Seabrooks Canadian Ham

You arrive for your shift in the TV Titan's hangar to find that the Titan is already away on a sortie, and your colleagues in the maintenance crew are preparing for the Titan's inevitable return. You immediately get stuck in, assisting in running cables along walkways and plugging them into various read-out panels.

Another engineer softly taps you to get your attention. (Aargh - you wish people wouldn't do that. You involuntarily shudder.) "Join us," they say. It's Wolfram; the engineer who looks after the Titan's cooling systems. (Their nickname comes from another name for tungsten, which has the same atomic number as the last two digits of the engineer's serial Fifty-One-Seventy-Four.) You look at where Wolfram is indicating, to see the engineers converging around one comm-station. You hadn't noticed until now, because of your inability to perceive techfolk transmissions. You and Wolfram head over, you still with a bundle of cables on your shoulder.

"Titan to Base," comes the Titan's voice from the comm-station. "Mission concluded with elimination of all targets. All systems nominal. Estimated return in 15 minutes."

A TV the size of the Titan needs a lot of teleport-energy to port anywhere, so it's not uncommon for the Titan to physically jet part of the way towards TV Base before porting the rest of the way. (You suppose it's also a safeguard to throw the skibidis off and prevent them from latching on to the void-pathways. They've stolen some form of teleport tech already - why make things easier for them?)

You and the other engineers continue preparing everything for the Titan's re-arrival. Eventually, a column of teleport-fog manifests in the hangar - you throw the switch to turn on the huge extractor-fans, so that the hangar isn't filled with opaque fog. The Titan materialises within.

"Titan, your readings indicate there is a foreign mass inside your core chamber," says Sixteen-Sixty-Eight, the Engineer Prime. "What is going on?"

"My readings are entirely correct, Sixty-Eight." The Titan reaches into its core chamber, unfurling the arrayed rings of spikes guarding the exit. "Where is Phaeton?"

"Right here, boss!" you say, waving.

The Titan pulls something out of its core chamber and sets it down on the walkway in front of you. It's… a whole pallet of your favourite crunchy snacks.

"Ohhh! Hell yeahhhh!" you say, bobbing up and down with excitement.

"Some skibidis were using a warehouse as an outpost," explains the Titan. "Those looked to still be in date, so I grabbed them for you."

"Have I told you lately I love you?" you say, gazing at the pallet.

"…Are you talking to me or the snacks?"

"Yes." You're not really paying attention.

Two of your colleagues end up porting the pallet to the break room for you, to keep it out of the way. (No-one's going to steal it; you're the only one who benefits from eating food.) You'll probably have to find Polycephaly later and ask them nicely for help teleporting it home. You get stuck into your normal tasks with the Titan's maintenance and calibration, triaging its battle-damage (nothing critical, thankfully).

Sixty-Eight, the Engineer Prime, approaches you, striding busily. (It's their default mode of movement, you reckon. They carry themself with a 'get the fuck outta my way' attitude. You rather admire it!) "When you reach a suitable stopping point," Sixty-Eight says to you, "Come find me in Control Room 2."

"Understood," you reply.

Sixty-Eight nods, and walks off again.

You wrap up your current task and finish the report on your tablet, then head for Control Room 2, readying your tablet and your paper notebook. (Sixty-Eight had asked you once why you still bothered with a paper notebook when you had a perfectly good Alliance-issued tablet to use. You'd explained that you can scribble with a pen faster than with a stylus, and that rewriting your brief paper notes into proper records on your tablet helps the information stick in your brain.)

Engineer Sixty-Eight waves you over, as they finish doing something on their own tablet. The engineer asks you: "You will have seen the schedule today, no doubt?"

"The visit from the other factions? Yes." Two engineers, one each from the other two Titans' engineering teams, are scheduled to visit today. This appears to be a regular occurrence, with representatives of each Titan engineering crew visiting the others for the purposes of knowledge exchange and inter-faction relations. Each advance in the Titans' capabilities is shared with the other factions, with the agreement that any further improvements will be shared back.

"What would you say to showing them around?"

"I'd love to!" you say sincerely. Part of you would rather keep to your normal schedule so you can work more closely with your beloved Titan, but this is a rare opportunity. You suspect, though, that Sixty-Eight is offering it to you not so much as a favour to you, but to hand the task over to the most part-time member - you - so the full-time crew can stay working their usual jobs. Might there also be some subtle politics going on? You know that some techfolk regard you with suspicion, as though you're merely a temporarily embarrassed skibidi and might turn against the Alliance. Maybe letting the other faction engineers interact with you will sow some seeds of 'I met the human and they seemed perfectly nice'. …This is probably your friend Cygnus the diplomat's influence on you. Is this what Cygnus has to think about all the time?

"Could you take on another task on top of that?" Sixty-Eight asks.

"Hit me with it, I'll tell you."

"The creche scientists want to schedule a visit to the hangar so that the cadets can be exposed to new information. I proposed they do it today, so that the cadets get the additional benefit of the seeing members of other factions. There will be one or two scientists visiting - can you show around them around at the same time?"

"Absolutely, chief. I'm on it like stink on a skibidi."

The 'cadets', you know from past experience, are embryonic TVs. They come into existence in dedicated server farms called 'creches', and gradually develop self-awareness. They eventually get to observe the outside world through (normal, non-techfolk) cameras and microphones, until they are intelligent enough to undergo simulated training, and eventually be loaded into real hardware bodies. You're not certain what the scientists' visit will entail, but you guess they'll be coming along with recording equipment so the cadets can observe the hangar from their creche.

"Thank you, Phaeton. I do appreciate your help." Engineer Sixty-Eight reaches out to offer you a fist-bump, which you accept. Sixty-Eight continues: "I have a bit of good news to share: Cygnus will be coming along to accompany the visiting engineers." That's a rare treat, getting to hang out with your friend Cygnus at work. "I must emphasise-" continues Sixty-Eight, on seeing your face light up: "-that this is strictly work-related. Going to need you to stay focused instead of spending the whole time flirting with Cygnus."

"You got it, chief. I can dial it back when needed."

"See that you do," replies Engineer Sixty-Eight.

You nod seriously to show that you comprehend the gravity of the situation. You and Sixty-Eight both leave the Control Room, and you prepare for the upcoming visitors, unassigning from yourself all the tasks you'd previously tagged with your tablet. At the allotted time, you make your way to the hangar entrance.

The bulkhead doors of the hangar begin to open -- this is probably the visiting engineers or the creche scientists or both. You make your way over. It's both.

You nod to Cygnus, who returns the gesture along with a smiling emoticon. "Please enter," you say to the mixed gathering.

You give everyone a moment to step inside so the bulkhead doors can re-seal. You address the small gathering: "Good morning, all. I am Phaeton - that's with a P for piss, not F for flange. I'm the sole human on the TV Titan's engineering team. I also have a Camsign name: it's Sun Driver." You form your name using Camsign as you talk. "And a serial if you prefer that: I am Eighteen-Forty-Two. Please remember that I cannot perceive transmissions - if you need to talk to me, please use audio or sign, or show me text on your tablet or whatever."

You turn to address the two visiting engineers - one each from the Camera and Soundkind factions: "I'll be showing you around the hangar today. Well met."

"Hello Phaeton. I am Kinetic Octopus Drink," replies the Soundkind. Soundkind tend to pick their names depending on what words they personally enjoy the sound of, regardless of the meaning. "I oversee our Titan's melee attack systems." The Soundkind speaks in that synthesised way all their kind do when rendering text to speech, with flat effect with occasional emphasis on the 'wrong' syllables.

"Hello, Kinetic Octopus Drink," you reply. Soundkind like it when you say their names back to them. "You might like to meet my colleagues Seventy-Eight-Thirty-One and Seventy-Six-Seventy-Two," you continue. "Those two oversee our Titan's plasma lance and its dorsal ramming spikes. I'll introduce you once the opportunity presents itself."

"Thank you," says Kinetic Octopus Drink. "May I echo you?"

"Certainly," you reply. You know this as Soundkind shorthand for 'buzz something with echolocation to get a feel for its surface features'. As far as you can tell, Soundkind can see to a limited degree, in the sense that they can read only high-contrast very large print. Their vision is more of a nice-to-have than a major sense. You hold still as Kinetic Octopus Drink walks around you, chirping and honking curiously to build up a mental picture of all your surface textures and contours.

That done, the Camera unit introduces themself next: "Greetings, Sun Driver," they sign. "Self sign-name is High Flyer. Self oversees Titan jets."

"Then you'll want to meet the Sevens," you say. "They specialise in our Titan's propulsion systems - both their serials end in Zero-Seven, so we call them the Sevens. I'll introduce you later when I can."

You turn next to the TV scientists, who are accompanied by a robust wheeled apparatus containing what appears to be a server and a couple of enormous batteries, bristling with small screens, (non-sentient) cameras and microphones. "I'll be on hand to help you also," you say. "I will be primarily assisting the engineers - will you be accompanying us so the cadets can follow along?"

"Just so," replies one of the scientists. "We'll go at the engineers' pace."

An array of diodes lights up on the cadet-cart, and its camera lenses focus on you. One of the cart's screens displays a message:

Ugly-ass bitch

The scientists display horrified emoticons. High Flyer appears mildly alarmed, and so does Kinetic Octopus Drink after a moment's delay (during which you infer High Flyer or someone transmitted the screen message to them). You laugh out loud!

"Phaeton, I do apologise-" begins one of the scientists, their vocal processors clicking anxiously.

"Not to worry!" you say. "I think I know exactly which video they picked up that phrase from." (Ah, good old Polycephaly.) "And I'm actually impressed. It means the cadets correctly identified me as the same species as the skibidi in that video, even though I don't look like him. That's some good pattern-recognition." You peer into the cadet-cart's lenses. "Hello, cadets," you say. "I'm a human, and I'm called Phaeton."

The screen displays a new message:

What are you, some sort of cunt?

The scientists display mortified emoticons! Meanwhile, you have to bite your notebook to stop yourself laughing so hard.

"Oh, I know exactly what video they picked that up from!" you explain. "The first time I encountered anyone from the Alliance, I had no idea techfolk were benign. I'm sorry to say that I assumed that techfolk and skibidis were as bad as each other. So that's what I said to the unfortunate Camera-unit I first met. In a way, I'm very pleased - it means that that Cam-unit survived at least long enough to archive the video from that encounter. And it means the cadets recognised me as the same human from that video!"

Your attention is drawn by the cadet-cart's screen displaying yet another message:

Where Titan?

"Very nearby. You'll see the Titan soon," you reply. You address the two guest engineers. "Let's proceed - we've a schedule to stick to."

The seven of you (you, Cygnus, the Camera and Soundkind engineers, the two TV scientists, and the cadet-cart, which you cautiously count as an entity in its own right) enter the hangar-space proper.

The cadet-cart chimes. Its observation-lenses swivel to look at something. A message displays on one of its screens:

Is Titan?

"No, that's a forklift," you reply.

Is Titan?

"That's a crane."

Is Titan?

"That's a goods-lift."

You lead the group along walkways towards the Titan, taking questions from the visiting engineers as you go, and redirecting the ones you can't answer to the relevant subject-matter expert.

"Oh, you'll like this," you say to Kinetic Octopus Drink. The Titan brings its arm onto a walkway so one of your colleagues can inspect the housing for its plasma lance. "We'll no doubt need Seventy-Eight-Thirty-One to answer your questions - they're the SME for the plasma lance. …Hm. I don't see them right now…" you say, casting your gaze around the hangar. "But I know how to flush them out. May I borrow your microphone-" you address High Flyer, "-and your voice?" You address the conclusion of the question to Kinetic Octopus Drink. Both units nod their assent, and High Flyer adds a thumbs-up.

You speak into High Flyer's microphone, as they broadcast your transcoded soundwave to Kinetic Octopus Drink, through whose driver your voice resonates: "Pi is exactly 3."

Every single TV engineer snap-rotates their head to face the source of the sound, all displaying various appalled emoticons.

"Thirty-One, there you are!" you say, waving at the TV engineer who just popped their head out from behind a control panel near the Titan. (The Titan themself displays a highly-amused emoticon on its shoulder-screen nearest to you.) Thirty-One comes over to see what justified your unscientific outburst.

You introduce Engineer Thirty-One to Kinetic Octopus Drink, who asks Thirty-One various questions on how the blade housing works and how the lance operates. "Are you thinking of installing launchable versions of these on your Titan?" you ask Kinetic Octopus Drink.

"It's a possibility," says Kinetic Octopus Drink. "We must consider the advantages of the lighter plasma versus a metal blade, against the energy requirements of generating it."

As Kinetic Octopus Drink and Thirty-One continue talking, you ask High Flyer: "Your Titan's going to need a replacement hammer at some point. Are you considering adding blades as a secondary weapon?"

"Perhaps," signs High Flyer. "Self listens to Soundkind questions, self takes notes." They jot down something on their tablet.

"Phaeton, may we inspect the Titan's dorsal spikes next?" Kinetic Octopus Drink asks.

"I'm sure that can be arranged," you say. "That'll be good for giving the cadet-cart a closer look at the Titan also."

"I'll get Seventy-Two to cage the spikes," says Thirty-One, before taking their leave.

You, Cygnus and the two guest engineers take the stairs to the higher walkways. The two TV scientists port their cadet-cart up there; it's too precious to put in a goods-lift. The seven of you meet in front of the Titan, while the TV engineers prep for what Thirty-One called 'caging the spikes'.

"Stay well out of the yellow hatched areas," you warn all present. "Is it good enrichment for the cadets to experience the void-pathways in their cart?" you ask the TV scientists.

"It is indeed," says a scientist with a smiling emoticon. "It means they'll be better prepared when they eventually receive their own bodies." Interesting - maybe TVs find being in the void comforting because it reminds them of their cosy and safe days inside cadet-servers.

A klaxon sounds. "That's telling us to be careful of the spikes," you explain to your companions. The Titan carefully projects its dorsal ramming-arms forwards, bringing the spikes in to meet the walkway on which you're standing, placing them on the yellow hatched zones. Hydraulic barriers descend and 'lock' the Titan's spikes into place. The Titan is surely strong enough to rip its way out of them, but the barriers prevent any accidents.

"We can go closer now if you like," you say to Kinetic Octopus Drink. Kinetic Octopus Drink and High Flyer walk over to examine the Titan's ramming-spikes closely, while Engineer Seventy-Six-Seventy-Two (the spikes' SME) takes their questions.

You wave your hand in front of the cadet-cart's lenses to get its attention. "Can you look at where I'm pointing?" you ask. The lenses track your hand as you point.

One of the little screens displays:

Is forklift?

You reply: "No, that's the Titan."

Human bullshit?

"No, human not bullshitting. That really is the TV Titan! …Isn't it beautiful and glorious…" you trail off, speaking mostly to yourself. Gah! Get it together!

You realise that High Flyer and Kinetic Octopus Drink are now standing next to you. Judging by how they're regarding you, they clearly heard your last remark…

"I think," you say to them both, leaning in conspiratorially, "To be a successful Titan engineer, you kind of have to be a bit obsessed with your Titan. Don't you agree?"

Both of them nod knowingly. They get it.

"Oh, look at that," says the Titan, regarding the cadet-cart. "I would have been in one of these at some point." The Titan steps forwards a little, elegantly bending its dorsal arms at the same time so its spikes remain where they are. The Titan lowers its colossal screen closer to the walkway. "Hello, small ones," it says, "I hope I will greet you in person one day."

The cadet-cart displays on a screen:

Hello Titan.

The words give way to a smiling emoticon. Oh, that's precious! The Titan displays the same emoticon back.

One of the scientists kneels next to the cart and speaks into one of its microphones: "Can you say hello with sound?"

The speakers on the cadet-cart all buzz with static for a few seconds, then say "Mmbaa-a-a-arghhhh." You guess it hasn't worked out how to talk audibly yet. The speakers trail off, then one of them says clearly: "All toilets will die."

"Oh!" you say, "Was that their first audible words?"

"It actually was," confirms the scientist, displaying a delighted emoticon. Kinetic Octopus Drink claps politely and High Flyer gives a thumbs-up. The Titan displays various happy emoticons on its screens.

"That seems like a breakthrough," you say. "I infer they made the connection between the Titan in front of them and the videos of the Titan they've seen previously. I guess that means their visual processing is improving?"

"Just so," replies the scientist, standing up from their kneeling position. "We probably witnessed some neural connections falling into place."

"Hello, engineers," the Titan says to High Flyer and Kinetic Octopus Drink. It lightly flexes its ramming-spikes, like fingers drumming on a table-top. "You are finding this useful intel, I hope?"

"Want spikes," says the cadet-cart. Heh!

"Just so, Titan," says Kinetic Octopus Drink. "Our Titan uses blades, as you know- oh." Kinetic Octopus Drink stops, embarrassed to have brought that up. Everyone knows about how the manipulated Soundkind Titan stabbed the TV Titan.

"Shit happens," says the Titan, displaying an amused emoticon. The Titan already forgave the Soundkind Titan long ago - hell, there was nothing to forgive, really. It was the skibidi's actions, not the Soundkind Titan's own. "You were going to say something about using the data from my blades to improve Comrade Soundkind's own, weren't you?"

"…Something along those lines, yes," says Kinetic Octopus Drink.

"See that you do," says the Titan proudly. "I am the most powerful and perfect of all Titans, in part because of the groundwork laid down by my Comrades' engineering teams. A little competition between our engineers keeps us Titans at our best. …Have you been able to gather anything useful?" the Titan asks High Flyer, who replies with an enthusiastic thumbs-up. The Titan displays a happy emoticon in response.

High Flyer addresses you next: "Question: when last modify coolant recipe?"

You get out your tablet and look through the relevant reports. "I can see that we currently use a formulation that was developed after the last cross-faction visit. I assume you wanted to take samples?" High Flyer nods, as does Kinetic Octopus Drink. "I'll ping Wolfram about it. They're in charge of the Titan's coolant systems."

"I overheard the word 'coolant'," comments the Titan. "It's not time to replace it already, is it? I do hate that."

"Not to worry, Titan," says Engineer Wolfram, who just ported onto the walkway. "We're just going to harvest some samples from storage."

"Coolant replacement, TV Titan hates like Camera Titan does," signs High Flyer.

"I suppose I'd hate having canisters pulled out of me with forklifts too," you comment. Wolfram departs to get some samples of used and unused coolant for the visiting engineers to take back to their own bases' labs. They ping you to let you know which control room they'll leave the samples in, and you impart the information to Kinetic Octopus Drink and High Flyer.

"Question:" signs High Flyer, "Self examine Titan core?"

"Absolutely, we can look at the core," you say. "Let's head to a walkway closer to its level."

High Flyer and Kinetic Octopus Drink intently admire the Titan's core for a time, making copious notes on their tablets. It's probably about time the Sound Titan got some proper core apparatus to replace her simple 'cage' shielding. The Camera Titan is another matter; her core already has a complex apparatus of reciprocating arms and retractable shielding. It would be hard to also incorporate an array like the TV Titan's on top of that. The Titan sees your group admiring its core, and flexes the reciprocating claw-like arms surrounding it. You answer High Flyer's and Kinetic Octopus Drink's questions as best you can, calling upon the specialist core engineers as needed.

"Purple," points out the cadet-cart.

You spend your mid-shift lunch hour in the Base's break room, where Cygnus and the guest engineers join you. High Flyer and Kinetic Octopus Drink compare notes on their tablets, and are clearly immersed in conversation via transmission. They're just talking shop about Titan engineering, most likely - Cygnus would tell you if they were transmitting anything you needed to hear. You finish eating your packed lunch (as well as a couple of the snacks from the pallet that the Titan picked up for you), while the techfolk plug themselves in to charge for a bit. If the guest engineers weren't here, you'd just loaf on Cygnus until it was time for one of you to go back to work. As the temporary ambassador for your Titan's engineering team, you need to maintain a little more decorum than that. Besides, it's quite nice to chat to the two engineers from the other factions. They're interested to learn about the time you first assisted the Titan by performing its core flush under the direction of its engineers; your organic ability to withstand magnetic fields letting you complete the task faster than techfolk.

You continue the rest of your shift, assisting the two guest engineers and showing things to the cadet-cart that it hasn't seen before. You enjoy it but it's also strangely exhausting, and you're sort-of glad when the engineers have to return to their bases and the scientists to the creche.

"You handled that well, Phaeton," says the Titan at the end of your shift, after you and the other engineers have closed down the hangar activities for the night. This is always a bittersweet part of your day: you're a little melancholy that it's over, but delighted that you get to pet the Titan's screen goodnight.

"Thanks, boss," you say, rubbing the Titan's screen alongside your fellow engineers. "I missed getting to work on you, though. I'm looking forward to next week." Tomorrow will see you switching jobs for the rest of the week, until your day off comes and the weekly cycle begins again.

You and the other engineers finish saying goodnight to your dear Titan, and you head off to see if you can find Polycephaly to port all these snacks home…

┄

Tomorrow sees you working in the weapon workshop of your home base in Sector Antlia-Four. You'd rather be working your main job in your beloved Titan's hangar, but your second job is nice enough in its own way. The work is relaxing in that way that comes with being able to do a task with practised ease -- and every weapon you build, repair or upgrade can only help the troops on the ground. (Part of you wishes you could join them and help more directly, but you know you'd only be a liability. You're a far squishier target than techfolk.)

You've just finished breaking down a ruined manipulator-disabler gun for parts, when you get an incoming call from Cygnus. "Cygnus! My cathode-rayed cutie. What can I do for you?" you greet them.

"Phaeton, we need your expertise for something." Oi! Flirt back properly, Cygnus! "How soon can you get a slot in a meeting room for a conference call? The sooner the better."

"Need a moment to check," you say, hauling out your tablet from a drawer in your workstation. "…Bosh. There's one free right now," you say as you swipe on your tablet to find the nearest room with the next available slot. "I'll reserve it and get my bum over there now, ping you in five-ish." Cygnus ends the call, and you sign out of your workstation and get set up in a meeting room.

You log in and find a meeting invitation waiting for you from Cygnus. You join, and find Cygnus already in the meeting alongside Sixteen-Sixty-Eight, the Engineer Prime.

"It's my main machine and the chief!" you say, "What can I do for you both?"

"One moment," replies Cygnus, "I have someone else to invite. …Phaeton, have you encountered Trashbag yet?"

"I have not," you reply. "Anyone who goes by the name Trashbag must be worth knowing! Are you going to introduce us?"

"I am indeed. I think you'll like them."

Another login joins the conference call. The video feed shows two Soundkind; one large unit and one minim. Both wave hello, and you wave back.

The large unit begins typing in the meeting chat:

"Greetings, Phaeton. I'm Trashbag. This is my secretary, Hype Tram Jam. I will be communicating via chat for this meeting or letting Hype Tram Jam do the talking -- I beefed installing an update to my vocal synthesiser, and right now I can only play back the sound files I have stored on my hard drives. And the only stored files I have right now are Judas Priest songs."

Trashbag demonstrates by means of song: "Shout it out, we're all together now; shout it out, we join as one, one."

"Right on!" you say. "Trashbag, Hype Tram Jam, It's nice to meet you both. As you've been informed, I'm Phaeton. I'm a member of the TV Titan's engineering team, as well as a weaponsmith in Sector Antlia-Four. Trashbag, I must ask: why do you go by that?" They must want you to ask! As you talk, you add your digital 'business card' to the meeting data for participants to review, and Trashbag and Hype Tram Jam follow suit with their own.

Trashbag replies in the chat:

"Same reason any Soundkind goes by any name: I love how it sounds! Plus, no-one ever forgets it. Everyone remembers TRASHBAG!"

Then by audio: "Where would you be without music? You wouldn't be nowhere at all."

"Well, I dig that, on both counts."

Cygnus explains: "Trashbag is my peer in the Soundkind faction. Like me, they are responsible for inter-faction liaisons. Naturally, we deal with each other a lot in our line of work. …Trashbag, Hype Tram Jam, now you both know Phaeton. You are acquainted with Engineer Sixty-Eight already, I believe?"

Interesting. A large unit works as a diplomat. Units are usually upgraded to large class because of their battle prowess. It's remarkable to see a large unit in a non-combat role - what's the story behind that? …Might they be a disgraced field agent, like Cygnus?

"That's correct," says Hype Tram Jam.

"How's your Titan?"

asks Trashbag via chat.

"Doing better than ours, I hope."

"Our Titan has been better, but overall is faring well and I have no major concerns about its health." says Engineer Sixty-Eight. "Thank you for asking." Sixty-Eight displays a pleased emoticon.

Trashbag nods to Hype Tram Jam, presumably communicating something by private transmission.

"Phaeton," begins Hype Tram Jam, "Our Titan's engineering team would like to borrow you for a task."

Well, this is getting interesting. You are a Titan engineer, technically… but really, you're a mechanic. You didn't contribute anything to the design of the Titan, so in most respects you'd make the poorest choice for an inter-faction engineer loan. But you first helped out the TV Titan's engineering team thanks to your organic ability to no-sell magnetic fields that would incapacitate TV-units. Is that what's happening with the Soundkind Titan too?

"Of course I'm willing to help," you say. "What am I helping with; something to do with magnetic fields?"

"On that, I will need to defer to our own Engineer Prime," replies Hype Tram Jam. A pause, while another Soundkind is added to the conference.

"Static Rook Anaguma," says Cygnus, "Thank you for joining us." You've heard of Static Rook Anaguma before - they're Engineer Sixty-Eight's equivalent from the Soundkind faction. The two Engineer Primes nod hello to each other. "Please would you explain the situation to Phaeton?" says Cygnus.

"As you might have heard," says Static Rook Anaguma, "The Titan sustained critical damage and had to be withdrawn from the field."

"Such a shame, what a shame, oh dear me," cuts in Trashbag.

"…The Titan will need extensive repairs, and we are taking this opportunity to upgrade her as much as possible before returning her to the field." Static Rook Anaguma pauses, apparently considering what to say next. "Something… has happened to the Titan that needs dealing with before we can proceed with upgrades. We fear it might be skibidi-related, and we would like you to help us investigate it. If our worst fears are confirmed and it's a dormant manipulator-skibidi… it would help us greatly to have someone who is immune to it."

"Because we need you, like you need us for sure," adds Trashbag in song.

"Of course!" you say. "I'll do it, no question. When do I come over?"

The three soundkind seem slightly taken aback by your enthusiasm, though not unpleasantly so. (You wonder if Trashbag feels at all disappointed at not getting to flex any of their diplomatic skills. Heh.) Even though you are immune to the manipulator-class skibidis, they can still bite you and slash with their spindly metallic legs. If there is a manipulator in the Titan's frame and you end up having to tangle with it, it could go badly for you. But how can you say no? A rampant manipulator could do a lot of damage to a Titan's engineering team.

Then comes the boring part. The two diplomats and the two Titan engineers have to discuss when you can be permitted to travel to the main Soundkind base. You'd be happy to go as soon as you'd had time for a bio-break and to pack some snacks and drinks (and a portable urinal - techfolk bases don't have toilets unless they're built upon former human installations). But it appears there is Protocol to observe. Tedium! You're glad that's not your job to sort out.

Cygnus does possess the knowledge of the void-pathway - as an inter-faction liaison, they need to be able to travel between all three factions' main bases. But it will be a tall order for a minim-class TV to port themself and you all the way from sector Antlia-Four to the Soundkind main base. This would normally be a job for Polycephaly, but they're busy with missions of their own right now. It looks as though you're going by chopper.

"Oh, look at that," you muse as the helicopter flies over the forest covering most of sector Antlia-Four. "We're being transported by helicopter over dense forest, and I'm sat amongst several units with combat knives and machine guns." You turn to the unknown Soundkind sitting opposite you: "I don't suppose you have Long Tall Sally in your playlist, do you?"

They don't. Oh well, it was probably too much to hope for.

"Bit nervous about this," you admit to Cygnus via typing the message on your communicator and showing them the screen (no real point sending it when Cygnus is right next to you). The helicopter motor is too loud for most speech; you've been given a mic headset so you can communicate, but there's no way to send the audio to just Cygnus - everyone in the copter would hear you. Cygnus reads your message, then holds your hand comfortingly and strokes the back of your hand with their thumb.

Cygnus types a message on their own communicator with their free hand: "About meeting the Titan or possibly encountering a skib?"

You reply via the same means: "Mostly skib. Slight trepidation about Titan, I guess. Glad you're here for inter-faction diplomacy."

You and Cygnus hold hands as the main Soundkind Base comes into view. To your surprise, the Titan's hangar (or the structure you presume is the hangar) is more colossal still than the TV Titan's hangar, even though the Sound Titan is the physically smallest of the trio, and your own Titan the biggest. What's that about? Does the Sound Titan's hangar require lots of support machinery?

Once the chopper lands, you and Cygnus disembark. Your TV engineer colleague Palindrome exits the other chopper that accompanied you. The pair of you travelled in separate choppers - no-one voiced the reason, but you presume it was for redundancy in case one of them got shot down. A Camera engineer exits the chopper with Palindrome, presumably on another inter-faction knowledge exchange.

All of you are escorted from the landing area to the main hub of the Soundkind Base. You immediately notice something it has in common with the main TV Base: the lighting is scarce. Soundkind navigate with sound more than light. TVs are vision-based like humans, but there is less overlap between human vision and TV vision than there is between human vision and Camera vision, making the TV Base seem dim to your eyes. Strip-lighting embedded in the floors points the ways to various other parts of the base, forming illuminated pathways. You notice also some poles at intervals in the floor, each of which has a paddle-like top. You guess these are for Soundkind to echolocate against in the otherwise open space.

Trashbag and Hype Tram Jam enter the hub and join you. "Greetings, Sun Driver," Trashbag signs. It appears they're fluent in Camsign, as an Alliance diplomat should be. (You wonder how well they can parse visual signs from others, though.) "May self echo Sun Driver?"

"Of course!" you say. "Hype Tram Jam, if you want to echo a human too, feel free."

The two soundkind approach you, Trashbag kneeling. You stand still as the two Soundkind curiously 'buzz' you with their echolocation. (A few passing Soundkind turn their heads as they pass - you wonder if they're furtively 'echoing' you too.) Trashbag stands back up once their curiosity is satisfied. They turn to face the rest of your group.

"Greetings, 9-7-7-9, 5-0-2-2," Trashbag sign to Palindrome and Cygnus - neither of them have Camsign names. (You don't know if Palindrome knows Camsign. Cygnus can surely transmit to them what was said, though.) "Greetings, Clear Sight." That must be the Cam engineer's sign name. Maybe they look after the Camera Titan's lenses? "In this world we're livin' in we have our share of sorrow, answer now is: don't give in, aim for a new tomorrow," Trashbag finishes in song. Their vocal synthesiser must still be not working.

"Are we all ready to proceed to the Titan's hangar?" asks Hype Tram Jam. All of you agree, and one of the Base staff leads you along one of the illuminated pathways. Cygnus pats your hand briefly - you return the gesture in thanks. You're glad your friend is here, and your colleague Palindrome.

The reasoning for the Titan hangar's size becomes apparent once you clear security and step inside. The hangar is lined with false walls that appear to be made of panels that can rotate to display different-textured surfaces, from smooth and reverberant to soft and anechoic. Evidently, the walls of the Titan's hangar can be adjusted to reflect or absorb any amount of sound the engineers need it to.

The Titan herself stands in the middle of her hangar, albeit bolstered by copious numbers of cranes and hoists and other hangar-machinery. The sight is both sad and inspiring: the Titan has sustained severe battle damage, her legs shorn down to the endoskeleton, but doesn't seem to have given in to despair. She appears alert and hopeful, and is surrounded by her team of engineers, beavering away from various gantries and walkways.

The Titan appears to regard you with her single optical sensor - installed by the skibidis for the benefit of the manipulator that controlled her. You wonder how the Titan feels about that addition; it's not something Soundkind would normally choose to add to themselves because their echolocation and basic light sensors work for them just fine. But maybe the Titan appreciates being able to perceive her tiny colleagues in a new sensory spectrum? It's not really something you can ask someone.

"Howay an' wot cheor, Phaeton."

It's like the voice of the universe.

Your hair got blown around from the soundwaves. You smooth your hair back into place, then you wave to the Titan in greeting, and are charmed to see her wave back. There's a pause, during which you infer Hype Tram Jam is conversing with the Titan via transmission. Hype Tram Jam confirms: "I will voice the Titan's transmissions, so you are not overwhelmed. In addition, I will log the raw text of all such transmissions; feel free to ask to review my tablet at any time."

You nod. "I understand. Thank you." Techfolk normally converse with each other via data transmission, only using audio or sign language to go 'off the record', or for your benefit. Or just for fun and exuberance, in the case of the Soundkind.

"The Titan requests to hear your best scream," conveys Hype Tram Jam. You see some of the wall-panels rippling as the engineers turn them - better to amplify your voice?

"…Alright. I'll give that a go," you say. This must be a form of pack-bonding for beings with such sound-based sensory focus. "But please don't reciprocate. I think the force of a Titan scream at this range would liquidise me. Right, I need a vocal warmup first. I'll need something that I can't push over - a wall or something." The Titan obligingly raises a hand to the walkway, presenting her palm to you as if requesting a high-five. "…That'll work," you say. "I'm going to push against your hand as though it's a wall I'm trying to push over. That'll help open my throat muscles." You see the Titan nod to confirm her understanding.

"Gey it some welly," says the Titan, talking with just a few of her speakers so as to not overwhelm you.

You push your palms into the Titan's, and push forcefully as you said you would. You automatically grunt with effort, and you mentally latch onto the feeling in your throat and continue it, emitting a long low growl to relax your vocal chords. You disengage and lower your hands, and after a moment's pause (presumably to check if you're finished) the Titan lowers hers.

"Here I go," you say, and channel your inner Udo Dirkschneider, starting with a rumble and ending with the shrillest screech you can muster. Fuck yeah - you managed it without coughing. And you were surprised by how damn loud it was! That must be because of the reflective wall panels.

"Wey aye, that's champion, that," says the Titan, talking only with the banks of comparatively small speakers on either side of her core.

It seems all the Soundkind in the hangar are applauding you! Even the Titan does so, although very softly so as not to hurt you with the volume. Trashbag does a brief little dance of appreciation. Palindrome and Cygnus both display shocked emoticons. Bwoo ha ha!

"The Titan appreciates your performance," Hype Tram Jam relays to you, "and requests permission to echo you."

"Of course you can echo me, Titan," you say. "Please remember my squishiness, though." The wall-panels ripple and transform again.

The Titan leans closer to you, as best she can with all the hangar-machinery supporting her. You're aware of a deep rumbling that you can feel as much as hear, as though a glacier is talking. The rumble is interspersed with honks and chirps that pass right through you. It's like a wind with no wind. This is probably what it would feel like if you could feel all the neutrinos that lance through you. This bombardment of sound doesn't hurt, but it's unnervingly palpable. You're glad to experience it, but also quite glad when it stops.

Hype Tram Jam translates the Titan's transmission: "The Titan says you look like a Skibidi if Skibidis were cute. …The way your bones fit together looks more elegant and less messy." Interesting - the Titan's perception of echoed sound is so refined that it can perceive the outline of your very skeleton… and the Titan thinks you're cute! "The Titan also apologises for her messy appearance right now."

"You look imposing even in this state, Titan," you reply, endeavouring to be polite. "You remind me of a winged hussar."

The Titan cocks her head slightly, wordlessly inviting you to elaborate.

"The winged hussars were elite cavalry soldiers from Poland," you explain. "They wore feathered wing-like structures on their backs to intimidate the enemy. Your dorsal speaker-frames remind me of those. And your optical visor is a little like a burgonet helmet. The hussars even wore red, like you!"

The Titan flexes the empty housings on her back that would normally carry a battery of speakers, evidently pleased by the comparison.

Palindrome and Clear Sight are met by a couple of Soundkind engineers to lead them around on a knowledge-exchange. Trashbag and Cygnus go with them. Cygnus gives you a fist-bump before dashing off - "I'll be around somewhere if you need me. You've got this, Phaeton," Cygnus says, giving you a smiling emoticon.

"Thanks, buddy," you say, feeling a little braver. It's probably time to face the whatever-this-is that might be skib-related.

Hype Tram Jam seems to guess what you're thinking about. "Phaeton, there is the matter of the unknown hazard we need you to deal with." The Titan gives a soft worried-sounding HONK.

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be," you say. "What needs doing?"

Static Rook Anaguma, the Soundkind Engineer Prime, arrives to greet you. Naturally, they have to 'echo' you too before proceeding. Static Rook Anaguma explains to you: "Sensors show there is an organic mass within the Titan's frame. It appears to be alive. We must remove it before we can replace the Titan's plating." Of course. It wouldn't do to trap it inside. That would be dangerous if it's skibidi in origin, as well as inhumane and gross if it's not. Wait, is 'humane' the appropriate word? Techfolk aren't human. Stay focused, Phaeton!

"And you need me to check inside the Titan's frame?" you guess. If a Soundkind engineer or other techfolk goes inside, and if the unknown mass is a skibidi manipulator, that could be very dangerous indeed to have a skib-controlled techfolk rampaging inside a Titan. Static Rook Anaguma nods. You see some more Soundkind engineers approaching with a cart of PPE and other items. "Will I enter from inside the core chamber?" you ask. You'd once had to enter the TV Titan's innards via its core vents, to sort out… something. Will it be like that again?

"We had a different entry point in mind," says Static Rook Anaguma. "The mass is about halfway between the Titan's shoulder and her neck, so we would have you enter near the shoulder joint. The initial entry will probably be harder than going through the core vents, but once you're inside that should be easier for you than climbing all the way upwards from the back of the core chamber."

"That makes sense," you say. "Let's give it a try, and if I really can't get in that way we can try the core vents and I'll get climbing. Just tell me what to do."

You follow Static Rook Anaguma and some other engineers to a walkway nearer the Titan's shoulder. The engineers with the cart put it in a goods-lift to bring it up to you. The equipment on the cart consists of the helmet and headset you wore in the helicopter (how thoughtful of whoever grabbed it), plus a harness and line to retrieve you if you need to come out and can't easily turn around, plus some other bits of protective gear and a small camera to mount on your helmet. You get it all put on - you notice Cygnus, Trashbag, Palindrome and Clear Sight observing you from another walkway. Clear Sight gives you an encouraging thumbs-up.

The Titan's engineers have the Titan reposition her arm, then they use the hangar machinery to lock it in place. The Titan chirps a bit in discomfort. "I'll try to be quick," you think. You notice Static Rook Anaguma has gone over to the other side of the hangar to pet the Titan's other hand. How sweet - the Titan probably loves her Engineer Prime like the TV Titan loves its own.

A gantry swings out from the walkway to the Titan's shoulder. Oh, you're really doing this. The engineers shackle your safety lines to the walkway and check your harness is secure, and you voice a few mic tests to make sure you can send and receive audio. Time to begin your descent… "We'll both have to be brave, Titan," you think.

A crane moves into place on trackways slung below the hangar ceiling. It descends and holds open part of the Titan's shoulder machinery, so there's no risk of it closing on you. The Titan emits a rumbling whine, quiet by her standards but still loud to you. Clearly this is an unpleasant sensation. You lower yourself in, as quickly as you can without kicking or slipping.

"I'm inside and clear of the crane," you say.

"Stand by to receive weapon," says a Soundkind engineer. A manipulator-disabler gun with a protractile bayonet is lowered in - you take its weight as it reaches you. You wonder at the back of your mind if it's one you built at Antlia-Four.

"Weapon in hand," you say. "Safe to disengage crane. Please direct me to the location of the mass."

"Proceed directly forward from your location, maintaining level," comes the reply. You hear the Titan emit a relieved 'chuff' sound as the crane's jaws retract.

You obey the directions you're given, as you hear and feel the Titan make discomforted chirps. You're having to put a lot of trust in the Titan right now - if she moves too suddenly, you could be crushed by hydraulics. At the same time, this is clearly activating bad memories for the Titan. The Titan knows intellectually that you're not a skibidi, but you're the same species as one, and you're currently ensconced in much the same location as the skibidi manipulator that forced the Titan to attack her comrades - including your beloved Titan. You cut your mic and whisper "We'll get through this together." You don't really expect the Titan to hear you, but it feels right to say it aloud.

You continue slithering and crawling your way through the Titan, pressed on all sides by piping, pistons, servos and huge roping cables, illuminated only by the lamp on your helmet and the soft blue glow of the rifle that you're schlepping along with you. Hang on. Is that…?

"Good news, Titan and engineers," you say, re-activating your mic. "I'm pretty sure this is not skibidi-related. …Might be a little tricky to sort out if it's what I think it is, but I'll get it done. And I shouldn't need to use the rifle."

"Phaeton, what is that sound?" asks an engineer. "Is it interference or are you hearing it in situ?"

"Oh, it's in situ alright," you say. "Are you seeing this on my little helmet-cam? …Aww. Hello cutie."

"Hoo roo," says the source of the odd sound.

"Poor baby," you say soothingly, "It's scary in here, isn't it? Are you too frightened to move? Oh baby, you're stuck. I'll help you, it's alright."

"…What is that?" says one of the engineers. You guess Soundkind vision is too low-res to make out the video from your camera feed. To them, it's probably just a white scribbly shape with beady eyes…

"That's a pigeon, isn't it?" asks a voice you recognise as Palindrome's.

"A very good pidgey-pidge!" you say. "And you're coming out with me, aren't you? …Someone please fetch the bag I brought with me; it's got water and snacks in it. This poor thing needs some. Prepare to extract me, but not right this instant; wait for me to give the word."

"Hoo roo," says the 'pidgey-pidge'. The poor thing has panicked eyes and is gasping in a frightened manner. You continue talking softly to the pigeon as you free it - something is tangled around its legs and the other end is caught in the Titan's machinery. It's a slippery plastic material, and you pull it out neatly from where it was being pinched by a bundle of cables.

You stuff the pigeon down your top to stop it frantically flapping, then you clean up the pigeon turds as best you can with the bits and pieces you're carrying. ("Very healthy little turds," you think. Not the sloppy white squits from an unhealthy street pigeon with a poor diet.) "Specimen secured," you say. "Please retrieve me."

You crawl backwards as best you can as the engineering team begins hauling you out, holding onto the rifle with one hand and gently pinning the pigeon in place with the other as you go. There's a pause while the ceiling crane pins open your exit point again, and you hand over your weapon to someone so you can use that hand to help lever yourself out.

Finally, you're out. The Titan emits what sounds like a static sigh of relief. You fish your new feathery friend out of your top and say to the nearest engineer: "I need to untangle the material around the pigeon's legs. Please would you hold the pigeon for me while I do that? Use one hand to support its breast, and use the other round its bum end, with your thumb wrapping its wings. That's it. I used to have a neighbour who kept pigeons… There we go, little pigeon. All sorted."

You take back the pigeon from the engineer, and sit down near your bag. The pigeon seems a lot more cheerful once it gets some food and water down its neck, and it sits unafraid in your lap. Several Soundkind sit down near you to observe the pigeon fascinatedly, and the Titan turns her head to look too. "You're a Lahore pigeon," you say to the bird. "My neighbour used to keep pigeons like you. You're a friendly little thing - I think you used to be someone's pet before the skibidi plague." The pigeon is a little worse for wear from its time trapped inside the Titan, but it'll manage, you think. "Where is Static Rook Anaguma?" you ask.

"Here, Phaeton," says the Engineer Prime, sitting down near you. "Thank you for getting that creature out."

"May I keep it?" you ask. It's clearly used to human company and will probably be happier living with you than in the wild. But it was inside the Sound Titan, so it feels natural that the engineering team should get first refusal for keeping the pigeon as a mascot or for study. "Or did you want to?"

"…If you want it, you keep it," says Static Rook Anaguma. They seem baffled by the notion that they might want to keep the pigeon. Well, that suits you fine!

"Grand, I'll take it as payment for my services rendered," you say.

"Are you going to release it in the forest in Antlia-Four?" asks Cygnus. Trashbag and the three non-Soundkind techfolk must have joined the little crowd at some point.

"If it likes," you say. "I'm going to keep it until it's healthy enough to release, then I'll see if it wants to be my pet or if it wants to fly off where it came from. If it wants to stay with me, I'll let it roost at the hydroponic farm. It can eat the bugs that try to eat my plants."

"Hoo roo," says the pigeon. It settles in your lap and makes happy cooing sounds that you recognise as content pigeon behaviour. Aww. You hope it decides to stay with you.

You regard the scrap of material you removed from the pigeon's legs. You recognise it as the wrapper from a specific brand of crisps. "I shall call you Seabrooks Canadian Ham," you say. "Though I'll probably end up calling you Brooks or Brooky or Hammy for short. You can live with me on my hydroponic farm in Antlia-Four and eat tasty bugs and veggies." You give the pigeon gentle scritches on its breast and it seems to puddle with contentment. At your encouragement, a few of the gathered techfolk take a turn at petting it.

One by one, the engineers return to work. The Soundkind faction has the reputation for being the carefree party-time faction, but it seems the Titan's engineers are just as relentlessly efficient as the TV Titan's. It's time for you and anyone else who doesn't work here to depart, so the engineers can continue their task of getting their Titan upgraded and battle-ready. Of course you'd love to stay longer and observe, and get to know everyone better, but the engineers have work to do. Static Rook Anaguma escorts you to in front of the Titan again so you can say your goodbyes. Seabrooks Canadian Ham happily perches on your shoulder.

"Thank you, Phaeton," says the Titan, using just the ventral speakers flanking its core chamber.

"You're in good company, Titan," you reply. "The Large Hadron Collider was the largest and most impressive machine that humans ever built, and the switching-on had to be delayed… because a pigeon got inside." The Titan quietly honks with amusement.

Hype Tram Jam resumes their earlier duty of voicing the Titan's transmissions for you: "The Titan thanks you once again," says Hype Tram Jam, "and hopes to meet you again under better circumstances."

"I sincerely hope so too," you say. "I'd love to see you in all your upgraded finery. Ah'll sithee, Titan." The Titan gives a quiet cheerful honk, and you take your leave.

"Did you get good info from your visit?" you ask Palindrome.

"I did," says Palindrome, "Though I should really have sent one of the core engineers in my place. They'd know the best questions to ask about the Sound Titan's core laser."

"How can we all thank you?" sings Trashbag.

"How about," you venture, "playing us the rest of that song?"