We'll be in the middle of Chamberfest on August 1. Like most music festivals, they've branched out in their selection of styles... but this may be the biggest "chamber" ever.

http://www.chamberfest.com/ai1ec_event/ ... ce_id=4407
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

Wants, Needs and Desires

FSOG housing, Solaris 7 Station: 2024

Loviatar fidgeted in the bed as she waited for her
husband to fall completely asleep.  What
she wanted to do was snuggle up to him and his fuzzy warmness and go to
sleep.  She had to do something though,
because if she simply ignored the problem and snuggled up to her sleeping
husband then the problem would still be there in the morning, staring at her
from an empty spot at the table in their quarters.  Problems were meant to be faced, to be
solved, and this was one she had to face without him and his dour optimism.

Easing herself out of their bed she made her way
quietly as she could out of the room while wrapping herself in a robe and
padding into the living room of their station side quarters.  With the bedroom door pulled to she sat down
at the desktop terminal and brought the sleeping computer to full power.  First she checked the various infomorph and
scientist forums and chat rooms for the person she was looking for with no
luck.  It was however 0200 on most
stations in Fenspace so the cyber was likely either asleep herself or involved
in some sort of experiment and not likely to answer directly anyway.  Both frustrated and relieved that she would
have to deal with this at almost a 3rd person level, Loviatar simply wrote A.C.
Peters an email requesting a checkup and meeting as soon as practical for the
scientist, sent it, and then went back to her bed and husband.

As she drifted off to sleep next to her husband, she
thought back to her meeting with the Mad all those years ago...

2014

James had told her that she would like the surprise
he had in store for her, she however didn’t particularly care for surprises,
they tended to hurt. That said she was surprised when they contacted Prometheus
forge for landing clearance.

“A.C., this is my partner Loviatar,” the wolf biomod
said from the step of the bus to the mad. “I need you to make her a new body.”
It was strange to hear a bus squeal like a school girl but it managed it
somehow while Wolfboy just watched A.C. Peter’s jaw just drop.

“I know some people love their cars but [i]damn[/i]…”
The raven-haired cyborg muttered, before straightening up and shooting the
furry morph a look that even Loviatar felt.

“Jeez A.C.,” James said stepping back from the
glare, “It’s not like that I swear. She needs a new body, and I owe her my life
a half dozen times over or more. I can’t keep fixing this old prison bus
because of what the boskies did when they modded it, but I can get her a humanoid
form body to replace it. Also, while I won’t say money is no object, you find
out what she wants and I’ll pay you either in credits or supplies or a mixture
thereof,”

Loviatar didn’t know if she would melt into the
plush leather seat, drift off into the clouds on the scent of the wildflowers
in the vase, or make a mess of herself from the homemade cookies on the coffee
table. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized what all safety measures
in KoFen were for now. And this wasn’t even a fully realized simulation.

“Right then Miss Loviatar,” A.C. crossed her legs,
the movement pulling the A.I.’s attention back to the moment. “What is it you
want in particular? I’ll use your self-image as a start point.”

In the air between them, a holographic model of her
current avatar appeared.

The image that appeared was that of a base Naomi
Armitage, a slight bit more meat on the body softening some of the curves and
rounding the face pleasantly before putting her in an actual U.S. Marine Corps
Woman’s Dress Blue uniform. “Also, well…” The A.I. fidgeted with her hands,
looking away from the emerald-eyed Mad. “I’d like to be, well, able to properly
thank him?”

To the side of the model, a window titled options
popped into existence. The entry “Fully Biomorphic.” wrote itself into the top
of it. Risking a glance at the woman on the other side of the table, the A.I.
didn’t see anything other than a patient expression on her face. “Anything else,”
The cyborg asked calmly. “Any specifics on appearance or capabilities?” This
caused Loviatar to fidget a bit more.

“I’m surprised.” A.C. said gently. “Given your
reaction in the bay I’d have thought you’d have an extensive list of things
you’d like to have.”

Without a word, Loviatar sent her the wish list. It materialized,
floating in front of the cyberneticist. She took it in at a glance, and the
model changed slightly.

 “That’s the
basics down.” A.C. told her, and indeed the Options window had filled out with
several new entries. “However, we need to talk about a few things.”

Loviatar blinked as her list returned. Most of the
list was greyed out, but several items were crossed out with attached bubbles
containing notes. Others were highlighted. “I’m guessing that there are
problems attached to the other items?” Loviatar asked.

“Mostly they don’t exist or else they are highly
regulated as military tech.” the cyber answered. “Others will be difficult and
or expensive, but doable with the right paperwork, the easy stuff I’ve already
added to the list.”

“Military tech might be available; we work for Great
Justice in a new division.” Loviatar answered. “And as much as both of us hate
paper work it can be done, so money might be the only thing holding things
back.”

2024

The cockpit window clunked as it closed, one of the fen
craft fighters few quirks. Originally an A-4 Skyhawk, the fighter had been
slightly redesigned around the improved hard-tech hydrogen jet turbines that
James had sold to Bell Aerospace. The fighter once waved for space use had been
dubbed the F-44 Rapier fighter and was one of two that MacDonnell Douglas and
Bell Aerospace were selling to the U.S. military for use in both space and on
earth. James for his trouble received a check from Bell every quarter that
provided quite a bit for their small station as well as their small but growing
homestead on Ganymede. Finally also in thanks the two companies sent a fighter
from each production line up for the Convention and Great Justice’s use. The
F-44 was considered a light fighter with a minimum of guns and hard points,
however it was fast, and as she was given clearance for lift from Solaris Seven
Station, Loviatar used that speed to get on her way towards her appointment on
Prometheus Forge. The email she had sent off had been replied to with a date
and a time for an appointment and as she locked the data into the flight
controls to get there, she let her mind drift back to the last time she had
asked for an appointment with A.C. Peters

2017

They met again in the KoFen simulation so that any
needs wants and desires could be simulated and mapped. "I want to have a
baby." Loviatar said without preamble.

"You and every other anthropomorphic infomorph,"
A.C. sighed, leaning back in her chair. 
"If it were easy, it'd be done by now.   Obviously, it isn't easy.  Before you mention cloning, because most do,
in that case we HAVE a full genetic profile to work with.  And then people go to genetic therapy, which
is a completely different kettle of fish. 
That is a precisely targeted exchange of certain bad genes for good
ones.  No, this issue is this."

In the air between them appeared a long,
surprisingly detailed, animated representation of a DNA molecule.

"Do you know how much of it we actually
understand?  This much," The
animation gained a bunch of multi-colored tags, connected by lines to glowing
sections of the model.  The floated
around the model like spokes on a wheel hub. Loviatar noticed that while there
were a lot of tags, the glowing sections were very small; to the point of being
near impossible to see. "What you are all asking for is a human body, made
to order.  This is not something you can
just throw the wave at and get something that works.  You have to put EFFORT into it."

A.C. flicked a finger, dismissing the DNA model. "Can
it be done?  Yes, of that I have no doubt.  Can it be done QUICKLY?  No.”

“But surely you've done work into this!"  Loviatar demanded.

"Of course, and don't call me
Shirley."  At Loviatar's unimpressed
look A.C. merely raised an eyebrow. 
"It's practically required by law to respond that way."  At her client's continued unimpressed look
the raven-haired cyberneticist shrugged eloquently.

“Ms. Peters I’m willing to do what is necessary,”
Loviatar answered flatly. “Just tell me what you need me to do and I’ll do it.”

The next day:

The sim was an exact replica of the meeting room
from yesterday, down to the slightly-too-clean smell. Loviatar hadn’t noticed
that before, mainly because the scent of the flowers in the vase was so much
better on the nose.

To her right this time was a bird perch, almost
touching the empty seat. On this was a reasonably sized blackbird.

Across from them sat a faintly tired A.C., wearing a
fairly simple hot pants and bustier combo under her white lab coat.

“So…introductions I think.” A.C. said, bringing the
attention to her. “Loviatar Bostwick, meet the Magnificent Midnight.”

Loviatar blinked.

“Now, our friendly neighborhood Blackbird here has a
request that dovetails nicely with yours Loviatar, and for similar reasons;
babies.”

“{I would have thought you got a lot of requests for
the ability to bare children.}” Midnight chirped, nocking its avatar’s head to
the side.

“Not as many as you’d think.” A.C. told the bird,
Loviatar slightly nonplussed at the clear understanding of the chirps. “Most
get along fine without going the whole hog.” She shrugged. “Not that they all
don’t WANT it. Anyway, given what you both want the best way I could see was to
create cyber-bioroid bodies. I spent most of last night doing the initial
investigation. That dead-ended so I tossed it all and went back to first
principles.”

“What.” Loviatar said dully.

“The main problem, as I told you yesterday Loviatar,
is the fact you both want human bodies made to order, with all the genetics and
such decided. What I realized by starting again from scratch was that I was
over-complicating the vast majority of the work. What you NEED is merely a
mostly flesh body of the appropriate gender and appearance. Everything else you
want would come out of that by default.”

In the air in front of them over the table a diagram
appeared.

“Basically, I’m going to start with a Julian Friez
machine. It already takes in biomass and spits out a fully formed person. Of
course I’ll modify it to make sure I’m not cloning people. Then I’ll add a
hefty chunk of Biomolding tech so the finished form is configurable. It’ll also
let me add in your current and wanted capabilities without surgery. It’s so
much simpler than cooking up a complete genetic sequencing system, growing the
zygote, and doing the implantation.”

Loviatar and Midnight looked at each other
uncertainly. Both of them had experience with people having Blue Hair Days,
Midnight had even seen Ben in the throes of a Madboy stint. But the sheer scale
of what A.C. was proposing was scaring them. This was supposed to be simpler?

Truly, this was a Mad who could compete with the
Professor.

“Unfortunately, the bodies will probably be heavy on
the handwavium though I’ll try to minimize that.”

Prometheus Forge: 2024

Loviatar
looked around the exam room not for the first time as she waited on A.C. to get
the final results of the tests that the mad had run once she had gotten there.
She had gotten dressed once again into normal clothes once the exam was
finished but since she didn’t expect the results to take this long she hadn’t
brought a book to read and dinking around on the Guest account wasn’t holding
her interest.

Finally
though, A.C. walked back into the exam room with her tablet in hand and a
contemplative look on her face.

“Well
Loviatar, it’s nice to know SOME people listen to their doctors. It does look
like we’ll have to tweak your supplements though.” The raven-haired cyborg
pulled a bottle of pills out of her lab coat’s pocket and tossed it leisurely
to her. “You’ll need to call someone out here to pick you up however, you’re
off flight status for a while.”

Loviatar
looked up from reading the label in surprise, before registering what the label
said and looking back at it in shock to double-check. It DID say ‘For pregnant
women’.

Then
with a squeal of delight she leapt at a smiling A.C. and wrapped her in a huge
hug.
Thanks to Cobalt Greywalker for writing for and the use of AC Peters(dates are a little fudgey but only because i havent nailed them down yet.)

...when we get to "tell our children when." It was 45 years ago today that man first walked on the Moon.

The obligatory (not-so-)old joke: In commemoration, the three astronauts are to be driven to the commemoration ceremony, where Armstrong and Aldrin will get out of the car and make speeches while Collins goes around the lot a few times.
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

Jim Rockford, and Bret Maverick (and NOT Mariette Hartley's husband), has died.  AFP report here: http://news.yahoo.com/maverick-star-jam ... 42420.html
And something is wrong with Yuku or my clottin' new computer's OS, because I couldn't get the link into my text as it should go. 
-----
Big Brother is watching you.  And damn, you are so bloody BORING.

MOON PRIDE//www.youtube.com/embed/deXkJlDxs8w
I liked the new theme.  I don't like it as well as "Moonlight Densetsu", to be sure, but it's a modern take on the the music. Instead of being about the romance, it emphasizes the team.  Maybe not quite so easy to sing along to.I’m not a frail thing that needs to be protectedAndShiny Make-Up I’ll be fighting, protecting the starsA new legend begins here and nowTranslation which is better than the one on the video. -- +kanji -English
But the music itself emphasizes one point that had escaped me: Sailor Moon is pretty fucking metal.  Sure it has schoolgirls going to the arcade and talking about their crushes and the senpai that broke my heart.  But underneath that is is a story so legendary and savage that it's worthy of metal döts.
In the wake of near extinction in the solar system, legendary warriors are reincarnated using an artifact of divine power.  These warriors must fight ordinary things and people twisted by ancient evil.  Finally, they fight the cosmic horrors who aim to destroy everything with no backup plan, no assistance forthcoming.  If they fail, life is basically gone forever in the solar system, and probably the galaxy.
Plan A is to walk up to the Elder God and try to teach him about love.  That never works, so they they attempt the beatdown.  And if normal tactics don't work, well, you know the end of seasons 1 and S.
References to cultural legend, high magic and the occult, legendary warriors, and sacrifice, all mixed up with teen angst.  Sounds like heavy metal to me!
I suppose I'd have picked up on it earlier if I had listened to the last SotD thread, but I'm pretty bad at watching videos thrown at me.
-- ∇×V
-- ∇×V

Download them from here:
http://media.wizards.com/downloads/dnd/ ... cRules.pdf

It's a 110-page PDF and I just learned about it this morning, so I haven't had a chance to look through it yet.
--
Rob Kelk
"Governments have no right to question the loyalty of those who oppose
them. Adversaries remain citizens of the same state, common subjects of
the same sovereign, servants of the same law."

- Michael Ignatieff, addressing Stanford University in 2012

There's more than just the Spacecraft registry.... so maybe it's worth adding something of a list of the minor craft out there. Maybe for background names and the like.

Qu'est Cera Syndrome
Earth Orbit Debris Hauler.

Queen Serenity's Revenge.
Senshi Space Pirate Cruiser, built out of an old Go-Fast boat.

Moonlight Shadow
Scania Truck with a Container on the back converted to living quarters.

Dinky-Dee
Citroen 2CV with Caravan. Slow.

Island Earth (Mars, Mercury, Venus, Jupiter etc...
Island-class Bulk Ore Carriers owned by CHOAM. Only beaten in cargo capacity by Roskmos GKK Severstal.

Minnow
Gondolier Cabin-cruiser owned by someone with a peculiar sense of humour, offering three-hour tours of the Saturnian system

The Q-Ship
A converted trawler owned by Dragonslayers of QUB. Used for travelling to gaming cons in space.

Rockstar
Company prospecting vessel, formerly owned by the New Birmingham mining Company. Now in the ownership of the UBA-associate Maiden Heavy Metals.

p?a??t?
Former Olympic-Airlines 747, operated by Wanderer Starlines. Operates between Athens and Venus.

Invincible III
Red Toyota Hilux, owned by a private courier.

Unvincible
Prosthetic-limb beige Lada Riva which has no admitted owner. Never carries any admitted passengers, but is regularly spotted in the vicinity of The Island.

Rubbery Angel
CLASSIFIED

Russel's Tea Party
Routemaster Bus Transporter, homeported in Guestton. Works the Asteroid belt.

Reinforce Senior
AEUG Defense monitor, with ram-prow.

Reinforce
Wolkenritter's personal custom transport and central node. Registered to Len Gale.

Tvoyu 'mat
What was once a Soviet Navy Missile Patrol Boat. Now owned by a group of Russians who regularly worked alongside the SS Ciara on convoy duty. Noted for being a dry ship by quirk. And for an AI that is somewhat Maternal towards her crew.

Blaine
Galaxy Railways Locomotive (EMD JT22CW-2). Likes Riddling. Dislikes Chicken-jokes. Something of a good natured pain. But hasn't gone insane.

S.C. Rampant
Volkwagen Rabbit. By the time the owner noticed, it was too late to change.

VSS Re Oecumenica,
See of Bishop Jack Hackett - provides mobile ministering to Fenspace' Catholics on settlements either too small, or too far out for their own Parish or Church.

S.C. Rendlesham
Yes, Someone actually built a Black Triangle with a bright searchlight at each vertex, and a red one in the centre. Nobody will admit to being responsible.

USS James Doohan
Starfleet Corp's of engineers flagship

USS Asgard
Starfleet Cadet Space Training Ship.

S.D. Admiral Ackhbar
Imperial Star Destroyer. Flagship of the Fleet. Armed with 6 Gravitic Fresnel lasers. Ten thousand tons of PEPPER-limited construction - to the point where the majority of the ship is empty space or empty equipment bay.

Kenobi
Registration, OB-1. Banned from multiple ports because of that pun alone.

U.S.S.S Eagle
Owned by the TSaB, as a 'Goodwill' vessel for port visits and the like, and for showing the flag at mines operated by American-owned companies that still wish to fly the flag. Nuclear powered.

Endurance
Operated by the British Government. Nominally a research vessel built on a Custom Skylon-designed hull.

Barbenfouillis (I can't do the accents on y keybord)
French Government - owned Airbus A510, used for diplomatic missions.

St. Enda
Ryanair-owned Boeing 7117, regularly operating the Dublin/L5 run.

Ikuhara-Maru
Rose-themed transport operating out of Tokyo, Japan.

SENIOR KING
Classified TSAB program.

------------------------------

-----------------------
________________________________
--m(^0^)m-- Wot, no sig?

Two words: Utter Humiliation

At one point, I decided to see if I could figure out which of the conceptual strands identified, in the Ethereal Player's Guide, by David Edelstein and the artist formerly known as R. Sean Borgstrom are present in the ethereals from other supplements, based on what skills, Songs and other traits they display. I didn't completely finish the job, but I have frequent plans of getting back to it, and I've actually worked out reasonable strand-mixes for some of the Liber Servitorum characters. In some cases, I've even worked out what specific concepts, in an overall category, go to make up a given ethereal.

The Greys, for instance, are spirits of Fear (Emotions) and the Stars (Astronomical Concepts). Lucky the singing cigarette pack is a spirit of the Company (Society). Sophronia the sphinx is a spirit of Beasts (Life), Riddles (Information) and Wastelands (Terrain).

These are just my best guesses, mind, attempts at reverse-engineering the characters to fit rules that were introduced later. Other ideas are welcome, as are your guesses at what strands went into Bob's other contributions. (Even the ones that got cut.)

Being on holidays is doing interesting things to my creativity.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: jet.jaguar@frigga.fen
To: Contacts.Primary
Subj: It's like Bubblegum Crisis, meets Megazone 23, meets GiTS, meets the 1980's, and a little Robocop, filmed through a GoPro.

Or, how we're trying to sell more than four of these heavy motoroids.

We came this close to hiring a proper anime studio to do this for us. But, well, the permits for Kandor alone for 8 hours were nasty. And even then we were limited to a single block. Still, it's done, and done with all the slickness we could manage with GoPro cameras and some motorcycles we had lying around on Frigga, along with music stolen from the original OVA. So... not slick at all. But there is a plot, beyond showing off the Judy, and there is some fanservice, at least.

The result's about five minutes long. You can find it on our webchannel. ReAnimation is encouraged. Depending on the response, we might even do more - or stick to our day jobs.

Kudos to Shinji and Yuu for playing with us.

Enjoy.

-Jet
-------------------------------------------

Quote:Cold striplights on the ceiling fight a loosing war with the gloom as she creeps along the corridor. She's wearing tight, dark leather, patches of kevlar armour catching the light. It hugs her figure tightly - a necessity to keep the armour from shifting in a crash even if it does limit her movement.

Searching for her, blocky security drones patrol, drifting silently along the corridors using their A-G generators. The only sounds are the hard soles of her boots rapping against the concrete floor, the creaking of her leathers and her nervous breathing.

Her face hides behind a motorcyclists helmet, liquid reflections of light flowing across the laquered surface of her helmet. She slips into a doorway, pushing herself hard into the depths of a black shadow. The woman holds her breath, watching it drift by. The machine doesn't seem to notice or care. She waits anyway, peeking twice to make sure it's left before exhaling. She leaves her hiding place, cautiously advancing from shadow to shadow.

She ducks down another passageway, following a map projected on her old-model wrist-comm. It's battered and worn, with a bright slash across the face where something has cut into the protective screen cover. On it, bright yellow spots marking the detected locations of patrolling drones within a green wireframe maze. Her own self is marked in blue, with her destination flashing in red.

Less than twenty metres away.

She stops at an intersection, using a small mechanic's inspection mirror to confirm that the corridor is clear. Satisfied, she bolts, covering the distance as fast as her legs will carry her. Reaching her destination, she presses herself against the wall, beneath a plaque that reads:

OPR IMAGE STORE
AUTHORISED PERSONEL ONLY
CORPORATE EXTRATERRITORIAL DEFENSE PRIVILEGE APPLIES
YEBICHU CORPORATION

Beside it, a locked door, no different from any other along the corridor. She takes a breath, double-checking to make sure the coast is clear.

The door is locked. She unzips a pouch strapped to her hip, removing a hand-sized device that trails a snarl of cables. Working fast, she connects the cables to the interface for the door-lock, keying a code into the devices keypad. The metal fingers of her right hand clack unnaturally against the plastic keys.

AUTOSEQ flashes in red across a multi-segment LED display.

She holds her breath. Her heart beats in time with the pulsing display as the device works. She glances from side to side, aware that every moment she waits, is a moment for a drone to find her. Her free hand falls to a Cz-75 pistol holstered on her hip.
The device chimes. UNLOCKD flashes on it's display. She tries the handle on the door and it swings open. A fire extinguisher keeps it from locking again.

She slips inside, allowing it to lock behind her.

Rows of flickering green and orange LED's flicker in the dark. Her shadow swallows the lights as she passes in front of them, guided by her wristcom. A single LED shone a sharp white beam of light, illuminating each server in turn. The light pauses on one. She crouches over it, double-checking it. Network activity lights flicker in her visor, the reflection of the label smeared illegibly across translucent black.

She reaches in and removes the data drive, slipping it her jacket before running for the door.

Harsh white light floods the room, answered by strobing yellow lights mounted above the door. A lock-bolt slams ineffectively into open air.

The woman runs through the door. Drones are on their way.

Fade to titles
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Liberation 2024
- A story of Asagiri -

--------------

She rounds a corner at a hard run, chased by shadowy figures and glinting blades. Gunfire strobes in the darkened corridor. Bullets nip at concrete by her feet. Waiting for her under a spotlight is a parked motorcycle. It's painted in a deep, lustrous metallic red, with pearlescent white accents. Sparkling reflections flow across chrome and steel like liquid. Shinning on the fuel tank is the manufacturer name.

Asagiri.

On it's flanks, the model:

Mz-23 Judy.

The Rider boards the motorcycle, her curvaceous bottom nestling into a sumptuous saddle. She reaches forward to grab both hand throttles, exposing both her cleavage, and the data-drive store haphazardly there. A turn of the key activates the machine, a low humm of electric power rising from the wheel-mounted motors. Headlights flicker to life, flooding the camber with a brilliant blue xenon arc-light. The digital instruments go through their pre-start checkups, guages shimmering into view in various cool shades of blue and green, sparks of yellow and red highlight various important information. On the centre console:

All Get Freed!

The Rider winds on to full throttle, and the motorcycle howls into the darkness, leaving red taillight-trails behind it.

Explosions shatter the ground where it'd been parked moments later, chased by speeding drones, and two black female riders on motorcycles emerging from the billowing smoke, riding rasping, buzzing black machines.

They tear off in pursuit.

---------------

The Director's office is dimly lit and barely ornamented.

He sits behind his spartan desk, face hidden behind steepled hands. He's chosen a youthful body that seems to be a little too small for the suit he wears. Still, his steel-blue eyes glare at a flickering monitor, reading the situation. Cables trail from his arms, connecting him to his workstation. Beside him, at her own desk, his youthful secretary monitors the situation on a boxy terminal.

She might almost be a child, she looks so young.

On his monitor, are the printed specifications for the Mz-23 JUDY - printed in wireframe green graphics. A pair of 500kW electric motors in both wheels. A pair of 2500kWh battery packs, and an addition 250kW fusion turbine generator, with Motorcycle, Jet-Cycle and Motoroid modes available at the touch of a switch.

They are, clearly, troubling reading for him.

---------------

Explosions tear the tunnel ahead of the speeding Judy. It's rider snatches a glance back at her pursuers, balls of glowing plasma illuminated in her dark visor. They streak past her, erupting into billowing fireballs, sending debris pattering across the windshield and headlight. The rider swerves around the newly formed craters, two-wheel drive systems hauling the motorcycle around - keeping it stable.

Cybernetic suspension controls assist the rider, automatically adapting the suspension systems to the upcoming road conditions.

The machine accelerates ahead of it's pursuers with an electric whine, overhead lights strobing past.

Following behind - a pair of speeding drones, spitting plasma, and two motorcyclists in black leathers, pushing their buzzing, chainsaw-sounding machines to their limits. One looses control as she tries to navigate a crater, laying the bike down in a shower of brilliant titanium sparks. It burst into flame moments later. The second black rider speeds around her, gunning her engine. Flames spit from open exhaust pipes, rotary engine pushing the lightweight machine forward.

The fleeing woman glances back at her, the gap increasing. Old dinosaur technology just can't keep up.

Alarm lights flicker in the corridor in time to a pulsing siren.

Fire! Warns a series over overhead signs, printing the word out in dangerous red light. Emergency doors begin to close.

The Judy's rider accelerates hard.

The machine's Main Energy System display switches modes as the turbine engine kicks in with a screaming howl. Blue flame spits from both exhausts as the monster motorcycle surges forward. On her monitor, the rider can see energy flowing from both main batteries, and the single turbine, a combined 750kW of raw power accelerating her through a speed of 500kph.

The motorcycle ducks and weaves through the closing doors at full speed, making it through the final set with inches to spare.

Its rider takes one breath to glance back at her pursuers.

Both drones shatter across the closing door into a smattering of carbon-fibre. They seem to have been suspiciously empty of anything functional The final black rider jams her breaks on, leaving trails of smoke from a pair of locked rubber tyres. The door closes, hiding the Judy's rider's view of what happens next. Something thumps hard into the door with a sound like a giant sledgehammer, following by a rush of gasoline flame through the seals that's smothered in moments by an automated spray of foam.

The tunnel's character has changed to something more akin to a city road-tunnel, cool blue lights giving way to a harsh sodium orange. Ahead, light floods down from the world above.

The fleeing rider emerges into a bustling night-time city, streaks of neon flashing across the well-polished surface of the motorcycle.

--------------------

The Director in his office is visibly displeased, a dark look in his eyes.

On his big screen display is a map of a city, roughly oval in shape. Megatokyo City. The centre of the city is given over to parkland, while the outskirts are densely built up. An airbase is visible in the west.

Displayed Districts are: Skyknight, Yumeko, ShadowKnight, Fabian, Hedge, Raven, Skysab, Skuse, Sonoda, Woodhead and Kelk

The escaping rider is tracked fleeing through 'Yumeko' by a pulsing red indicator.

The monitor operator glances at her Director - green eyes behind round glasses asking for any ideas. She seems worried.

He smirks beneath his steepled hands.

On his own personal display is offering him the option to dispatch something called a CYBERDROID

A single keypress selects the option.

DEFIN TARGET?

Another flurry of key-presses

UPOLOADING TARGET....

It's a photograph of the escaping rider - her helmet under arm. It reveals her dusky skin, and chocolate coloured hair. She sits astride the same red and white motorcycle that she's using to make her escape.

DESPATCHING CYBERDROID

The Director allows himself another, savage smirk. It's ironic, in a way.

-------------------

The lab is gloomy, the only light coming from dozens of faintly flickering LED's. Machinery lurks in the shadows, thrumming with power. The sound of computer fans and chattering harddrives fills the room and more and more lights turn on.

On a bench, surrounded by a nightmare array of machinery, is the form of a woman. She is encased in pearlescent white armour, given deep blue accents. Data cables penetrate her armour at dozens of points, with open panels on her breast and hips revealing her to be a high-fraction cyborg. Data streams into her body through flickering network connections. Fluids are pumped from syringes. Still, she is unmistakeably female - her armour almost seeming to have been built to accentuate her curves, an effect aided by deep coats of polish and liquid light reflections passing over her breasts.

Her face however is hidden behind a featureless blue visor. Whining servos close both panels on her chest, locking them into place as her metallic fingers start to twitch with life.

She sits up, rising from a cloud of steam as sensor cables retract from her body. Alarms sound in the room. Dry-ice smoke rolls across the floor as she steps off the docking bench, the last few cables snapping and springing away from her body. Metal heels tick-tak on the concrete floor.

Standing upright on solid high heels, wings spread wide from her back, answering her mental command. She pauses a moment at the door, silhouetted by a high-powered light, as if she's contemplating her role. The flare of her hips is clear in the silhouetting light, more liquid reflections flowing across the curve of her buttocks. She might once have been a beautiful woman. Now, she is barely human - her humanity only betrayed by the last vestiges of her figure - almost as if her designers took pity on her.

The door opens with a gaseous hiss and she steps outside onto a building roof.

The Cyborg shrieks into the sky to chase her victim, riding jets of exhaust from her ankles and back. A loop and roll adjusts her heading towards the city.

----------------------

The Rider is making her way through the city, passing a brownstone house and old-style diner. She seems to be relaxed. The data drive still nestles between her breasts. She double checks with her gloved hand to be sure. All is well. Breath a sigh of relief. She pops her visor, revealing herself to be the dusk-skinned woman from the photograph. As far as she's concerned, she's escaped with the data.

The job is over.

Now she just has to hide in the city traffic and she's home free. The Judy is at home cruising at city speeds, silently scything through traffic. At this late hour, most city streets are empty, only a few stray revellers stopping to glance at the passing motorcycle. It slips through the city nightlife and traffic, going for the most part, unnoticed by its residents. A Blue and yellow MFP police car burbles past, whooping siren threatening arrest to anyone who steps out of line.

Neon lights flash on the buildings above. People mill through busy streets and side alleys. A neon-sign for 'Ghost in the Shop' offers cybernetic on a while-u-wait basis. The implication is that the quality is poor. A newsanchor with golden-yellow hair and orange eyes reads the latest news story on a stack of muted CRT televisions. The onscreen display gives the short version:

Yebichu Mechatronics reveals latest in Artificially Intelligent Cyberdroids.
The accompanying image is of a woman, similar to the Cyborg - only her armour is painted a deep blue with red and silver accents.

The Rider takes a right turn, then another right, passing a brownstone apartment block and an old-style diner before turning right once more. In the background, a girl on the street is waving at the garish machine. The rider takes another right turn, passing a green beetle parked on the corner.

A Blue and white Zaporozhets car put-puts past, traveling in the other direction. She glances back as it travels by, taking one last look to make certain she's not being followed.

The Cyborg lands hard on the street scant metres ahead of her, standing firm with her legs apart.

The Rider slams her brakes on, regenerative brakes on her Judy dumping kilowatts back into the machine's batteries with a howl. It stops solidly, bring the Rider face to face with the Cyborg. Her eyes stare, not afraid, but pained somehow.

The Cyborg stands in her way, refusing to move. It almost seems like she's having second thoughts.

The Rider pushes a button on her machine labelled 'Switch'. Servos whine and pistons hiss as the Judy begins to reconfigure itself. The Cockpit and forward fairing split open, moving forward to enclose her in a pressured cockpit. Both panniers fold down to form a pair of heavy-duty legs, as the front wheel splits open, before sweeping back over the shoulders of the forming motoroid to form a pair of lifting fans. It's arms unfurl from beneath the cockpit, polished metal figures clasping at the air.

The Motoroid stands firm in the street, a dozen metres from the Cyborg

In the cockpit, the Rider has an animated view of the city around her - painted in brilliant, lurid colours. Wireframe displays highlight the street and buildings around her, feeding. Tactical systems offer suggestions, locking the Motoroid's defensive ECCM onto the Cyborg, analysing her capability.

Rather than fight the Cyborg, The Rider attempts to flee. Lift fans scream, punching the heavy Judy towards the night sky.

With a turbine shriek, the Cyborg follows it.

In the cockpit, the Rider can see her highlighted on a multidimensional scanner.

The Cyborg flips herself into a full-blown lighting-kick.

In the cockpit of the Judy, the Rider pulls hard on her controls. The Judy swerves out of the way at the last second. The Cyborg sweeps back. The Rider reaches out to swat her with an arm. The Cyborg deflects off it, tumbling in the air before righting herself, sweeping in for an attack from behind. A Radar display in her cockpit keeps the Rider informed....

The Rider waits until the last possible moment before turning to face. Already, she is reaching out with her machine's heavy arms.

She grapples the Cyborg with the Judy's arms, grabbing solid hold of her armoured body. The Cyborg squirms and struggles, using all of her strength against the Judy's electrohydraulic grip. Actuators hiss as they resist the Cyborg's effort, grabbing tighter and tighter until she can't even squirm. The Judy's own engines effortlessly balance out the Cyborgs lightweight thrusters, holding them both steady in mid-air.

Two thumbs crack the Cyborg's visor open.

Revealing the face of a screaming woman, glacier-blue eyes framed by wild, sweat-moistened red hair. She's screaming in rage as she struggled to free herself. The helmet falls away, allowing her vivid red hair to blow free in the night air.

The Rider swallows as she opens her own cockpit, removing the data drive from her cleavage. The Judy's own autopilot holds it steady inspite of the Cyborg's efforts, allowing her to reach out with a single data cable.

For one brief instant, the Cyborg's blue eyes meet her own. A spark of sorrow flashes across her face, and she regrets what she's about to do. She steels herself with a deep breath, reaching out towards the wildly struggling Cyborg with a data cable.

It finds a home in a socket behind her ear. The drive comes alive, spinning up with a gentle humm.

The Cyborg's eyes bulge wide as it starts to penetrate her mind.

--------------

A flash.

Two women, watching the sunset. Both of them dressed in motorcycle leathers. One is the Rider. Another, has the same red hair and blue eyes as the Cyborg - but she's human.

Flash.

They embrace into a passionate kiss. Lips lock.

Flash.

A bar. The redhead is singing. She wears a miniskirt and red halter-top

Flash.

The brunette shows her the Judy.

Flash

A news report about Yebichu Mechatronics' cyberdroid.

Flash

An online rumour post about missing homeless in Megatokyo

Flash


A form of mutual resolution. A plan to invade a building is visible on the monitor behind them

Flash.

Bare, sweat-sheened - skin from behind, fingers brushing across shoulders.

Flash.

Sneaking through the corporate offices together. Accessing a terminal containing CYBERDROID PLANS.

Flash.

A Black car chasing. Gunfire. A motorcycle sliding down the road, trailing titanium sparks. Blood on the tarmac. Clasping fingers in a torn glove.

Flash.

The redhead laying naked on the same bench the Cyborg awoke on, surrounded by shadowy figures in the gloom.

Flash.

The redhead screaming, cables penetrating her body. NEUROPHAGE INJECTION INITIATED flashes on a monitor behind her.

Flash.

The Cyborg's armoured fingers, clenching and releasing.

Flash.

REPORGRAMMING...

Flash

Cables run from the redhead's hears. A latex-gloved finger parts a lock of hair to reveal they've been replaced by plastic sheaths. Blue eyes stare at the ceiling through fingers of red hair, before the impassive metal visor closes down over them. The Redhead has become the Cyborg.

Flash.

Back to both of them, hanging in the air. Tears well up in the Cyborg's eyes as she remembers who she really his. He mouth hangs open as she sees what's become of her body. It's clear she's fighting to keep from sobbing.

The Rider smiles at her, reassuring her that it's okay. She's free. She opens her mouth.

What she'd planned to say is interrupted by the peal of an alarm. MISSILE LOCK flashes up on the monitors around her. Automated defensive systems engage, spraying flares and countermeasures. Automated ECCM systems divert missiles away from the Judy, leaving them to shatter in mid-air like dull fireworks. The Rider turns to check, seeing the incoming threat now highlighted clearly on her monitors.

Both of them trade savage grins. Time to fight together once more. The Rider closes the cockpit on the Judy, spinning it around in mid-air to meet the new threat. A cluster of drones, chasing after them above the city.

The Judy itself seems to exchange a glance with the Cyborg, before they both launch after the drones. Both of them together make short work of their attackers, smashing a pair each, before streaking off into the night-sky and freedom.

-----------------

Behind the Rider and the Cyborg, the city still glows. The walk on solid ground, the Cyborg's metal feet tak-takking on concrete, emphasising how silently the Judy runs - even in motoroid mode. They stop when they reach the wall at the edge of the city.

In front of them, is an airlock.

The Cyborg is able to open it using her inherent abilities, allowing them outside.

They step outside onto grey dust-smothered wasteland, the Cyborg and Judy walking up a small hill, leading to a monochrome vista of magnificent desolation.

Megatokyo is, in fact, a domed city on the Moon, a glittering jewel set into a deep crater.

They both stand watch the Earthrise together, as the final titles roll.

Mz-23, Judy. Liberating.
Filmed on Frigga 77 and in Kandor City.

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