Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived The Parameta Astro-Mall

[Tiko]

as written by Emperor Jester

The megaport was bustling, the crowds coming to and fro to experience the newest addition to the hyper-consumerist nation of the GCUT. The station had come to a final, orbital halt not more than four hours ago, but already the costumers were arriving from the nearby GCUT territories. The station wouldn't be here, in this exact location, for long. The station would travel the galactic trade routes, occasionally landing for leisure visits on requested worlds, ending and beginning each cycle with a return trip to Onef. The cyan light from the nearby sun draped the factory fresh white and black alloys with an alluring sheen, and the various announcements from shops of every which way imaginable echoed upwards from the bazaars and marketplaces below. Today was a new day in history for the Global Coalition of United Tradesman. Today began their expanse into intergalactic trade and diplomacy. And it started with the Parameta.

With enough housing to comfortable home over two hundred thousand workers, as well as any guest would may be staying for more than one concurrent set of business hours, the Parameta could actually house twice that number, if every other room was split. The point of the location was to provide every service a group or individual could think of. Not only a place of ultra-consumerism, but also a place of hedonistic excess. Such was the economic nature of its people, its staff. Every need way tailored to, and each category of goods was relegated to its own floor. Currency exchange was offered, and widely encouraged, just for the sake of easing things along. There was but one more thing to do, well, two more things, really. But they were so intertwined it hardly mattered enough to split them up. First, on all wavelengths and frequencies, advertisements were run, sending invitations throughout all near space.

And finally, as a thin, graying man stood over a large, ceremonial button, he looked across to the passing and massing consumers, customers, bargainers, and traders, flipped the switch. The OPEN signs came on across the station, and the bustle exploded into a orchestra of capitalism.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Sentry and Emperor Jester

Ariel liked the smell of it.

What she didn't like was the amount of money she was about to spend. It would get fixed here, which she had little doubts of, but it would cost most of her savings. She knew she wouldn't be able to make up that money if she didn't get it fixed, however.

So, Ariel looked for a tailor.

She felt so naked parting with her skinsuit and changing it out for a pair of cargo pants and a jacket. Vulnerable. Knowing that a bullet could hit her in the shoulder and cause a serious wound didn't sit well with Ariel at all. With the suit, it wouldn't have been an issue. Nothing would have been an issue until someone pushed her into a pool of lava.

Having asked around a fair amount, the woman finally came to a destination.

____

The particular cubicle store she entered was decorated head to toe in banners, both cloth and electronic, displaying signs of "Grand Opening!" and "Save now before we rob you blind later!" and mostly "Welcome, welcome to the GCUT!". A stocky man with dark chocolate hair, a plastic smile, and skin as smooth as fresh milk caramel stood behind a small workbench, dark lensed goggles down over his eyes, singing to himself over his work. There was music playing, corporately produced folk rock it sounded like, over both the stores speakers and the man's headphones.

The wares of the store itself were scattered about, in display cases to make sure they were secure of course, but open for viewing. "Personal Protection via the Branch of Arms Manufacture: Body Armor Division" was the long winded name of the store, and everything from skin tight nano-fiber to large, clunky, semi-mech suits lined the displays. The room smells of electricity, coffee, and sweat, and finally, after a good minute or two, the smith finally looked up from his work and removed the goggles from his eyes, revealing them to be a stunning sunset orange.

"Welcome customer, guest, and potential friend. How can Manix Vicer of the GCUT be of service to you today?"

____

The woman shifted her eyes around, sweeping the shop until they landed on its owner. She rolled her head back to look at him from the undersides of her shades. A slender eyebrow arched high.

"I, ah. I've seemed to of damaged my suit. I heard this is the place to visit." From a bag that swung over her shoulder, she slipped out the thin skinsuit, laying it on the counter. "I dunno what it's made out of, but it's a really impressive piece of technology. Saved my ass when I got tossed into a pool of lava to its expense." She opened it up, showing the burns on the legs and the back where it had melted.

"What do you think? It's got a camouflage feature that still works... barely. If I can get you to figure out how to get it working like how it used to, I can get you the money."

____

The proprietor took the suit into his hands, pulling the goggles back down over his eyes as he studied it. It didn't look impossible to fix...and he'd seen some similar hardware come out of the GCUT foundries before, back when he worked in the factories himself. Most of them not to this quality, but ones that equaled or even surpassed this one did exist inside the Company, so of course it was possible. Its not like she was asking him to become a member of the Board, of any seat.

"Aye, I am thinking I could do this. The time frame and the price are going to be what we, as buyer and seller respectively, are going to have to haggle over. Of course...today is the Opening, so all services are on sale. I could give you a discount of course, a hefty one even, if you wish."

He would then pause, continuing to study the flex-suit, murmuring while he did so. "If you take your currency to our transfer desk, we'll exchange it for you. And then, I think I can offer a...premium plus discount. Eighty percent off, since I have the parts to fix the stealth field in house, maybe even upgrade it. The material I need to make a reading off so I can copy the material...Yes...Probably half a day at most, if I don't have other clients ahead of you. Which I don't."

The man then immediately produced a small tablet, alight with a luminescent, magenta display. "Name please, for the order? We'll discuss everything else later, Miss...?"

____

"Moore. Ariel Moore," she told him. Her name bounced around Onyx and the Milky Way a bit, but both places were fairly massive. She certainly wasn't anywhere near big enough for anyone to know her name- especially around these parts. She just had some connections.

She was wary about the discount talk. She would haggle, but she knew any price he threw her way would be an excuse to get more money out of her. She was familiar with this kind of business.

____

With a thin smile, he jotted the name down onto the datapad before placing it back on his bench, his orange eyes shimmering softly. "Like I said. The exchange booths are everywhere, of course, I can do it here as well, if I am going to be honest. The exchange might not be as perfectly done though." The smile would only broaden until it threatened to reach both of the smith's dangling earlobes. "Humor, of course. A bit of GCUT humor to help you acclimate."

He would then drop his head, spreading the suit until it was perfectly flat. With a whirl, his bench would come to life, bathing the hardware in a soft, green light. A part of the table would slide out to his left, revealing an entire compartment full of familiar and aliens tools alike. After a little bit of humming self debate, he'd lift a small arclight spanner and begin cutting into the fabric. "I'm getting started now. Currency booth is in the corner, or outside pretty much anywhere. Real price will be given to you, Miss Moore, after my job is complete, not before." And then, the mocha skinned man returned to his endeavor.

____

This man is going to clean me out.

"Now, wait, wait, wait," Ariel protested, holding up a hand. "I need to know a rough price before we go any further. I'm not rich. I'm sure I'll be able to pay for the suit, but I need to make sure I'll have something left to my name after payment. You understand?"

____

"Hmmm? I've already began to work at it? If price is your main concern, than here." The Urbanite replied finally, handing her the same data pad. "Price is on the screen. Top corner. Put in your currency information, if you know it. Or, simply tap the name in, and it'll do a rough, estimated exchange fee. Now then..." And back to work he would go, power tools low and high tech whirring dreamily to any of mechanical taste.

The current figure it showed was a staggering 2,000 V. Vouchers. However, there was a string of mathematical functions right below, reducing it by about 70%, to 600V. If she were to put in her own currency, it would come out to a reasonable price, especially after the reductions. Roughly 433 dollars and some pocket change.

____

Ariel clicked her tongue. That price was... admirable. Far cheaper than she'd expected. She would still have a lot to make up for, but this was nice.

"Very well, I suppose I should not bother you any further," said the bounty hunter. "I shall return shortly with the money you need." With a tight smile and a raise of her eyebrows, she waltzed outside to find an exchange booth.

____

When she would turn to leave, a man would enter the store, almost crashing into her. Nevertheless, the almost-contact sent the man flailing backwards slightly, his cane clacking heartily against the floor tiles as he tried his best to gain a grip, or leverage. Once he had straightened himself out, the sharp featured, long limbed man adjust his hat and glasses, whose transition lenses were slowly revealing eyes the color of dirty ice chips; icy blue and dull grays. He looked almost unhealthy, but he would give off this aura of natural charisma, likability...and was that fear? It couldn't be. Who would be afraid of the spindly man, whose looks rivaled that of a man with one foot in the grave.

With a voice like honeyed gravel the man would extend his leather gloved hand, fingers almost so long they bordered on ridiculous when looking at the rest of his hand. "Forgive my intrusion, my dear lady. I fear I did not see you coming."

____

Ariel did not move to help the man at all. Her eyes flickered down at him from below her shades. "Oh, no, no. It was all me, really," she said with a thin smile filled with faux politeness. "I was just leaving, actually. If you'd excuse me-"

____

He made no attempt to move, but instead began to take off his gloves, flexing the fingers over and over, as if they were cold. "Leaving so soon? Well, if that is indeed the case, I would very much prefer to introduce myself now." A large fingered, bony, frail hand would be casually thrust towards her, this time expecting a response. As he did this, he'd stand to his full height, instead of the old-man's haunch he had when travelling by foot. Straight up, his height exceeded six feet by at least half a foot.

"Lelent Gaund. Grand Negociant of the GCUT. A pleasure, Ms. Moore, I am sure."

She hadn't told him her name, had she?

____

Ariel looked up at the man with a tilt of her head. Her lips bunched inward and the corners of her mouth tipped upward tightly as she took his hand and shook it.

"A pleasure, indeed. I did not believe I'd meet someone of such stature in my time here. I didn't expect to be visiting too long." She reached up to grab her visor, slide it off, and use the end of her shirt to clean it off, revealing a set of sharp, papaya-colored eyes. Not a very human color. "How is it you've come by my name so swiftly, Grand Negociant?"

____

"Easy enough. The names of every customer is sent straight to my data pad, which I then read and memorize. I make it my business to meet as many of you as I can, without my normal accompaniment of security personal. I am not so feeble I need babysitters, and its important that everyone sees the face of the Company when they first decide to partake of our wares. Tis good business." A soft light would pass across his own eyes, almost like a series of flashing letters and numbers.

"Ah. More interesting still." Gaund's fingers would tap over the head of an imaginary cane, blinking softly a few times before finally re-addressing her. "Lets talk while you go on your way. I have a business proposition for you, young miss."

____

He memorized every customer.

As much as Ariel wanted to doubt that, she knew better. Cyborgs, metahumans, aliens. She'd met the lot of them and knew what they could do. This couldn't be surprising, though it was impressive.

Shifting her glasses, she nodded and indicated the exit. "Very well. I'd be interested in hearing this... proposal, Mister Gaund. I am a rather busy woman, though."

Once outside she'd move towards one of the machines the mechanic had told her about, but her head was always tilted toward the old man.

____

"Of course, of course, young miss. If ever I intrude upon your time in an obtrusive way, please, tell me to move along. I am nothing if not polite." Outside, the crowds were beginning to thicken as more nearby ships received the all frequency advertisements and the direct marketing signals sent directly into many a ship's navigation systems. Truthfully, a small dose of hacking never harmed anyone, and almost no personal information was kept...unless there was an immediate profit in doing so...

"Its a simple thing, really," The gaunt man would say over the audiences and shoppers, "This...project you have given my employee is very, very interesting. The design, no, that is redundant and over-played. The material, however, is not a thing we have seen before."

He'd then move ahead of her, deftly navigating without bumping into her or another consumer, right before she'd reach the transfer booth. If she said something, he'd raise his cane to indicate he was not finished. "We could reproduce it, and thus, improve the quality of good we provide to our wonderful customers." This entire time, buttons were being pressed, and before she could answer, Gaund handed her a small, black card. "Think of this as a down payment on our time so far."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Luxin and Emperor Jester

Tenna wandered the Astro-mall confidently. He'd forgone having his rifle on his back, though his pistol remained attached magnetically to his right thigh, for the sake of being less noticeable. Of course, he'd forgotten that in a place like the Parameta, all sorts of species showed themselves, and sticking out was more difficult to do here than it was practically anywhere else.

He shook his head. He'd come here looking for some bits and bobs to make sure that the Solitude was up to date wherever she needed to be, and he'd been having a slight issue with some of her navigation recently. Seemed there was something out there messing with the orientation of the stars, something his computer wasn't calculating for, and he figured he'd come in from the void to see if anyone knew what was going on. Of course, it was a navigation error, so he headed for one of the many Shipboard electronics shops, though warehouse might have described it better, looking for any of the undoubtedly many clerks that wandered such spaces in their absentminded boredom.

____

Many a warehouse shop were present, and today, they were particularly popular, most because of how the GCUT had chosen to advertise. Small communication back traces which would play a catchy, if annoying, tune over all frequencies every few minutes, on top of targeting navigation consoles on auto-pilot and stasis status ships. A lot of the customers onboard today were sleepers who woke up from a nice space nap just to find themselves in consumerist heaven.

After a few moments, a young, fairly attractive young woman would approach Tenna, her silver hair up in a tight bun, wearing a violet three piece suit, complete with business casual skirt and leggings, carrying a small datapad. With eyes of almost pure obsidian, she'd quickly glance him over before speaking softly. "Can I help you today sir? Today is our first day of business in this sector, and as such, everything is on sale, and at a generous discount. And welcome, to the Global Coalition of United Tradesmen."

____

The ex-mercenary looked the woman up and down, eyes tracing her lines and curves before finding their way to her face. He smirked, having chuckled when he'd gotten the advert over his comms channel on the Solitude. He was lucky his jammers had filtered it properly, otherwise he'd never have managed to realize something was wrong on his nav.

"Yeah," he said, voice a bit gruff. "I'm lookin' to see if someone's figured out what's going on with the stars. My nav's gone all to jitters and won't trace the right hypersplines for efficient transit. Bit of an issue and, although I may be willing to replace it if I have no other option, I'd really like to just get some updates added in. You all have any information?" He looked over her shoulder, seeing a couple of large aliens lifting several-ton containers onto shelves. He marveled at the carapace that covered them, and how it interlocked into smaller pieces on their legs to allow them to stay sturdy, his mind racing into thoughts of new tech from such a thing.

"Also, any information on how to tell I've hit Jeeker Space would be good to know as well. I don't mind trades and business, but gettin' squawked by a thousand and one ads ain't the easiest thing to fly during." He chuckled as he finished speaking, showing that he took no offense.

____

"If you'd like, we can take a look at all of your ships functions, without ever having to step inside of course. We'd have you fill out a form, of sorts, paper or digital is your choice as a customer, of course. After that, our sensors are likely more than capable of detecting any problems." This entire time, her tone had shifted to one of pure business, since the simple matter of introductions were over. "I am sure you could've guessed, but the form is to ensure we do not invade any private systems in your software, and an assurance policy, stating that we will...overlook anything unsavory, of course. It is not our business to judge, but rather, to assist you in all matters."

She'd then wait to hear his response, already feeding information into the collective databank of the mall, which incorporated all things. Facial recognition, tracking of suspicious individuals, you name it. Of course, backups and firewalls were abound, to stop any and all countermeasures and aggressive actions being taken against the Company. "And, as previously stated, all of this will be at a generous pricing for today and today only. As for a Galatic map, those are common place in the terminals and currency exchanges around the mall. Free of charge, of course."

____

A system sweep? Not what he'd been hoping to hear. Considering that much of the interior working of the Solitude were personally added as aftermarket additions by Tenna himself, he wasn't too keen on having them looked into by a group like the GCUT. It wasn't that he disliked them, but he didn't want what he had to go on the market, even if it took a decade for the reverse-engineering to be done. It was just too risky.

"It's not really something in the system, 's far as I can tell, that's the thing. It's like there's something...well...something bigger out there messin' with the lineup of the systems. Do you have anything that's been updated to compensate for the effect, cause that's what I'd be more lookin' for." He shrugged and looked over his shoulder. He knew that, to the Aschen and likely to the ICON as well he was still a wanted man. But he knew about how the GCUT operated, and he didn't mind them much at all. They did business, and that was all he needed.

____

Almost warily, Ariel took the card between two fingers and flipped it around. Her tongue rolled over the backs of her teeth.

"That suit is old technology. Not even I know where it comes from. If you can replicate that material... I'd be impressed. I have a feeling that's exactly what's going to happen." She twisted the card over in her fingers again. "This is currency?"

____

"Ah. Say no more sir. Of course, if that is all you're interested in, we can take a look and see if you're merely missing an installation or a driver. That'd be a much quicker and cheaper fix." His clerk then proceeded to clear the data she had been entering, before quickly jotting down once again, her fingers moving quickly and without error. "And of course, we have a lot of reclaimed and original hardware that could probably fix the issue. Tell me, if you can, and if our calenders match up, how old is your Nav system?" The silver haired Urbanite inquired, a polite smile flashing upon her lips. "Oh, and can I get you to confirm your name for our records?" She added quickly, nonchalantly.

____________________

Gaund blinked slowly, pondering her words and challenge, because that is all Lelent could hear from her, and he did his best to keep his eyes from narrowing behind the tinted, silver glasses he wore. "Oh course we can, in time. We aren't asking for your suit itself, just a...sample...from an unimportant section of the hardware. And yes. It is very...generous, believe me."

His datapad thrummed softly in his coat pocket in which it had been placed, and a soft light displayed behind his glasses, momentarily illuminating his old, drawn out features.

"Yes, yes, generous. Roughly 10,000 Vouchers, which you can spend anywhere on the Parameta. Or convert into your own currency, of course. Your desire. But that is our offer. And for every suit we sell, or every good sold in which this...soft patent is used, you will receive a 7% royalty. You could stand to make a lot of profit here, Miss Ariel."

____

"Let's see. I think the last time I needed to update my nav was around the last time that Terra changed ownership, so a fair few years ago. I'd be wiling to bet that there've been updates as politics changes interstellar borders though, so you're probably gonna have some kind of update." He chuckled softly, then quieted as she asked for confirmation of his name.

He wasn't certain what kind of trace they'd grabbed off his ship as he'd come in, and as such he couldn't figure out which ID they'd picked up off him. He had perhaps a half-dozen that he could relay information through, depending on who he chose to deal with, but since he hadn't directly picked one to hail the landing dock with he couldn't be sure which one they'd read. It had been an automated landing, regardless, so it was purely AI-AI interfacing, rather than vocally, and that alone meant it was unlikely that he'd been able to even know which alias the ship had used. Figuring there was nothing wrong with the GCUT, and also going on the idea that if they picked up something other than what he offered them he'd be told about it, he chose to give his real name.

"Tenna, captain of the Solitude. You know, famous mercenary known for cruisin' around the void, messin' with other spacers, corporations, or empires for work," he said, affecting a bit of bravado. If his ship had given one of his aliases then he figured they'd assume he was just claiming the name to try and be a bit more interesting, though it was anything but a bluff.

____

"We know little of the famed in this region of space. At least, so far. I'm sure a section of the SSSF will be rented out to bounty across the sector, so that'll be another source of commerce for our embassy. Maybe you'll even be on the list, Mr. Tenna, though I am uncertain. After all, I am but a humble warehouse clerk." A soft, flitting smile graced her lips as she completed finalizing the digital order, being very specific on what could and could not be recorded during an update scan on the ship, as well as an order form for the parts that may or may not be needed in the end.

"Now then, I believe we must discuss a fee. How will you be paying for our services, Mr. Tenna?" The silver-haired urbanite would inquire.

____

He'd taken him at his word, which meant that his ship had used his actual name and not an alias when it had requested permission to land. He'd have to make sure that such had been the case at a later time, as he wasn't keen on broadcasting himself where he didn't have to. Left more breadcrumbs than he wanted to clean up after.

"Please, just Tenna. I have no surname, and no need for any formality. As for payment, you should find that I have several account, all fairly well funded. I would prefer if the cost of whatever I require is pulled evenly from each, rather than a lump from any one." He pulled out a small piece of material, roughly the size of his thumb, and offered it to her. As it moved with his hand through the air, it seemed to come to life, a few light hums and whirrs resonating off of it.

"This should allow you to retrieve the amount required for payment, as well as keep track of what was ordered and required." He smiled and looked over her shoulder, into the warehouse, and smirked as he saw a similar model craft to his own being torn apart for scrap. It was riddled with what looked like either plasma blast holes or kinetic weapon entry holes, but he couldn't tell from this distance, or in this lighting. Realizing that such a ship might be useful if toyed with properly, he got an idea.

Gesturing with his other arm, Tenna asked, "How much for the Mark 265 model V your boys are scrapping? It's close enough to my own ship that I might be able to put it to some use, rather than have a fine piece of work go to waste."

____

She'd take the device graciously enough before handing it off to a certified cashier who sat behind a closed, tinted-window room, before once more taking a place off to his side, slightly behind.

"It wouldn't be for much more," She supplied, while simultaneously sending an order for the scrappers and their droids to stop what they were doing, for the moment. "As stated, everything is on sale today, so you'll once more be making a descent savings. Evenly distributed, for the update and the junker, we'd wholesale at about...2.6kV." Which, roughly translated to 3kV Credits of Terran origin, and so on and so forth.

____

Vouchers. He'd never get used to the way some described their currencies. Granted, his own people had names that he'd not used in some time. Terran and their Credits were more the way he liked to work, even if he wasn't Terran himself. Still, 2.6k wasn't a bad price by any means for the junker and the update. Of course, he'd have to make sure that they put back whatever they'd pulled out of it.

"Sounds fine to me, though I'd like a manifest of whatever got pulled from that ship." He was speaking while walking towards it, arms crossed over his chest. He wanted to know what had happened to this ship and, once he'd gotten her fixed up and back into service, put it to use in a way he'd not been able to with his own ship.

"But that should be fairly standard, I would assume. Do you happen to know anything about it? I don't see many of these anymore, let alone any so heavily damaged." They were close enough now that he could see that the damage was indeed caused by plasma blasts, but they were of such varying sizes that he couldn't begin to tell if it was small arms fire or from a dogfight. It certainly was nothing from a ship much larger than itself, otherwise there wouldn't be much left to scrap out. The one thing he noticed, with a twinge of sadness, was that the cockpit's visor had been shattered and was gone, likely drifting in the void in bits of dust finer than sand.

____

A twitch of aggravation, or perhaps a simple muscle spasm due to chem use in the off hours. "No, that won't be a problem at all. Of course, the cargo on the refuse ship will not be appearing as that is now being sold off to interested parties, and has already been spoken for otherwise. Still, for parts both cosmetic and functional, we will track down all that have not already been purchased. It IS a busy day, I assure you, and there is no promise of a complete package." She'd gesture to the would-have-been slag.

"Especially with a ship this damaged, as you could've guessed."

____

Tenna traced a hand gently over one of the holes punched through the ship's hull, his mind wandering slightly. It had been too long since he'd had any kind of thing he could truly consider a partner, but AI was a wondrous thing and capable of so much. He turned and smiled at her.

"Ah, that's fine. I'm not too worried about cargo anyhow. I'm looking to remake this ship as the best escort any pilot could dream of. I just gotta get her home so I can start putting in some upgrades." He chuckled and calmed quickly, returning to a more serious manner, though his levity was still there.

"You got anyone here who can tell me what happened to her though? You've got a link to more than enough payment for anything I may need, but I'm wondering if you've got someone else who may know some more specifics. I'm really just curious about this one, and I figure that a saleswoman may not know as much as a tech might, no offense."

He leaned back, his right hand pressing down firmly on the grip of his pistol, using it as a handhold, his other hand sliding a thumb into the belt he wore over his thin armor.

____

"Ah. Yes, there is someone who COULD help you further, if they are so inclined. The Scrappers Union Inc. is located three streets down, you simply cannot miss it. Large, cluttered yard with a small-scale, 10-cap spaceport in the yard outback. Decent traffic, what with today and all. They might even have the blackbox, or its equivalent, because none were scanned when the ship was brought into the warehouse."

She'd say all this in one, single breath, before pausing to type an address into her pad. A soft -ping- would be heard as a message was transferred onto Tenna's own datapad, a surface level IHDM, Instant Holographic Display Message, giving him walking directions to the SUI front desk. "Will that be all, sir?"

____

He lifted his left wrist, the display raising off his arm with directions. He smiled and nodded to himself, then look at her.

"One last thing. I need this transported over there with me." He gestured at the ship he'd purchased. "If I'm gonna find out anything, I want it with me to ask about. Not to mention I don't want someone to just walk on by, offer you something more when the deal's already been struck, and then come back to find it gone. Just a personal thing I go by."

____

"No, your caution is well appreciated and well thought out. Of course, the GCUT would never commit such an act of consumer theft, however, we will still gladly accommodate your wishes." A fake, dry smile with no warmth behind his spread her lips and pulled them tight, another slight twitch of the high cheek below her eyes.

She'd deduct the needed payment for a Anti-grav tow to pick up the blasted vessel, the simple, dust-grey vehicular droid waiting for instructions on where to go. It would answer to Tenna for the period of three hours.

____

He smiled back at her, one full of entertainment at her displeasure of his requirements and insinuations, and then directed the tow droid to take the wreck and any component parts that had been removed and brought back during his conversation to the Scrappers Union area, more expressly the area set for starships being brought in, or going out. He wanted to make sure he could get this thing out to the Solitude's side once he had it working again. Luckily, he didn't plan on piloting it himself, so the visor being blown out wasn't an issue to him.

"A thank you to you, ma'am," he said brightly, turning back to her before heading out with the droid, ship and parts, "for aiding me both with my request for my own ship, and for this beauty here. I'll make certain there's a good word for you with the higher-ups." His tone suggested sarcasm, but it was one of the more honest things he could have said to her. He would put in that good word, and perhaps some monetary capital aside as well, to see that she wasn't having the worst of days after how much of a pain he knew he'd been.

With his farewells spoken and his goal in mind, he headed off with the droid to the Scrappers, figuring that he'd no doubt have words about him sent across one network or another. He couldn't help but make sure he made an impression. Especially on such stiff people like that woman.

____

The scrapyard of the SUI was efficiently organized and hectically busy, resulting in an overcrowding that would only aid Tenna in his desire to navigate a crowd. With wide, plasma fences stretching in an octagon which would take up enough space to fill two common size Destroyer class ships, a heavy stream of commerce was taking place. Living employees and robotic assistance were both rushing about to take care of the sheer influx of show-up business. As a result, a wait seemed like it would take an eternity.

However, the 'By Appointment' line was incredibly short by comparison, though it still seemed a fair wait in and of itself.

____

Tenna watched, somewhat awed at the amount of business being handled. there were thousands of individuals, GCUT workers each and every one, scrambling every which way to make sure things were done in proper order. And yet they were outnumbered by those with a vested interest in getting something done by almost 15 to 1. He sighed somewhat, figuring the woman had sent him here because of exactly how busy they were, but shrugged it off. He didn't have a whole lot of issues waiting, and they needed time to scan the Solitude. He could only hope they didn't unintentionally upset his ship, as she was a bit temperamental and prudish at times.

As he watched the crowd flowing, he noticed that there were only a few others who, like him, had a ship that was obviously not flight-capable. Most of the show-ups were coming if for either tune ups or for refits, which was fairly common across any major spaceport. He suspected there were larger areas like this elsewhere, but this was simply the closest to where he'd bought his junker, and therefore most likely to have any of the electronic recordings. With the confidence that a well-padded pocket would keep him safe, he strode over to the line set aside for those with prior appointments, right hand resting lightly on his pistol but not gripping it, left signalling the droid to follow him.

____

He would wait. Oh, would he wait. While yes, the sheer amount of business was impressive, but even then, it was still slow. He'd see many people come and go, giving up before it was their turn, be it out of impatience or being on a schedule was an individual bet. With the passing of time, the scenery around the port changed, as it drifted through space. The 92% clarity mega-domes and windows showed space in all its majesty.

At least it was something to look at.

The lines moved. At least two hours passed. Finally, a very haggard and sweaty, heavyset Ruralite male would take his direct attention to the smarmy Tenna. "Can I help you, sir?" He'd ask between breaths, fumbling at his datapad with large, moist hands.

____

Tenna had enjoyed watching the people come and go, having taken the time to climb onto the droid carrying his wreck so that he could better inspect the ship. At nearly 30 meters long, it was a couple dozen feet shorter than the Solitude, but he'd been combing over every inch of it he could get to, verifying that it hadn't been completely gutted. Much of the interior systems were intact, with the super-luminal engine being the most surprising piece included in that group, and he was glad to see that the cockpit's design was similar to his own. Rather than having a multi-seat design like many more modern styles, this was a single pilot surrounded by information.

When he was finally approached, Tenna turned to look at the man, having climbed out of the damaged ship not twenty minutes prior.

"I should hope so. I was wondering if you and your boys had any info on this ship. I just bought 'er a few hours ago from down the mall, and while I got most of what came out during stripping, I need to find out what caused all the holes. Figured you guys would be the best to ask." He had changed his vocals slightly upon hearing the man speak, affecting a similar style in how he spoke, but he was calm and made certain to present the honest interest that he had in this ship.

____

He quickly scanned his board, scratching his head thoughtfully, fingers pulling through thick, curled, charcoal hair. "Ah, yeah, a Mark 265 model V, serial model number 76AX900091-K. Yeah, we brought her in about two days ago. Shes a beautiful machine, if a little outdated, and frankly, I wouldn't much care if she was. A cargo ship for a chem runner, got ambushed by a Misranan cartel out about 5900 clicks from here. Nah, wasn't much profit to be made from her, so we gave her to the scrap vendors just yesterday."

He'd then spit a foul, slightly luminous glob of pink goo off to the side. "Now we can shoot the shit all day, but in order for me to help yeh, I'll be needing a name to register a meeting with. GCUT regs."

____

Tenna hopped down from the droid, landing lightly beside the man without much of an issue. He knew he didn't have a scheduled meeting already, but the man was asking for a name to set that up with. Tenna, figuring they'd already gotten him pegged for a purchase someplace else, figured he'd follow that up and keep honesty out in the open. At least, as far as his name went.

"Name's Tenna. Just looking to get enough to get this baby back up and running again, that way I can partner her off with my other ship, a Mark 328, Model IX. Serial number 3V9198004B-X. I call her Solitude, though." He shook his head a bit. "Figure I can get the dents out later on, and on my own time, but I need to get a sub-luminal in her, as well as some basic AI to make her mirror my own ship, which should have been scanned already for other issues. Oh, and if you've got her box, I could use that too. I'd like to see what she was equipped with prior to her issues with the Misranan."

He looked back up at the side of the wreck, wondering what chems had been run in her. He hadn't found a trace of any of them when he'd crawled about in her, but he figured they were gone. Misranan were good at cleaning a ship out if they had to, though he couldn't tell if the sub-luminals had been sold off after scrapping had begun, or if they'd been jacked during the fight.

____

"We got a few of her parts that we pulled saved up in the back, or at least my pad is showing me such." Another spit onto ground as he fingered his way through multiple layers of documentation at once. "Got a fitting subliminal, and a few of them decked out to support GCUT reg Cutganium. Good fuel, that. And ey, we got the box, for sure, sitting in the Investigations box. Had to loan it out to enforcement, and such. Its been wiped for the most part, but the cosmic week leading up to the scrapping is still in the memory banks, if my pad ain't lying to me."

____

"You mind if I set her down in one of your bays, then? I don't know how much longer I'll have the droid, and I figure it'd be easiest to talk while working. Get me outta your way fast as possible at least. And I'm not familiar with Cutganium, though if you've got any that can work hybridized for it and normal fuels, I would be interested." He looked around. "And I'm gonna want the box for it. I wanna see if it's got any other info hidden away."

He chuckled warmly and then hopped back up beside the ship, wishing it wasn't so beat up, but glad that he had gotten it. He patted the hull a few times, his mind racing through what it would look like once he'd finished with it, then he turned and looked at the man.

"Oh, and the grav system's been gutted.There's no internal or anti-grav on the whole thing, so I'll need a new one of those too."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Emperor Jester and Luxin

Placing an order the whole while, it must be in their schooling that they learn the ability to swiftly and accurately multitask. "All of that can be acquired, if ya be wishing for it." Quick, nimble fingers, despite the grease, sweat, and calluses. "And sure, bring her round back to that building far down the lane, about ten minutes walk. They'll get started on repairs, installations, and software updates, cause I see you have an appointment for such already. Should've said so, would've saves you about an hours wait, give or take."

____

Tenna swore internally, the mistake of waiting for so long having already been made. He'd been productive with the time, at least. As he looked down to where the man had gestured, he nodded.

"I'll have her there as soon as I can. Just let whoever is gonna be working on her know that I'll be joining alongside. I'm no stranger to tweakin a ship when I have to, and if I can get this done faster, then that saves you guys some time for other people's business." He chuckled and then directed the droid over to the bay just a few minutes away. That would get the ship there in no time to start prep-work, and he could get himself there without much more issue.

"One last thing. You happen to hear anything about something big going on out there? Something messin with star lineups and stuff?"

____

"Yeah, yer free to watch and the like, sure enough. Up to the mechanic if ya can actually help. Safety policy and all that. We pride ourselves and the quality of our work sure nuf." A sniff and a snort, then another thick, viscous chunk of good joined the floor of the station, jiggling from the impact. "Can't really say for sure if you'll be allowed to. GCUT policy and all that, the safety of consumers and such and yaddayadda. If we were still an independent business, I'd let ya do what ya like, but we got bought out by the Company."

Sensing he'd giving enough exposition, the "dock worker" cleared Tenna to go on, after indicating that he hadn't heard a thing about stars falling out of alignment. "Nah, if anyone knows something bout that, it'd probably be the higher ups. Good luck meeting them, but I heard our Grand Negociant is doing his rounds, meeting all the customers. He's a good one, Mr. Gaund. Better than our last GN." With that, he turned to the next customer practically begging for help, leaving Tenna to his thoughts.

____

"I understand. I'll talk about it to them, then," Tenna said as he walked away. He was frustrated that nobody else seemed to have noticed that the stars themselves were seemingly moving free, but it couldn't be helped. He wondered just how many of the workers here ever actually left their own sections, let alone left the space station itself. When there was something like this built, many of the inhabitants simply ended up living here permanently, their children and grandchildren doing the same and never knowing the softness of good soil beneath their feet. Only metal walls and steely halls. He shuddered ever so slightly, then watched as the droid he'd had control over set all of his materials down in the bay he'd asked for, only to leave a minute or so later.

Looked like he had to get the grav drive in first, then. If not, work wasn't going to move nearly quick enough on this ship for him to get out of here in any amount of good time. He hailed the foreman as he approached the work bay, then jogged over to him lightly, his purchase strewn about the bay in a less than organized fashion.

"Sorry for the mess. Ran outta time on the droid, I'm guessing. Name's Tenna, and I was lookin' to get a fix up for this ship here. I've got most'a the parts, and what I need is on its way, but more importantly, I was wonderin' if I might could join in on the tweaks and such. I've always been a fan of workin on ships, and the ones I own are no different."

____

Ariel flipped the card fluidly between the spaces of her fingers, catching it before it fell through each time. "As much of a fortune as this is..." she began, sweeping a strand of hair back into place. "You replicating my suit could, and will, give access to those I hunt. If you believe I don't have enough problems with the technology they already have, you'd be gravely mistaken. That suit just barely gives me the one up on the ones I'm called to handle. You understand my concerns, yes?"

____

A gleam would rise to Gaund's beady little eyes, almost shimmering behind his darkly tinted glasses. "Oh? So you want a...sort of contract, stating who we'd sell to? Perhaps you'd like to leave a list of...discouraged parties? Maybe, if all else was out of the question, you'd wish to seek Onef or the Parameta as a safe haven, a sanctuary?"

A quick, mental checklist of financial formulas and proposed outcomes. A vote. A result.

"If these are your worries or desires...then so be it. It will be added into our...agreement. Perhaps I undersold how much this suit interest me, and the company as a whole..." Saying this, his gloved hand would tighten over his cane, lips still spread in that Devil's Advocate grin.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

The mechanic, similar ethnicity to the one he talked to towards the main gate, gaze him a cautionary look over. "Eh. Won't hurt nothing I guess. Just sign a consent form, so we can't be held liable for any possible injury yadayada lawyer-y babble jargon. Or don't I don't give a shit." While similar, this man was noticeably taller. And heavier. His mechanics suit seemingly to barely contain the combination of fat and muscle beneath it, bulging dangerously. On his left cheek, there was a brightly colored tattoo of a shield crossed with a sword and a golden Voucher, both dripping bloody tears down his neck.

Something would tell Tenna that mechanic was not this man's first occupation.

____

Tenna took the briefest of moment to look at the ink on the man's cheek, but put any thoughts on it in the back of his mind. Curious as he could be sometimes, this wasn't the time or place for him to ask, and he really wanted to get his things in order. As it was, he'd spent several hours in the Parameta and that was more than he tended to spend in any high-population area. At least, at present it was.

"I'll go ahead and sign the form. Might as well make sure you guys can't be held up on your work if I fuck up," he said with a shrug. He watched as a hovercart with the most insane-looking jumble of parts made their way towards the bay. He raised an eyebrow in curiosity before realizing it was all the items he'd ordered to go along with his new ship, so that it could get back into the skies. It occurred to him that he'd not chosen any particular quality of any of the parts, and a part of him feared, if only for a very short moment, whether he was going to get the leftovers of a dozen other ships or if he was going to be paying for top-shelf equipment.

If he'd thought to actually choose, he would've gotten the best he could afford.

As the delivery was made, Tenna walked over and relaxed. The only thing that didn't look brand new was an oblong container with a few ports, the body of it twisted and bent out of shape but mercifully unbroken by whatever had struck it. As he reached in to lift it from the rest, he noticed a curiously blinking object as well, small enough to fit in one's hand. It looked almost like a messaging device, but as the blinking began to increase, the mercenary raced back, black box barely held in his arms.

After a single beep, the device he'd seen stopped blinking and became solid, indicating the delivery had arrived to precisely the right spot and nothing more.

____

The bounty hunter flipped the card in her fingers for a final time. Her gaze darkened. A pensive moment inched by, fingers tapping against her thigh. She eyed that grin with a flat one of her own.

"I would love it if you gave me a chance to sleep on it, Grand Negociant." She said this knowing they'd have an idea of how to replicate the suit already. She had put it into someone else's hands too quickly.

Damn.

____

"But of course, Ms. Ariel. If that is your prerogative, then I will be doing my best to oblige." An over-dramatic sweep of his cane, pointing towards the Hospitality district. "That way, if you'll be staying on the Parameta for the duration of your...slumber. Hotels and restaurants abound, and all will be informed of your coming, should you so choose. Food and bedding of course, will be complimentary. Whatever your desires dictate." He'd then turn, his side to her, no longer resting on his cane in the slightest.

A dark glimmer of interest out of the corner of his bespectacled eye.

"If you get lost, don't fret. You'll be passing through the Mechanical District, so if you see a lot of factories and ship yards, then you'll be on track. Of course, I could always hail you a cab..." If she was observing him half as well as he thought she was, Gaund would have no doubt that the inkling of humored malice in his tone would be picked up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mechanic watched with an amused grin. This offworlder wasn't familiar with the GCUT yet. But he would be. Especially with Mr. Gaund at the head of it all. No one knew how he did it, how he managed to micro-manage every little purchase and order, every customer getting his personal attention in some way, but that was a company secret. The man did as he had been instructed, and sent the order, as well as the pad itself, with data-pen and all, away on its own personal cart.

The GN had taken an interest in the foreigner it seemed.

"Go ahead and do what ya wanting to do, and I'll do what I can to get the hunk in flying condition, and hopefully neither of us will be long at it. Opening day an all, got a lot of appointments to keep." The gruff laborer would remark before getting to work.

____

Tenna nodded back to the man and hopped up into the wreckage, figuring that the grav drive would hardly be tough for these guys. No, what the mercenary wanted was to start tweaking the computer systems as soon as he could to apply any and all personal touches he wanted. As he started things up, the super-luminal engine providing enough residual power when not in use to run all of the on-board electronics, he began to notice that everything seemed fairly fresh. Whoever had owned this ship before it was sent here had kept up to date on the latest styles in computing. As he began to parse through streams of code(the OS had yet to initialize into anything but that during this boot sequence), he noticed that it wasn't hardware. This thing was running on a triqube processor, which made it insanely fast. He realized it was faster than the Solitude, though it didn't have quite as much personality. Yet.

The mercenary began tweaking things, changing the settings. Once the OS was fully up and running, he had it run a full diagnostic sweep, and then update that information every minute. He wanted to watch all installations as they happened, and he could already see the grav systems coming online in various ways. They were setting up the interior gravity well first, though he doubted he'd be using it much since this was going to be a ship flown almost entirely by AI, but his appreciation was there just the same. As he looked things over, he realized that the computer was waiting for a command.

It wasn't even concerned about the fact that it was running a full diagnostic of itself and the ship almost constantly, in order to update the screen. Tenna shook his head and very softly spoke to the ship.

"What is your name?" The ship responded in a faintly female tone, >I am Ache'ra, though I have been updated that my owner has been changed to you, Master Tenna. If you wish to rename me, you are welcome to do so at this time.< The voice was pleasant, if a bit dry. "No, no. Your name is fine. Tell me, how much of a personality protocol have you been given? Do you algorithms support lifelike computation?"

The computer gave a soft chuckle, delicate, before saying, >I have the required programming, but it has never been used before. Do you wish to initialize?< Tenna smiled widely and responded with an affirmative, and suddenly the computer visibly slowed as it began to process amounts of data that would have taken normal computer hundreds of decades to deal with just once.

As Tenna stood and let the computer work, he turned to see one of the dock workers enter the ship, materials for hooking up the sub-luminal engine in hand. With a brisk step and a grin, the mercenary offered his help and began set things up, running cable and keeping an eye on his diagnostic display. He'd make sure he was well aware of the goings on with this ship.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Architect

Lights blinked and screens flashed around an empty pilot's chair. A transmission could be heard through a nearby speaker. A voice, like an adult male mixed with a computer, spoke clearly and briefly.

"MK4 Minnow to GCUT Hangar control, requesting permission to dock."

"Permission granted, Minnow. Your ship will be scanned and documented for filing with the visitation system. Welcome to the Parameta." An automated, feminine voice echoed back, chipper if somewhat bland in real emotion. The docks were busy today. While it was winding down, Opening Festivities had been a huge success, and the traffic that the mall brought in today alone more than made up for the construction cost of the massive floating space port and consumerist paradise.

Below on the runway, The Minnow was being watched by a detachment and welcoming party, half being consumer care specialist, the others being members of the SSSF. Half their to welcome and tailer the visitation route to fit the customer's needs, the other half to provide security and weapons checks.

Maneuvering thrusters fired and hissed as the transport ship glided into the designated area of the runway before finally setting down on it's landing gear. There was another hiss of hydraulics, and the rear of the ship cracked open, falling slowly forward to become a loading ramp.

Standing at the top of the ramp was a singular figure, about the size of your average human male. Sensors peeked up from underneath the clothing it wore, and the lights from the runway reflected off it's metal frame. It stood with it's arms behind it's back, and stared down the ramp at those who were watching it.

The head rep for the Consumer Care Specs. stepped forth, petite, obviously female from the proportions of hips and breast, with short cut platinum hair and a very pale complexion, eyes of white shining almost from behind her spectacles. "Welcome to the GCUT Parameta, sir~!" The girl cooed outward. The voice was the same as the recording which had greeted the Minnow of arrival.

"Do you have any weapons you wish to declare? While we do our best to uphold galactic standings and laws, the GCUT will ignore some things in favor of a good review." A sultry wink, but obviously programmed and fake. As she said this, two of the officers stepped forth, silent and looming, fingers resting on the safeties of their rail-rifles.

A moment passed in silence, as one synthetic regarded the other. The passenger of the Minnow stood motionless. perhaps processing what it had been told, perhaps not. Finally it's head turned slightly, regarding the human officers.

"We have one sidearm on our person. All other firearms and weapons are located within designated storage areas aboard the ship. Do take care while you inspect the interior, cameras will be monitoring your progress".

One of the Officers, a regalia ridden sword on his shoulder paudron, nodded and signaled to the others as they boarded the ship. They would of course, be careful, and avoid any areas that the robotic might wish be...overlooked. Speaking of...

"Thank you. Since this is your first visit, sir, you will be permitted to carry the weapon as you travel. Personal security is a right that we try not to step on." 'She' tilted her head, synthetic hair falling across her face, so lifelike that nearby passers shuddered a little. The GCUT's Ava-Syn v2.5 line was eeriely life like, and could even act and sing, produce original art. "Now. Please sign this datapad." One was produced. "To inform us if there is anything you would like ignored during your visit. Approriate fees are of course, tacked on, but if they are minor enough, today only, they are free of charge." A charming, but without-warmth smile.

The datapad was signed quickly, and another was produced.

"We have a list of supplies we would wish to purchase and have loaded by the time we decide to depart. SHould we leave this list with you, or would you direct us to the individual whose function would best assist us?"

The contrast between both of the machines was stark. One pretended to be human better than some humans, the other did not bother. No systems were in place to simulate human appearence or capabilities. It was a machine.

The datapad was taken, the synethic handling it first before handing it off to the organic members of the greeting party. "Some of these will have to be handled and approved by the higher ups, sir. Others, of course, you are free to browse and purchase on your own."

"I...will say that I am surprised. Not many customers ask for ammunition capable of destroying a cruiser class ship. Of course...We don't...sell those." Another flirty wink before handing the pad back. "Right they way sir. I'll direct you to the Board Chair of Arms Manufacture, Lua Beya. She is currently free at the moment, and making her rounds in the Armament district." She then turned, motioning the unit to follow her.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Emperor Jester, Luxin, Architect, and Sentry

The mechanic wiped his hands on his synth-fab overalls, cursing quietly. The ship's parts were being temperamental. Whatever this ship had been made out of wasn't on their schematics. Still, of course, the tools automated functions had done their job, slowing the mechanics work, gathering small shavings of the hull and contacting the GN about the strange alloy. He'd take the pieces himself for analyzing. The factory boys could easily replicate anything, and then the company would sell it back as a profit. That was how they'd shut down the mechanics business and strongarmed him into selling out and working for the Company, let them absorb his business. Not that he was bitter about it, oh no. The influx in business today alone was more than what he'd usually make in six years time.

"Everything okay on your end, mister?"

~~~~~~~~~~

The synthetic female sales care unit walked gracefully through the crowds, guiding the customer towards there destination, the Armament district, towards a meeting with a Board Chair. It wasn't rare for people to meet members of the Board, but to engage in direct negotiations with them was far less common. His guide was so life-like, so freely moving, that some of the customers who didn't know any better catcalled and whistled as it passed. The droid even responded with pre-programmed eye rolls and heavily annoyed sighs, before stopping in front of a large, mostly flat dome, composed of some kind of highly reflective alloy, large smoke stacks and vents pumping steam and smoke and other gases into space, or some other part of the facility.

The Parameta after all, was multi-layered, and while it space could be easily seen from many angles of it, most of the time it required you to be near the sides or on the top or bottom floors. Or in some of the personal sky boxes and suites in any of their fabulous hotels. "Here we are, sir. Chairwomen Beya should have been made aware of your meeting, and graciously awaits you inside."

____

From within the hulking mess of repairs on the ships internals, Tenna climbed out to reply to the mechanic. He looked incredibly pleased, but more relaxed and at ease than he likely should have been. He was enjoying himself more fully than he had in some time, and he figured that these workers might be interested in an off-books partnership. He wasn't concerned about the GCUT finding out about his dealings, as he was fairly certain that his techniques could beat all but the scrutiny of his homeworld.

"Things are coming along well. Diagnostics are running and everything looks like it's falling into place without any issues, though I noticed that were just a hair behind schedule. Hope I'm not slowin' your boys down none, cause I can stop if I am." His words were honest, if a bit rough around the edges and subtly scathing to the workers themselves. He didn't care. He was paying them, and the faster he was gone, the less he could piss them off.

As the personality protocols finished things up with Ache'ra, however, the ships herself began to act up more than the work had already done so. Although there were no online weapons systems, as they'd been gutted when the ship had been brought in, the AI had detected that part of its hull had been ground away. In many places this had occurred, almost entirely so that plates could be removed and new parts installed. There was one location, however, that had no obvious purpose. As the work droid that had made the alteration began to drift away from the hull, the entire ship began to hum. Soft at first but growing louder, the only defensive measure left on board the ship came to life and reacted to the damage.

The hum vanished as the ship discharged a highly concentrated barrage of ions at the droid that held the alloy shavings, the stream broken into five separate, extremely close pulses to simulate multiple EMP discharges. After that, the ship sent a message to a datapad on Tenna's hip. >Droid had alloy of hull for no reason. Attempt to disable made. Apologies. Personality protocol completed. Diagnostics continuing.<

____

A quiet whirring was the only sound to escape from the unit that followed after the female synthetic. It's head never moved, but nevertheless it was watching. It paid attention to every person that passed by, every storefront they walked by, and every sound that surrounded them.

When the female synthetic came to a stop, so did Legion. It listened as it was told of a chairwoman Beya, and nodded in response, waiting for the other synthetic to move aside. It said nothing as it "stared" at the sales unit.

____

The mechanic let out a whistle at the spark show as his tools began to spazz out, scratching at his head. "Fancy little system right there. Not even fully hooked up or operational, and still reacting to the tiniest scratch. I'd say I was jealous if I was any kind of ship jockey, but I just fix em up." He'd be more mad if it had done anything. The tools could be fixed, and its not like the scrap inside of them was some how magiked away into nothing.

Still...The GCUT did not like having their toes stepped on. One of their systems being attacked would surely draw someone higher up to come check it out. If it was a corporate white collar, it could be trouble. If it was the SSSF, he might be able to talk them out of anything rash or the like. Ex-members had a lot of sway with the paramilitary if they didn't have a Supervisor pulling at their leashes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mechanic unit stepped aside, ushering Legion towards the entrance. Once inside, the many-in-one being would behold a highly efficient complex, half automated, half run by citizens of the Parameta. Not only did they monitor the production of various armaments, offensive and defensive, but the quality of raw materials coming in and the assembly of said weaponized goods as well. The GCUT did not believe in pure mechanization, for quality came from passion and knowledge came from mistakes.

Down here, amidst the laborers and cybernetic workers alike, stood a women in a complex, six piece business suite, covered in grime, grit, and smelling of smoke. Her chocolate hair, tied up neatly in a triple bun remained immaculate however, and soon she approached Legion, broad hazel eyes shimmering behind tinted goggles. Her voice was curt, but amused. "You must be Legion, the one that my assistant let me know about. Which assistant was it, by the way? I have so many." Small talk at first. Business second. She must be polite, or else Leland might get mad at her again.

____

"I'll walk. It'll make it easier to get used to my surroundings," Ariel replied, smiling flatly. "But rest assured, I'll be back here before too long, and with an answer."

She turned face, then began to make her way toward the shipyard. Ariel was no saint, but she didn't like those more malicious than herself. She had done bad things, and anyone suspected of anything worse wasn't an ideal acquaintance.

____

"Ah. A shame them. I rather hoped we'd get to talk longer." The gaunt man made a dismissive gesture in her direction. "Take your time then. I'm sure my employee will be done with the suit before too long. Do think it over, Ms. Ariel. We will be here, always, awaiting your answer and hoping to provide you with the most esteemed of services." Gaund bowed low as she left, half mocking her before calling for his escort.

An assistant stood beside him now, along with several armed guards, members of the paramilitary SSSF. "Watch her. Make sure she is monitored at all times. Understood?" Of course, the silent soldiers nodded the affirmative before half the squad moved back off into the crowd. The assistant finally spoke up, a small, rail thin feminine looking boy. "D-do you think she'll sell, Mr. Gaund?"

The GN thought for a moment before laying a hand on the boy's shoulder, a devil smile spreading across his lips. "They always do, Artameyus. She'll be no different."

____

Tenna's response, as he looked up from the message on his datapad, was similar even though he could understand why it had occurred. "Seems like her personality is as intact as it was before she came in, though I doubt a system like that could do much beyond that little fritz without a properly running system." He chuckled and hopped down, walking over to the mechanic.

"My apologies to you and your boys for any damaged tools. I hadn't expected the ship to defend herself in such a way, but from the looks of things, her diagnostics are looking good. Your boys work quickly, and it seems like they were nearly done. If you think she's space-worthy, I'll take her as is, with the other parts loaded into her living space, and finish the repairs on my own." He smiled as he spoke, gesturing at the ship with the words. As he looked to the side, farther down the wing of the Parameta that the shipyards and saw a contingent of men approaching. He couldn't tell if they were coming towards him and Ache'ra, but he didn't really want to be around if they were coming close.

He fidgeted slightly, fingertips of his right hand dancing down his thigh to brush gently against the back of his sidearm as he became ever more nervous.

____

"Your assistant..." It seemed to mutter in a mocking tone. "The one that can't decide whether it is a human playing robot, or a robot pretending to be human. Are they all like that?"

It paused for a moment before shaking its head.

"We apologize. That was rather judgmental of us. You are correct in your conclusion, we are Legion. We were told to speak with you about the acquisition of supplies."

____

The SSSF troops were definitely heading towards the mechanic's business, and most of the crowd respectfully moved to let them pass more easily. "She might be, but I honestly can't be sure. Haven't done a diagnostics on ALL the systems yet. Yeah, most everything is workin' as it should, but I don't know bout the oxygen levels in its storage, or the Co2 recyclers, or life support in general. And still gotta do some cosmetic work on the damage that was caused, especially some of them weirdo blast marks on the hull. No telling what'll happen in space if something went wrong."

In truth, he wasn't stalling him for the SSSF's sake. The mechanic didn't give a shit stained voucher if they got here in time or not. He just didn't want to get sued as an afterthought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Forgive her. She is as much alive as the rest of us, any of us are. Just not biologically. Therefore, she makes mistakes." The woman paused to wipe off her goggles before replacing them back over her eyes, a welding torch appearing in her hands after a snap. Another assistant, no doubt, though probably a quick one. She'd then kneel back over her project, sparks flying around her, yelling above the noise.

"No. None but her and a few others. The line isn't on the market yet, and won't be for some time. Committee of Moral and Ethics are stalling the Tech-AI division, and a war might break out soon between the two. And yes. I am the one to see. I was sent a copy of your desired goods. May I inquire what they are for? The more...aggressive ones, anyway?"

05-27-2015, 08:05 PM
Architect
"We are Legion. We have been granted permission by several Inter-Galactic authorities to operate as an independent peace-keeping force. Similar to what you would refer to as 'Bounty Hunters'. Further explanation would require a higher clearance level."

The synthetic unit turned it's head as if it were looking around.

"These facilities seem to be quite high end and well functioning..." It paused for a moment, contemplating some unknown thought as it turned back to face the woman.

____

"The GCUT exist outside the perimeters or care of most high function organizations, seeing as how we'll cater to any and everyone, and cater almost anything to boot. Even things outlawed by intergalactic treaty, but most everyone turns a blind eye to that." She stood back up, removing the goggles for good and stretching out her rough, callused hands, the only part of her that appeared blemished in any way.

"I ask for our own protection. The company would wish to know if these would be used on us in any situation. We do not sell to those who wish to do us harm. Would that be a problem?" She inquired in return, brushing off his remark about the quality of her business. Of course her operation would be superb. The nerve.

____

Legion looked around once more, before taking the hand into grasp with one of it's own.

"We find it would be most unfavorable to conduct any hostilities with this facility. Logically speaking, we find this facility to posses adequate capability. Pursuing friendly business relationships are determined to to be much more advantageous. We would like to properly tour the more civilian areas while we await the completion of our order. Would this be possible?"

____

Tenna kept an eye on the approaching men, their passage easy to make out as the crowds moved like water around the hull of a ship. He shook his head and grinned like a fool, the looked at the mechanic.

"All I'm hearing is that she's able to fly. That's all I need. The AI will take care of keeping close to my own ship, and I'll buff her up real nice and shiny on my own. I've got the ability. Just toss whatever else needs to go with her, or that I paid for, into the most secure areas possible, tie down what can't be stowed, and I'll take it from there." He paused, and then spoke again as an afterthought.

"And take a little bonus for yourself. Get a business started up again over in Iarin Space. Might be a little more strict on what you'll be working on, but they're a nice enough folk if my memory serves." He chuckled, thumbed a rather overbearing figure into the datapad he held, the bonus he was giving the man and not part of his bill, then tossed the pad into a small pile of scrap parts nearby. He tapped rapidly on his thigh, fingers dancing in a pattern almost too complex to be a pattern at first sight, alerting the Solitude to come around to the mechanic work doors in order to pick him and Ache'ra up for a rapid egress of GCUT Space.

"I just hope I get out of this before they get to me. GCUT may be good with brokering deals, but I don't need them to find a better business with my head and a platter," he said softly, more to himself than anything.

____

With a rather fake smile, Chairwoman Beya signaled to the door. "Of course of course. Feel free to browse and peruse the many stores and wares of the Parameta. If it didn't seem like it, if we'd been misleading so far, I apologize, but everything IS approved for purchase under your account." Wit another gesture towards the exit, the stern woman's smile faltered, only a little.

"Of course, do be careful out there. No shooting up the place without the approval of our SSSF, is that clear? If they're involved and you wish to help, should the situation arise, then by all means, feel free to. It may even earn you a discount or the like." She'd then snap on her goggles once more, turning her back to him. "Enjoy your time aboard the Parameta, Legion. And thank you for your patronage."

~~~~~~~~

The only response Tenna might receive from his ship is an impound alert, or any other kind of similar warning. If he checked the ships outwards cameras from his position, the outlaw might very well notice that there too, were several squads of SSSF forces and dock workers...and that the outward doors to the Parameta were shut. They had not been when he arrived.

Back on his end however, the mechanic simply picked up the pad from the junk pile and hid it somewhere more...private. "Listen. I'm sure you ain't in too much trouble mister. You didn't tell your ship to damage mah property and I'll make sure that the boys in red over there know that before things get outta hand. If you'd like, I could go talk to them for ya?" He offered politely, if not genuinely. "Besides, I'm sure even if you do get in trouble, it won't be no more than a fine or the like."

____

Legion nodded to the woman and turned to make his exit, only to pause for a second and turn back, this time it was holding yet another datapad. "We have just remembered. We would like to leave this for you to look over, at your leisure. If you determine that it's construction would be a feasible venture for your facility, We would like to enter negotiations for its commission."

The datapad currently only displayed words, dimensions and measurements. To a normal individual it would most likely seem like gibberish, but to someone like Legion and Chairwoman Beya, it listed the specifications to build something...very dangerous.

With one more nod, Legion turned once again and made it's exit. It began to wander the more... civilian shops, seemingly aimless. While occasionally there were a few persons who were intrigued by his appearance, he was mostly ignored by the general populace. Which suited him just fine.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Calcos

Calcos
The Lightningbird came in for a smooth landing, Kaim piloting the vessel with professional efficiency, hailing the awaiting landing party, who invited him in after a brief exchange of words and a simple following of protocol.

The Astro-Mall was a haven of commerce; goods and rumors alike flooded the place from all corners of the galaxy, and even beyond. Kaim and his companion found themselves there now for both, as the job turnout for the duo of space-faring outlaws has been rather slim as of late. Kaim liked to blame it on ill fortune.

His partner liked to blame him.

As they exited the docking bay, the two of them would cast their eyes about, Kaim looking for a place to purchase supplies and procure any hearsay about a particular job that they could get done; perhaps a heist or treasure extraction of some sort.

Whatever he happened to come across, he would chase any leads if they led to monetary gain. He kept his hands on his hips as he walked around, browsing the various shops and stalls for anything he deemed useful, paying no mind to what his co-worker was doing at the moment.

Coming upon a stall selling miscellaneous technological oddities, perusing the supposedly Indian man's wares, caring not a thing in the world to show some credits, as he found none of the items to his taste. He huffed, walking away and shaking his head.

He had other places to be.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Hyll

Sterling followed his brave leader, Kaim, donning his favourite fur hat which made his head look about two times taller.

He couldn't actually recall why he joined his retinue, or even why, but this wasn't the worst path he could've gone down. He could've ran back to soviet-space, hop to another mining world ruled by absolute idiocracy. Or he could've ended up in the slaver colonies, stitching up lowlives for the rest of his days in captivity. Secretly he wished to find the fabled tomb-colony, the haven of the afflicted. Perhaps there would be a time, but-. . .

Lost in his thoughts he bumped into an alien looking like a cross between an orangutan and a moth. He recieved several high-pitched noises resembling communication from the alien, which he shrugged off with a stern grunt. He turned his head back forward towards Kaim, who was now leaving some stall made for what appears to be kisch replicas of some outlandish symbols.

He opened his mouth and griped to Kaim in his coarse voice: "What are we supposed to find here, Jaehck?"

 

[Tiko]

as written by Stellar and Calcos

There were three things that Pandora hated about the Parameta Astro-Mall.

One, people in places like The Parameta Astro-Mall were like drunk cattle pin-balling back and forth between both storefronts and bodies attracted to holographic neon lights like bugs to a bug zapper that made a usually easy point A to point B trajectory completely unnavigable. It was a place where common phrases like 'excuse me' and 'sorry' and all other similar mannerisms were deemed unnecessary and personal space was a commodity afforded to only those with a vanguard of personal security.

Two, every single employee was unnecessarily happy to the point they all seemed to be hopped up on some commercial form of ketamine that caused every single phrase that stumbled out of their overzealous and polite smiles to be coated in a protective layer of sunshine and rainbows.

And lastly, three, every thing was sterile and aseptic and utterly and completely polished to the point it was damn-near impossible not to catch her reflection in every surface within her sightline that she felt like she was caught in some endless house of mirrors at some horrendous neon-coloured carnival.

Simply put, she hated people. She hated people. She hated flashy storefront windows. And she absolutely hated malls.

And yet, here she was anyways, being carefully escorted by a welcoming committee from her ship Polaris to the belly of the Astro-Mall chewing on the side of her cheek while maintaining the practiced patience of a Buddhist monk.

This trip was about business and she was in the Parameta Astro-Mall to see a man about a horse. Or rather, to stick a barrel of a gun down a traitor’s throat and demand the return of her employer’s merchandise under threat of having his insides splattered all over the mall’s pristine polished marble floors. Of course, she wasn’t supposed to kill him exactly, but she treated that clause in her contract as a more-or-less of a guideline. The end was more important than the means—or so that philosophy went.

Now it was just a matter of finding him.

Fortunately, ParaMarx tagged all their employees with an inert chemical residue of nanoparticles that conveniently bound to the matrix of osseous tissue removable only by a finite burst of energy with a specific resonance that wasn’t presently commercially available. Nevertheless, Targard Tillman was a resourceful son-of-a-bitch and the Astro-Mall was a place where the impossible was made possible with the right sum of money. It was only a manner of time before he had this tracking device removed as well, which meant time was of the essence.

Free of her welcoming entourage, Pandora tapped a finger against a rubber band around her wrist. A computer sparked to life, flashing a holographic screen above her arm with a blue-tinged map of the floor’s current layout. A single dull orb glowed at the centre of it.

Pandora smiled a predator’s grin.

____

Kaim regarded his companion with something of a mixture of amusement and stupor. He merely looked at Sterling for a moment, the dumbfoundedness in his eyes spelling out how he wanted to respond, but he merely held his hands out and grinned. "A job," he said flatly, turning his attention back to his scouring.

This place was a sort of home away from other homes Kaim had known, a hub that offered every pleasure or vice a man could want, and Kaim was no stranger to spending his money on such frivolities -well, he was lately, not having the money to spare on such wastefulness. His pockets were a desert, containing just trace amounts of the substance he needed in order to survive.

Finding no physical items of value, he decided to crawl the local clubs and bars that the Astro-Mall contained, hit up a barkeep or a dozen for rumors, a job, of rumors of a job. Ultimately, he just needed to feel the sensation of having full pockets again, and he was willing to go to almost any length in order to feel such a way again.

Almost.

He still had his guns, so he needn't resort to selling his body just yet, however, the thought had crossed Sterling's mind before. "You've got the face, the body, the charm," he had said, "And I've got the business sense and monetary responsibility. We can make this work!" Kaim had merely shaken his head and walked away. "A male prostitute-pimp duo isn't marketable, Sterling!"

Before he realized it, he was standing before the Nova, a pretty popular club nestled in the south end of the Astro-Mall. From behind the door, Kaim could hear the obnoxious electronic music blaring over the loudspeakers. Finding illicit employment in a place like this was decidedly easy pickings most of the time, as plenty of shady figures hung out in the general vicinity of the Astro-Mall. Sizing the place up, Kaim took a breath and stepped forward...

...before being stopped by the very large bouncer at the door. "You got lead for brains, pal? Get the fuck in line!" he barked, pointing towards the long queue of individuals lined up outside the establishment, many of whom were casting glances decorated with a variety of emotions at the wayward outlaw. Kaim chuckled, patting the bouncer on the shoulder.

"I'm a VIP here pal. Name's Ashtar. Kaim Ashtar." The bouncer cocked an eyebrow, not even bothering to check the VIP list as he put Kaim in his place. "Yeah right. I bet the last time you were in a VIP booth you were servin' up drinks. If that. Get lost, bozo." Kaim straightened up, laughing some more, trying to appear as if he wasn't taking the security seriously. "Ah, I guess you'd know me better by my other name: Astro Jack," he said, taking a step towards the door.

The bouncer pushed him away. "What the hell kinda fairy name is that?" he asked rhetorically. "Ain't gonna tell you again, pal, get in line or get the hell outta here!" Kaim felt rather defeated, dejected and determined to stand there and convince the guy that his name carried weight around this place. Weight that, admittedly, amounted to a feather's encumbrance. But he was persistent.

"I'm telling you, I'm practically a celebrity around here!" The bouncer scoffed. "And I'm the queen of Tarsus." Kaim looked at Sterling, shifting his gaze between his partner and the bouncer. 'Set this guy straight,' the look on his face said.

____

Meandering about the mall while dodging human contact like every Astro-mall inhabitant was a plague victim, the single stationary orb led Pandora to her final destination. X marked the spot, but instead of some extravagant historical treasure chest filled to the brim with gold coins, it was a dance club teeming with manhandling hormonal drunkards and some horrendous rendition of discotheque.

The Nova.

You got to be fucking kidding me. Her frown was omnipotent.

Somewhere beyond the line and the hulking figure of man standing at the door was Targard Tillman and the merchandise she had to recover amidst the squalor.

Pandora frowned, not just at the irritating repetitive beats resonating through the fiberglass walls and reverberating through the floors, but at the realization that she would reluctantly had to subject herself to the sort of people that populated the other side—drunks, philanders, and some asshole who thought he was this galaxy’s next big thing not unlike that same asshole who was presently arguing with an unimpressed bouncer at the front of the line—

“—Ashtar?” The name fell off her lips humourlessly, the very word was tinged and cased in a perfectly manufactured box of revulsion from experiences come and gone and interrupted only by the sort of chaos that Kaim Ashtar himself could bring, “—the hell are you doing here?”

“You know this guy?” The bouncer sounded surprised. Unenthused, but surprised, nonetheless.

Pandora didn’t have to guess as to why.

Crossing her arms against her chest, she exhaled a sharp breath of air, letting the holographic screen dissipate with the motion. “Unfortunately.” Grey eyes held onto Kaim, cynicism growing by the passing second.

Ignoring Kaim and his companions’ presence, she reached her hand into the lining of her jacket to procure an identification card. Flashing the surface of the card across the bouncer’s clipboard scanner her identification popped up on the screen: Sangine O’Hara, SSSR.

She returned the card to her pocket. “I need access to this club for an official investigation.”

Eyebrow cocked, the bouncer’s eyes glazed over the clipboard before dismissing the screen and giving a curt nod.

Unlatching the red velvet cord, he let her pass on ahead. Once she was on the other side, she threw a look back over her shoulder, her gaze met Kaim’s behind her with her ensuing words directed to the bouncer. “Word of advice: you best have him removed before he contaminates this place with idiocy if you want to avoid a pandemic. He is notorious for breaking everything he touches.”

Pandora then flashed a semblance of a smile that lacked all forms of amiability, before she continued on ahead.

____

Like a sharp pin to a balloon fit to burst, Kaim's ego took a destructive blow that would bring a lesser man to tears and send him home crying to his mother. Kaim, however, had a bit more dignity and self-respect than to allow that, and merely stared at the woman incredulously as she began to disappear from his view and into the dark, over-loud embrace that was the inside of The Nova.

He held out a hand as if he could reach far enough ahead to grab her shoulder, maybe persuade her to convince the asshole posted like some type of Nazi outside the door to let him in. But alas, she was content to let him fester outside, his agitation spiking as his chances of landing a big job slipped further and further away as his options began to run dryer than a well during drought season.

With a mere huff, he reset his focus on the bouncer, who continued to stand by, crossed arms helping construct his imposing frame, eyes cast down as he awaited the asinine outlaw to show him a new trick. Alas, Kaim resorted to the same tired, rehashed routine the bouncer had dealt with several times.

Reaching into his pocket, Kaim withdrew a series of 20 credit notes, walking up and stuffing them into the shirt pocket of the watchman's rather nice dress shirt. He merely watches the money sink into his shirt, Kaim patting the area of his chest to assure him that yes, he had just been bribed.

"I think my good friends there can speak for my credibility," Kaim said with a smile. The bouncer sighed, amusement having fled the scene five minutes ago. At this point, the outlaw's desperate attempts at making himself out to be a bigger shot than he truly amounted to were just getting rather sad, and very much annoying.

"Ya know, normally I'd feel bad about taking a guy's life savings. But you? I'd do so graciously." Bringing a hand to his face, Kaim rubbed his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, groaning as he watched his money uselessly pissed away into the man's pocket. Trying to reach for it back would be ill-advised, as he was likely to lose a few bones in his hand if he tried.

"Look, just...what do I have to do to get in there?" Kaim said, almost pleadingly. The bouncer gave an expression of mock-contemplation, casting his gaze up and to the left as if legitimately pondering options to serve up to the poor schmuck standing before him. Finally, he spoke, "Well, you can either stand in line and hope you're allowed in, -which at this point I'm really not so keen on- or you can go home. Up to you. I don't care either way."

With a weighty sigh, Kaim resorted to the former option, striding sluggishly, his spirit crushed into minute splinters, to the back of the line. "You're pretty sad, you know that?" one of the waiting patrons told him as he passed by. He let slip another sigh, giving a half-hearted wave as he walked down the line.

"Yeah, I know."

____

The club was stuffy and smelt like a smorgasbord of fermented yeast mixtures with the rich hint of perfume and an unpleasant dash of body odor. It was unbearably hot and sticky as the music blasted three-years off of her auditory lifespan while she navigated around scantily clad women and men with a survival sense belonging to that of a Neanderthal.

She brought the tracking system back to life, holding it up just enough to fit within her sight line as her eyes traced across the dance floor.

From what ParaMarx had told her, Targard was a wormy man with a trunkful of vices and an ego to match. He was also—by company standards—smart, intuitive, and incredibly resourceful and a special case of ‘handle with care’. What he was doing in a place like this, however, she wasn’t entirely sure. But she doubted it involved a dance and a drink with the fairer sex. Best-case scenario, he was meeting with a contact to trade off the merchandise. Worse, he already knew someone was on to him and he was trying to drive him or her off with unfavourable surroundings.

Clicking her tongue off the roof of her mouth, Pandora slid her way along the bar, passively glancing over faces as the screen flickered beneath. At this range, the tech wasn’t doing her much good, leaving her to rely primarily on her instinct and senses—which was damn near impossible while experiencing both auditory and physical assault and avoiding near head-on collisions with a sea of drunken morons.

A job was a job. Still this one was reaching her threshold for annoyances.

She stopped when she was damn near on top of him.

Twisting on the heel of her boots, she spun on the spot, frantic glances mulling over the sea of faces as she bit on her bottom lip. The dance floor was an ocean of bodies filled with a chaotic current fitting only that made by a hurricane.

That’s when she saw him, the back of his head merging within the waters.

“Shit.” She muttered returning purpose to her steps and drawing the gun from her hip.

Pushing her way through the crowd, her barked commands of ‘get out of the way’ were swallowed by the cacophony and the flock of sheep too drunken and stupid to move out of her way. Nudging a shoulder and hip through the mass, she kept the gun lowered and locked, gnawing her molars together as she followed in the wake of Tillman’s movements.

Someone grabbed her hips, drunken smear of a smile flashing at her as he dragged his body towards her. With sharp knock of her elbows, she smack the middle of his lower jaw, knocking him back and sending him flailing into a few figures behind him. Tillman had made it through the worse of the crowd and stood still a dozen or so feet away. He smiled at her, smiled something sharp and knowing as a rectangular screen lit up above his forearm. Then, he looked up to the scaffolding above them.

“Fuck.” She said, eyes never once leaving Tillman’s face.

The sprinklers went off as an earsplitting alarm squealed with a flare of red lights. Bodies chaotically scattered, ramming into one another like a crowd of heedless ants scampering from a crushed anthill, and Pandora was swept up with them into the eye of the storm.

Barely holding her balance, she pin-balled between forms, holding a vice-like grip on her gun while others slipped on the pooling puddles at her feet. Unlike the rest, she remained stationary, desperately trying to relocate her target only to realize in the short span it took him to set off the fire-system that he had hacked and fried her locator rendering it about as useful as a concrete lifevest.

Shaking her head with the temperament of a nearly drowned cat, she returned her sidearm to its holster and bit down sourly on her bottom lip. Now near empty, she was the only person still standing in the middle of the dance floor of the club, gazing defeated at Tillman's last known location.

Throwing the tendrils of water-dreaded hair onto her back, she reemerged at the entrance of the club, making puddles with each step as she jutted a single pointed finger at Kaim’s chest. Pandora slammed the tip of her finger hard against his solar plexus. “I can only assume you are here because you are looking for work. There’s someone I need to find before he does something extremely stupid. Right now, you are the only person who might be able to think stupid enough to find him.” Wiping a trail of water off her forehead with the back of her hand, she fixed him with a hard look. “So, how about it, Astro Jack” an inflection rose in her voice with the use of his moniker, “do you want to make yourself some money?”

 

[Tiko]

as written by Emperor Jester

From somewhere close by, but not within running distance, a very rapid fire burst of an alarm sounded. If either of the hunters paid attention, all the GCUT employees nearby would begin to filter out of the area, rather quickly, even the bouncer, who, without a word, would go inside and lock the door.

It was very possible that the SSSF were on there way here. Between this and the potential incident happening in the Shipyard section, it seemed like the paramilitary would be having an eventful, annoying day.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Hyll

Sterling surfaced from his deep thoughts again to reality and found that he was walking on a line to some watering hole only someone on space acid could find fulfillment in. These kind of clubs were certainly much polished and refined, but lacked that homely feel Sterling felt in the taverns he walked to back in New Minsk. The thick and greasy atmosphere, the groups of men huddled around round wooden tables and basking in the light of a sole candle, the soft murmur and occasional cursing echoing through the cramped room, the distinct taste of Gutrot Distill pouring down your parched throat. . .

On second thought, they weren't actually that great. Either way, reminiscing about the good old days started to bore Sterling. This whole situation started to bore him. The question spiraled around his head and only now he could focus and catch it, which he then audibly said:

"What are we doing in line?"

He glanced at Kaim, who seemed to be very very sadder than usual. Sterling couldn't find a possible scenario to fit this. Either this was some elaborate ruse to trick everyone into thinking he's not a crook, even though he is heading into a crook nest, or his ego has collapsed and he can't bring himself to push through anymore. Either one sounded insane. He inquired further:

"I thought you were supposed to be 'big deel' here"

Suddenly he heard commotion and alarms blaring from deep within the club. Even though he was taller than most of the losers in the line, he still couldn't make a clear image. The only thing he could make out was some floozy running out, looking for someone who turned out to be Kaim. He slapped him in the back of his head and exclaimed:

"Wakey, wakey. Girl is coming to you."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Calcos

Kaim barely had time to process Sterling's words before he came face to face with the she-devil herself, the look in her eyes caustic enough to want to sear holes into the flesh of anyone unlucky enough to fall within her eyesight, and today the unlucky victim was him. Before he could react or say anything she was already off on a tirade, screaming about how much of an idiot he was and yadda yadda yadda. He had a lot of practice shutting down his attention when women spoke to him, and Pandora was no exception.

However, he perked up a bit when the words "work" and "money" fell from her mouth. In that instant he was all ears and smiles, providing a grin that was mischievous and a hint sinister. "Sure thing," he said without hesitation. "But the pay is going to be split right down the middle, seventy-thirty."

He wasn't joking.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Stellar

The corresponding shock in response to Kaim’s asinine proposal was so immense that Pandora’s jaw didn’t even have a chance to drop. "Do you even possess so much as a middle school education—you know what, forget it. The less I learn about you the more intact my sanity will be.”

Her eyes finally adjusted to the figure standing next to him—a craggy post-apocalyptic disaster of creature she was unsure it was possible to even constitute as a living being. They had movies about things like him; in a sub-genre of horror that never made it to theatres.

Kaim was like an electric-charged magnet for the weirdest things. It would be best that this job went quickly before a similar magnetism for Lovecraftian weirdos rubbed off on her.

Rolling her eyes with the weight of freight train, she clicked her tongue off the roof of her mouth. “You’ll get twenty-percent. And if my target is still alive and breathing by the end of this, I might be generous enough to bump this offer up to twenty-five.”

 

[Tiko]

as written by Luxin

Tenna smiled at the man, though his wrist display's imagery of the lockdown on his ship had him significantly more worried than he would physically let on.

"I'm not worried about being in trouble. I spend most of my life in trouble with someone or another, and this would make it pretty par for the course. What I'm worried about are bounty hunters. Little Twigs don't know when to branch someplace else and leave me the hell alone, but considering I've done that kind of work before myself, I s'pose I can't blame them." He shrugged and seated himself on the side of the Ache'ra, figuring he may as well wait for them to get here and start talking. He could talk his way out of most situations, after all.

Most.

While he waited, a few more notifications popped up on his wrist display. Warnings, from the Solitude, indicating a pair of rather well known ships that he wanted absolutely no business with. The Lightningbird and the Polaris. He'd heard rumors about both, and though he had a rather new, if beaten up, ship to play with, he couldn't do too terribly much with her. He couldn't stay out in space in her, for certain, but he didn't plan on putting any more work into how it would fly at this point beyond anything he could do himself. He already planned on gutting most of the work that had been done later on. With a grumble, he shook his head and spoke, though he didn't really mind himself to be quiet.

"Seriously? They had to show up? Stars alive can this day get any fucking worse..." He hung his head, resigned to wait until the SSSF troops arrived at his location.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Emperor Jester and Luxin

The mechanic could only shrug, before moving to greet the security force. He didn't say much to them, as it was pretty obvious that they had no intention of talking. On the bright side, no corporate handler, so they were strictly here due to a breech in the Parameta's protocols, and the automatic response to damaged property.

The Captain was the only one to approach Tenna from the small, six man squad. It was almost impossible to distinguish him from the others without knowing what to look for, which in this case would be an orange visor (instead of black), and a small, acid etched engraving of an eight pointed star-and-skull on the left shoulder plate. With a voice crisp with static, young but not juvenile, full of both legal authority and as much politeness as the job dictated, the Captain spoke.

If Tenna hadn't already hopped out of the ship, the first words out would be "Please step out of the ship, sir.", followed quickly by a curt, decisive, "Do you know why we are here or have you already been informed. Or paused for an educated guess? Attacks on GCUT property are not taken lightly, but the employee and operator of this outlet has informed us he believed it to be accidental. Is this true?" Without any eyes to read, and very stoic body language, it would be rather difficult to discern any tells from the Captain. However, one thing of note should be that all of the soldiers were armed, albeit only with side-arms. They hadn't brought out the big toys.

____

Tenna slid off the side of his new ship, landing adroitly on the floor without much ado or issue. As he landed, his display shrank and slid into his wrist, or the hologram appeared to do so, and he looked at the captain.

"I have a fair idea of why, but I didn't intend any damage. Was a backup Micropulse system onboard that I hadn't found in the files or even known about. Self-defense mechanism against unauthorized attempts to penetrate the hull, or so it seems. I'll pay for the units damaged, or at least their repairs."

He chuckled slightly, taking note that their weapons appeared to simply be side-arms, like what he carried, though he had no clue what style of weapons they were.

"Also, while I appreciate your general interest in me, there are people here in the Mall that I'd rather not meet with, so if you could be so kind as to release the Solitude back to me, I'd be most gracious."

____

The Captain eyed him from behind his visor. "In truth, since you have no prior record of misconduct aboard the Parameta or in GCUT space, we have no reason to not believe you, especially considering your compliance and corroboration of our employee. You're lucky though. He," The soldier explained, indicating the mechanic who was shooting the shit with the other SSSF behind him. "Served with my uncle. I trust him not to be covering for you out of fear or bribery."

"Still, yes, you'll be fined, but I'll do my best to decrease its severity. And you're ship will be free to fly in about an hour. Unfortunately, it seems like our boys on that end jumped the gun and applied the long term magnetic locks. I'll tell them to start turning them off. An hour is only my guess, and yes, I'm factoring in your walk there. You'll be billed, as we have your accounts on record." With a quick salute, three fingers to the chest, he and the other SSSF began to walk away.

____

Tenna's eyes narrowed at the thought of what they had applied to his ship. He then thought about the ordinance aboard the Solitude, and his eyes went wide. The ship itself would not be harmed byt hem, they were polarized energy weapons with the filters set to keep the ship itself safe from harm. But if they shifted the wrong way, they may not remain inside the ship's hull or weapons bay long enough for that to matter for anyone outside the ship. Considering the violence in his life, Tenna had never bothered to disarm his weaponry, simply choosing not to fire when it would get him killed.

"Actually, have you men evacuate that area. I have specialized weaponry, my own design, on board that vessel that I would rather not be disarmed in the worst possible way. I don't know if those locks managed to shift them, but the bays they sit in are not wholly safe around magnetics, so if they did, it might become a much larger issue. Leave the locks on, and get me, and this ship of mine over there without delay. I can manage the ordinance if I'm close enough, I just don't want your men injured."

Silently, he thought to himself, Or a bigger bounty on my head than I already have.

____

The captain stopped in his tracks. Of course he knew that the scanners must've cleared his ship already, no laws had been broken, but the long time security officer felt the wheels turning in his head. Without responding, he began to bark orders into his com, speaking in a blend of jargon and expletives. Then, he rounded about, his body language much more obvious now.

"You fucking space vagrants. I warned my higher ups about people like you bringing shit like that on board. Fine. They'll attempt to disarm the locks remotely while we're on our way there. I'll try to get you a different escort when we cross districts, but no promises. Theres been a shooting in one of the clubs on the way there and I can't get the squad in that zone to reply to my call." Once again, he'd then turn. "Come on then. And after this is all cleared up, we'll have much more to talk about."

____

Tenna stopped and listened to the words flowing into the com. He parsed a few stray words, but nothing he could piece together cohesively. He'd have to work on that in case he ever had to impersonate anyone in the GCUT para-military forces. As the captain rounded on him again, he held up his hands cautiously.

"We do what we can to get by. When nations think that wanderers of the stars are worthless, we bulk up to keep ourselves and kin safe. Can't blame a man for keeping what he loves safe from harm." He shook his head while speaking, his smile sliding from his face. "Don't try to disarm the locks. They might be keeping things safe right now, so I would leave them until I'm done. I assure you, I won't do anything to affect them unless it becomes absolutely necessary."

He nodded about the other parts, however, understanding that with the force spread so thin, things had gotten somewhat dicey. He began to wonder if this group was anything more than simple routine patrolmen who'd been in the area, rather than the true brunt of the SSSF that he'd heard about. if that were the case, he might be able to get away with a few repurposed mag-locks, which would be a wonderful addition to his defense capabilities.

"Lead on. I'd rather get there sooner than later. I really, really don't want to see how those beauties actually work right now. I'd rather test them for their intial tests well out in space, far from prying eyes." He chuckled ever so softly, the words an allusion to the idea that, once he was well onboard his ship, there would be little to keep him from escaping at least mostly undamaged, rather than be forced to explain himself.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Hyll

Sterling's face now shifted into something faintly resembling a quizzical expression. He wasn't sure about Kaim, but he for sure knew that he hadn't taken deals from soaked wenches storming out of a nightclub before. Not in recent memory, anyway. But since this kind of high-octane work was being offered, Kaim was going to most likely take it anyway, so it was best to make the most out of this.

"'Twenty-five' is not very convincing to only people capable of finding target right now, as you say. What prevent us from shooting you in back of head and taking bounty all for us once we find target?"

It probably would be better to know what the target looks like before making such bluffs, but he knew people in the Slave Colonies. They'll value just about anyone and probably value people who get nosey girls sent after them even more. Though he never fancied himself as a slave driver, it never hurts to have a backup plan.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Calcos

Kaim released a laughter that spelled out his disbelief; a hyena's laughter that would likely serve to annoy the woman. As his laughter came to an end, he wiped his eye with a limp right hand, making a mock flicking motion as if discarding a single tear.

"Oh, that's rich," he began, "But unfortunately, twenty-five won't even cover Sterling's dinner tab on a good day. Up the ante if you want my help, darlin'. I'm no amateur." His voice was calm, jester-like, his words aiming to toy with her, place her in a desperation so deep she'd reconsider her offer. Of course, he was halfway bluffing; he fully expected her to walk away and leave him like a leaf dangling in the breeze, jobless and on the prowl for his next payday.

Of course, if she needed his help as badly as she said she did, it was quite possible he could convince her to negotiate a new offer. He awaited, breath less than baited, that same stupid smirk perched across his visage as he stared at her with a pressuring conviction.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Sentryand Architect

Ariel had already made her decision, but she needed time to cool off.

She didn't do reckless things like punch creepy old men in the face that would ultimately resort in her death, but she had a bad mouth that would have gotten her into quite a bit of trouble.

Because of this, she got the money she needed, and she walked into the shipyard. Time to sleep on it... pff. She had been so stupid. She was going to need to change her arsenal completely.

____

Legion walked through the shipyard at a brisk pace. The resupply order was being filled, the commission had been put in, browsing the retail stores had been quaint, and observational data had been collected. All it had to do was wait. Legion had decided that the best place to do this waiting was back where the Minnow was docked.

As it walked, metallic "feet" making a quiet dull thump with every step, it observed that the Minnow was still being tended to by several members of the security force that had welcomed him. Was it just human curiosity that had prompted their watch? Or were they up to something? Legion would have to consult his security footage to make that decision. It was most likely standard procedure it wagered, and felt that it's concern was warrant-less. Still, couldn't hurt to play it safe.

____

In the midst of her fury, Ariel stopped. She needed a distraction, and there it was.

"Hmph. Didn't think I'd ever see one of your kind here. Lookin' for spare parts?" she snorted. "How long's it been? Since the hunt on Traxas Nine, I believe."

____

A familiar voice struck Legion's sensors, and almost immediately the synthetic seemed to loosen it's posture, not out of comfort, but from exhaustion.

"It has not been long enough..." It muttered quietly as it approached the woman. "Still running around the galaxy chasing after lost criminals Or have you learned how to finally tie one down?"

Legion folded it's arm over it's chest as it observed her. It's head moving up and down quite conspicuously.

____

Ariel's hand tapped the chin of Legion's head viciously. She crossed her arms with a smug grin. "Optic sensors on my face, Wall-E. I think you'd be happy to know it's cost me an arm, a leg, and a rare alien artifact bagging my last case on Trigotia. I've got my fair amount of big bad galactic criminal minds put away recently, though. What about you, Thousand Eyes?"

____

The synthetic responded with a shrug, hands at shoulder level before dropping them down to his waist. "Hostage rescue mostly. A couple of indigenous terrorist incidents....most recently I had to deal with some strange mutant infestation....seems like some team of hunters got abandoned on a planet chock full of these abominations. Had to get em out. "

"Still dealing with you're inferiority complex? This unit advises 'getting over yourself' as the best course of treatment."

____

"Still got Asshole Syndrome, I see. I suggest a large hammer to your vocal circuitry. It'll solve a lot of problems with all the people you've pissed off. Your company is lovely, by the way."

____

"As is yours." Legion nodded "What brings you to this place anyway? Finally realizing your true calling in retail?"

It gestured with a hand to her mid section. "I noticed you don't have your infamous suit, shame, it was the only thing about you that could perform well."

____

"Referencing my track record with general social interaction, I think we both know I'd be a lovely store clerk." The bounty hunter's shoulders bobbled as she chuckled.

She pulled at her jacket with a sneer. "Ah, the ol' suit's got some moth holes. Dropped it off at a tailor's to get it fixed. You know, I didn't come here for some boots. And... what about you, Johnny 5?"

____

If Legion could blink, he would have.

"You left your suit. That you haven't even let me analyze, the one that is unlike anything in it's class, with a Civilian tailor. Unsupervised."

Legion would be gawking at this point.

"You never fail to lower my expectations of you."

____

Ariel scoffed, throwing a hand up to her chest. "Well, what did you want me to do, Legion?! I don't know about you, but I actually don't know a lot of people who know how to repair an ancient and undiscovered piece of alien tech that was at some point the only one of its kind!"

____

"And a random civilian tailor in a super-mall is the answer you arrived at?"

It shook it's head.

"Human consensus continues to prove impossible to understand."

____

"It was the only choice I had. I don't have..." Ariel faded off with a sneer, but found the will to continue. "I don't have many allies left since I broke away from... my team."

____

Legion paused for a second, crossing it's arms over it's chest and once again shaking it's head.

"We don't agree with you're conclusion, however we understand it is within human nature. There is a chance after all that nothing will come of it, we just do not find those odds favorable."

Legion shrugged, turning it's head to look at the Minnow. "We understand humans have an emotional attachment that cloud judgment."

____

"It's our emotional attachments that helped us mold judgement to what it is, Legion. You were made by people. Every machine has fleshies behind it. You all were created because of our emotional desires. Don't forget that."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Emperor Jester

The SSSF escorted Tenna as far along as they could, before handing him off to another squad. This squad only seemed half informed of the situation, and therefor, were much more light-hearted about the whole situation. They'd even joke around with the outlaw. However, once they'd arrived at the Shipyard proper, however, the mood changed, as from here on out, Tenna would be left alone, as he wished. He wasn't even brought to the Solitude.

However, it would be a long while before they'd get there, considering they were trucking it on foot. In the meantime, the hangar area around his ship would slowly start being evacuated ahead of time. Not completely, mind you, but the SSSF set up a wide perimeter for Tenna to work, when he arrived, and for his ship, leaving a straw force behind to guard and secure the area, before they too, began to move off, to deal with other issues.

Eventually, he'd be dropped off at the entrance, one of many, and left to navigate the maze of ships and crowds on his own. Hopefully no one would meet his eye or recognize him here, with all the coming and going traffic. It seemed the SSSF were on overdrive today, as even Tenna's promised escort to his ship was a no-go, nowhere to be seen.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Architect

"Do not misunderstand us." Legion replied, it's voice almost sounding soft. "We do not discredit these emotional attachments. We have witnessed many feats that defy even the most illogical of calculations as a result of these emotions. We have determined them to be a variable without category. We only hope you learn to use them positively, rather than continue to let them hinder you."

It turned it's head back to face Ariel slowly. "We are not a machine. We are Legion."