Futuristic HyperLane - Main RP Page

[Ambiloquous]

YIRU

Tilting her head at Captain’s announcement of their diplomat’s departure, Yiru released a quiet sigh filled with mixed feelings, none of which were there for dramatization purposes like they might’ve been if the pilot wasn’t alone at the bridge. They had thought the Siren had grown on the man, being that he did stay aboard the ship for six years and… well, Captain. It seemed that they assumed wrongly.

Four years of working with anyone was bound to generate some collaborative feelings, even if they hadn't become the best of bosom buddies or the closest of companions. A pity that the man left before they could send him on their way with well-wishes and a wood memento — even if they knew how little it would matter to him — for all the times he had aided the Siren with negotiation instead of brutality. It was difficult for most of the crew to socialize with artful intent behind it, and Yiru themself didn’t have the patience or perceptiveness for it, so though the position may have simply been a job to him, they were grateful for his actions nonetheless.

It was unfortunate to see him go, but people came and went in every workplace — no matter how much of a home that workplace appeared to be. Captain was actively searching for another person already, and the pilot wasn’t sure who was worse off on the basis of emotion. Probably Captain, they decided; the ex-diplomat had left without a word, and Yiru would always be biased towards the one they had a better opinion of.

Yiru smiled half-helplessly at the mention of “throwing unsavoury things”. The trend of throwing jabs based on whatever the siblings had tracked aboard, both literally and figuratively, was a habit that came from a history of their questionable journeys out the ship, so the pilot wasn’t too surprised at the repeated mentions. Though really, the problematic trips weren’t that frequent. Only say, once every month or so.

Staring at their trusty tablet, they hesitated. There was nothing incriminating or sensitive in it, but if things flipped in the wrong direction, a hacker could track its location by the signal and receive data from the sensors while on TerraFirma. It in all likelihood wouldn’t be a breeze — not that they knew anything at all about gaining unauthorized access to a computer — but the device used its own built-in commercial software and they were told that was never the best choice in the security department. Gambling on the hope that shit wouldn’t go down, they folded the thin matte rectangle into their inner pockets. Boredom was suffocating, and they were figuring out ways that made waiting by the side while someone else chatted with randoms less than tedious.

The pilot slipped out the bridge, planning on moving to the place of debrief, but before they could get there, they stumbled upon Ix in the halls, Captain passing by with a nod. The former cleaning bot's expression was interesting — a little downcast, perhaps; they couldn’t tell precisely what flavour of sad Ix had on, since their face screen was quite simplistic and only gave eye indicators, but it definitely wasn’t the usual. Yiru wanted to know all about it. Reaching out a hand to pat the robot’s shiny white head, they smiled sympathetically and asked in a mildly prying tone, “Something happen?”

INTERACTIONS

Zat Burning_Heart

MENTIONS

AI10100​

 

[BuggaBoo]

DA1-513-07 / "Daisie"
The Shadow ​

---

Location: Empty Space: ParDune to TerraFirma, Private Quarters of the Siren

---

IX: With that business complete, the virtual conference ended, and things got back to normal... Ix should probably have a talk with Daisie about what had happened... preferably with the captain present... but that didn't need to happen now. Maybe after the mission, after they had some time to work through how they felt about everything.

The installation of the two-way tracker was quick and painless. Ix should have found the best place to hide the tracker on their form and there was no complex retrofitting nor invasive welding nor adapters neccessary. In fact, it felt to Daisie that she barely had to do anything to install it; the thing fit like a glove. But to be honest, this item did fall under the 'black-ops military nanotech' umbrella and so Daisie knew that adjustments would be minimal; it was as if the newly installed implement knew where it was to be hidden and allowed itself to fit like a glove.

When all was complete, she waited for the Custodian to fire up the execution file and install the neccessary programs. She nodded and finally spoke 'non-computational-machine-like' for the first time since greeting them before installation procedures. It seemed as if Ix did not wish to speak about the incident at the firing range and Daisie would respect that.

<<Initiative completed. All is in order, Ct. Ix.>> she still knelt beside them, one converted hand still hard-wire connected to the white shelled bot, <<we may not test the device as of yet. As previously stated, I am not allowed to 'go Ghost' aboard the Siren and so you will not be able to track me with the specialized signal. We will need to do an initial test run planet-side.

<<But there is, however, a secondary setting. Between us, we also have a two-way comm channel that may be opened on either end. Like the field tracker, the range is but 300 metres yet only you and I will be able to access this frequency. It only works in places with gravitional fields, artificial or not. This type of communication is not in the limitations set upon 'reprogrammable entities' as stated in the the Sirens listing of restrictions. In fact, this communication will go undetected by the Siren and the rest of the crew. This is another of my... special kind of tech within my stealth array. Now then. Very well, we are done here. Let us continue our duties before we reach Terra Firma-->>

Daisie paused a moment before disconnecting, <<--this... special kind of comms I trust with you alone, Ct. Ix.>>

Once more, her connections and leads detatched from the unique Exo-Clean machine and transformed back into her hand proper. Just before she stood to lead Ix out the door, she patted the spot where the tracker was hidden. It was not a show of camaraderie at all. Daisie did not need to show such physical affectations to any others to re-affirm to they that she was on their side; all crew should know where her loyalties lay as fact. The pat was merely an accident. Honest.

The double doors closed behind them.

---

Location: Near-TerraFirma Space, Captain's Quarters of the Siren

---

ONYX: She was hoping she would be able to catch Dasie before she had to talk to everyone else, that way she could speak with her ahead of the mission.

The explanation Daisie gave regarding the situation between she and Ix was formally presented with accounts recorded by both she and the Siren logs as well. In Daisie's estimation, there was no misunderstanding; all protocols had been followed and the results should speak for themselves. The test to see if Ix was capable of firing upon another crew member was confined in the safest place aboard the Siren; the firing range.

And Captain, Daisie deemed, out of all aboard the Siren, should know that Daisie was incapable of randomly going off on a killing-spree targeted at crew members. It was only the 'reprogrammable entities' that Daisie, by neccessary authority, needed to confront and address when weaponized. Putting herself in place, and in person, to deal with an armed bot was standard procedure; it put no proper life-form, crew or otherwise, at unneccessary risk should the bot go rogue. Hopefully the results were satisfactory by the Captain's estimation. If, however, there were punitive measure meted out by Captain Lauristen, undoubtedly then Daisie would subject herself to such measures. There would be no immediate discussion raised by the cyborg until a later date when a mission was not at hand. But back to the present issues...

"It is recorded and confirmed then that Tau Callisto is no longer listed as contracted with the Siren. All safety procedures will be met should the male return to contact and/or board the Siren. And, of course, other measures will be taken as far as Captain commands,"Daisie stated flatly as she stood before Onyx, hands clasped behind her back in her usual resting pose. She had seen her share of staff/crew come and go over the years and she always verbalized how she would react to the situation. Beyond that, she offered up no further dialogue regarding Tau unless Captain brought it up.

"As for the situation regarding prep for surface activities. What shall you have me do, Captain Lauristen? And--" a pregant pause she left before contiuning.

"--of course anything else DA1-513-07 may provide will be executed to the fullest." That last part where she mentioned herself by her formal name always left open the doors for her to use those special set of Shadow skills as commanded, should Captain give the orders.

 

[JesseMarshall]

Carson Ho
Time: 10:17 AM Ship's Time
Location: Landing Pad Three, TerraFirma

​

Carson nodded to Anya as she careened out of the kitchen. The cook smiled at Duke before he scribbled a few more items on the list of goods that he needed to pick up while out and about today. It seemed today already leaned toward the side of being a good one, if not just a little awkward.

“I’m going to get changed too,” he said. “Did you see that tremendous storm moving in on the eastern continent? The rain bands were skittering across the ocean, and I’d hate to be caught in this while soaked.”

The Korean mas passed the list over to Duke with a wide and friendly smile. “You’re in charge of the list. I think Tau is heading out with the captain to handle our mission, so I’ll be doing most of the haggling this time.”

Carson chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the edges. At thirty, tiny wisps of silver crept across his dark locks of hair. They were almost imperceptible unless you were looking, or the light hit them just right. Carson felt they added a bit of charm to his overall look, but refused to draw attention to them. Wide gray streaks of hair trended in the fashion world about three years ago, and like all trends, evaporated as quickly as it began.

He turned to leave the kitchen when the PA system hummed to life across the entire ship. Captain Lauristen’s firm yet gentle tone echoed a second later, and it first, Carson smiled at the sound of it. Their leader found their confidence again. Then he listened to the actual words pouring out over the sound system. The grin on his face plunged into a deep frown.

“Good morning, crew. Before we start off the day with our investigation, I would like everyone to know that Tau is no longer with us. He came to me last night and informed me he was resigning and taking a different job somewhere else,” she said.

Carson listened to the rest of the announcement. A disconcerting sensation of loss washed over the cook, and he placed a hand onto the edge of the nearby counter to steady himself. He just spoke to Onyx about this exact thing, but it still caught him off-guard when it happened. Besides Carson, Tau was the oldest secondary-member of the crew, and the kitchen master remembered how it felt flying around the Cat’s Eye with just a captain, cook, and diplomat to keep things running.

“Good luck, Tau,” Carson whispered to himself, closing his eyes as a small grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “I hope for your happiness, chingu. Annyeonghi gaseyo.”

He turned into the hall and made toward his room. Along the way, he came across Onyx and Ix locked in a tense conversation, and Carson stopped out of earshot to allow them privacy. He could make out the tone of their voices, but they echoed down the corridor in mumbling cadences—indistinguishable over the background noise of the ship.

Finally, Ix seemed satisfied with the outcome of the situation and turned to leave. The captain lingered for a moment longer, watching the little bot go with a concerned look in her eyes. Carson stepped up behind her, making sure to tread heavily and alert Onyx to his presence. She turned just as Carson arrived to pull her into an embrace. His arms snaked their way around her waist and her face rested against his shoulder.

Neither of them spoke. The only words that could float between them carried no knowledge which the other already possessed. Comfort lacked in this situation and needed expression. They stayed like that for a moment until Carson drew back with a warm smile on his face. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to the captain’s forehead.

“He’s going to be okay,” he whispered to her. “Tau, that is.”

Captain Lauristen felt grateful that she spoke with Daisie ahead of the mission. It soothed her nerves, and the explanation eased her concern for the situation. She doubted the cyborg actually tried to kill Ix, but she still double-checked and confirmed everything with a critical eye before brushing it all away. She never skimmed over conflict before, and she wasn’t about to start now.

The two drew apart and moved away from one another. Carson continued to his originally intended destination and arrived in his own room a moment later. When the door slid open, the pungent smell of growing herbs, damp earth, and citrus enveloped his senses. Satisfied that everything was over with, Onyx made her way to the front of the ship, hands clasped behind her back as she waited patiently for the others.

Carson changed into a pair of salmon-colored cargo shorts that ended an inch or two above the knee, and a worn tank-top in bright white. The holes for the arms stretched down to the hem, exposing the tanned skin of his sides all the way to his hips. On his left side, spread out from the waistband of his shorts, a large tattoo of a pink dogwood in full bloom sat against his skin. It spilled out over his chest and back with twisted limbs and velvety soft blossoms.

He glanced in the mirror out of habit, not actually taking the time to inspect the details of his outfit, and headed toward the recreation room. Carson hoped to catch the weather before they headed out onto the surface of TerraFirma.

Shopping with Carson

A holovid display glowed in three-dimensions at the recreation center of The Siren. Carson sat with his gaze affixed to the news report currently playing across the screen, studying the weather for their excursion to the marketplace. The broadcast stylized itself after an old earth news program with two ‘anchors’ sitting behind a desk and smiling widely at an invisible audience.

“Hurricane Azalea made landfall last night on the eastern continent at four-thirty, ravaging the coastline of Terra Hampshire with flash floods and sustained gusts of two-hundred and thirty-three miles per hour. Representative Olga Hascombe assured the population of Terra Hampshire that the storm shields were holding up well, but hesitated when asked about failures with the upcoming storm surge,” a spritely blond reported.

“Our thoughts and telepathic energies go out to our brothers and sisters on the eastern continent today,” her co-anchor cut in. “Please stay safe out there, and remember that storm shields have an imminent failure warning of only forty-five to thirty seconds before collapse. Travel should be restricted to absolute necessity.”

“Thank you, Markel,” the blond said with a gracious smile at the man next to her. “In other news, the murder of Marigold Zhao entered its third day of investigation on the western continent. Investigators are experiencing a tough time unearthing any leads in the case. Head of Peace Keeping, Daryll Montgomery, said this on the matter...”

The two news reporters disappeared from the screen, replaced by a stout woman with dark brown hair and brilliant violet colored eyes. Her coif stopped short above the ears, and her uniform’s lapel sported a shining platinum badge. The letters PK were stamped at the top of the official symbol.

“Currently, we are still searching for Annette Kyalo as the prime suspect in this case,” the head of peace keeping said. “If anyone posses knowledge on the young woman’s whereabouts, we encourage you to step forward with the information.”

The two reporters flashed back onto the holovid and the gentleman spoke, “They have released no further specifics regarding the death of Marigold Zhao to the public at this time. Due to the high-profile nature of this investigation, most information is being kept private. More on that story as it develops. Let’s turn it over to Sarah McDermott for Sports. Sarah, I had a lot of money riding on last night’s pajakt tournament.” The newscaster allowed himself a grin. “Give me some good news...”

Carson leaned back further into the ratty sofa, tuning off the program. His fingers massaged his temples and pinpointed the throbbing pulse below the surface. Not a word said of the weather on the western continent, but with a massive hurricane and a political murder, Carson felt nonplussed. Annoyed, but unsurprised.

“Siren,” the man called out.

The AI chimed back, “Yes, chef?”

“What’s the weather report for the western continent on TerraFirma?”

“Please specify,” the AI requested.

“Eastern seaboard, North, city of New Cairo,” Carson supplied.

“Weather is partly cloudy with a temperature of 22 degrees Celsius. High chance of electrical storms moving in from eastern continent’s category five-plus hurricane. Expected rainfall will exceed eight inches. Strong gust advisory issued at ten pm last night.”

Well, Carson thought. This should be a fun day.

The rest of the party arrived in the recreation room shortly after that, and Carson led them out of the cargo bay and onto the busy market streets of New Cairo. Unlike ParDune, shopping on TerraFirma seemed a civilized affair. Storefronts with plate-glass windows showed off their wares, people walked together with faux-paper bags clutched in their grasp while laughing and gossiping, and little bakeries and cafes wafted the delicious scents of their menus throughout the thoroughfare.

Carson frowned at it. Sure, the place looked nice, but haggling would be near impossible for most. Shops like this rarely allowed discounts and carried the mentality of the price you see is simply the price you pay. This looked less and less like a good day as time went on.

Onyx and the Mission

Once the crew arrived, Onyx debriefed them on their current mission.

“First matter of business is to go to Alikstar Technologies and speak with Peter Gardner. See what he knows about the victim, Marigold Zhao and the suspect, Annette Kyalo. Something to keep in mind, a lot of the details are being kept from the public; exact time of death, manner in which she died, murder weapon, and we’ll be going in blind because of it.” The lack of details frustrated her. She liked to know as many details as possible.

“These are upper class, we’re-better-than-you, assholes. Personally, I don’t want to deal with them, but the job pays extremely well and sounds pretty open/shut case. Keep your weapons light and hidden, and do your best not to piss anyone off. We want to get all the information out of Peter Gardner that we can.”

Mentally, Onyx cursed. This kind of situation was perfect for a well-trained diplomat. She lacked a way with words. With Tau’s departure, they were going to have to tread a little more lightly than before.

“If you have questions, ask them on the way. We’re already pressed for time. The public is calling for action and, for the time being, that falls to us.”

The captain motioned for them to follow her off the ship with the same business-like walk that she always used. That was how Miss Lauristen did things. Save for the rare occasion where she let loose around the crew, it was business all the time.

Don’t give away how you’re feeling, she thought, or what words strike you by reacting—just get the job done.

Alikstar’s already established success felt fortuitous for the crew of The Siren. It made finding the building simplistic by asking a few locals. With one last reminder to behave themselves, eyeing Huan and Yiru just tad longer than the rest, they pushed her way inside the building. She hoped Peter Gardner was in, because if not, they would sit and wait until he arrived.

~~~*~~~

Tonya Wannamaker listened to her employer pace back and forth from behind the door to his office. The secretary noticed the agitation he spewed like she would have noticed a second head growing out of Peter Gardner’s neck—immediately. Why was Peter Gardner in such a foul mood? She had no Terranly idea, but she knew that he always got this way right before a company merger, so she simply left it at that.

Reaching forward, Tonya grabbed her PCD off the desk and opened the ‘Nail Pallet Beyond’ app by Alikstar. Once the program connected to the microchip beneath each fingernail, she began swiping through the collection of colors on the screen. Her honey-gold eyes locked onto a picture of sea-foam-green nails in a dark skin tone comparable to her own.

She tapped the picture and opened the ‘X-Tras’ page. Many options appeared at the bottom of the screen. Tonya selected the shine slider, moving it to either end of the spectrum, watching the results. The image of the nails above dulled and glossed with her respective interactions. Once she settled on the perfect topcoat, she moved through the other features rather quickly.

She chose a floral pattern in back as an overlay for the secondary fingers and picked out a blossoming rose design for the thumb. Tonya colored in each petal of the rose with dark-red. So far, she felt quite pleased with herself. The final slider at the bottom read ‘Luminosity’. As she pushed the plumb-bob forward, the paint color above glowed radiantly. She stopped about halfway up and hit save.

This Nail Pallet Beyond design has been saved. Would you like to upload now?

Of course she did! Ms. Wannamaker pressed the bright orange button that read UPLOAD. A countdown timer began on the screen from ten. Carefully, she set the PCD back down on the desk and spread her fingers on the edge of the surface. The timer hit zero, and white-hot pain seared beneath her natural nail for a fraction of a second.

When the feeling passed, Tonya smiled brightly. Her nails looked exactly as pictured in the application. Even the luminosity setting applied in just the right way, glowing just a smidge brighter than the hoverglobes overhead. It created a staggering effect.

A gentle clearing of the throat made Tonya jerk in her chair. “I’m so sorry! It’s been a slow day today, but what-”

Tonya’s eyes went wide when she finally glanced up. Mr. Gardner told her early this morning to expect visitors to drop by, and that they would be like his ‘usual’ company. At first, she didn’t know what he meant by that, but seeing the ragtag team assembled before her, she understood now. Sloppily dressed, covered in grime, and more than likely, foul-mouthed; they resembled a collection of bounty hunters more so than any investors. She frowned at them.

“Welcome to Alikstar Technologies and Robotics,” she said. “Is there something I can help you with?”

 

[Ambiloquous]

A CONVERSATION
COLLAB WITH Zat ​

IX & YIRU

Sometime before the mission.

IMAGINE IX HERE

Ix startled a bit at suddenly getting patted, having just finished their virtual conference with Daisie, they didn’t notice anyone approaching. They looked up to see Yiru smiling down at them.
“Something happen?” the pilot asked, curiosity mixing with sympathy.

Ix blinked a few times, wondering why Yiru thought that before they realized their expression was showing their inner mood all too well. Ix was still getting used to how automatic things like that were becoming. Still, they had considered talking to Yiru, and this was as good a chance as any. They hadn’t expected the conversation to come about so quickly, but that’s life.

“Well… umm.. if you want to know... Daisie kind of tried to force me to install a software update that would force me not to do stuff, because of the new pistol. I thought she was going to kill me if I didn’t comply. So… yeah,” Ix paused, sighing a bit.

The pilot blinked slowly at the first half of that anecdote and blinked very hard at the second half, feeling their face squish into a wince. When they’d stopped the four-limbed robot in the passageway, they hadn’t expected that the information it would be offloading on them would be so… scandalous. Daisie’s image in Ix’s words was certainly inconsistent to the way the symbiote acted around them — and probably the rest of the Siren’s crew as well. Was it something to take note of? Should they be oohing in commiseration or running at the cyborg, demanding for answers? Their brain cycled between the many options, and ended up with a hesitant and somewhat awkward “Glad you’re still alive, pal” before crouching to pat them twice on the left grasper.

Ix perked up a bit and smiled up at them with their eyes. “Thanks. I’m glad to be alive! Daisie can be really scary when she wants to be… I mean… here.” Ix summoned a video of the incident from their memory, compressing it a bit and sending it off to Yiru’s com-pad. It showed the part of the conflict where Daisie ordered Ix to shoot her, while she folded into her combat form, flechettes, claws, and baton wielding tail all postured aggressively toward Ix’s retreating perspective.

Yiru whistled, then realizing that they were whistling, shut up. “Oh, yeah, she sure is.” Daisie was definitely a deadly-looking cyborg symbiote when she wanted to be, and the pilot knew it wasn’t the best to think about aesthetics of the affair, considering the fright poor Ix had, but they couldn’t help it. The pilot made to discreetly save the video for convenient bluffing purposes. They didn’t know how much of it would help in action, but it’d probably deter some cowards, right? Nobody wanted a partial bot built for assassination on their heels.

“I really thought she was going to kill me because...” Ix paused, glancing around for a moment before leaning in close, whispering and focusing their speakers for directional audio that only Yiru should be able to hear. “...I didn’t actually install the protocol. I just pretended to. I thought she figured it out. She… she said it was all fake and she couldn’t hurt me even if she wanted to... but I’m not sure I believe her. I wonder what would have happened if I had actually shot at her. Not that I wanted to do that, even if she was trying to kill me…” Ix slumped a bit, seeming uncertain. “Umm… please don’t tell her I didn’t install it though? Just in case?”

Yiru’s expression softened at the request, and they gave the bot a wink. “What protocol? Haven’t heard of it. We were just talking about your mounted gun, weren’t we?”

Ix looked at them in confusion. “No, I was talking about the—” Ix stopped as the realization passed over their face. “Oh! Right. Yes. Just... talking about my new turret!” they said in a wonderful impression of a young child trying to keep a secret.

Then their face took on a more pensive expression as they recalled the other topic they wanted to talk to Yiru about.

“Also, on a slightly different topic, I... don’t know what to call myself. Daisie wanted to know my title, like, gender wise. Mr, Ms, Ind, Mx and what not. I realized I really have no idea what I want on that front. I said to call me Ct. for Custodian... But that… umm… is kind of me just avoiding the problem.... I know you go by they and I thought maybe you would have some advice? If you don’t mind, I mean. I don’t want to bother you...”

As Yiru was still wondering if their consolation wasn’t quite considerate enough, the bot had moved on to tamer subjects — gender. Titles. Names. Topics much less contentious than the story Ix had chosen to share with them, of course. Ha. “I don’t mind! Don’t worry about it, yeah?” Feeling a little guilty, they tried to scour their brain for suitable chicken soup. They failed.

It was time to use honesty and a bit of bullshit. “... When I went with ‘they’, it was because it was what I was used to hearing and saying, y’see. I could’ve chosen a lesser known pronoun, but less people would have called it as it was, and even now people still use ‘she’ — heck, even Huan calls me ‘sis’ sometimes through pure force of habit. I just went with what was common, minus the binaries.” They paused. “If that isn’t possible, choose what sounds best.” Yiru gave Ix a thumbs up and plastered on a smile that probably wasn’t terribly convincing.

Ix nodded along as they explained, looking as if they took the advice as gospel.
“So… you think I should just go with what I’m used to? What... sounds good?” That seemed so... simple. “I... guess I’ll go with ‘they’ then? I don’t really think of myself as having a gender so I think it fits best…” Ix looked to the side for a moment before looking back at Yiru, eyes flitting about nervously. “Do you think everyone will be okay with that? I don’t want to disappoint anyone by picking wrong…” Ix added with some trepidation.

The pilot grinned. Aw, what a naive worry. While they were more immune to cute-sized charms than most of the crew, it wasn’t like the impulse to hug Roscoe or Ix every so often was completely erased. “Nobody will, and if they are, I’ll take care of it.” They patted their skinny chest, standing a little straighter to seem more reliable than they were. A few rounds of music overlaid with brainwashing lyrics blasted at five o’clock to their room when they got back from TerraFirma should do the trick — or make them more obstinate. It was a dice roll that Yiru was willing to take.

Ix sagged in relief, their facescreen looking hopeful. “Thanks, Yiru. This was really helpful. I, um… I owe you one!” Ix chirruped, giving Yiru a decisive nod, before hesitating for a moment. “Really. I… Thank you,” they reiterated, and stood up, wrapping their forelimbs around Yiru’s legs in a quick hug before breaking off.

Before the pilot could react, the ex-cleaning robot had already taken their forelimbs away, and Yiru’s reflexive hug back ended up too high and missing Ix’s location entirely. It was fine though, they’d gotten a hug! Instead of pulling their arms back, they continued the circuit and pretended they were stretching. “No problem, anytime.” Whatever problems Ix had likely weren’t actual problems to the pilot, so they were always happy to assist them — even if the assistance was questionable.

Glancing down at their com-pad to check the time passed, they frowned. They weren’t early anymore — not that being late would be all that surprising, but Yiru was making it a point to be trustworthy. Responsible. Dependable. It would be great if it caused Captain to relax their guard on the journey to Gardener, but one good deed wouldn’t erase the past ten. Waving at Ix, they said, “I gotta go now; see you!” Not waiting for an answer, they hurriedly left.

After Yiru rounded the corner, Ix saw Daisie approaching. They ‘took a deep breath’ — really just a small raising and lowering of their body with a small sigh — and steeled themselves. They walked toward her, ready to have the upgrade installed.

MENTIONS

BuggaBoo Burning_Heart​

 

[Impius]

DUKE OLSON

Aboard the Siren -> New Cario Market​

​

The engineer hid his disappointment behind a charismatic smile when Anya walked in. He had hoped for a moment to talk to the Siren's cook privately. Perhaps it was best that she had appeared when she did. Friendship was better than a poetic tragedy. Duke gave a friendly wave of the hand as Anya left the kitchen again.

Duke started getting the faintest starts if hope for a sunny and beautiful day moments before Carson inquired him about the weather. "I have not, I will check it out here in a moment, hopefully we can be in and out before it gets too bad out there, I'd hate to have to knock out dents 'cause of a storm." In reality he wouldn't mind it, especially since the crew had Ix for help. What a versatile little robot, he thought as he stuffed the list into his pocket.

He looked back up at Carson, taking a second to admire the man who stood before him. Duke wouldn't openly admit it, but the cooks looks were unmatched in his eyes. For the moment the aging man quietly locked eyes with Carson, his fiery emerald eyes were soft and calm. He brushed a four fingered hand through his peppering brown hair and buzzed back to life. "Well I should go check the weather myself and prepare for rain just in case. I'll go ahead and get a hover cart ready so we don't need to carry anything." He took a moment to admire the cooks facial features, a faint smile edging the corner of his lips.

Duke was moving to walk out of the kitchen when their Captains voice echoed throughout the ship with the blowing news of Tau leaving. He was sad to know he was leaving, he would miss messing with the man. As Duke continued out, he placed a hand on Carson's shoulder when he steadied himself in the counter, "well, there goes the good liquor." Duke tried to joke, if it got a laugh he didn't really pay attention. He gave a gentle squeeze on the cooks shoulder and continued past him.

Back in his room, the TV was flipped over to the news station, talking about the weather and inbound hurricane. That will make for a slightly miserable shopping trip. At least he had spent a couple extra dollars on elemental protection with the hover carts. A basic force field that kept any weather or extreme temperatures from interfering with the cargo. Now if only they had personal force field bubbles for their bodies. Maybe it wouldn't even rain? Duke put out his cigarette and eyeballed the untouched bottle that sat before him. He could wait a while longer, right? He picked up the bottle and took a small sip from it, raising the bottle to the ceiling, "that one was for you Tau," screwing the lid back on, Duke made his way to the bathroom to rinse out his mouth again. He hadn't planning on taking a drink until later on in the day, but there was a slight occasion.

He picked out a light weight jacket with a typical spaceship icon on the left upper breast before leaving his room. He stopped briefly at Tau's door and stared at it for a moment. "Was nice knowing ya, bud. Stay safe out there, we're all going to miss you," he dropped his head and continued down the hall, his lips toying with the unlit cigarette between his lips.

Down in the cargo hold, Duke had pulled out a cart, its multiple engines quietly humming to life. He slipped the GPS tracker used for hands free cart travel into a pocket. The device was currently turned off so the simple machine sat in the spot Duke had left it for the time. He rummaged through a couple of the storage boxes until he exclaimed his excitement over finally finding what he was looking for. Three palm sized slim silver rectangles that could easily fit into a pocket. He dropped them into his pocket and made his way back to the rendezvous where he found the two waiting.

He handed the two each a rectangle with worn labels. "In case it rains, ya know?" The cart might have its own field, but the All-Weather gadget would help them from getting soaked. A personal umbrella, so to speak. It also helped break freezing winds or provided shade. Nothing was guaranteed with 100% protection as it was a simple slice of a plasma field to help the user take the edge off from overbearing extremities in the various planetary weather systems.

Duke grinned at the pair before him. "I have no idea which one is the unicorn theme, the labels are worn. So be warned." He would never admit he bought it because he thought it looked adorable while on a drunken shopping spree a few years back. He brushed it off as a 'gag gift from a friend' but the worn label gave way that he had used it before, obviously away from crew members sight.

​

Duke highly preferred the market of Terrafirma over Pardune. The temperature outside was ideal, the company was good, the list wasn't awfully long and Duke had a couple extra coin to spend outside of the lens for Anya's equipment. He eyeballed the open windows displaying the various goods the shops offered, stopping by a couple windows as if debating to go inside for a second. The hover cart slowly drifted behind the trio, stopping whenever Duke admired pretty pastries or a sleek tuxedo in the displays. At one store he pointed to a dress and told Anya she should try it out sometime. Worth a punch in the arm, as he giggled afterward. Sober Duke wasn't having that bad of a time. He fingered the list in his pocket and looked at Carson, rubbing his dead arm. "I suppose we should aim for the food market, yea? I need to find a part store but I can do that after."

MENTIONS:
N0rthernw0lves JesseMarshall

 

[N0rthernw0lves]

No matter for what occasion Anya left the ship, all followed the same formula. The first fundamental step was always leaving with at least one other crew member. As stated previously, Anya hadn't quite figured out her freedom yet. She held no confidence in her ability to remain in control, not falling under the sway of some smooth talker. Better to stick to someone than find herself enslaved again which would force the Siren crew to rescue her. And that led to the second fundamental step: acting like a barnacle if there was one member, and like a pinball if more than one member. This was for always being within arm's reach of one other crew member who knew how to use a weapon. Minus in a freak accident inside the medical bay concerning medical tools and supplies, Anya had no knowledge of using any weapon in a useful manner.

On this shopping venture, Carson and Duke acted as all those toys in a pinball machine, Anya being the barnacle pinball bouncing between the two. She did make sure to stay clear of Duke's cart, not even her boots would protect her ankles from the hovering metal lightly pushing into her legs. If either Duke or Carson stopped, Anya would switch to whoever had stopped and stick to them before movement was restarted.

This peaceful, live-action game of pinball was only interrupted by a joke from Duke directed at her. Anya's punch, definitely on the very weak side of the spectrum, came from a deep place of embarrassment than from anything else. Before leaving Earth she'd never really worn dresses. With her academic focus there wasn't any time to go to any fancy parties or whatnot; she'd worn them once or twice for some very formal meeting of some sort. Her first introduction to dresses, not the most savory. Wearing over-sexualized dresses with pirates eyeing and literally drooling over all of them. While luckily that was as far as it went, psychologically it was horrifying. Only further reinforced the point of being slaves.

"Either way works for me, I am not going anywhere else." While occasionally Anya would want to visit some other store besides those for restocking on medical supplies or parts for her specialized tools, this time was not such an occasion.

 

[Ambiloquous]

YIRU

Alikstar Technologies was definitely a place built for such aptly named “upper class, we’re-better-than-you assholes”, and as such, Yiru decided that if they happened to ruin some of their clean flooring by stomping all over it, they wouldn’t feel particularly regretful — the cleaners were paid better than the norm, surely. They proceeded to accidentally do just that while admiring the lobby walls and ceiling, all designed with that minimalistic corporate style popular to most human colonies in mind. It wasn’t terrible to look at, being that it was almost certainly devised by an architect contracted at exorbitant prices who knew mostly what they were doing, but it wasn’t some masterpiece that they were viewing either. Due to the uninteresting trend it emulated, it was boring. Non-offensive, yes. Attractive, no.

At least the lady they’d now arrived at was — or at least, her nails were. Nobody else had spoken up yet, which meant that someone in the group needed to take up the vocalizing mantle. Yiru decided it would be them. Ignoring the woman's standard welcome and query, they said, “Those are some sweet nails.” They smiled brightly as they hid their own, chipped as they were. “How’d you get them done?”

Buttering people up always helped ease the discussion; it was a tactic that couldn’t go wrong unless you buttered up the wrong topic. Besides, the pilot was telling the truth. They were quite pretty, even if the motif was rather unoriginal. Roses? Cliché as all hell. But there was a reason things ended up being overused, and that was because they were enjoyed by a vast majority — and a considerable number of things were appreciated for more than how common it was.

INTERACTIONS

@Whoever's writing Tonya​

 

[Zat]

Ix was both excited and nervous. This was the first job where they were participating as part of 'the crew'. As in, the portion that went and did these kinds of things. Obviously, they'd been a part of the actual crew for a good 8 months, but they'd always had more of a supporting role. This time they were coming along to negotiations, and they had a real role.
They turned their head to look at the flush panel on their back where the turret was concealed. They were honestly a little nervous about having it, given how easily it could hurt someone, but Ix supposed that was the whole point. They were now muscle. A bodyguard, there to defend everyone if need be, and look intimidating to prevent that need.

With that thought in mind, Ix stood themselves upright, crossing their forelimbs like arms across their chest, and attempted a confidant swagger. They checked out their reflection in a shop window as the group made their way to the meeting point. The sight they saw wasn't exactly fear-inspiring. They... looked like a cute little robot stumbling along, trying to look intimidating.

'How does everyone make this look so easy?'

They gave up and fell back to all fours after a few blocks. The swagger needed practice, and their lack of height certainly wasn't helping on the intimidation front. They were probably better off looking non-threatening for now.

The sound of thunder rolled over them from the distance. Ix looked over at the approaching storm. Hopefully it'd miss them. Wind, rain, and poor lighting would just make their job harder, not to mention that the humans tended to prefer staying dry.

Before long, they made it to Alikstar Technologies. Ix looked around the clean and corporate interior of the building and had to suppress the urge to go running back to the ship for their attachments as the crew tracked dirt over the pristine floor. 'That's someone else's job right now,' they reminded themselves. There was probably a cleaning bot tucked in an alcove somewhere that'd take care of it as soon as they left.

Finally, the group approached the receptionist, and Ix got to work with the bodyguarding. They were well and truly on the job now. They scanned their surroundings and kept an eye out for anything that seemed unusual.

Sure, this was the first time they'd done this, but they'd read up on bodyguarding extensively! Surely that counted for something. Their sensors roved over the receptionist. She seemed annoyed. Maybe too annoyed? Was she secretly an assassin? Maybe. Ix would keep an eye on her. Just in case.

They weren't letting anything get by them.