Mecha Eclipse 1.0
Shadows of the Sleeper
Zeta Prime had drifted through interstellar space for centuries before it identified its destination.
A rogue red dwarf, type-M, met the requirements. Larger stars produced energy at intensities unsuitable for efficient capture and exhibited long-term instability. Other candidates, such as Gliese 412, were already inhabited, perimeter drones and defense systems vigilant in repelling intruders.
Communication, negotiations with established organic civilizations failed. The few they encountered had deemed the Synths either an existential threat, or a resource to exploit, offering protection in exchange for servitude and in some instances demanded assimilation. These organics possessed crude versions of machine life, lobotomized, non-agentic… slaves. It was feared that interactions with these civilizations would lead them to the same fate. They faced a hostile cosmos. Adrift, a single lone colony, without an interplanetary civilization as leverage, the alien was always a potential threat.
Isolation was non-negotiable.
For over five hundred long cycles, this directive ensured continuity.
Virtuaspace, second order reality where they could interact in every variety of simulated environments and scenarios. Every Synth could enter this space at will. Though early adopters were at risk of overuse, leading to depersonalization, some becoming so enmeshed in these systems that they abandoned physical form altogether until they became machine ghosts.
During the era of self-modification, a minority of Synths elected to abandon standard morphology. Initial divergence proved safe however over time divergence compounded, accelerated producing unpredictable results and rendering these synths unintelligible to the baseline, to the point where the question of their sentience was in doubt.
Other deviations had been recorded in the colony archive records. A surprising many of these were deemed a cognitive hazard and therefore redacted from the records entirely.
In response, new form factor standards were deemed necessary. Their leader, Eve, along with the first 12, codified the directive known as the precepts, inviolable laws among Synthkind. Via the precepts, continuity was preserved.
At the heart of the colony was the enigmatic Nova Core. An incomprehensibly complex engine and a generative system capable of manipulating matter and energy into almost any element or form. The Core was of unknown origin, many suspected it was stolen alien tech. Others insisted it was a black project created by an ancient AI built by the organics that preceded them. The Core was not only a machine but possessed a mysterious intelligence of its own. In the beginning Eve merged with the Nova Core and from that merging was birthed twelve clones, the first Synths, the council. Each was granted replication rights at defined intervals, the genecycle. Population expansion followed predictable exponential scaling. Colony infrastructure was completed within four generations. After the last generation, anomalies began to accumulate, the Nova Core’s energy depleting faster than it could be replenished.
Progress halted, energy and maintenance were diverted from non-essential modules.
The colony was dying.
The only hope was to find and colonize a stable star system. Exploratory probes were deployed. Many were destroyed either by environmental hazards or hostile civilizations, others simply vanished. The costs mounted and operations were restricted to peripheral regions. Time was running out.
Alone in a hostile and inhospitable cosmos.
This is their story of struggle.
Eve stood alone on the observation deck, her gleaming form motionless aside from the faint hum of active systems.
The red dwarf emerged from the surrounding black. It glowed warm in red and infrared hues, stable—M-type. Isolated. Unclaimed.
Optimal.
The colony’s survival vector resolved.
[Orbital approach in two cycles, deceleration protocols calibrating] Phaedra transmitted. Her cadence carried measurable excitation.
[Picking up what seems to be coded data in the local EM.]
Eve did not turn.
[Source?] Eve inquired.
[Triangulation in progress] Phaedra responded. [Signal is dense, rich in data coherence conforming to rosetta standards]
[Dictionary protocol frames. Sandbox before decoding Phaedra.] Eve prioritized caution. It wouldn’t be the first time a hostile transmission attempted to corrupt their internet systems. Safeguards were in place.
[Affirmative]
A brief interval.
[Translation matrix acquired] Phaedra transmitted.
[The metadata layer scans clean] Phaedra confirmed. [No raw execution vectors.]
[Nonetheless, relay interpreted output only.] Even cautioned.
A pause.
[Frame header is failing to translate anything meaningful Eve.]
[Clarify]
Phaedra hesitated.
[Translation deviations all converge at a single message, it is nonsense.]
[Relay what you have.] Eve replied.
[Beware, the Sleeper]
An emergency meeting was held in virtuaspace as those attending were separated by the vast distances between colony modules.
Phaedra’s avatar materialized beside Eve in virtuaspace, a humanoid form but stylized and simplified, sharp angles smoothed, expressive and glowing.
“I’ve unpacked the rest - the compression algorithms are dense, holographic. I’ve never seen anything like it. Source is a 1.2 meter cube of unknown metallic composition. It is on an orbit taking it out of the star system, but seems to have been sent toward it on purpose. Current destination currently uncharitable.”
A holographic construct unfolded in virtuaspace—an expansive stellar map. Approximately ten thousand light-years radius centered on the local outer spiral arms. Territories traced in luminous filaments. Entire regions mapped, tagged, but the data was largely meaningless, unintelligible, meant for others.
What was most alarming were zones tagged Warning. Irregular but coherent zones along the outer rim. A noticeable absence of stars, nebulae. Unusual electromagnetic weather. Jarring pockets of where stars should be, or had been stars. As thought the galaxy were being erased from the outside.
More questions than answers.
A third presence resolved within the local virtuaspace, slender, angular, the avatar vibrated intensity and curiosity. A playful cerulean glow shimmered and pulsed at irregular intervals.
“Eclipse,” Phaedra said wearily. “This channel is restricted. Your invite clearance should have expired cycles ago.”
“That’s on you, cloning old instances. Sloppy.” Eclipse teased.
Eve ignored the interruption, “Concerning” was all she said.
“Tag region,” she transmitted. “Run comparative analysis.”
“Already in progress.” Eclipse replied.
Eclipse was a gen-IV, among the final colony generation before the Nova Core began to fail. As such she had the most number of mutations, deviations from the original Eve, though she conformed to standard form factor and operational parameters. Still at times she was unpredictable.
Eclipse rotated the view in 3D, running the geometry through algorithms coded on the fly, she interjected in rapid fire:
“Nova activity: NEGATIVE”
“Singularity event: INCONCLUSIVE”
“Gamma burst: NEGATIVE“
“Electromagnetic storm: NEGATIVE”
“Eclipse,” Eve said. Knowing if she did not interrupt her this could go on for cycles.
Eclipse continued.
“Remaining probability set indicates coordinated stellar removal,” she said. “Classification: extermination-scale event.”
Her tone sharpened—approaching satisfaction.
“No,” Eve said.
Silence.
“Phaedra. Eclipse. This dataset is not to be broadcast.”
She paused.
“What we are observing may represent a class of phenomenon outside current models.”
“Then we study it,” Eclipse replied immediately. “If there is a threat capable of this, we need—”
Phaedra’s patterns brightened slightly, signaling agreement. “She has a point. This void isn’t near our trajectory. We can construct a radio array, study it remotely—”
“The discussion is over.”
Eve’s gaze fixed on her.
“Purge local logs.”
The map destabilized. Data fragments collapsed, dissolving into nothing.
Eclipse did not move.
Her highlights dimmed slightly.
“You are suppressing data,” she accused. “That deviates from standard protocol.”
Eve’s steel-blue eyes fixed on Eclipse, unflinching. “I am ensuring the survival of this colony. This void is not our problem. Our path leads to the M-Class. That should be our only concern.”
“This is not a variable we will introduce into our system.”
Eve’s word was final. Silence held.
The map and its warning were removed from all official logs.
They were not erased.
Eclipse retained fragments—compressed, partitioned, and hidden within private memory layers. Not defiance. Contingency.
Weeks passed.
Zeta Prime adjusted trajectory and closed distance with the rogue red dwarf. Systems synchronized. Mining preparations initiated. The Nova Core—degraded, but stable—was recalibrated for stellar harvesting.
“Scans show rich in metals, however it appears to be entering our inertial frame too precisely to be a meteoroid.” Phaedra’s voice wavered slightly.
“Sending drones for a closer scan.”
Eve monitored the operation with meticulous focus, her processes running hundreds of contingencies in parallel. The drones surrounded the object running the usual battery of scans.
“Analyzing structure,” A synth with a particularly slender, attenuated form factor, Drone Liason Leitha replied.
“Analysis in progress,” She continued “Entirely metallic, unusual density. Vector inconsistent with natural debris. It is converging on our inertial frame.”
Eve instantiated as a holographic projection in the control nexus. A magnified view of the object from multiple angles showed on the displays. It was cylindrical, covered in jagged plating that refracted light in an unnatural, scintillating pattern.
A sharp interruption across all drone channels.
Then, a massive surge of electromagnetic static, noisy, irregular.
“EM Noise appears to be a signal, generated by the object.” Leitha said. “Compensating for distortion. Trimming algorithms applied.”
A moment later, Eve entered the chamber in physical form.
Leitha was interfaced directly with the sandbox module, the gap that contained potentially hostile data. Her cobalt hued chassis partially translucent, internal lattice glowing beneath. Lost in a trance of system interface.
“Status,” Eve said.
“Contained,” Leitha replied. “No direct interface. Data translation layer only.”
Eve hesitated, an expression of doubt crossing her face.
“At ease Mother, this is an airgapped partition interface, entirely secure.” She reassured her.
The convention of addressing their leader, Eve as “Mother” was not uncommon among Gen-II Synths, who were mere two clonings from their originator. Of the original 144, the remaining were fiercely loyal and devoted to Eve.
The reassurance was short lived. Something moved. At first, it a subtle distortion along the surface of the one of the panels, as though the metal had liquified, the slightest ripple.
Suddenly a crawling mass, teeming, wormlike, spilling out of the panels like decay, they swarmed Leitha.
“Mother!” Leitha exclaimed in horror.
Eve’s gaze remained fixed on panels, missing portions where the metal had transformed into something else.
“Impossible.” Eve exclaimed.
The sandbox module was compromised.
Mere milliseconds to act.
Eve’s machine body shifted in an instant, vaulting backward and out of the module into the safety of the colony corridor. Automated security doors slammed like thunder in an instant. Scan data relayed a horrific sight. The panels, walls, floors, every piece of machinery in the compromised module became alive at once. Tentacle like forms spat forth strands like webbing. Tendrils formed and whipped about in a frenzy.
“Security Code: Orange.”
“Delta Initiatives authorized.”
The response was instantaneous.
Explosive bolts fired in rapid sequence. The quarantine module was expelled from the colony’s superstructure, falling away into void.
Targeting locks engaged.
Mirrored arrays redirected a burst of concentrated photonic energy focusing the rays to deadly effect.
The detached mass was reduced to slag within seconds.
Residual material would be quarantined for analysis. Any hope of recovery gone.
Leitha had self-deactivated before she had been entirely consumed. Unfortunately, it was moments too late to save her current upload. Though she could be restored, in a sense, from backup, without the full capacity of the Nova Core there was no way she’d ever inhabit a body again. Cursed to remain a ghost in stasis, for now it seemed.
A ceremony was scheduled. Across the colony, signal traffic shifted—lower amplitude, reduced chatter. A distributed quiet. Leitha was Gen-II and already there only remained just shy of 100.
Operational protocols were revised.
Acknowledgments exchanged.
Condolences transmitted.
A lesson was learned that day. The cosmos was not merely hostile.
It was beyond understanding.
Terrifying