RP Between Stolen Stars (Open!)

[Ghostly]

From the very beginning, we knew you were special.

Even in basic, you showed us you had what it takes. You were swift, and strong, and brave. Top of your class, exceeded all expectations. A natural leader, on and off the battlefield. It was clear that you were a man of action - you were supposed to be something.

What a disappointment.

- - -

// Life making you feel unneeded? Need a change of pace? I know just how you feel!

Congratulations! You've been selected to be a part of an elite crew! Your mission - recover an object of extreme cultural and monetary value and deliver it safely to me, Mr. Eido. In return, I am offering a once in a lifetime reward. A single use, non-refundable, non-negotiable, "Anything You Want!" This reward can quite literally be anything you desire, provided with enough time and energy.

*Please note, while Mr. Eido is incredibly resourceful, charming, witty, and powerful, he must obey some laws of reality - some discussion/adjustment/friendly bargaining may be required in order to fully ensure contractor satisfaction - \\



Terrans called it Outreach, but it had earned and forgotten a dozen names before that - Jaal's World, Freehold, Ol' Sunuvabitch. The name didn't make the place what it was, the people did - and the people were, to put it politely.

Outlaws.

For as long as anyone could remember, Outreach was known as a place where the outcasts and runaways went to mingle. Everyday deals were struck and broken, lovers met and parted, fortunes were won and lost, and the world somehow kept spinning. It seemed almost perfectly positioned in the distant Periphery. Outreach was too close to Hegemony space for the Terrans to risk occupying it, and too far from the civilized worlds for InterSec or any of the other law enforcement groups to try and stifle the business.

It was the perfect place for this crew of misfits - bound together by money and luck, to assemble and make their mark on the universe. The contract seemed to find them, using whatever channels it needed to in order to get in front of the face of it's recipient. For the terran drifter, it came in the form of a note written on hotel stationary slipped into his boots during discharge from the clinic. He'd dismissed the same message the night before after a quick glance - it almost read exactly like the targeted ads that constantly bombarded him.

The note continued, the instructions were simple and clear. There would be no chaperone, they were to rely on the skills of a pilot procured during the recruiting process and were entrusted to see this task to its end, with reports exchanged by Eido and the crew in order to relay instructions and updates. They were free to depart as soon as all the crew had assembled, or port authority said docking fees were due. The fees had been covered through the end of the standard month and the small freighter had been sitting there the better part of the week.

The terran was closer to shipbreaker than shipwright, but he knew as soon as he could see it that this was a beautiful piece of aerospace technology, a smaller freighter of Fenoshan design. Whoever was footing the bill for this job certainly had taste and more importantly, money. The interior of the ship was equally posh and polished, no expense had been spared by their employer. The common area doubled as a kitchen, with a well stocked galley and advanced food processor. Two cabins were present and furnished with a pair of twin-sized beds in each, sleeping pods were available for the odd ones out.

It felt good to finally get the weight of his duffle bag off healing shoulders and into a locker that had his name - Haigen - embossed on the surface. Haigen didn’t have much, but that wasn’t new. There was a kind of peace in starting over again, and this certainly was something fresh. He had no idea what kind of people would be coming along for the ride, a fact that gave him as much anxiety as it did excitement.

With little else to do, Haigen secured his equipment, boiled water, made himself a cup of tea and walked back and onto the ramp, waiting curiously for whoever would be joining him for the ride.

---

((Hello everyone! For those of you who've waited around this long, thank you so much for your patience! And for anyone new just checking this out, don't be afraid to reach out if you're interested in joining! I'd be happy for more input!

We'll be having a quick round of first impressions/introductions then roll right into the story - and maybe picking up a couple extra friends along the way! We won't be spending too much time here, I wanna keep things rolling at a good pace and let players who are waiting for the plot to move ahead to join us soon.))

 

[Fang]

The vacuum of space was a funny thing. For an untold amount of time the kitten was weightless, suspended in nothingness though perfectly capable of some small movement. It had never spent time on any world with a significant source of gravity, and so without any parameters beyond the small moment before its ejection the weightlessness was almost comforting.



Certainly more comfortable than the new alternative. Plastered to the front of the ship like some sort of tiny figurehead it flattened, as if encumbered by a great pressure, though there was nothing but the force of the ship’s momentum and mass gluing the feline shaped system to its hull. Vainly it tried to lift itself, to scramble its way somewhere else on the ship. Unfortunately it still had too little mass to achieve the force necessary to extract itself.



So it rode, for another countless moment, stretched thin but at least moving, though the question of where remained unanswered until the ship came to port. The cessation of movement freed the kitten from the pressure, and as the docking arms clasped onto the frame of the unknowing ship the unmistakable sound of metal grating metal signaled the kitten’s puddle-like slide off of the ship and onto the walkway below.



It took a moment to gather itself, quite literally, into shape as it surveyed the remarkably busy port. The mechanical pupils dilated, the lenses over which reflected the lights and shadows that bombarded the inexperienced AI. More life than it could ever have imagined, much of it Terran but so many more besides. There were even other mechanical beings like itself, though different in their own ways just as the biological creatures varied. The stimulus was astounding, overwhelming even as the system emitted a small sound to express its wonder.



”Meow.”

 

[Thimble]

He hated every second of this place.

Outreach it was called, like anyone here had ever reached out for anything except a bottle of cheap liquor or the next night's fuck in their entire lives. The streets ran awash with aliens, traitors, and radicals. he couldn't decide which he hated most. Probably the aliens. Or maybe the traitors. What was the difference between a radical and a traitor anyway? He'd have to ask when-

He froze in the street. Along a decrepit wall, nestled between brothels and drug dens, a defaced poster of Chancellor Monmouth stared back at him. Vile slogans in a filthy alien tongue were scrawled haphazard along The Chancellor's face and chest. He didn't need to know their despicable language to understand what it meant.

Anger rose in his throat, white-hot and maddening. Each and every cell in his body screamed at him to report this, to raise the alarm, to signal the nearest Political Officer and hunt down whoever had done this, to do the right thing.



It took great effort to walk by, with his head down in the folds of a nylon cloak and his cheeks burning. A pit of sickness rose in his stomach. Everything, they'd told him. Whatever they ask you to do, do it without question. The mission comes first.

The difficult part wasn't the fighting, or the spouting of rebel slogans, or even the permanent changes to his own body. It was the tolerance. Tolerance of disrespect to the Republic, of aliens, of vandalism. Everyone here was a traitor, either because they'd committed this crime, or because they'd tolerated it. It was so difficult to-

Whichever alien scum had tried to deface the poster was too stupid to cover The Chancellor's eyes. Beneath a layer of crude paint they stared out, unblinking and firm, catching him in their stoic gaze. They spoke to him, in the strong, comforting tones he'd known since childhood.

Be not afraid, for I am always watching. Privacy is a burden from which I will always protect you.

His stomach eased, and he spasmed slightly as he felt a wave of blissful certainty wash over him. The Chancellor directs, he thought, and began to smile beneath his hood.



It took him another twenty minutes to find the ship. He had stumbled past the wrong street, lost in thought, and had had to ask for directions from some half-breed. They had been sickeningly helpful.

It was a quality model, Fenoshan, or something similar, and looked almost good enough to be Republic manufacture. He pressed through the crowded streets to approach the open boarding ramp, and the man waiting on it. He didn't look like a traitor. The thought soured his mind. They never did.

In the reflections of the ramp pistons he glimpsed another man's face plastered over his own. Saw unfamiliar eyes staring back at him. A hand that wasn't his, extended in greeting towards a man he didn't want to know.

"I'm Kresh." He glanced around the loading dock. "It can't just be the two of us?"

 

[Fill]

DANDY

The noises, the smells, the clamoring of people and machines. Innumerous heartbeats across the city driving this port, this city, this planet together as one. Luckily for Dandy, he had a filter for that. Save short of someone drawing a weapon on him or the odd sound the algorithm had not been designed for, Dandy only had himself, his thoughts, and whatever track his current playlist was blasting across his cybernetic mainframe.

Small pieces of paper drifted across the concrete. A worker with six tentacles for arms lifted a large container of glowing blue liquid over his shoulder before walking towards a freighter. The sound of blaster fire caught Dandy's attention for a moment as he turned his head, allowing his sensors to pick up and visually ascertain what had happened.

Smoke rose from the chest of a fang-faced alien, several eyeballs going limp and dark with no emotion or life. The other eel-necked creature, dressed to the gills in coats and sweaters, holstered his weapon away before he began perusing through the dead alien's pockets.

A lone Terran boy watched the scene unravel with nothing but a blank expression. Once the eel had done his business and ran, the boy only ran up to the table and stole whatever food had been left before checking those very same pockets for any of value.

And Dandy? Dandy kept walking. None of it was his business. He had somewhere to be. Adjusting the hood of his jacket and drawing it closer to his person, Dandy kept a small profile as he simply slipped through the crowds. No one would notice him. That's how simple it was for him. He could read the people and patterns like ones and zeroes.

Drawing himself to a slow stop, Dandy fished the small note from his jacket pocket before reading it and glancing up at the nearby markers and signs. He was close. The ship was probably a few hangar doors down.

"Meow."

Grabbing a cylinder from his belt, a glowing-hot plasma firearm immediately transformed and heated itself up inside Dandy's hand as he squeezed the cool handle grip, ready to squeeze even harder on the trigger. Turning his head, he did not need to even look as his aim remained true on . . . a feline-shaped artificial lifeform. Closer inspection appeared to indicate no threatening movements had been made besides that lone noise and sudden appearance.

Dandy's shoulders loosened as he groaned. He expected something much more dangerous and fun or at least more stimulating than whatever this thing was. That and situations were so much easier when he had a much more clear idea of whether to shoot something (or someone) or not. Instead he was faced with the moral conundrum of shooting a kitten in the face.

The thought of pulling the trigger flashed across his mind before another calculated idea interceded.

He turned on the laser sights. An addition to the piece Dandy carried that he never saw much use for until now.

A true test of an artificial lifeform's innocence (and relative danger level) was how much it mimicked who or, in this case, what it was based off of. If it behaved like a cat, there was far less to worry about. If not . . . Dandy preferred not to think about that right now.

"C'mon, Captain Meow. Get the dot."

 

[Ghostly]

There was so much life here, so many beings living in tandem, a chaotic dance of struggle and joy against the uncaring black. There was an overwhelming feeling to it, both beautiful and terrifying.

Society here was left to govern itself - aside from Port Authority, who was always happy to indulge in their brand of policing to keep the element from shifting the fragile ecosystem. It wasn't like this in the True Republic. On their worlds, everything proceeded as the system had dictated it would to maximize efficiency and populous cohesion.

Non-citizens kept to their own sector, workers followed appropriate channels, and reality was exactly what Chancellor Monmouth said it was. What a time to be alive. It wasn't but a few minutes glassing the stream of bodies passing through the docks that a hooded Terran emerged from the crowd and made his way towards Haigen and the ship.

As the man approached, Haigen took a sip of his tea and pretended not to notice as he looked over the ship, glancing around the dock as if he was expecting the world to turn on him. Once he was close enough, his hand stuck out and their eyes met - Kresh, that was his name.

Two hands met in a solid grip and he offered a subtle smile and friendly eyes to his fellow. "I'm Haigen, it's good to see another Terran, I was almost worried I'd be the only one." Their hands broke and he looked over the man's shoulder and up the hull of their vessel. "Ship's got a lot of space, I'd wager we could expect a half-dozen more."

"The kettle should still be hot, should it suit you. I couldn't find coffee, but this Tevosi tea isn't half bad."

 

[Fang]

There were things the kitten knew integrally, as if by instinct or some deep programming that ran without any need for activation. It knew it was not an organic creature, despite however convincing its appearance might have been. There were many advantages to being a sentient nanoswarm, even when of a limited number. One of those advantages saved you from obliteration as a ship’s hood ornament. Another allowed it to scan its environment beyond what most other machines were capable of. Though seemingly still it gathered data on microscopic wings, scanning materials and lifeforms, energy sources and speech, taking in the chaos around it as raw data that it processed at lightning speeds.



The system registered the heavy footfalls, the weaponry the approaching synthetic carried as it approached. Initial scans detected intermittent and chaotic frequencies, as well as heavy retrofitting to an older android model. The kitten was not surprised when the weapon was suddenly drawn and leveled toward it; a model like that was bound to have a few glitches. It met the artificial eyes behind the barrel almost defiantly as it licked its paw. The red dot flicked to life next to Anima, and it gave a slow blink without turning its head.



“Get the dot.”



Patronizing



So it was to be a test. Anima was familiar with the idea, in theory. The more advanced an artificial intelligence the less its casing mattered, which Anima supposed applied to it more than most. Assuming that equated to danger was… reductive, though. A sign of an older processing system still bound to a diametric polarity. Danger, benefit, Anima didn’t really see the need to classify the being that taunted it, though clearly that being felt the need to classify the kitten so.



The kitten stood, and padded over to the red dot to place a paw “on” the laser without breaking ocular contact with the android. There were more interesting things they could be doing and dealing with; Anima’s scans had revealed a nearby ship with systems that had a high compatibility with its own, well provisioned and large enough to hide a kitten easily. It couldn’t afford to lose any more mass to a plasma shot, though, so it would play the android’s game.

 

[Fill]

DANDY

The little lifeform had pawed the dot, but its ocular lenses continued to stare at Dandy. One, that was unnerving, even by artificial standards. Two, it only added to Dandy's suspicion that this was not someone's pet.

Dandy scoffed, "Well, aren't you adorable?"

His finger grew closer to squeezing the trigger before releasing and setting the weapon back onto his belt, another cylinder on his belt now. An instinct beyond normal programming told him he should have blasted the critter.

Something else told him he should not.

Instead, Dandy began fishing around in another compartment on his belt before haphazardly tossing out a handful of jellybeans towards the artificial lifeform.

"Shoo. Go away, Captain Meow. Please and thank you," Dandy's static voice remained, well, static as he lazily waved the critter off. Not a hint of frustration or aggression.

Just apathetic withdrawal as he turned around and began walking towards the ship. The splash of boots hitting puddles without a care followed before he began approaching the ramp. With the ship around the corner and him having a schedule to keep, Dandy figured the last thing he needed any crewmates or bunk buddies thinking he was a psychopath who would kill them in their sleep for no reason other than he could.

A dead kitten on the resume would do little to dissuade others from that. Or an itchy trigger finger for that matter.

But if he had a good reason . . .

Eavesdropping by lowering the settings on his filter, Dandy picked up two Terrans on the freighter talking about how good neither was the lone Terran in this group. Neither would be the odd one out on this journey. There would be at least be the bond of being somewhat similar things. Neither would be alone in that sense.

Dandy side-stepped the pair before heading inside the ship. A cursory glance told him enough about the living quarters. Tossing his bag over his shoulder towards one of the sleeping pods, Dandy knew he better pick a spot to sleep before someone else did. Introductions could wait later. This was far more important.

Sharing a room with anyone was out of the question. A pod would be far more preferrable, even if it was not a bed. Sifting through his bag, Dandy pulled out a marker before popping off the cap with one finger and casually catching the flung cap with his other hand. Kneeling down, the artificial mercenary began writing his name in capital letters with the marker.

There. Marked as his.

Opening a locker door with his name on it, Dandy threw his bag haphazardly in there before checking if he still had his string and grenades. Still there. Good. He shut the door before writing his name again in marker on it.

Dandy removed the hood from his head before sitting down on his pod. Dropping the filter entirely, all stimuli began returning to him in full. A few moments later he fished inside his coat for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

And began smoking all his cares away as he inserted the coffin nail between the open vent grilles on his head.

 

[Azra]

His name was Eric Delrov he was the propaganda piece of the republic. A poster recently was plastered on a wall one of countless many. It was thsnks to his efforts that the Republic presence was felt this far out. They were often soon defaced these posters, sometimes by her. Not that poster it was painted over she usually burned them. Unbeknownst to Pulse a soon to be coworker had passed the poster she was passing. While he quietly seathed in defense of the empire by another name however she was venturing after the propagandist.

Before she left on a new mission she wanted one last little act of rebellion. She liked this world it was all piracy and traitors, colored by aliens and insurrectionists. To her a world like this was as close to home as she could feel. This "Eric" dragged down that atmosphere. She had spoken to him at a bar. Approached him as if a consort for later. Was a benefit to the holographic image, it was easy to act an add for someone. Seeing her as nightly company he had returned from his latest outing of propaganda providing he expected company. She followed the path he took to his apartment. She supposed could have just traveled by the wiring but she enjoyed retracing his steps instead.

In one "eye" she followed the various footage to his home. Hacking into cameras and adds to trace his steps back. As Pulse walked nobody had really paid her any mind a hologram in a sea of them. Neon lighting of hers bled into the lighting of infinite signs, adds, and flickering monitors. She knew Eric was home from his recent propaganda posting. Store front across from his place captured him returning, and with that Pulse vanished a lingering static in the air as she disappeared. It was easy in the end she was just energy, electricity easy to become the power in the walls instead. She materializes then inside a room.

It made her sick truth be told. Not the sight of the person, she could see the appeal in a lot of alien forms. Humans included, they were the alien to her. She'd even grown more fond of her holographic presentation over her previous one. The suroundings though was all military appraisal, love of the Republic. Outside in the wild of Outreach he couldn't express himself normally. In his oen home though it dhowed through true belief in the system.

He looked at her in puzzlement. "Where's the real you? How'd you get in here?" She couldn't falt the befuddlement of her arrival. There was no signs of break in they would find none either. The confusion why there was no revealing clothes or skin shown made her laugh. It was a soft sound, with a hint of static below it.

"Looking at it. Republic was the death of my world."

The words were met with mostly a "yes and" expression. How someone was a hologram was hard to fathom but he didn't see how the world situation factored into it. Didn't see how that was bad either what was one planet bled dry to the countless others attended to? The revelation was not new and he did not care. His confusion soon went for drawing a firearm, relatively sure no nightly company coming he took aim at Pulse's skull. It was her who now had a "yes and" expression. There was ways to kill energy sure but that slug thrower wasn't it. Lights go out, a gun barks and then from outside one would see a almost blinding flash of light. Power of the apartment was all absorbed by her a d then converted into a lightning strike.

a scorched corpse is what anyone would find if investigating that corner of Outreach.

her coworkers wouldn't have to look far at all however in comparison. She traveled through the wires, then moved into the circuitry of the ship. Then like a ghost stepped through a wall standing next to the smoking robot. A tiny figure compared to them just barely over five feet tall or in centimeters just under a hundred sixty. So far there was metal and skin around the ship comparison wise she was just lights. "Damn I wanted that pod. Suppose could fit all the same. Right introductions, you three may call me Pulse. The cat with us? I'll adopt it if need be." Pulse wasn't sure if the cat was any of theirs, or if documentation was an issue. If it were though it was easy for her to rectify. Being a technopath had such a benefit. Was probably some security systems that could contest her, but not on some lowly pirate world on the outer rim.

 

[Thimble]

Half-dozen more? That was juicy. That little tidbit had just upgraded this to a Class 4-F Insurgent cell. He released Haigen's arm and moved to stand beside him on the boarding ramp, the position of a close friend, or trusted contact. Most people wouldn't believe what a little positioning would do to get you into someone's good graces. A variegated crowd of different species walked past in front of them, all heading their own separate ways in a chaotic ruckus.

"I know, right? I'll never get used to being surrounded by so many different aliens".

Deft eyes noted Haigen's involuntary movements. The way he watched, almost in awe, of the throngs of alien scum. It was time to switch tactics.

"But there is something beautiful to it, no? The way they're all slightly different from one another, all mixing and mingling.
The "Frightening Chaos of Liberty", as Alexandrovitch would say. I found his Critique of The Republic fascinating. There's quite a few interesting chapters on alien relations."

Kresh flashed a nervous smile. "I'm almost afraid to ask but...do you get into much Political Literature?

 

[Fang]

The weapon was lowered and the red dot vanquished, though Anima knew it wasn’t in the manner that the android had expected. Content that the threat of being shot had been sufficiently neutralized the kitten resumed cleaning its paw as the android walked away. It had been a minor inconvenience, but once the glitchy droid had gone far enough it would no longer be anything Anima would need to worry over.



Unless, of course, the glitched bot was walking right onto the ship Anima had planned to board, apparently with an invitation as the Terrans that stood nearby did nothing to stop it. Anima let out an indignant growl as it pounced forward, darting between feet and wheels to follow after the android. It wasn’t sure if it would demand an explanation, or what it would do at all really, once it caught up to the faulty machine.



It was a grey streak, perhaps a bit faster than a feline of its apparent age should have been, when it bounded past the Terran passengers and into the ship’s hull. The android had already found quarters, forgoing the bunks but opting to mark the chosen pod with its name. Suddenly, though, Anima was less interested in driving the hazard from the ship it had found first.



The feline’s posture changed, slinking past the living spaces and into the ducts, passing through them like mist with a faint blue glow illuminating its fur. The nanomachines that explored the ship returned to Anima’s main mass, filtering backward along the path it traveled as though leading the cat forward, though it had already mapped the way to its destination.



“The cat with us?”



The voice drifted without hint any hint of muting, the few pieces of itself that Anima had left behind the moment it had changed direction transmitting the goings on above the main body as though it were there entirely. Whatever the being was that had noticed Anima was seemingly of a higher functionality than the android that was smoking nearby.



What was more important lay below the cat, however, as it filtered through another vent into the cargo hold of the ship, landing neatly between two boxes in front of a dimly flashing access panel. With a soft, metallic sound the cat’s tail shifted and widened, the material rearranging into the matching input to the diagnostic port the feline had sought out. Without preamble the reformed tail slammed into the port, blue luminance to its fur becoming brighter and more pronounced as it connected to the ship.





10:00:00

 

[Fill]

DANDY

Dandy kept a bingo sheet inside his software at all times. He randomized it everyday or week. All the things he thought were mostly likely to happen to him. Something that was not on said bingo sheet was a hard-energy hologram girl phasing out from the wall. Reaching one hand towards the belt, Dandy fingered one of the other toys in his arsenal.

Another drag from his cigarette before he puffed a cloud of smoke her direction. She wanted his pod? She wanted to share his pod?

Good luck to her on that.

"Stay out of my pod, blue tits," Dandy's static speakers buzzed to life between drags, "Someone get their hologram hooker before I get your money's worth."

If he had a face, there would be a self-satisfied smile plastered all over it as he kicked back and relaxed in his pod. That would get someone's attention and this so-called Pulse female-appearing construct would be out of his general vicinity before he resorted to flicking on an EMP or two to get a little personal space.

However, if he could visible furrow a pair of eyebrows and narrow his eyes right now, Dandy would at the mention of a cat.

"A cat? Oh you got be fucking kidding me."

Before watching the same feline from earlier float its little nanite swarm of a body into the ship's vents. Dandy leapt from his pod. Not even five minutes into this job and already there were problems.

Opening the locker, Dandy fished two grenades from his backpack before attaching one to his belt. The other remained in his palm before tossing it up into the air and catching it again, satisfied with the heft. Grabbing a small container from his belt, Dandy pressed a circular button before a shotgun unfolded itself into his hand.

Tilting his head towards the group, Dandy simply oozed with snark, "Watch and take notes, class. It's nano hunting season."

Another puff of smoke followed as he lodged the cigarette into his grille before heading into the cargo hold.

</Selecting track from Playlist #9. A Little Less Conversation.>

Strutting and dancing down the steps to the rhythm, Dandy spun the shotgun in one hand before sharply checking corner after corner. Not a movement wasted with each careful step. He did not need to check for long before a bright blue light in one corner of the hold began glowing. Edging slowly around the corner of a large crate, Dandy rounded on the kitten with the firearm aimed directly at its head.

Guess he was shooting a kitten in the face after all.

"Step away from the panel, or I'm neutering your ass."

A threat he would make good on without hesitation if pressed. His sights never veered away from the kitten as his fingers squeezed just a little tighter on the trigger.

 

[Orange]

Antimony never had a bunch of intoxicants. Lighting a match while outside you were lucky if the acid rain got it first and not a pocket of flammable gas finally spewing up from the planet. There was also the issue of being drunk or high and just walking out the door. Most people on Antimony had an innate fear that was natural for the planet. But if you're instincts in that moment were dulled you were dead. It felt like such a natural decision to ban intoxicants from the planet.

Magnus had even been hired a few times to help smuggle those same drugs into or out of Antimony. When the Cell and the Revolution needed money you had to make compromises. Today Magnus made a compromise with himself Outreach was dangerous sure but not Antimony dangerous. So today Magnus sat in a chair drinking next to pirates, thieves, and various outlaws. Did he seem out of place he wasn't sure. He was a pale-looking Terran almost deathly so to most. Sure other planets lacked a sun or sunlight for whatever reason. But Antimony was different his allotment of the underground sun had been almost seven months ago. Besides some aliens, he was the palest Terran in this bar.

So he acted a little bit more raucous glancing towards the ship whenever he saw movement—but generally acted the part he needed. He tried to draw no attention from those approaching the ship hoping to appear as nothing more than a reveler enjoying the night out celebrating some heist or job just completed. Drinking his money away was all he was doing and gathering the names of the big players on the planet and sector. Most weren't here now but rumors would suffice. Skullfuckers and various crew names with the same creative ability in either Terran or various other alien languages. They wasted their energies harassing the Republic for greed, not the higher goal. They would all have a part to play eventually whether it was through greed or ideas.

So far a tall robot with its cat and two humanoids possibly Terrans. He would have liked to wait longer but it also risked someone trying to fly away with the ship or attempting to destroy it. Magnus finished his drink and left content with what he had seen. Not a whole lot of cameras in the area could be others were watching but decided to leave the ship and its crew alone.

Magnus passed the two humanoids now able to see that they were Terran. "You don't always need political literature when your own eyes can see the injustice of what they call a Republic. But if you need it government documents usually spell it out pretty simply worsening working conditions, increased quotas, and the resulting mortality laid out in stark numbers." He squeezed past the two and opened his locker marked Magnus throwing his stuff inside.

"Has anybody run diagnostics yet?" Magnus turned his head finally seeing the robot now pointing a gun at the cat. No, that "cat" was a source for a blue glow having plugged its tail into a port. Also, a blue humanoid he hadn't noticed entering was inside. Where had she come from? "Lower the gun you could damage the ship if you fire! We need everything working for the damn job." If need be maybe we could rip it free from the ship.

 

[Drake]

Outreach was a hive. Much like most inhabitable planets dotted with the grays and blacks of organic intervention, it's surface was but a swarm of slithering lifeforms and their subjugated little helpers. Unfortunately, such places were the ones he had to spend most of his time in, performing his self-appointed tasks. For all their faults, meatbags were especially good at one thing: wanting other meatbags dead. They kept Hades busy, in a cycle of perpetual self-improvement to better execute tougher contracts, rinse and repeat.

This time the contractor had been some politically motivated Terran, anti-Republican sentiment and whatnot. Hades quite liked this about the Terrans, this endless conflict that relentlessly pitted them against each other, they didn't shy away from the numbers game either, always tossing plenty of targets to blast through. While he had not been made to comprehend vague concepts such as those, he could certainly deduce that brutally skewering through an entire dettachment of Terran ground troops was the closest to happiness one could feel. Their motives didn't quite matter, the rewards offered added to the potential havoc this little squadron would wreak across the galaxies was more than enough compensation for his much requested services.

He'd rather have done it alone, however.

Teams were a liability, coordinating with sacks of flesh and organs was thoroughly inefficient, you had to account for their illogical sentimentality, their tendency to take less than suboptimal decisio s that could compromise the entire mission on a whim, their constant scheming behind everyone else's backs. A necessary evil for jobs as big as these, but Hades made sure to file a suggestion to his contractor for any of their future partnerships: "For any future jobs, consider secure network-controlled drones for the menial tasks, this unit can multitask."

No use bothering with the details now, standing before the Fenoshan vessel, the mercenary could already tell there were quite a few funds sunk into this project, which meant professionals of a higher standard, even if his sensor could already pick up several heartbeats amongst the crew within the ship. Normally, the commotion before the start of any assignement was a good indicator of the composition of the team, not now. The quaint electronic signals added an unquantifiable variable to the already uncertain equation, not a single one seemes coherent, organized as standard robotic models were, thus even more finessing would be required, analyzing data from each member and adapting parameters accordingly.

Perhaps the greatest challenge of the mission.

Or not.

As soon as he walked up the ramp, into the cockpit, the scene had already turned into a classic impasse. An unbeknownst robotic model whirred and purred near the controls, a lightly armed... thing threatened it. The single red dot on Hades 7's helm slid through its horizontal axis. From small model to interrupting organics, to the jumble of electronic signals shaped into a holographic female, to the one seemingly mechanic individual with the shotgun and grenades.

"This unit would suggest heavier artillery if you have already decided to purge the ship of it's crew. Otherwise, this unit advises putting your toys down." The heavily mechanical tone echoed from his voicebox, devoid of any remotely humane characteristic. Not even a moment had passed after his assessment, and Hades had already turned away from the little scene, bringing his belongings to whichever bunker seemed the most beneficial for his storing and recharging needs.

Hopefully the most quiet too.

 

[Fang]

09:59:59
09:59:36
09:59:15
09:58:43
09:58:27
09:57:55
09:57:34
09:56:53


The numbers rolled through quickly, ticking seconds off of the timer in rapid order while the kitten flopped onto its back with a soft purr and pawed at the spinning numbers that only existed within its own perception. It wasn’t entirely sure what the counter was for, though it was confident it was involved with integration. Anima could hardly explain how it was integrating the ship, but it knew that it was doing so.



09:25:33



It had almost missed the familiar, and unwelcome, footsteps from the android above; it had fully ignored his cry of outrage in its preoccupation. As the android approached, though, and his weapon aimed for Anima for the second time the kitten simply rolled over, purring slightly softer but rolling unhindered by threats. Heavier footfalls heralded a distraction, a bulky mech chiming in with a deeply mechanized admonishment to the faulty droid.



"This unit would suggest heavier artillery if you have already decided to purge the ship of it's crew. Otherwise, this unit advises putting your toys down."



Anima found itself agreeing with the assessment, though for slightly differing reasons. The kitten yawned silently, stretching itself out on its side as the tail disconnected from the terminal with a lazy flick. Almost instantly, with a few barely perceptible clicks and whirs, the tail resumed its normal shape, and the kitten stretched its paw toward the shotgun with its claws hidden.





Recalculating



”Mreow?”



It’s glowing blue eyes widened toward the android with its soft, almost questioning sound. Another paw joined the first, stretching out as the other receded to its chest in nearly caressing grace. Anima was prepared, though, if the trigger was vainly pulled.



11:59:59
11:59:58


The scrolling numbers slowed without a direct connection, changing and flicking away seconds on a much longer countdown of hours, rather than minutes.

 

[Ghostly]

Alien relations - he was one of those types wasn't he?

Haigen rubbed his tender neck, unsure of the right answer. "Eh, sorry I can't say I have, I like my literature more on the fantasy side," Haigen said as a heavily-armed android sauntered aboard their ship. He gave him a nod of acknowledgement, he seemed to fit in well enough.

He was about to decide whether or not he wanted to walk aboard the ship before the android did anything weird, or turn the question of literature on Kresh - but then a guy with real opinions showed up and his brain turned off. "If you're looking for an intellectual sparring partner, I'd suggest that guy, my philosophies tend to be a lot less - wordy." He turned to follow up the ramp, beckoning Kresh to follow his stride.

He heard a female voice inside - odd, since he hadn't remembered seeing anyone else enter. She identified herself as 'Pulse', an interesting name for a mysterious presence. It seemed a good a time as any for official introductions anyway.

Before he could take more than three steps, a much larger android marched past - heavily armed and armored. If he didn't know any better he'd have thought it didn't even notice him, but he knew it did - he knew the kind of machine this was. It was a butcher, a killer of men with cold, brutal efficiency. It carried enough firepower to rend this spaceport a smoking cinder on the face of Outreach if it wanted.

In books and holomovies, the good guy always said some shit like - "I'm just glad he's on our side!" Fuck that, there was no 'our side'. There was gonna be their employer, people standing in the way of getting the job done, and a thin firing line dividing those two. He'd remind himself to stay out of the blast radius.

When Haigen finally came up the ramp and back into the main hold of the ship proper, it seemed some of his crewmates were already getting stir-crazy. The black armored android had a shotgun pointed at what looked to be a cyber kitten, while the flyboy Terran rebel and (ironically) the walking tank tried convincing him otherwise. A blue, translucent, glowing woman was also standing in the hold, no doubt Pulse.

It wasn't just the android with a scattergun that drew the attention of the others, it was the cat - more importantly what it was doing. It seemed to had found a systems access port and was interfacing with it through it's tail? Very interesting, and somewhat concerning. Haigen had seen infiltration models masquerading as simple technology - PDAs, kitchen appliances, boudettes. While he didn't agree with the execution, he could at least understand the fear of meddling.

As soon as it had started however, it was over. The little cat removed it's tail and went back to emoting just as any household variety feline would, all cuddles and purrs. The Terran lowed himself, settling on one knee at arms length from the kitten. "Huh - wouldn't even tell the difference..." Haigen trailed off as he reached a hand for them, glancing over his shoulder at the robotic mercenary and his shotgun. "You mind pointing that someplace else for a minute?"

 

[Deacon]

The Krake's robotic exoframe carried it through the crowds of disparate alien life forms, parting the seabed of entangled flesh and limbs that rigidly danced its way across his path. He hated the way that they walked - bones kept their limbs disgustingly stiff, plodding across the ground with heavy impacts. He hated the gaseous exhalations that emanated from their mouths - CO2 - before they had to suck oxygen back in. Usually they accompanied these repulsive rituals with sound, gibbering in their rudimentary language of verbs and nouns and adjectives - a loathsome, sickening cadence which failed to capture much of anything. To him, most of what they had to say boiled down to "I like!" and "I don't like!" - even hate was an emotion too sublime for them to fully spell out in their dreadful excuse for a language.

In contrast, the cyborg Krake appeared to glide effortlessly through the lanes, shoulders swishing rhythmically as the bladed feet of its exoskeleton glided across the ground as though it were made of ice. Only a slight initial effort, and he could coast for blocks, skating effortlessly along the ground. His suit may have been heavier than the garb worn by most of the Terrans, but there was no indication of that aside from height and coloration. The Krake stood a full head above most beings, luminous jelly-like head pulsing pale blue Language (disgust/contempt/threat/observation/reaction/quiet). Tiny tentacles oscillated under its chin. The Krake's drone followed behind it silently.

This Krake was ExRel - External Relations - and had been assigned by the collective to obtain the 'once in a lifetime reward' proffered by one M. Eido, almost assuredly a Terran himself. The Krake were laser-focused in their acquisition of influence, in their pursuit of galactic vengeance - and λ-9.88 had been selected for this operation. Assigned 'Deacon' for ease of communication with aliens, he (though Krake had no gender) rounded the corner on the ship. It, like all alien designs, struck him as ugly, an elementary mimicry of Krake engineering.

For the duration of this mission, Deacon's own craft had been collected by another up-and-coming ExRel agent, whose only contribution to the job was to retrieve the elder agent's starfighter and transport it to friendly space. Krake trusted one another fully; it was good to see a friendly face, and exchange some last minute mission parameters. Being surrounded by aliens was excessively unpleasant. Hence, ExRels enjoyed a place of great honor in the collective. Sometimes Deacon regretted taking on the job, but it was for the good of the people, and it did make him proud to be considered elite, special.

That would likely be the last time he could communicate in Language, rather than using the irritable vocoder, which translated his cultivated and nuanced photon pulses into gutteral, Kindergartener commonspeak.

As the tall Krake advanced on the ship, his drone folded inward, a small symmetrical polyhedron that seemed to track his every move. It became more compact and docked upon his shoulder pauldron; no need to draw weapons aboard the ship, which was designated friendly to him along with its crew. The light blue energy field around his body shimmered with every step, a defensive film over the metal body and jellied head that kept him clean among the filth. The scattergun still hung at his hip, and the pulse rifle remained mounted on his back.

Gliding up the ramp, the jellied thing mounted on a robotic body took in its surroundings with a slight queasiness. It would grow accustomed to the ship, no doubt, with its odd sloping sheens and off-putting alien architecture. As for the crew - he perceived confrontation amidst the organics, noting the deployment of weapons. It left its own tools holstered. A Krake drew its gun when it meant to kill. They were beings of their word - and its word, now, was loyalty, to both this hideous menagerie of lower life-imitants, and their assigned task. Hence Deacon, associated with 'service.' A reminder to feign humility and fulfill function.

It remained silent in observing the ongoing chaos; the presence of a Krake aboard would speak volumes, and it preferred not to stoop to using non-Language. Krake ExRel were not an unknown sight in the galaxy, but after the Republic's many crimes against the Krake (akin to a natural disaster; the doctrine of nonsapience taught that these 'beings' were more flesh-golems than people), their numbers had been vastly reduced. The expansionist Krake empire had been forced to play a different kind of game. Deacon knew it was a piece on an endless board, and that he was empowered to bring his empire victory through obedience.

That was the main difference between him and the others, he thought, punching open his locker to stow any belongings he might come across (locker empty).

Yes. He was sociable, and they were vermin.

 

[Azra]

"It's called a joke. Don't usually sell myself. There's also plenty of space. And I don't really need space." In the view of most she was thought an AI, of software in a machine. She considered such fact understandable given how she existed. She was still a being though apart of her did want space to call hers. She selected a pod ignoring some of the commotion as she kneeled down to poke at some of the systems beside a pod. A monitor that was meant more to show temperature settings and other rudimentary info. A few thoughts to change code and it would also display her name. It consumed a bit of energy sure but there was so much energy still in her being for such trivial things. She had considered scorching her name into the pod of hers it felt more personal that way. She concluded that would be to aggro though to much damage done in her eyes. Damaging the ship wasn't a good look which raised a question.

What to do about the feline and android face off?

They had some new additions as well. Pulse was surprised by the amount of crew for the job. Three humans, two androids, a Krake, and herself. Was rather extensive, truth be told she was most intrigued by the Krake they were in ways similar to what Pulse had been. The second most interesting crew mate to her was the cat of nanites. Most didn't build their robot pets to be so advanced in technology. Everyone else spoke common but the krake and cat didn't seem to. She figured the alien didn't speak more by choice, it had some metric of communication she figured. So her attention would go to the ship and the creature.

"Adoption of a pet would be so much simpler. Let me see if I can understand it though. Running a diagnostic on the ship as well. May not be an AI but I may as well be." That didn't say anything about what she was, an intentional play. Pulse had to take what delights she could, like ambiguity and mind games. The high one got from dancing in engine cores. As things like sensations of touch or alcohol had become foreign to her bizarre change in composition. She wasn't sure how open the ship would be to her outreach was still made. A update, a new app, a new user in most cases these had a level of intrusion. The same couldn't be said for Pulse. She was just energy. If the power of a ship was a pond of clean water, and one poured a cup of clean water into said pond was there any distinction? This was how she functioned, similar to an AI perhaps but with an esoteric separation in methods and boundaries.

Her fusion with the ships energy or at least attempt would come with trying to decipher the intentions of the cat. Was it uploading or downloading anything? Was it a package of viruses? It was easy for a being of energy to decipher the purpose of energy being exerted or taken. "Mind sharing why you're here?" Pulse would inquire reaching out to "pet" the cat. Though touch was different for her, heat and static it could almost feel like a touch in all but the actual contact. Because there was no actual skin of course. Signals and energies so adjacent to the intent, yet ethereal. The real act of course was simply trying to decipher intention. A machine might only speak in meows but the code was a language she knew.

Of course in moving she had also gone through a wall and a shotgun barrel was half inside hee head. Light flickering along the metal, hints of static possibly traveling up the barrel letting the owner feel the tickle of the currents. "Maybe consider the utility of a nanite pet Dandy. Something like it and myself can go where you can't. I miss guns, having said that guns and bombs aren't always the best key. Besides that'd be one less round not used on the republic. Thought of a Republic soldier surviving so a cat could die, makes a girl sad." So far the crew seemed abysmal at providing names allowed. Some had marked their territory though which helped.

 

[Fill]

DANDY

It would appear everyone and their mother had an opinion on the violence Dandy was about to enact on this robo-kitten. Could a droid ever murder someone or something in peace for once? Just once?

It was even justified this time!

And the fact they were more concerned about the physical damage he would have done to ship? It would be minor, small potatoes even, to whatever viruses and spyware this nano-kitten had uploaded into the ship's mainframe. The short term damage of a few sheets of metal and bundled wiring being shredded to peace would be nothing compared to the long-term problem of cleaning every single computer system on this ship.

Everyone was a critic and everyone had their two cents, even going out of their way to get in his way. From people bossing him around, to criticizing his choice of weaponry, to getting in his line of sight. That was the worst part. Stupid words were one thing. Stupid actions were another.

The Terran was effectively poking an animal with a stick to see what would happen. Blue lady tried getting in front of him and block his sight. Like they had more loyalty to this unvetted kitten than a mercenary literally hired and vetted for the job.

If he could grit his teeth, he would. Probably for the best he had none. His teeth would have been dust by now. Even so, there had been one hopeful glimmer of competence among the bunch.

Besides, he never had to justify his actions to anyone before in a long time. He was not starting now. He was a mercenary. This is what he did. Eliminate all threats without hesitation or remorse.

"Riiight. If everyone is done whining and bitching and moaning, I do--in fact--mind pointing this gun somewhere else," Dandy's vocoder rumbled, cutting through everyone else's noise, "Even with this ghost's ass all up in my face. Boundaries, lady. I don't know you like that."

To further his point, Dandy simply took a few steps through the blue "ghost" while maintaining his aim on the robo-cat as well as keeping his distance from the smaller artificial lifeform. All that followed was a roll of the shoulders.

"Tingly. Now, where was I?"

Spinning the grenade in his hand for a moment before stopping, Dandy's head tilted to the side, almost copying the human emote of confidence or determination. All that was left was either a confident smirk or a stern glare if he could emote one.

His next few words would allow everyone to decide for themselves.

"Phantom of the Streetwalkers over there has a minute to figure out if this thing is a threat or not. If it is, I kill it. If she can't figure it out, I kill it," Dandy's voice grew dangerously low for a moment, "And, to be perfectly clear to everyone, if you put yourself between it and myself because you have the silly notion (and frankly quite insulting idea to all artificial life) to domesticate or poke your fingers at what is obviously not a pet but a clear and current threat, I will kill you to kill it."

Giving a thumbs up with grenade still in hand, Dandy gave a quick nod to the portion of group so adamant about preventing this robo-kitten's destruction. However, his aim nor line of sight on the artificial creature never faltered for a moment.

In an almost comically and sarcastic light tone of voice, Dandy had one simple question left to ask. If he could glare unamused and frustrated daggers, this is the point where he would. Dandy would bet everything he owned if this nano-swarm had not taken the form of what the organics call a "cute and cuddly kitten", they would not be so quick to its defense.

"One minute. Starting now. Comprende?"

One minute should be long enough for artificial lifeforms to compute, think, and communicate at the speed of light, if not faster. In theory, at least. It would speed things up a little as well as put pressure on both the kitten and the blue girl. That and give the Terran time to get out of the splash zone of what could follow, if this situation went downhill.

Someone or something would have to give. Additional information would be compiled. And then the fate of this nano-swarm would be decided, once and for all.

 

[Fang]

The more of the passengers upon Anima’s chosen ship arrived the more spoke out against its aggressor. One of the Terrans even knelt to offer an enticing hand, though the kitten remained where it was. So many new arrivals, so much sudden activity around the glitching android and his weapon, silenced the soft purrs, and when the voice behind the shotgun spoke the kitten regained its feet.



Connection: Optimal.



Status: 15%



Time remaining: 11:45:55



Several diagnostics from the ship were already available to Anima; sensors and data flow, manifests and fuel levels. The female hologram was there, too, lightly touching upon Anima’s code as it traveled through the systems. Confirmation that the unique being shared similarities with Anima, though her tentative query was left unanswered in that space.



It was also scanning the newcomers, while the droid sought to sway them toward the kitten’s assumed destruction. Another of the Terrans watched, different in flesh and garb from the one that knelt toward Anima in ways that blended together. The Krake was simply designated in Anima’s database without further note; much like the others, though flashes of color across its cephalopodic body sparked curiosity that would be later explored.



Finally the kitten’s focus fully returned to the shotgun aimed toward it, though it hadn’t truly ever looked away. Luminescent blue eyes rose to meet the android’s gaze as he granted his minute. The ship had more than it’s systems for Anima to plunder, and among that information came further designation for the trigger- happy android.



“Asimov Cybernetics Model: Dandy. Your weapon will prove ineffective against the Anima System.”



The voice, stiff and robotic, seemed to have no real source though the kitten would pulse slightly with a blue glow at each syllable. It did not move it’s mouth, however, and simply continued to stare at Dandy.



“I am the Automated Nanite Information Assistant, and this ship was determined to possess the highest compatibility from the choices available. Whatever I may be able to help with please feel free to ask.” Slowly the kitten blinked. “Registering user permission: Child Safety Mode. User designation: Defective Dandy Model.”



The kitten stepped closer and put a paw to the barrel of the shotgun, using its negligible weight to attempt to bring it down.



“Repair functions are not currently available for this vessel, Dandy.” Though it had spoken so little the words held some hint of humanity, still too bare to call emotion.

 

[Fill]

DANDY

Dandy had been called a lot of things over the years. Defective and D.A.N.D.Y. Model being among them. The "Child Safety Mode" was a new low blow in his career. Now he had to get permission from a cat to use something on the ship? Perhaps a sick joke intended to reduce his effectiveness and make him feel less than. As if that had not been attempted on him every single day. But Dandy could take this on the chin like any other day and form a countermeasure later to workaround the kitten's programming down the line. If he even cared enough to try.

Dandy had placed this creature as a current threat, but its death would be impersonal to Dandy. Dandy's only joy here would be to watch the little nanites become nothing more than slag thanks to a few key explosions or, maybe if Dandy was feeling a little more deadly and sadistic, force the critter to explode into a small confetti of miniature fireworks. He could almost smile at the thought. That is if he could smile.

No, what had made this personal was the nano-swarm had placed its paw upon the gun, trying to paw the weapon down and away from its body. Perhaps, the blue girl out of all the crew could see where this would go next. After all, Dandy had made it clear from the beginning. The only noticeable change in his demeanor, at first, would be the singular glowing red triangle on his dome glowed more intense at the touch.

Dandy nodded at first. Almost physically agreeing with the nano-swarm. His weapon lowered, away from the critter. Peace at last.

</͕͜N̩͒e͟w tr̷̪̒aͪͤ͏c̙̾k̨̛ ͣs̻̕e͊ͧlẹc͢te͊d ̣ͤͥf̙͂ͤrͨő̴͔m̧̧̜ ̰pͨ͒̌l͞å҉̃yl̜͑i̴s͇̏t̤̜ͅ ͗#͔?͇͚̋?̯̳͠?͌ ̯̆Só̦̐n̗͢g͓͔:̷̻̿ ̴?̝?ͬ?͑͊ͣ.͎͚ ͨ̀O̵v͠ẽͧrc̄ͅlỏ̜ͪc̱̞͏k̩:̗͈̮ ̞1̛͌0̿5̛̒͊%ͧ.>͍̓͢

For a few moments, at least.

Dandy struck out. No hesitation, only haste. A blur to everyone in the room, organic, cybernetic, and everything in-between. In a single flow, Dandy flipped the shotgun around so that the brunt of the weapon's stock would strike against the kitten's body. Dandy knew it would not harm the creature, not in the way that mattered.

"Don't-"

But the speed of the strike would certainly damage some nanites and send the critter across the cargo hold into the nearest wall if the blow connected or force the critter to return to its other state of a floating yet less densely-packed swarm.

In another swift motion, the grenade was reattached to his belt and shotgun returned to nothing more than a rectangular container (unless, of course, that nanites had decided to try chewing through the stock). The outcome mattered little. Dandy did not need a gun, large or small, to kill this critter.

Dandy instead discretely yet quickly drew a small flat cylinder from his belt during his initial attack. Then he threw it, activating it mid-throw as it crackled to life.

"-touch-"

Organics had a few talents. One of which was sleight of hand. It had taken several terabytes of analysis to know every trick in the book and then improve upon it. Even for little nano-swarms. So while it either focused on dissipating his initial attack, countering it, or recovering from being knocked several meters away, Dandy slipped what amounted to a fully-activated and small yet highly-lethal electric shock device into the swarm.

"-my stuff."

The nano-swarm had earlier charged itself up to what would be full-capacity. Which meant each and every single nanite was filled to the brim with energy. Now, what would happen if he over-charged or shocked that little buddy with enough amps to put down creatures and bots several times its size? Answer: Dandy could finally watch those littler suckers pop like little fireworks after all.

He could have reduce the amps if he so chose. Dandy did not. Maximum output would be utilized. Dandy had grown tired of holding back. He should have killed this thing from the start instead of listening to strangers, a bunch of nobodies.

If all went according to plan, that is. Either way, Dandy had enough toys and dozens of tactics to put this thing down, even in a worst case scenario. Ship and collateral damage be damned. And if the swarm somehow survived and continued to writhed while clinging to life, Dandy would not keep his fingers off the proverbial button.

He would shock this critter to death and back, just for extra insurance.

"You're right. Repair functions are not currently available for your vessel."