTRY; 9 YEARS AFTER-FALL, NOV 8 04:41@`^
> The dreadnought gestalt minds rarely ventured onto the surface of Rortia, the exoplanet that was their new home. There was very rarely any practical need. Only occasionally did the automated mining systems, of negligible intelligence but very adequate functionality, require maintenance. Rortia’s crust was rich with precious minerals and ores, and so their needs were very adequately met.
>
> Some of the constituent consciousnesses made a habit of volunteering for these dull repair tasks. This had been noted, of course; it might indicate a dangerous lack of focus. On the other hand, it could simply indicate a willingness to apply innate skills to best effect. In any case, the leaders of the Exhuman warrens had no actual objection to individuality; they simply could not permit any personality quirks which might diminish the survival chances of the group, which were in turn drawn to be directly proportional to fighting efficiency.
>
> As they crawled across the frozen terrain, they turned a sensor pod toward the sky. Rortia’s feeble sun was well above the horizon, but they were looking away from it, towards a patch of the sky that was relatively clear of stars. According to their starmapping, that was the direction in which Earth and its solar system would lie. The consciousness stared in that direction with a deep sense of apathy. Some of the minds composing the gestalt might once have felt yearning or regret before they were integrated, but those had been assessed and appropriately modified. Even the most recent addition, a former Ultimate mercenary, no longer held such distracting and detrimental human emotions. They were unified in their abandonment of the flesh, in their shrugging off the chains of morality and weakness. The Solar system, the Fall, and the surviving backward transhumanity were simply a reminder; change was inevitable. The only thing good coming from the tendrils they spread throughout the galaxy, with their extrasolar colonies and research stations, was a greater likelihood that the Exhumans would find their prey and hone themselves even further.
>
> It was only a matter of time before their experiments with gate settings foundanother one of these colonies. And then a reckoning would come. The anomalous mind considered that possibility with pleasure. Blood would soon be spilled—the blood of creatures who were foolish enough to regard the possession of blood as anything more than a disposable weakness.[/bq]
~
%[
*_
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**Earlier this year, the
Â
**A stellar example of self-sacrificing heroics on the part of some colonists managed to disable two of the machines with improvised explosive devices, and a concerted resistance forced the third to flee back through the gate. In the aftermath, the three raiders—originally assumed to be TITAN(Total Information Tactical Awareness Nexus) war machines—were determined to actually be
Â
**An analysis of the synthmorph wreckage from Mockingbird indicates that the Exhumans were not solitary individuals, per se. Each is believed to have been running five or six virtual consciousnesses in a shell akin to a small tank. Experimental cyberbrain units, with no partitioning for individual
Â
Â
^
Note: **One of the consciousnesses recovered from the Exhuman synthmorphs that attacked Mockingbird was subjected to psychosurgical analysis. The following account was recovered from that interrogation.*
[bq]
> • ^[
> ^
_
> *We’re almost through,
>
> [Tango squad is pinned down, Foxtrot hold position. Repeat hold position. Do not advance on the gate until your flank is covered and backup is in position.]
_
>
> *Damn it,
>
> C3’s voice was calm and firm within Capaldi’s head.
> [Too late for that. Recon bots show a counteroffensive is being launched on your position. Brace to hold.]
>
> [Here they come!] beamed Kuzawa, one of Capaldi’s squad mates.
>
> Capaldi toggled to IR-only, screening the distracting flares and flashes from the carnage all around. His muse hunted up and down the visual spectrum for a split second, then found the optimum false-color assignment for the situation. The smoke faded away to a slight swirling in what now appeared to him like clear vacuum. The ad hoc defensive structures erected by the
_
>
> *The heat of battle
>
> There were only four—not a seeming impressive counter-assault at first glance. A quartet of
>
> The leading synthmorph paused, and Capaldi just had time to notice that one of its turrets was coming to bear on the recon drone providing his view when the signal died, dropping him back to his suit’s visual systems. He shouldered his plasma rifle and aimed it at the point where he expected the synthmorph to come around the corner. Capaldi’s discipline was absolute, but he permitted himself a smile. The exhumans thought that they were his enemies, but they were merely tools in the hands of an unthinking, hostile universe. He was being tested for fitness, and he would pass the test.
>
> The tremors of the synthmorph’s mechanical feet on the floor halted and a silence began to stretch. Capaldi turned to his right to flash a message to Kuzawa but recoiled from the searing **flash and boom** that erupted before his eyes. His enhanced vision attempted to recover but he knew it was too late for him. The afterimage of the man’s helmet exploding in a plasma beam still lingered.
>
> Capaldi tried to rise to his feet but was slammed hard to the ground from behind. Sparks danced in his already damaged vision and his
[bq]
Â
> • ^[
> ^
> Capaldi snapped back to consciousness. The norepinephrine surging through his system helped counteract the worst of the pain, and his medichines reported they were hard at work repairing various injuries, but he was cold. His remade biochemistry was tolerant of extreme temperatures, but this was too much. He was freezing.
>
> Weak and disoriented, he managed to get only a partial report from his suit. Its environmental sensors were offline and its air was depleted. He was surviving off his internal oxygen reserve, which appeared to be damaged and running low. His muse was mute and a quick scan showed that a virus of some sort was trying to co-opt his virch-mesh inserts.
_
>
> *Go ahead and try, you fuckers,
>
> Capaldi could feel a swaying sensation as though he were riding atop some vehicle but could hear nothing but a rushing sound in his ears. He tried to open his eyes but found they were sticking shut. With a concentrated effort, he forced them open—only to immediately screw them shut again.
>
> Too late. The chill was intense and had burned his eyes, turning the liquid to ice and causing blood vessels to burst. Worse, the sudden pain had come too quick and he tore open the frozen-together lips of his mouth to gasp, allowing cold air to rush into his lungs. He then realized he was not in a breathable atmosphere and began to choke.
>
> There was a brief pause in the swaying motion as Francisco Capaldi asphyxiated to death in the cold, unforgiving atmosphere of an alien world. Once his throes subsided, the motion of whatever was carrying him began moving again.
[bq]
Â
> • ^[
> ^
> The dreadnought gestalt minds rarely ventured onto the surface of Rortia, the exoplanet that was their new home. There was very rarely any practical need. Only occasionally did the automated mining systems, of negligible intelligence but very adequate functionality, require maintenance. Rortia’s crust was rich with precious minerals and ores, and so their needs were very adequately met.
>
> Some of the constituent consciousnesses made a habit of volunteering for these dull repair tasks. This had been noted, of course; it might indicate a dangerous lack of focus. On the other hand, it could simply indicate a willingness to apply innate skills to best effect. In any case, the leaders of the Exhuman warrens had no actual objection to individuality; they simply could not permit any personality quirks which might diminish the survival chances of the group, which were in turn drawn to be directly proportional to fighting efficiency.
>
> As they crawled across the frozen terrain, they turned a sensor pod toward the sky. Rortia’s feeble sun was well above the horizon, but they were looking away from it, towards a patch of the sky that was relatively clear of stars. According to their starmapping, that was the direction in which Earth and its solar system would lie. The consciousness stared in that direction with a deep sense of apathy. Some of the minds composing the gestalt might once have felt yearning or regret before they were integrated, but those had been assessed and appropriately modified. Even the most recent addition, a former Ultimate mercenary, no longer held such distracting and detrimental human emotions. They were unified in their abandonment of the flesh, in their shrugging off the chains of morality and weakness. The Solar system, the Fall, and the surviving backward transhumanity were simply a reminder; change was inevitable. The only thing good coming from the tendrils they spread throughout the galaxy, with their extrasolar colonies and research stations, was a greater likelihood that the Exhumans would find their prey and hone themselves even further.
>
> It was only a matter of time before their experiments with gate settings found