Nachytsm
New Commander
Pardus Sector
Orbit of Pardus VI, Antioch Space Station
"This is LP-13 on final approach to Research Station Antioch." The pilot of a basic Oak-Class hauler flicks several switches in the cockpit as her ship drifts gracefully through the last of the asteroid belt around the gas giant of Pardus VI. "Requesting landing clearance, Antioch."
The radio chimes back with the musical notes of the Lowe-Pike Conglomerate anthem, followed by a crisp female voice. "LP-13, welcome to Antioch Station. Please maintain course and dock to umbilical C-2."
Activating the auto-docking sequences of her ship, the pilot releases her flight harness and floats out of her seat, shuffling into the air and then pulling herself along handholds into the cargo bay. "Can't imagine what they needed so urgently that they called me for two gold-damned boxes," she murmurs to herself.
The cargo hold is mostly empty, aside from the aforementioned two crates. Both are larger than a human, though one is significantly larger- nearly three times the size of the other. "If you're just more cows, I swear to all that shines I'm going to kick the quartermaster in the teeth," she warns, kicking off of her wall to land next to the crates. Tapping a few buttons and pulling a lever, she gets them moving closer to the side of the ship with the docking clamps.
With the expertise and foresight of someone who must have accomplished this run many times in the past, the pilot orients her feet towards the deck just as her ship comes within range of the Antioch's gravity generators, planting her firmly to the ground and allowing her to walk the rest of the way after her cargo. The 'thump-thunk' of several docking clamps latching onto the ship is the only indication from inside that it has come to a halt.
Shortly thereafter the umbilical doors open, admitting a lumbering Class I loader exosuit and a pair of Cargo Bots. Behind them is the quartermaster, a man in his middling years who looks entirely too attentive for his line of work.
From there business continues smoothly. The pilot and Quartermaster meander back to the office while the dockhands move the crates inside. Paperwork is signed, stamped, and forwarded to several different people both on and off station, then the pilot makes her way back to her ship, undocks, and is away.
"Set those crates on the cargo train," the Quartermaster yells to his crew as he makes his way out of his office. "They're headed to the robotics lab for activation."
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As the crates are finally dismantled in full, the two Robotics researchers take a step back to observe their handiwork, and the new tools at their disposal.
"Really, though, what in the hell is this? A Build-A-Bot?" The larger of the two crates had been packing what could have been two or three full machines, albeit most of it looked to be spare or auxiliary parts. The woman examining it has a look of severe distaste on her face, though beneath that is something along the lines of intrigue.
"This one looks damaged," remarks her companion, examining a much more humanoid and slender machine. "Poorly repaired and slapped back together. Who even makes these purchases?"
The two carry on bantering about the poor equipment they've been given while starting the activation proceedures for the two machines.
Little known to the Roboticists, the two synthetics in front of them were already active- in standby mode, but fully aware of their surroundings. Simply waiting on 'Start up.'