Stargate: Loki's Folly
Journal Entry #1
I could start this with the stereotypical "once upon a time," maybe even "on a dark and stormy night." If only it could be so easy.
However, it boils down to this: one minute I was alive. Then I was not.
It took me some time to figure it out later, but essentially I was kidnapped from my home on Earth by some alien named Loki. At first I thought it was one of those animatronics made to look like a Roswell grey. To my horror, it was no robot.
Unfortunately, the sick little bastard alien was experimenting, and had tired of focusing on genetics. That thing made ME into a robot. A Replicator, as it called me. Whatever the hell that is. What I know now boils down to a few facts.
One: I no longer have a pulse.
Two: I can feel every single nanite that makes up my current "body."
Three: I can hear the ship's computer inside my mind… well, essence, I suppose.
This Loki played around with me, shooting electrical impulses into me (which hurt, by the way), running scans on my software, etc. As I was not entirely cognisant for the first few days, I can be sure of nothing.
Oh, that leads to fact number four: one week after I was turned into a machine, I managed to take control of the ship computer from my isolation tube. I think Loki did not expect me to accomplish that, as the firewalls in the system were mediocre, at best. At least, they were mediocre for Replicator technology. Which means that my "primitive Earth mind" understood exactly none of it, but my subconsciousness seems to get along with replicator subroutines rather swimmingly, and I found myself rewriting the access codes without even thinking about it. It felt similar to when I have found myself humming a tune without thought.
With barely a twitch of my eyebrow (and how a swarm of nanites can still translate an unconscious muscle memory tic to a physical motion is absolutely beyond me), the Asgard Loki found itself transported to a location the ship computer designated as "Stargate Command."
Considering the fact that I watch Wormholes Extreme pretty religiously, the name was a bit of a dead giveaway to me. Also, those dirty conniving bastards for hiding the truth through the Sci-Fi channel, of all places.
I must admit, as much as I wanted my freedom, I did not necessarily want to shoot the alien out of an airlock. Trying to save one's entire species is not exactly an unworthy goal. However, I did not appreciate being the designated lab rat.
Once I was alone in the ship, I found myself creating these spider-like… minions, I suppose, to take full control of all systems, as well as tune up and upgrade anything and everything I could. Some of it was instinctual, like a sort of base programming that I found myself behest to follow. The rest was my desire to not end up being killed, or recaptured by another Asgard for "testing."
Well, I suppose shut down would be more accurate now. Can a sentient machine actually be killed?
Once I moved the ship out of the Sol system, my attention turned to my own "condition."
It took all of about two and a half seconds to determine my mind would not be able to be inserted back into a purely organic body. I had been inside the machine too long. I am not ashamed to admit I felt like crying for what felt like hours.
Side note: as a consciousness inside a machine, mere seconds feels like hours. This is absolute hell to adjust to.
My next solution was a bit more… creative, I suppose. Well, maybe not creative, but useful. Who knew the Terminator movies would be helpful, after all?
As my new (read: stolen) ship entered an empty solar system later that day, I was no longer in a body comprised of just nanites. I had a mechanical skeleton (made with the ship's matter replication device) with an organic body grown around it, and a cardiovascular system that had both blood and nanites flowing through it.
I've seen Terminator 2. I refuse to be an anthropomorphic blob of metal "liquid." One highly focused EM pulse and I would be reduced to a puddle of broken nanites.
Also, I am (was?) a twenty six year old man. I greatly enjoy eating, and intercourse. Both of which are rather difficult without the proper, uh, "plumbing." I am not ashamed to admit that. I refuse to be a nigh immortal robot (do Replicators psychologically expire? Ugh, I have too many questions and absolutely no answers) without being able to properly enjoy a steak, and a night out with a (hopefully) beautiful woman. I think I would rather throw myself into a black hole than suffer that indignity.
Wow, I still need to clear up my brain. Or is it CPU now? Fuck sake, I have become more A.D.D. than my neighbor's kid.
At any rate, even moving into my T-3000 mock-alike body, the Replicators still follow my orders. I suppose the base programming followed my consciousness along into the new body. Either way, I doubt I should complain.
My happiest moment to date, even as I write this entry, was the realization that the ship has matter replication technology (think star trek). Oh, from here on out, I think I should refer to it as a matter forge, as trying to keep things straight of a Replicator using a replicator will even confuse me.
I digress. The matter forge; the single most important piece of technology I could have possible stumbled upon. Why, you ask?
In Star Trek, they go on about how the food replicators could theoretically create anything, but the more complex the creation, the higher the power requirement. I had a hypothetical rebuttal: why not use the matter forge to disassemble one type of matter (an asteroid, for example) and turn it into energy? Then take that energy to create something else?
Since my new ship has a fully functional matter forge, I took it into my own hands to test this hypothesis. After all, if it worked, I could quite literally create anything. Absolutely anything.
The test worked beyond my wildest hopes.
Two thousand metric tonnes of space rock turned into a duplicate of this Asgard ship. Granted, I could probably decrease the amount of input material needed with a bit of refinement, but it was a workable solution!
I will deny this until the end of time; there was no victory dance. Ever. At all. Anyone says otherwise, they are lying.
Now, as I did not want to be flying around in Asgard ships all the time, I turned to Earth designs. Yes, I am aware that the only space ship designs on Earth are in movies, tv shows, and videogames. That does not mean that they are not viable.
I am not ashamed to admit that the highly simplistic designs of the ships in the game Halo appealed to me greatly. A gigantic space cannon with a reactor and engines welded onto it, wrapped in a layer of thick armor. What is there not to like about that?
So, where is all of this leading? I have no idea. What I can tell you is that I am sitting on my (current) flagship, a recreation of a Phoenix-class colony ship refit, surrounded by Replicators. This, while other ships in the system are in the process of demolecularizing two asteroid belts, three moons, and a small planetoid. All for the purpose of creating a massive fleet of ships.
After all, I may not be strictly human anymore, but I really, really, do not like the idea of a race of parasites enslaving entire worlds filled with humans.
A/N: This is a bit of an intro / prelude chapter to an idea that has been poking my brain for a few months now. It's also my first re-introduction into authoring a fanfic in years.
A word of warning: this story will not strictly follow SG1. It will also address a few inconsistencies that have bothered me for years. This story is also mainly for my own enjoyment. My putting it here on fanfiction is to share my insanity with you readers. Like it, or don't. That much is your call.
So, let's see how it goes, shall we?