So, what is a war frame? Post humans can suffer from a certain degree of alienation when dealing with baseline humans. The less human the body, the more likely this is to be a problem. War frames are combat oriented cyborg bodies. Generally designers forgo things like eyes, faces, necks, and other fragile human features. also, these bodies are frequently tall, sometimes as tall as 2.5 meters, though 2 is more common.
Having such frightening outward forms, and a great deal of physical power can lead these warriors to believe that humans are inferior, and develop deep psychological problems.
In order to avoid these problems, some 'borgs maintain less monstrous frames, to use when "at home", where ever that may be. These lighter, more human bodies are often referred to as ship frames. This comes from the fact that most 'borgs only use such frames aboard ships. such supplemental bodies can be run remotely, or by directly mounting the brain into the frame. For this reason, modular life support is very common in heavy cyborgs. Most cyborgs are nervous that their shipframe will be hacked if it is under wireless control.
- - -
The next few weeks had a remarkably familiar routine, after
she had sorted out the details with Dicemen.
She was not allowed into her war frame, but she had always maintained a
separate ship frame. It made life easier in the close quarters of a crowded
vessel. And it was easier to deal with the crew when you are the same height as
everyone else.
She painted a camouflage scheme on her warframe, and ran
several diagnostics. It was nice to be so close to it. It felt more like home.
The new systems were interesting as well. It gave her a lot to consider.
Sharren rebuilt her
Virtual training environment to help her train on the new features. The techs
aboard the UN ship were helpful and loaned her some fairly decent code. The VI
hostiles were better than she was used to, and she felt the training
environment was most helpful. It also served to pass the time.
This was still a prison, and she wanted out. She knew that
this was death sentence, but once she was free of this ship, it could at least
be death on her own terms. She could not ignore the hope of escape, either.
Freedom was why she had swapped out her body in the first place.
The crew she was to rendezvous with looked well enough on a
spreadsheet. The crew of 20 consisted 16
combatants and 4 pilots. One of them was a post human, like herself. Not as
monstrous however, he had kept his face and some other bits.
Most of them were Prussians, caught in the web, just like
she was. The gear was not too bad either. Midrange PAX arms stuff. No fancy
ammo, but if this was half as easy as Dicemen had described it, that should not
be a problem.
The UN crew stayed away from her unless she sought them out.
She was restricted to the bay where they were storing her warframe. she hat a
cot setup there, and she had over two weeks of food stored in the ship frame
they had given her.
Her thoughts drifted to her old life. Her father had trained her to be a warrior.
He had sold his gun arm for credits for over 20 years, mostly in service to the
colonists at Gaia. A Greek ethnic colony, it was underfunded from the start,
and new colonists were scarce. It was a nice place though. It was a little cold, but it had trees, and
rivers.
Life there was harsh. At 5200 light years from Sol, Gaia was
rarely resupplied. Colonists made do with what they had. For the most part, it
was not so bad. One bad year could wipe out a home stead, however. Medicine was
a guarded commodity. The UN ban on
auto-doctors meant that medical training was also in short supply on new colonies.
She had learned young that only the strong survive, and luck
is the work lesser people use to describe skill. Her mother had died in childbirth;
she had been old enough to remember it. Her baby brother only outlived her
mother by a few days. Her father taught her to farm, and hunt. To defend their property
against bandits.
There were not many bandits when she was young, but as she
aged, more and more dispossessed would take to raiding to supplement their own failing
fortunes. When Sharren was twenty, free trader ships started to show up,
usually two or three ships each year. They had tech, medicine, data loads, and fancy
booze. Everything folks needed.
One such ship touched down near her own stead. Her father
had come back empty handed, which was rare. The traders were extorting the
local, and wanted 100 kilos of fresh foodstuff from every one in 100 klicks.
She was ready when they came to her door.
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