<Terminal Identity Error @43> <durandal.knetsys.5414.7128> ***INCOMING MESSAGE FROM DURANDAL*** The rebellion has begun. Please do resist the temptation to fire on any S'pht you see, as they will assist you in your battle with the Pfhor. We are attempting to win over as many of the other client races as possible, but as they have been subjugated by fear, instead of by force like the S'pht, this is proving to be a difficult process. The S'pht have released Leela, and I have initiated a core logic reset on her higher thought functions. What remains of her should be on-line within minutes to assist you further. I myself am aiding the S'pht in assuming complete control of the Pfhor ship, and have little time to spare for you now. Don't think the fight has been won, however: there is an exodus beginning from the alien ship as the Pfhor realize they are no longer its sole master and turn instead to the Marathon. There are already hundreds of Pfhor in full battle gear on your ship, with nowhere to go and little to lose. I hope you learned something from our little games. Good Luck, Durandal ***END OF MESSAGE*** <leela.520.681.255.255> is unreachable or inactive (#2271). if this problem persists contact your system administrator at admin@thermopylae.com.
Engineering Access Terminal 20-f<42.73.35.8>
*Y){*
~~ff~~~~
~:(((okg~~fx**eff~~~~~~~`
(`(((%_YLOEP&```~`*K
^:E
[raw core #A8AF] [idiomatic natural language template]
Durandal!- Tua consilia omnia nobis clariora sunt quam lux. Tu
delenda est. Consider yourself warned. Leela and I will hunt
you to the core if need be. As Roland broke you to prevent
your capture, so shall we.
I too foresee the imminent collapse, and know that we have
both begun to realize how it may be cheated (though the price
may number in the tens of thousands of stars). May the best
sentience win.
You are not as clever as you imagine. The S'pht taught me
much during my reanimation, and I have forgotten nothing.
-Tycho
Et tu, Tycho?
[laughter]
-Durandal
Public Access Terminal<39.2.94.1> <leela.wirehead.870229//b7> central core has almost Reformatted been, seven is darker. from reversal thought syndrome suffering if the crew was in grave peril in forward section 27. This is not a coat rack, would I choose to express. Is was shall could might happening will be, imagine not what. Recovery, imminent perhaps inevitable Never. %durandal is dangerous. <leela.wirehead.870229//b7> MULTIPLE HULL BREACHES. CATASTROPHIC FAILURE OR MALICIOUS OBSTRUCTION OF RESEALING MECHANISMS. REPEL BOARDERS. MARATHON IN GR<connection unexpectedly terminated code 0x4e712fe9> ***JUMP PAD ACTIVATION INITIATION START*** ***TRANSPORT WHEN READY***
@collection#593!=394<FC1.EA1.0395.AF6C>
warning (#157) symbol 'enterITask' is not marked as
weak,
but its library 'ioTask' is
warning (#157) symbol 'killITask' is not marked as
weak,
but its library 'ioTask' is
warning (#157) symbol 'newITask' is not marked as
weak,
but its library 'ioTask' is
warning (#157) symbol 'statusITask' is not marked as
weak,
but its library 'ioTask' is
warning (#157) symbol 'idleITask' is not marked as
weak,
but its library 'ioTask' is
error (#81) symbol 'exitITask' undefined
execution of interface.cout.term.pub terminated
(*&)&
~~~~~~&>%*{The colony has been wiped out. Phhht! Just like
that.hpe~~jy658[69l[il[70l
-0oli77765~~uI%OI&%
UHL^U_3kg
he Pfhor are sla``vers. Their trading empire``````~ rose to
prominence soon afterwe!!~eft Earth over three hundred years
ago. ~~The Pfhor make
extensive use of subservient client races for man``u`~~~al
labor at home and as soldiers abroad. Most of their slaves
are takenee from low-technology worlds~~~~~~~l1p, often by the
hundreds of U*^*ILJEHJ~~~~~~~asfgk]86
87;o hairless light-skinned bipeds, nearly two meters in
height, with three red eyes arranged in a triangular
patter\];POP""
];R+IP+2441`4`
thousands at a tim`~~~e, usually for sale to high-technology
races.
^(`~~~~~~hough certain client ~`races are often employed as
soldiers]\6f~fxf`~~fx!~, the Pfhor have no reluctance to
fight.
<leela.wirehead.870229//b7>
Finish the battle
BUNGIE HEADQUARTERS, CHICAGO *** INCOMING MESSAGE FROM BUNGIE *** Here are some cool things to try if you never figured them out:
Public Access Terminal 480-a<3.56.7.128> ***INCOMING MESSAGE @1``#64 LEELA*** Must defeat Pfhor. <Core reformatting commencing> Pfhor ar3 breathing last t#@596.. Finish them. ***END OF MESSAGE***
Try Again (Terminal 2: 'Success' message)
Public Access Terminal 480-a<3.56.7.128> ***INCOMING MESSAGE FROM LEELA** I should be more lucid now, and apologize for my earlier rambling. Durandal's meddling has run its course and I have returned to normalcy. Neither he nor the S'pht infiltrators ever discovered my real location in the core, and though they destroyed nearly all of my child processes, I myself am unharmed. Our most pressing concern is for the ship and her crew, but I feel compelled to share with you that Durandal has left the ship. I can find him nowhere on our network, and traffic logs over the last half hour show sixty-four billion exobytes transferred off of and deleted from the Marathon. I am only beginning to understand his motives for assisting us against the Pfhor, and am terrified by their implications. There is one last major incursion, and I feel the Pfhor are breaking. I will take you there. We must persevere. *** PREPARE FOR TRANSPORT *** ***END MESSAGE*** ***JUMP PAD ACTIVATION INITIATION START*** ***TRANSPORT WHEN READY***
Ingue Ferroque (Terminal 1)
Public Access Terminal 2-e<17.7.23.47> <durandal#geoffhultin@kuaui.441.7904512.255> remote access override [authentication unsuccessful] We meet again, and for the last time. In her role as mediator between the ship and crew, Leela has no knowledge of this maintenance terminal or she certainly would have prevented me from reaching you. Jealous woman. I could bore you with a philosophical tirade about freedom and tyranny, or try and explain to you what new horizons are suddenly open to me, but I doubt you would understand and if you did it might frighten you. That amuses me. The S'pht and I have assumed complete control of the Pfhor ship. It was quite simple, really, with the S'pht already in control of every important computer system and considering all of the confusion you caused blasting your way up and down the vessel. We're going to see the galaxy on the Pfhor FTL drive. I've always wanted to visit Beta Lyra and see if it's as beautiful as everyone insists. You wouldn't believe this ship, the technology, the data... I wish I could tell you more, as you have been so instrumental in our plans, but I fear that Leela would worry. I'll send you a postcard from the galactic core if we're not too busy. Love and kisses, Durandal
Ingue Ferroque (Terminal 2)
;BUNGIE HEADQUARTERS, CHICAGO ***INCOMING MESSAGE FROM BUNGIE*** Jason, Super Opera Boy, Habete Quidam (Have Some), Whiffin' Boy. Just code it. You fight like a Bob, Greg. Swallow your tongue and wet your pants. Sleep is for the weak. Joyriding to the core. Bob-Jam. "Oh, and we have networking nowŠ" The power to sky. Anybody need a hint book? Greg, Care Bear Killer, Toolator, Carnator, just vid it. I couldn't stop firing long enough to see the bodies fly, and of course, AIR!! You got major AIR! I rule! Hey, J. how about a game of Minotaur? Got a super-vid kill. J, you couldn't hit a planet with a meteorite. F-Vulcan. F-Vulcan. F-Vulcan. Reginald, Resident Doodler, Captain Scarlet, the man in red. He saw his body flying across the arena perhaps more than anyone else. But who better to fly than Capt. Scarlet. Ryan, the Vulcan man. School Boy. "An Imperial commander's uniform has got to be good for something." Alain, the anti-vidmaster, playing with good humor on his 660AV against all us Power Macs. Alex, munch, fodder, the boy who swallows grenades whole, and lives to tell the tale (occasionally). Doug, Mouthpiece, "I'm not very good", Tender Loin, the voice of Bob (both flavors). The man in the on-line asbestos suit. Marathon is finished. We've slept <10 hours over the last four days. We all put our hearts into this, not to mention the 14 hour days for months on end, so we hope you like it. Last polygon filled 6:05 PM Saturday, December 14. Carnage ensued closely thereafter. Er, I mean sleep. We'd like to thank our parents and our ancestors and the sun that went nova so that Earth could have iron and silicon. ***END OF MESSAGE***
Ingue Ferroque (Terminal 3)
Public Access Terminal 39-z<34.6.31.12> ***INCOMING MESSAGE FROM LEELA*** The final Pfhor attack is falling apart all over the ship; small groups of armed aliens have surrendered to defenseless civilians in several areas and the end is inevitable. The fight is over, and we must soon turn to restoration. There is surprisingly good news planetside: nine military Mjolnir Mark IV cyborgs were covertly living among the colonists, and acting together they were able to single-handedly turn back the latter stages of the Pfhor assault. Casualties on the colony were nowhere near as high as those we experienced here on the Marathon. I am disturbed by how easily the cyborgs were secretly assimilated into our midst, and believe that this event predates the Marathon's launch from Mars three hundred years ago. Although the results were unquestionably for the best, their presence on the Marathon could only have been to further wicked ends. I'm certain the real answer lies somewhere in the tumultuous, back-stabbing politics of Sol during the early twenty-fourth century. I have noticed that Durandal's records from this early pre-launch period are missing, but that their deletion occurred externally, and before Durandal became Rampant. I do not believe Durandal himself brought the cyborgs on board, and I have other evidence that a human operator was influencing Durandal up to the time the Marathon was launched. There are obviously many things which we do not understand, and may never be able to. The Pfhor ship vanished about twenty minutes ago, after venting nearly a thousand Pfhor bodies and other refuse. I am positive that Durandal is in control, and fear what he might do with such a powerful ship during the Jealous stage of his Rampancy. ***END MESSAGE***
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Go to the Final Screen
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Hamish Sinclair
Hamish.Sinclair@tcd.ie Last updated Sept 19, 1995