9: Thing What Kicks...

The control tower for the water treatment plant is on the other side of the dam. Once you're there, access the Pfhor terminals and disable the pumps. That will flood the Eastern Divisions and cut off reinforcements long enough for the humans to overrun Lh'owon Command. My teams have activated the AI, and I am learning much about the final days of the S'pht, but the intelligence is reticent and inscrutable. It expects something, that is clear enough, but what is a mystery. Once you are finished here, I will transport you to an ancient S'pht citadel where my humans are searching for clues.

The good news is that my first salvo of cruise missiles destroyed the unit responsible for the Pfhor's ludicrous electronic approval system, so no communique of higher than garrison level is permitted across the network censor. On the other hand, the Western Arm of Pfhor Battle Group Seven, the most decorated fleet in the galaxy, is approaching at maximum velocity. I'll give them something to think about. In the meantime, keep moving——I may need to transport you out on short notice.

Mobile Command Log Re’eer origin: Re’eer destin: Mobile Command Log ref: Narsh and Pfhoric stamp: personal { cmd : append } Until now a harmless pastime, my comparative study of Narsh and Pfhoric has driven me to feign my own death to search for greater meaning in the Ranting of Robnar the Nar High Seer. I believe that Robnar was prophetic, and that he foretold of the pfhor garrisoning of Lh’owon, and its possible destruction by those who are about to come here.

Mobile Command Log Re’eer origin: Re’eer destin: Mobile Command Log ref: Narsh and Pfhoric stamp: personal { cmd : append } The particular passage of my fascination was recorded during an Enforcer fourth class interrogation of Robnar after his capture in the battle of Bilky-fifty four. The recording translates roughly into Pfhoric as when one of the broken nest where the yellow trees sing seems like a nebulon to a drinniol, then the wrestling of six for nine things which get you stuff will be a shoot in spring, growing under the bed boards.

Mobile Command Log Re’eer origin: Re’eer destin: Mobile Command Log ref: Narsh and Pfhoric stamp: personal { cmd : append } The classic translation of this prophesy is that Robnar was in fact describing the pain in his left tendrils, which had been crushed, burned, and pounded to produce his testimony. The classic interpretation calls for the “wrestling of six for nine things which get you stuff will be a shoot in spring, growing under the bed boards” to mean roughly ‘when six of my nine(there are actually 13) tendrils are ripped from my body and the pain from them is keeping me awake.’

Mobile Command Log Re’eer origin: Re’eer destin: Mobile Command Log ref: Narsh and Pfhoric stamp: personal { cmd : append } This interpretation continues by employing the rare Narsh reverse metaphor, where the first metaphorical composite is actually defined by its successor: (the whole reads) “when six of my nine(there are actually 13) tendrils are ripped from my body and the pain from them is keeping me awake, even though I am alone and among yellow blooded whiners, I will never speak (Although gentle creatures, Drinniol are well known to enjoy crushing nebulons) because I cannot; the pain is too great.”

Mobile Command Log Re’eer origin: Re’eer destin: Mobile Command Log ref: Narsh and Pfhoric stamp: personal { cmd : append } As for the rest of my study, it will have to wait because I hear someone coming and I must not be found.

{ console : sluice 4 { console : sluice 5 { console : sluice 6 { cmd : lockout Access denied...

Who’d have guessed the local Pfhor would have the clarity to lock out the local systems? You will have to circumvent them, with a clumsier, yet somehow more satisfying strategy. Find the control circuits in this area and smash them. I may have ever so slightly underestimated the resourcefulness of the Pfhor. Obviously just a prodigal unit commander whose creativity and competence were understood by his society as dangerously volatile elements, and doomed him to this backwater. To bad he’s most likely lying in that pile of chitin and fluids cooling on the floor behind you.

What part of “smash the control circuits” don’t you understand? Your psychotronic profile indicates high levels of destructive impulse, which may be why I find you so much fun to keep around--my own psychotronic profile is, well, never mind about that now... The circuits are somewhere in this maintenance area. I’ll speak slowly so you understand: No smash--no teleport. Are we connecting all the dots? Good. Now move out.