Legitimate Spaceship Crew!

[Insomnant]

Pei jumped back up to her feet with a swish-swish-swish of her tail that dusted off dirty components in the maintenance access room. It was amazing that her fur wasn't stained dingy brown. Or maybe the persian orange coloration at the end of her tail just masked it. "Even?" she repeated with amusement, chuckling a refined laugh. "Oh ho ho ho! I think not! According to pirate's code, you either have to join my crew, or we eat you! Or... use you for... No, lock you in..." she trailed off with a troubled purse of her lips. "Ah drat, I can never remember the code. But basically, the gist of it is, welcome aboard the Feline Purrsuasion!" she said this with a big grin and quite a lot of cheer.

Which made the next moment all the more surprising, as she grabbed the shapeshifter and hefted her up by her clothes (Pei's clothes (Pei's clothes that Knox was wearing, that is)). But instead of violently slamming the stowaway into a wall, she merely leaned in, real close, with a characteristic sly grin brought nearly to cheek-kissing distance. "Don't you ever impersonate me again, unless I tell you to~" came her soft but emphatic whisper, allowing Knox's mind to fill in the unspoken penalty for disregarding that order.

And then like a flash ion storm it passed, and she was back to her chipper self. With a laugh her grip turned into patting the blobcreature on the clothes to smooth them out, even if ruined by bullet holes. "But you did look cute like that! You pulled me off really well! We'll have to get you a hat or something, or maybe you can change my hair color. So you can be my twin sister but we can still be told apart!" And then she blissfully strolled past the assembled onlookers, heading toward the storage bay. But then she froze at the door... and pivoted around. "Oh! I should probably give you all the tour, huh?"

It was only then that she actually looked at her crew. In their various states of disrepair. Tick was heavily damaged and would need maintenance, and Brent looked worse for the endeavor too. Or maybe Pei was just more inclined to see him as ugly because of his grumpy attitude, that might be it too~ And then Rosa and Myuri were almost naked and completely nude, respectively. That earned an enthusiastic smile of approval from Pei. "That's the right outlook! I see you're already making yourself at home around here, way to go, talk about initiative!" And speaking of which, it was time to show everyone their new home for the next however-long-their-employment-lasted.

Nothing like a ship orientation to relax after a stressful mission. Pei took everyone through the Feline Purrsuasion, showing them the different rooms. The accommodations were all pretty ancient, but functional. The wardroom they were already piled into served as kitchen and dining room alike. The kitchen had a sonic sink, a thermo-wave for nigh instant heating and cooling, plus an antique oven/stove- mostly for trying to make fancy food and winding up burning yourself. There was also a chest freezer, a fridge/freezer combo, a pantry for food- most of it tubes of preserved meat of mysterious origin- and several cupboards, packed with various types of cheap liquor. Sadly no plates or silverware: "Just suck it straight out of the tube, the way nature intended!"

The tour moved back out into the storage bay, with its parked armored tank taking up half of the room. At one point it had been hidden under a large tarp but it had since slid half off. Without spending too much time there, Pei moved on to the crew quarters, with two permanent, semi-comfortable-looking bunks... and two hideaway, not-so-comfortable-looking bunks on the opposite wall. In each of the four corners was a large locker, one of which was clearly marked by a piece of tape with a marker scribbling indicating Pei... or maybe Tel? or Po1? "You can take turns sleeping on the nice bunks- or if you're really sleepy there's some extras that fold out. Uhh... divide the lockers up amongst yourselves or use a crate or something for your stuff. No stealing anyone else's stuff- we're all criminals here, but if we crime each other, we'll wind up killing each other, and be unable to crime other people. So... don't do that!"

The bathroom was last, with an old-fashioned toilet, and shower that used real (if repeatedly filtered and recycled) water! It didn't clean as quickly as a sonic shower but it was arguably more relaxing, for those vintage fans out there. The shower stall had been outfitted with a hanging tank of 2-in-1 shampoo/conditioner, and a foam soap dispenser. "There's only one bathroom, don't make me set time limits. The hot water only lasts seven minutes and 22 seconds and trust me- you'll want to be done before it runs out. Done showering, I mean. Or whatever, really. It gets super cold after that, total mood killer."

And then she traipsed back out to the hangar bay and took a deep breath. "So yeah! Up there is the cockpit- but don't let the name fool you. And the lower bay is the copilot slash gunnery station. Heather hangs out there a lot but feel free to kick her out. It's not like she needs to be seated up there to operate the ship anyway!"

Hearing her name spoken, the silver-topped head of the gynoid popped out from the ledge above. Her colorless gray hair draping down into the storage bay, framing her innocuous expression. "If I can be of assistance to anyone-"

That offer made Pei scoff and interject. "Oh sure, she says that, but-"

"-within reason, please do let me know." And then she pulled her head in and went back to whatever it was she did up there.

Pei just rolled her eyes and turned to the rest of the group. "Well that wraps up the tour! Does anyone have any questions? For me or Heather or each other or- if not, at ease! Or uh, as you were! Or stand- uh, to your stations... Whatever- I don't actually know how-to-navy~"

 

[Ythania]

"Don't worry, pretty Plant girl, it gets less weird over time." Knox grinned and winked towards Rosa as she spoke out, suddenly aware that she had an audience. Another little girl with antennae spoke up, and Knox was more than happy to oblige. "Knox. Stowaway, shapeshifter, and apparently your new medic. Pleased to meet you."

Knox rubbed her eyes wearily and peered up when some other person started talking; mainly because it was the first male voice Knox had heard on the ship so far. Her gaze met Brent's and then her eyes narrowed. "Well, aren't YOU a cheery fucker. Don't worry, I'll clean this mess up properly as soon as you stop blocking the exit. Wouldn't want you chipping a nail or some shit because of me."

Pei had a weird way of simultaneously making Knox smile and shiver with fear. On one hand, she wasn't going to eat Knox-...or chuck her out of the airlock and cheerily welcomed the shapeshifter onto her ship. However, moments later when Knox was centimetres away from those fierce hazel eyes-...for once, Knox was speechless, her throat tightening in terror. She nodded a couple times and Pei let her go, smoothing down the already-ruined clothes. "Easiest way to do that in the past is to just wear something...way back when, I used to use a pair of dog tags to identify myself out of all the other enemies. The hard part," Knox shot a glare at Tick as she stooped down and picked up that laser knife, "Is making sure the robots know who is who. S'not the first time I've been shot by a trigger-happy killbot and by the look of things it's not going to be the last."

Knox wasn't particularly interested in the tour because she'd already seen most of the ship as she tried to play hide and seek. Still, there were some important parts - Knox wasn't sure if it was irony or coincidence that she was composed of pink goo and now had to survive on pink goo from a tube. She also started to mourn the loss of Clarissa's massive, ugly shoes when Pei talked about fun-times in the vintage water shower, and began to wonder how long she could hold off using it until she started to stink. Heather had the right idea too, hiding away in the cockpit so nobody would bother her. Knox smirked at the familiarity of the ex-sexbot's persistence against Pei's suggestion, feeling some sort of...odd kinship for the android and the unwanted harassment from the captain.

When Pei asked for any questions, Knox waved a hand and gave one of her usual lopsided smirks. "Can I keep the outfit? It's ruined anyway, but trust me...it's way cuter than what I was wearing before."

 

[Kazama]

Each of the ship's room was committed to memory as the crew was flung from one end of the ship to the other on their bouncy Vulpinoid captain's tail. Most of the rooms were rooms that Tick wouldn't need.

That room where organics put objects in their mouths for sustenance; not needed. The room where organics lie down and become unconscious for hours on end; also no needed. And finally, the room where organics go to get rid of the waste they create from having put things in their mouths for sustenance (thus rendering the entire act of eating pointless according to Tick); definitely not needed. The cargo room was nice, though. And a locker would be a nice place to store weapons and ammunition; meaning Tick now had a place to put even more weapons! This was going to be the beginning of a great collection!

Once the tour had concluded, Tick raised his good hand (which still clutched his recently removed no-so-good hand), and asked,

"[I will require repairs. My damage is extensive, but does not threaten vital systems.]"

He turned to Myuri who had been an engineer of some sort, as mentioned previously, and gave her his detached hand. By pressing it against her face. Her arms weren't outstretched, but it's always safe to assume organics accept things with their faces. They do a lot of things with their faces, accepting objects is probably one of them.

"[You have mentioned that you repair things. Here, you will need my hand. Do not hold it too tightly, it still reacts to pressure by squeezing at full capacity.]"

Anyone who's been around robotics would probably know that full squeezing capacity for a regular robot is often enough to crush bone. Full squeezing capacity for a robot designed for the sole purpose of killing things is probably going to be enough deform the durasteel of the Purrsuasion's hull.
Hopefully this was knowledge Myuri was equipped with.

 

[R-9 Pilot]

"Heya. My name's Rosa," the plant lady introduced herself to their newest crew member. "...Plants aren't known for their creativity." Nobody had asked for an excuse on the name, but she gave one and grinned sheepishly just the same. It's not like the name she had chosen for herself was one she usually used back home, or that of her original host. But clever, it also wasn't.

She shrugged at Pei's calling attention to her lack of an outfit. "Heather already seemed to suggest this is a clothing-optional vessel, but I do at least try to stay decent." Just how much of what she was wearing was clothing versus petal-like fronds which were probably parts of her body was difficult to tell.

The ship tour was useful, and most strongly left the impression that this was going to be one hell of a no-frills flight, unless they got a more luxurious vessel. Which was unlikely unless a particularly lucky act of thievery took place, and she had the feeling their captain wouldn't be too interested in leaving the Purrsuasion behind unless it was in pieces. The situation was livable, and that was all that mattered in the end. She'd have to secure some basic flatware, or at least some crackers once they'd moved into another port. That sort of semi-liquid food was sufficient to keep just about anything alive, but it wasn't something most enjoyed as the sole pillar of a diet.

The living quarters were serviceable, though there were too many people to actually fit comfortably into them. Well, ok, the robots probably weren't going to take up a bunk. Still, sleeping in shifts in their line of work was probably a good idea anyway, so they might be able to arrange for maximum comfort. The bathroom was a bathroom. A very old-fashioned one, at that. Just how old was this ship?

Rosa raised her hand at the invitation for questions. "I can go through a lot of water, so I hope we have a fair supply." That wasn't a question. It was important information, but not a question. "Uh, I mean, does this ship have an electronic warfare suite? It's pretty small, but it is an old warship just the same, so I might as well ask. If it doesn't, I can still man the comms and sensor systems, and figure something out."

 

[Astoria]

"Right… Nice to meet you," was Myuri's absentminded reply. Since now that she knew for a fact that whatever was going on inside the ship wasn't going to get her immediately killed, there were better things to do. Like not stand around without clothes, and getting something extra strong to drink after nearly getting killed at least ten times today. Better introductions could wait for later, after all, the ship was so cramped. With that, she was about to slink away to unpack some comfortable clothes to wear when the resident giant killer robot strode up to her. And applied his severed robot hand right to her forehead.

Alright, maybe that would have been chill if it was a regular robotic hand, but she was quite familiar with the systems that actuated and actually made Tick's limbs work. So with the chance of her head suddenly and unceremoniously being crushed in, she was understandably not all too happy about the whole thing, and with two fingers, nudged Tick's hand away from her face before gingerly taking it with the other.

"Next time, ask before giving. Wait here," she grumbled, antlers seemingly drooping. This time, she finally made her leave, returning to the hangar area where she temporarily set aside the murderous hand and pulling her luggage to where her sleeping quarters would be. Changing into a comfortable, oversized t-shirt, she finally returned to Tick, freshened up, having taken the liberty to find a drink in one hand and Tick's in the other.

With her lower face buried in an aluminum can, she circled around the beat up death bot, nodding to herself confidently every so often as she inspected his chassis. After some time of this, she finally stopped to give her report.

"It's not just your hand. How many eons have passed since you were last serviced? We're going to need to do a full overhaul on you, not just to fix that thing."

 

[Insomnant]

The back-and-forth between the crew was delightful, quite literally. Pei delighted in watching them interact with a proud smile and an attentive perk of her pointy ears. Her tail slowly swayed behind her, and she giggled at the question she got from their stowaway to keep a ruined outfit.

"Oh, sure! It'll just come out of your first paycheck~" she said with that sly, teasing tone she so often used. Although this time it faded nearly instantly as she blinked with a look of startled epiphany. "Although... I guess your first paycheck would be for your first services rendered as our medic, in fixing me up, so it... I think, kinda evens out. Which- if I'm doing my math right, puts my life equal to the cost of a ruined outfit. Hmm... Hah!" she snickered with amusement at that.

"Eh! Next time we dock somewhere with an actual shopping mall, we'll go get some proper clothes. All of us can! Except you," she pointed to Brent with a fiendish grin. "You get to stay and watch the ship." And then a moment later she confirmed the potential, unspoken question: "And yes, Tick is coming too. To try on all the dresses and find the prettiest one~"

Speaking of, Brent muttered something about getting some rest to finish recovering, and headed to the bunks. Pei pursed her lips in concern over his demeanor but let it go. Hopefully he would be more personable after having some time to vent his frustrations.

"Right! Rosa, Knox... Heather and Pei of course. Aaaaand... Antler-Face and Tin-Can. And Brent," she added, jerking her thumb toward the crew quarters. Rosa's mention of the clothing-optional thing elicited a nod of agreement and a mischievous smile. "Really, it'd be clothing-frowned-upon if it were up to me but noooo, everyone clings to modesty... Except for the robutt. And about the robutt, actually! I just don't get it..." she complained in a huff, crossing her arms under her chest, boosting her cleavage considerably in the process.

Fortunately Plant-Lady's question drew her attention out of her musings and she nodded her head. "Oh- yeah- definitely. It's got a pretty big water storage tank but also a great water recovery system: something like, 97% recycle rate? Something like that- it's super effective! I've never seen it run out- usually fuel goes first, so, you should be fine. Uh, as for your... other question...?"

She looked a bit lost on how to proceed, and opened her mouth to give a waffling answer when but it never made it out. A flash of agile motion preceded two bare feet hitting the deck next to her, as Heather twisted gracefully mid-fall to join them from above. It made the Vulpinoid jump slightly with a muted gasp and a slight glare but once Heather's white hair and curvy physique settled after the fall and landing respectively, the gynoid turned her silver gaze on Rosa while ignoring Pei's displeased look. "Yes, it does," she said simply. "Would you like me to show you the system?"

With that taken care of and their other robot getting tended to as well, Pei smoothed out the fur on her tail and regarded them all. "Ahh, I think this will be the beginning of a profitable relationship. So long as... you all, don't do anything dumb. Like- don't try to outdrink a group of mercs who are secretly dumping their booze under the table and then, when it's clear they're not as drunk as you are, try to shoot them. That... That did not work, but my last crew thought it might! So, yeah, don't do that..." she trailed off with a thoughtful look for a moment.

It ended when Myuri mentioned Tick's need for serious maintenance. "Ooh- good news there! We're heading to a black market ship yard. The owner of which is... eccentric, but- she totally loves me and will probably help us out," she assured them with a casual wave of her hand to dismiss any concerns.

It did not work fully on Heather who diverted her attention from Rosa for a moment. "You owe her a considerable amount of credits. And we did not secure all nine of the-"

This sort of pessimism earned a brief flash of ire from Pei. "It'll be fiiiine..." Though she didn't sound entirely certain. "Ir'gardless, there's nothing we can do about it now but hope! And relax, you all earned it~ Drinks are in the kitchen!"

 

[Kazama]

"It's not just your hand. How many eons have passed since you were last serviced? We're going to need to do a full overhaul on you, not just to fix that thing."

@Click This

Tick had to dig around a bit for that information. It had been a while and being serviced hadn't really been a priority for some time now. The Mk IV's weren't even legal anymore (and thus Tick was constantly committing a crime simply by existing) so it wasn't like he could just walk into a repair shop and get fixed up. He had been given a few fixes here and there; mostly by engineers who'd been forced to reattach his limbs at gunpoint; but nothing substantial. He found the data and referred it through his vocal systems. It wasn't pretty data.

"[Last recorded service check-up performed nine, nine, nine standard days ago. Service overdue by six, three, four standard days.]"

It should be noted that the 'Last Recorded Service' timer stops counting at 999. You're supposed to get your Mk IV's checked once a year or every 200 kills. Like the Mk IV Owner's Manual states, 'It is important to make sure your units are running smoothly by sending them in for maintenance at least once a year. Remember; a healthy mechanized solider is a happy mechanized soldier!*' The fact that Tick is still running is due to a mix of stubbornness, luck, and over-engineering that hadn't been afraid to smudge a few intergalactic regulations.

"[Regardless, I do not need to be serviced. I simply need my hand reattached. Otherwise, I am running perfectly.]" Even as Tick said that, the gaping hole in his torso loosed a few sparks.

Myuri clearly did not agree. After a combination of coercion, demanding, and threatening; as well as the fact that she was holding his hand close enough to make it a hostage; Tick was herded into the living quarters. The robot stood in the middle of the room while Myuri gathered what she'd need. A stool (for height reasons), a set of tools, and a datapad. While Tick stood up straight, Myuri sat on the stool with her things on her lap.

On Tick's back was a set of screws in a square. Once removed, the panel they held in place came off. They revealed a series of connectors that could hook up to a terminal or datapad. The panel was big enough for someone to reach in and access most of his torso area.

The exposed wiring, metal, and circuitry was old. Not much dust since they're always inside Tick, but a bit of dirt, a bit of blast scarring (apparently there had been a minor explosion inside Tick at some point), and at least one of the circuit boards had been pierced by a bullet. Said bullet was found smashed against the inside of Tick's chassis. Looked like a big round, something you'd put in a high caliber sniper rifle.

When Myuri moved Tick around for a better look, a coin of some kind rattled around inside his chassis. Someone's keys were also tangled amidst a few wires (no idea how those got there) and an engineer had long ago tried to hide a now decrepit nudie magazine by scrunching it up and throwing it into his chassis. The cover depicted a Vulpinoid female in a suggestive pose (a strong hint to get rid of it and not let the captain find it). It's edges were burned and frayed, though this had happened recently. Tick had been on fire about thirty minutes ago, after all.

There were two connections compatible with her datapad on his exposed back, but one of them seemed to have been fried during a short-circuit. In fact, a lot of Tick's circuitry showed signs of having been electrocuted. More than once. Tick had learned long ago not to pick up power lines or punch transformers. There's always a lot of flashing lights and then he's forcefully shut-down for a few hours. Not pleasant. Even top of the line energy dispersion mesh isn't gonna do anything if your fist is about a foot deep into something labeled 'DO NOT TOUCH: 100,000 VOLTS'.

The moment her datapad was hooked up to Tick, her security software immediately popped up.

'The system you are connected to is unsafe and may pose a security risk. [47] infections detected. Would you like to continue?'

It seemed Tick was in need of some virus removal as well as maintenance. At the very least, spyware designed to steal credit bank information can't do much inside an AI's brain. When the datapad finally started up and loaded in the User Interface for Tick's software, most of what appeared onscreen was corrupted data. Because of course Tick's UI doesn't work. The few things that didn't lead to an error message weren't much help. Myuri wasn't able to run a diagnostic in this state, but at least she could check his current objectives (unable to modify unfortunately), or view an advertisement from Tick's manufacturer. It even came in three languages! Russian, English, and Japanese. Tick's User Manual was also available, though most of it was just more corrupted data.

'Congratulations on purchasing your very own Volkov Industries ABP Mk IV Mechanized Infantry Unit! In the following manual, we'll teach you everything you need to know about owning an army of robotic soldiers! Head on over to pa[CORRUPTED]
[CORRUPTED]
[CORRUPTED]mpatible with several different models of drop pod**. When arranging units in a drop pod, it is important to consid[CORRUPTED]
[CORRUPTED]
[CORRUPTED]nd remember! Next time you're in the market for private military hardware; Choose peace of mind. Choose Volkov.'

*ABP Mk IV units are not programmed to feel happiness. Do not attempt to expose your units to happiness. Remember to regularly wipe your units' memories to prevent any accidental happiness. Volkov Ind. will not any replace units who become emotional or find meaning in life.
** See pg. 504 for comprehensive list of compatible drop pod models. While many models are compatible, it is recommended to use Volkov brand drop pods for best results.

 

[Ythania]

"A mall? I look forward to it, captain. You can help me pick something out.~" Knox tugged on the skimpy shirt with pride as she sloped off to grab a rag and a bucket. She returned to the Maintenance Room immediately and set to word cleaning up the blood and sludge that remained from her previous antics. Cleaning was easy, it didn't require a lot of brain power and she could mull things over whilst she did it. The hard part was making sure she didn't electrocute herself on any of the exposed wires or get her fingers trapped in the mechanisms. A lot's happened in the past few hours...she mused, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she scrubbed. Frankly, the whole ordeal was exhausting; if Knox had a say in the matter she would've used the comms to try and find that Clarissa woman and ask for a raise before buggering off somewhere tropical. Unfortunately, Knox knew she had more luck sticking around with these space pirates and getting twice as much as Clarissa would fork out during one of their heists and the shapeshifter resigned herself to sticking around for the time being.

Once Knox was done cleaning she tossed the water down the drain, gave the rag a quick clean and wandered over to the living quarters for a well-deserved nap. She opened the doors on Myuri getting up close and personal with Tick, promptly did a 180 and walked out of the corridor. Only when Knox was certain that she didn't walk in on robofornication and that she wasn't about to get shot did she poke her head around the door, then cautiously enter.

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," she announced tentatively before immediately claiming one of the beds as her own. Knox was getting the feeling that privacy was a very loose concept on The Feline Purrsuasion, so even if they griped about it, Knox wouldn't care too much for butting in on their repair session. Knox rolled over and shut her eyes, but the clanks and clatters of Myuri fishing a plethora of junk out of Tick's chassis coupled with the residual panic from her stowaway situation kept Knox awake. After a short while she turned back to face them, one hand lazily hanging off the edge, the other tucked under her head. "That thing even worth saving?" she asked, eyeing Tick coldly. "Seems like a disaster waiting to happen. I doubt it even needs two hands."

 

[Astoria]

"Hmm. Hmmm…"

Myuri continued to work carefully and methodically within Tick's chassis. This was in part because of the risk the robot continued to pose to her very well-being, but was also from her innate curiosity of poking around a relic from a time since lost. What were the secrets he held inside? What sort of story was there to tell from his diagnostics and system software? What silly maintenance logs did the last engineer to service him leave? Hell, what kind of damage did he get over the centuries of existing?

It took a bit of diplomatic and physical finagling gain access to Tick's internals. Her first thought at looking inside of him was "you belong in a museum!" and as she continued to rummage inside the hollow parts of his body, she could say the same of the things she dug up as well. Atop her little stool, the first actual thing she did was to attach her small datapad to the sole remaining working port on his body. Really though, the position was a bit awkward, so she rested the tablet in a small corner of Tick, enabling a remote connection to her portable terminal atop a table adjacent to them.

After giving a good clean with some household cleaning products and a helping of WD-40 equivalent, the diagnostics she ran (after virus removal) confirmed her suspicions. Everything was either so out-of-date or damaged, including his own system software, that even she couldn't do a full repair on the spot. Pei had mentioned making a stop at a ship-yard; it was there that they could furnish him with some upgrades or maybe even a new, more ship-friendly chassis.

As it stood now, aside from re-affixing his torn hand, she was only polishing parts and applying new grease. She replaced some damaged vital components with the spare parts she had, an in return, had taken the scandalous magazine she'd found inside him and downloaded what was left of the 'manual' provided as a payment of sorts.

She was just finishing as the newest member of the crew walked into the room. Giving a nonchalant pat on his metal back as she began to close up all his panels and externals, she waved at Knox with a pair of plyers. "A functioning robot is safer than a malfunctioning one," she said in a dismissive tone.

"That's the best I can do you for you on this rustbucket. I'm going to have to give you the rest of your maintenance on that station, and you seriously need it."

 

[R-9 Pilot]

Rosa nodded. "Good, good. Plenty of water to go around, then. Not like I don't still exhale most of what I take in anyway." Water not being a concern was good, particularly with the free-flowing shower on the ship. Though, something this old and small would probably do the absolute best it could to remain self-contained.

She jumped a bit at Heather's sudden entrance from above, dropping in with all the subtlety and grace of a lethal ambush predator hiding in the canopy of some primitive jungle world. She couldn't help but giggle at Pei's similar reaction, and the fluffed-up tail made the Vulpinoid's surprise that much more obvious. After the initial surprise had died down, she happily agreed with the android. "Yes, please show me what I've got to work with." She'd happily follow back up to the cockpit, even if it might turn a bit cramped.

 

[Insomnant]

With everyone tending to their own business, Pei was free to pick up where she'd been interrupted by the hasty departure from the station. She spent a few moments examining the capacitor banks in the cargo bay but once assured of their safety moved on. Stepping into the lounge after Knox had departed, the vulpinoid plopped herself down onto a seat and began eating one of the doughnuts she'd rescued from the doomed station. It pained her a bit to think of having paid a shop that she knew was going to explode moments later, but the sweet pastry dulled that pain, and her tail thumped against back of the seat in its attempt to wag. There were some enjoyable memories linked to such a snack, but she kept them to herself, listening to the echo of robot repairs happening in the next room over.

For her part, Heather nodded and lead Rosa up the ladder. The secondary cockpit had been designed with a peculiar door of sorts, with hinges at its bottom, giving it an almost drawbridge-like function. It could seal the cockpit or lower to extend a ramp that- once climbed past on the ladder- made getting into the secondary cockpit a simple step instead of a long jump. Heather allowed Rosa to ascend beyond the ramp's clearance height and then hit the button that made the ramp lower to give them a way in. "It is an odd design but it does provide privacy when desired," she stated as an explanation. Once inside it was clear that there was only room for one really, the chair on a swivel but planted immediately in front of the mess of levers and buttons and knobs: actual, physical controls! And on either side in banks of monitors and blinking lights- as well as projected onto the bubbled glass window- was all of the information she might need, should she know how to interpret it.

Luckily Heather spoke up to assuage any concerns. "The original interface was purely manual, but it has since been upgraded to accept AR connections. I will authorize your input: the Captain has no reservations as to your allegiance." Left unspoken was the implication that Heather may not, but if she did she didn't vocalize it. "You will likely notice, the capabilities of the ECM module are diminished by its antiquity. Missile guidance interference has largely been rendered ineffective due to advances in technology, likewise for communications jamming. There are still instances where such applications may prove helpful, especially against similarly aged weapons or ships." Her helpfulness ended at sugar-coating the situation, it would seem.

 

[R-9 Pilot]

Rosa slipped into the secondary cockpit and climbed into the one chair available. It was a cramped sort of space, but that went for the whole ship, so she didn't pay any mind to Heather looming right behind her to explain the control set-up. She hummed quietly as her fingers danced across the physical controls, pink fingertips lightly brushing the assembled keys, dials, levers, and switches. One could easily call the arrangement archaic, compared to modern technology, particularly that favored by the corps.

"I can handle manual controls well enough," she replied. "It can be useful to have a little more than VR to play with sometimes." Not necessarily faster, but still useful. "And it's fun! Have you seen some ship bridges these days?"

The poor quality of options was, sadly, about what she had expected. An old military ship could have some impressive systems across the board, but a small old military ship was unlikely to have much. This wasn't the sort deployed for that sort of operation, and lucking into a wild weasel wasn't too likely. Not that it wouldn't be outdated anyway. Rosa shrugged. "Well, old systems are just something we'll have to deal with." Or trade up later. "I'll see if I can figure out a few tricks, but we're probably not going to be winning any direct fights over the comm channels or computer networks with this thing." A ship this size wasn't exactly cut out for that sort of big-time piracy, anyway. Not enough crew or cargo capacity, even if it could disable a big liner or freighter without firing a shot. "So, I'll probably just focus on running the comms and playing nice."

She did wonder what the next job would involve, as she went through the brief mental effort to connect and authenticate to the ship's communications and ECM controls on her end. After the brief handshake, she set a basic protocol to ping her in case of anything coming in or unusual activity, and left it at that. "So, that out of the way," she said to Heather, "you're the one who's been around the longest. What's our dear captain like?" She had the impression what she'd seen was exactly what Pei was like, but it didn't hurt to ask.

 

[Insomnant]

The notion of willingly using- or even preferring!- manual controls simply had not occurred to Heather, and she seemed at a loss for words because of it. After several slow seconds she broke her silence with a quiet, "No, I must admit I have not seen many ship bridges, especially not more modern models. If you have any recommendations of specific ship models, I could do some research into bridge layouts at our next destination."

The analysis that Rosa listed were in line with Heather's own conclusions and she nodded as squatted behind the cockpit chair- pretty much the only way to fit up there without actually climbing into Rosa's lap. "Luckily our operations rarely involve direct combat for any extended period of time, and especially not with any organized force capable of deploying advanced combat units. We would likely need to acquire a new ship more suited to the task before taking on such a role." There was only so much that upgrades could do and Heather didn't sound too convinced that they'd be enough. Though she wasn't putting much stock in the emotional attachment certain crew members might have to the ship...

Certain crew members which the plantoid woman now inquired about, making Heather tilt her head almost imperceptibly. "Captain Pei is largely incompetent in most areas beyond charisma. She has a talent for convincing organics to make decisions advantageous to her even when inconveniencing themselves." She rattled that off as if memorized, though then that was true of most of what she said. What came next did give her pause at first, but she continued. "Captain Pei also has a habit of setting lofty goals, which she frequently achieves even in spite of overwhelmingly negative odds. This is usually in large part due to the efforts of others, but sometimes is actually just probability-defying successfulness."

After that explanation she paused, and leaned to the right to get a glance of the side of Rosa's head. As a result, her bare shoulder pressed into the blinking monitor, its green flashing light visible through the silver curtain of her hair. "Is this the information you desired or would you like me to elaborate or address another aspect of your question?"

 

[R-9 Pilot]

Rosa turned her head to face Heather, only to discover they were close enough they could practically kiss. The surprise caused her to momentarily jump back a bit, before settling down, still at a less intimate distance. "That works well enough." She didn't know quite what to think of Heather's assessment of their captain, but it wasn't out of line with what she'd already seen. There were worse talents for a captain than sheer charisma and guts.

"As for ships...hm, fanciest I can remember is a corporate science vessel which had a bridge that was primarily automated through AR interfaces. I'm pretty sure someone was boasting about how the entire thing could be run by just one person with the proper implants."

"And, if you don't mind a different question, how'd you and Pei end up meeting anyhow? You two seem like strange bedfellows, if you'll forgive the idiom." She highly doubted the two of them would actually be sleeping together, for any reason.

 

[Ythania]

Knox grinned and shrugged, peering down at Tick nervously. "Yeah, I guess so. Last thing we need is him going nuts and spraying bullets all over the place..." she mused thoughtfully, running a hand through her stringy purple hair and yawning. Her yellow eyes lazily observed the repairs for a few moments before peering at Myuri herself; she hadn't seen a Tarra in a very long time, and it didn't make sense for them to be up in space given their tendencies to stick to their homeworld. It was practically unheard of for any Azrulian Shapeshifter to stick around on their home planet for too long, so the thought alone of staying in one place was intriguing to say the least. Whilst Knox doubted Myuri would be able to explain it very well, she thought it wouldn't hurt to ask anyway.

"Hey, I always wondered; if Tarra are so good at radio waves and tech, why aren't they out there dominating the galaxy? I mean, you're setting a real good example, but quite a lot of your folk don't even get off the ground before they die." asked Knox, propping herself up onto her elbows. "Is it the antennae? I'd imagine getting a load of signals thrown at you from passing satellites isn't all that fun." As if to emphasise the point, Knox wiggled a couple of fingers above her head like tiny antennae of her own, smiling amusedly. "It can't be for lack of skill, I watched you fix that...thing... right back up again."

 

[Insomnant]

The startled reaction from Rosa prompted a nigh-imperceptible turn of Heather's head, but she didn't comment on the jump, nor the move away. Matters of personal space were for individual management, especially in such an enclosed environment. "You have experience with corporate science vessels?" she asked casually after noting that suggestion. The implication that Rosa may have worked aboard one was not lost on her, and the question was as much a request for confirmation as it was for elaboration.

When the topic shifted to her history with Pei, that gave her pause while running many cycles examining how best to explain it. She covered for her hesitation by shifting to sitting down, with her back against the side of the cockpit, legs stretching the walkway and feet planted on the opposite wall. "That depends on what you mean by 'you.' I do not know when, or how, Captain Pei acquired my body." She had another sentence there but omitted it, pressing on. "My processor was originally a neural computer aboard a research station, apparently housing another synthetic intelligence which Captain Pei described as... 'a bitch.' I do not have any memories from that time period."

The question required more to answer though and Heather tapped her bare foot against the wall slowly as she spoke. "My current software was programmed by someone I do not know; Captain Pei calls him 'Raze.' I have not met him and I am not sure of their relationship, but from what I have been told he provided my code and may have assisted in assembling this chassis and installing it. That was just over two hundred thirty-four days ago. The strangeness of our bed-sharing aside, I have learned much in my time spent with Captain Pei, and as previously stated- she does notably defy probability in regards to the outcomes of her endeavors. Accordingly, terminating our association is not necessarily more beneficial than is continued collaboration."

 

[Astoria]

In the crew quarters, Myuri unceremoniously plopped down on her new bed. It certainly wasn't the most comfortable or glamorous one she'd had, there was nothing particularly objectionable about it, besides it being a horrible off-shade color and being a bit hard for her comfort. Having finished her maintenance on Tick for the moment, she had taken the liberty of downloading all of Tick's past maintenance data, logs, and even the respective videos that were included along with the manuals in the robot's provided languages.

Popping open the clam-shell lid of her portable terminal, Myuri started browsing through the newly acquired data, clicking about before finally to do something. Since she decided she didn't care to read through potentially hundreds of years of logs and drivel, she opened up some of the videos, curious to see what they were about. There were three of them, encoded in a compatible, but archaic .MKV compression format.

With a raised eyebrow, she grabbed and opened a can of beer that she'd taken earlier and fired them up. On the screen, the video player started up, showing "Display mode activated. Advertisement selected in [RUSSIAN] localization. Playing video." Before fading to black and actually showing the video.

-

The Volkov Industries logo appears for a moment before the screen pans down. A mustachioed man in a crisp general's uniform appears, with an absurd amount of medals dangling from his chest. He points at the viewer, "Hello comrade! General Volkov here with yet another Volkov Industries product! Are you in need of soldiers? Everyone knows that every strong leader must have a strong army! But you ask, 'General, where can I find good soldiers?' Well, comrade, you can always count on Volkov Industries to bring you the best there is."

The shot reveals a group of human soldiers, laying about, grumbling or clutching injuries, "Many times, human soldiers are weighed down by things a strong leader should not have to worry about. They get hungry, sick, or lazy! What you need is a soldier who never tires, never eats, and is always ready for action! You need Volkov Industries latest product, the Avtomatizirovannyy Blok Pekhoty or ABP Mk IV!"

A group of Mk IV's march to the top of a hill, firing at an unseen enemy while a loud, bold choir roars a patriotic anthem. The robots take the hill and raise a flag bearing the Volkov Industries logo as the music hits a crescendo. General Volkov walks out from behind the group, holding a Volkov brand assault rifle,

"With Volkov, all your enemies shall fall at your feet! No other militaries can combat the power of mechanized Volkov strength! And it can be yours for only 10 million Solar Credits per platoon! Be the leader you deserve to be! Buy Volkov today!"

A monotone voice rattles off a long disclaimer, "Volkov Industries is not responsible for any damages, injuries, or deaths caused by use of any Volkov brand products. Purchasing any Volkov brand product absolves Volkov Industries of any responsibilities and court action law suits pertaining to product use. Product success in live fire combat may vary, power cores not includes, some assembly may be required."

-

"Huh. Did those Russians make their money off selling to planetary warlords?" She took another swig of beer before starting the next of what was becoming apparent to advertisements. Once again, a message was displayed, this time indicating [ENGLISH].

-

A blond, motherly, middle aged but still attractive woman sits at a table sipping tea. She gives the viewer a warm smile, "If you're a colony owner like, then you know being responsible for a colony of people has all sorts of little hiccups and obstacles. And when you're as busy as I am, who has time to worry about things like worker safety and possible foreign attacks?"

She stands and walks outside where a single Mk IV stands guard at her door, holding a Volkov brand machinegun, "That's why when it comes to my private military needs, I always choose Volkov! With the latest in mechanized military, Volkov's new ABP Mk IV unit has everything I need ensure my colonies are running smoothly. Just hear from some of our satisfied customers."

An older man with a scar over one eye appears. He speaks with an Australian accent, "Before, dangerous used to make colonizing new planets a chore, but with the Mk IV's, it's as easy as it's ever been! Set them to kill anything they see, send them in, and let them work. Destroying entire ecosystems has never been easier. Thanks Volkov."

A man in a blue suit with a chubby face and beady little eyes, "My workers used to bother me with all sorts of meaningless crap. Safer work environment, a minimum wage, human rights? Who's got time for all that? With the Mk IV's, I've got them working harder and longer. Thanks, Volkov."

A woman with a buzz cut and a military uniform sits behind a desk, "We used to have problems with a species of sentient natives on this planet. They just seemed to have a problem with us tearing down their forests to establish our outpost. Our men couldn't get anything done without being pelted by arrows. But ever since sending a platoon of Mk IV's after them, we haven't heard a peep from those pesky natives. Thanks Volkov."
The motherly woman appears again, her pair of Mk IV's protecting her against angry rioters. "No matter what the situation is, the ABP Mk IV has it covered. No matter what the problem is; Choose peace of mind. Choose Volkov."

A monotone voice rattles off, "Volkov Industries is not responsible for any damages, injuries, or deaths caused by use of any Volkov brand products. Purchasing any Volkov brand product absolves Volkov Industries of any responsibilities and court action law suits pertaining to product use. Product success in live fire combat may vary, power cores not includes, some assembly may be required."

-

"I'm not drunk enough to not accept these as jokes," was Myuri's verbal response to the second video. "Tick, did Volkov Industries ever care about political correctness?" The Tarra girl reached for her second beer before starting the last video, which was indicated by the message [JAPANESE].
-
A cutesy and colorful rendition of the Volkov Industries logo appears and then switches to a stylized anime girl, with pink hair and a military officer's uniform with a short skirt. She is standing around, smiling and pointing at workers who are happily building something. Upbeat and fast tempo music plays loudly. The narrator speaks at breakneck speed. Everything he says appears as bubbly words on screen, "Colonizing is hard! Many dangers! Bad guys! Villains! Monsters!"

A crab man of some kind appears and starts chasing the girl. She runs away, arms held forward, her eyes shut tight in distress and stylized by a '>' and a '<' for her left and right eye respectively. The upbeat music is still playing and the narrator begins speaking again, "Oh no! High danger!" the words appear around the crab man, "Need reliable protection fast! No problems! VOLKOV always has solution!"

General Volkov appears beside the running girl while riding in a tank. He tosses her a remote with one large red button on it and winks at her, "VOLKOV-san solves the problem easily!" The girl catches the remote and hits the button. A Mk IV falls from the sky and lands between the girl and the crab man. "ABP Mk IV is here to save the day!"

The chase changes direction with the robot hot on the crab man's tail and the girl running after them, cheering. The robot catches the crab man and a dust cloud obscures the screen. When it clears, the girl is sitting at a kotatsu table and enjoying a plate of crab legs.

The image switches to two well-known J-pop idols dancing on either side of a deactivated Mk IV who's just standing up straight and not moving. "Buy now! Good price! Always satisfied! Starting at 10 million Solar Credits per platoon! ABP Mk IV!"

A monotone voice rattles off, "Volkov Industries is not responsible for any damages, injuries, or deaths caused by use of any Volkov brand products. Purchasing any Volkov brand product absolves Volkov Industries of any responsibilities and court action law suits pertaining to product use. Product success in live fire combat may vary, power cores not includes, some assembly may be required."
-

"Okay. Fuck. You know what, this is the only one that makes me want to buy one of you. I could go for some crab legs. How much is 10 million Solar Credits these days, anyway?" Her antennas twitched lazily, seemingly shrugging off her off-hand questions.

"So, uh, Tick. Which one of these groups were you first delivered to?"

 

[Kazama]

Tick patted himself down. He was still full of holes, but he felt... better? Not explicitly better per se; robots don't physically feel anything, they judge their bodily state by a series of constant, low level diagnostics; but his left elbow no longer had that annoying grind and some of his software ran a little better (he could once again make out individual faces instead of just labeling people with a name tag and either a [HOSTILE] or [NON HOSTILE] flag). He even felt a little more limber. Only a robot like Tick could go this long without repairs, surviving purely on aggression, coercion, and a shoot-first-confirm-target-later protocol.

Myuri's question came and Tick took a few seconds to respond, the same way a computer will hang if you ask it to do something taxing. First activation was a long, long time ago. It was information that had been sorted as unimportant and had to be dug up. Same goes for the memory of who his first owners had been,

"[I was sold to the Outer Allied Union. I was first activated aboard the OAUS Achilles shortly before being deployed via drop pod. My first objective was to take a naval base controlled by the Central Sol Corporation by moving up the beach towards it. It was an enjoyable experience. Ten million solar credits are worth roughly 15.34235 million GC Notes. If you are interested in purchasing a Mk IV unit of your own, find your nearest Volkov dealership.]"
Tick was required to say that line whenever someone expressed interest in buying one of him.

Tick had explained his activation a lot more simply than it had happened. 'Moving' up the beach had involved landing on a cold, rocky shoreline and immediately being shot at by machine guns, mortars, missiles, and more than a few airstrikes. And the beach had been fortified with a series of bunkers, trenches, and land mines. Their opposition had been well armed, but the Mk IV's had been tougher. They took the base with a 30% casualty rate, but it was leagues better than their human opposition and their 98% casualty rate. Only downside was that they were supposed capture the ships stationed at the base, not blow them up because some of the troops happened to run inside them.

Tick couldn't explain to you why they had to take the base (he'd never been told why, just to do it), but the OAU and CSC were two old human factions that had long since been in the throes of civil war over the ownership of a couple of resource-rich planets in the solar systems closest to theirs. Even after leaving their home planet, humanity still couldn't stop going to war every few years. There's a reason that a common racial stereotype against humans is that they'll kill each other with assault rifles over a stale burger bun. Humans thought they were pretty clever for discovering space travel until they finally made contact. Then they just went right back to being violent assholes.

The truth of the matter was, while the Mk IV's had been marketed to colony owners and any dictator who could afford them, about 70% of Mk IV's had been used in full scale military assaults. They were simply too expensive to waste by using them as police or enforcers when you could just use some hopped up law enforcer instead. Sure, they need to eat and occasionally soil themselves when they see the size of the riots, but at least they don't cost 10 million SC's. Most Mk IV's were used by military organizations, and often attacked the places where the fat cats lived (for a price) rather than protected them. They became quite popular during the multi-system civil war. A few situations even ended up with one army of Mk IV's up against another. In these cases, tactics actually began to matter when both armies had literally come from the same manufacturer.

The Mk IV usage had continued into the age of cross-species interaction and Volkov found itself with quite a few non-human buyers. Some thought it was a shame when the Mk IV's were finally outlawed after several intergalactic war crimes that justice systems had trouble prosecuting since they'd been committed by a non-living entity. That, and the fact that Mk IV's were already pushing the bill on robotic soldier regulations. In the end, it was simply decided to make them illegal.

Volkov Industries didn't care. They'd made a killing off of these guys. Like what you've heard so far? If YOU'RE interested, you can get your very own platoon for just 10 million solar credits. First time buyers who buy one platoon get another one at 25% off at select dealerships. Available in six colors and four types of camo! Be sure to ask about including the all new sniper squads, grenadier squads, and flamethrower squads when you buy! Visit you local Volkov Dealership today!

"[Knox is correct. If the Tarra possess the technology to conquer, why do they refuse to conquer? Why would you make weapons and ship and not use them? Are they afraid?]" Tick thought of an even worse thing that might be holding them back, "[Are they stupid? I have heard stupidity is difficult to cure. It is a good thing artificial minds cannot be stupid.]"

 

[R-9 Pilot]

"A little. That was all before my...integration into my current state, though." Rosa didn't elaborate further on her past service. "Any memories from back then are a little fuzzy."

The short time Heather had known Pei was surprising. "I would have suspected you two were partners for years." A few hundred days was the better part of a year, but still, it seemed too short, for the image of things in Rosa's mind. "Ah, well, it can't be helped. I don't have any other questions, so unless you've got more to ask me, I should probably at least go and move my stuff into a locker."

 

[Astoria]

"Isn't your company, well, gone?"

Myuri mused over his odd sounding suggestion to find a dealership, but chalked it up to some rigid programming parameters set by Tick's now ancient creators. She didn't even have 15 million GC notes anyway, but...

The sound of another voice interrupted her train of thought.

"Hmm?"

Myuri looked up from her device at the voices of both Tick and the newest (although not by much) member of the crew. "I'm not stupid!" She pouted at Tick's insensitive comments.

"Well, I never really gave it much thought. I mean, until our first contact, we weren't really all that technologically advanced. Now though, sure, we have the ships, the technology, the same stuff that everybody else has. Hell, our star system is independent."

She took a swig of her drink. "I guess it's mostly cultural. We live for so long, there's always a 'later' and a 'down the line', so we don't have as much of a drive to expand territorially than other species with shorter lifespans."

The Tarra girl shrugged, kicking back her legs to lie down on her bed.

"Either that or the Tarran system is stuck between two galactic coalitions. Fuck if I know."