Primitive Polygon
Well-Known Member
- RP Date
- YE 43
- RP Location
- Deep Space, North of Kikyo Sector
The Bug Inside You
Part One - Embedded
-♫♫♫-
T-33 thumbed the brick-sized compu-block they had assembled from scraps of old communicators, and watched the orange LED bulbs blink and flicker in the gloom of the escape capsules' rank claustrophobic shell. The tin can was wretched by the standards of any self-proclaimed civilized race, with air scrubbers decades beyond the scrapping point.
It didn't matter to a creature like her. A small pallid morsel of a woman, genecrafted and cybernetically modified to withstand the most gruelling of conditions. Not a warrior. Not a thing of peak performance. Just an undetectable insect, a sentient junker, a thing made for salvaging parts for an empire which had long since crumbled into madness.
The lights pinged green, and the hatchway above popped open with the distinct clunk-phwop of equalizing air pressure.
Virus seemed to be working. None of those planetary-type monkeys were here to arrest her. Releasing the valves on their chrome face grill, they allowed the clean air to enter their lungs slowly at first, careful to avoid the effects of nitrogen narcosis.
Airlock. That boring default grey metal, so you knew it was an Origin vessel. Always reminded her of a virtual render with no texture loaded.
Stomach hit them with a sudden pang of guttural agony. Head swam. Loaded more stimulants. Repressed brain node A41 and D46. Focus restored to 56% percent. Starving to death was a less pressing concern than the humans finding them. High probability for this type of vessel; Local police, pirates, or even smugglers that would kill to protect cargo.
Winding over her shoulder, a mechatendril claw carefully ripped the motion sensor off of the wall without activating it. T-33 dropped down on their six spider like leg-limbs, totally silent. Loaded the schematics for this type of vessel... Data found. Courier 2c. It was one of those dumb ones, with the airlock really close to the bridge and engineering.
Not good. They'd notice a disturbance here quickly. Corridor beyond would almost certainly have sentry guns, this far out into open space.
Footsteps? Perhaps moving this way? Perhaps not?... Shit.
Red eyes darted along the panels of the floor, looking for common fittings- There, the fluid exchange valve for the sanitary system- The permanently attached autodecoupler on her rear right mechatendril wound the screws out of the sheet metal facing, and exposed the twin nozzles of the ship's organic exchange system. There was a gap down the side, but too small for even T-33's diminished form to fit through. Not a best case scenario.
A glimpse of a flashlight through the small viewport window outside. The clink-clink-clink of physical keypad buttons being pressed-
No time left. The bulbous grappling claw of her right arm had been a blessed friend through many encounters, but... Yes, it was time to part ways.
She used the autodecoupler on her own shoulder, and was met with the uncomfortable sensation of her own arm freely sliding down her sleeve, thudding onto the cold deck below.
The outer door of the airlocked opened, and the crew member swore as they loaded a weapon, but flinched in shock at the mechanical spider before them, gazing back with wide eyes from under a mane of silver. The stubbled grimace of the land-gorilla met hers, and then the arm on the floor- Like a predatory creature confused by the disconnecting tail of a lizard.
Into the space between the pipes. Protective darkness. A treasurable corner, to block the potential line of fire. Behind the wall of the head, and down the spine of the vessel, between the crew rooms. Their six legs pushed them deeper and deeper, apposable appendages gaining grip on looms of wire, the grills of heat exchangers, the odd air duct fitting. Working on schematics, an internal 3D model, and pure sensation now. Didn't matter that they were practically blind.
Into the guts of the ship. The true environment that the baroque little thing was designed for.
Unblocked brain node DJG41, allowing a swilling little boost of endorphins to hit them with placid, euphoric exhaustion.
Didn't care if they knew she was here. They'd have to dismantle half the ship in drydock to get her out now.
Not a warrior. Not a thing of peak performance. Just an undetectable insect, a sentient junker. A thing that never really needed an empire to exist in the first place.
Part One - Embedded
-♫♫♫-
T-33 thumbed the brick-sized compu-block they had assembled from scraps of old communicators, and watched the orange LED bulbs blink and flicker in the gloom of the escape capsules' rank claustrophobic shell. The tin can was wretched by the standards of any self-proclaimed civilized race, with air scrubbers decades beyond the scrapping point.
It didn't matter to a creature like her. A small pallid morsel of a woman, genecrafted and cybernetically modified to withstand the most gruelling of conditions. Not a warrior. Not a thing of peak performance. Just an undetectable insect, a sentient junker, a thing made for salvaging parts for an empire which had long since crumbled into madness.
The lights pinged green, and the hatchway above popped open with the distinct clunk-phwop of equalizing air pressure.
Virus seemed to be working. None of those planetary-type monkeys were here to arrest her. Releasing the valves on their chrome face grill, they allowed the clean air to enter their lungs slowly at first, careful to avoid the effects of nitrogen narcosis.
Airlock. That boring default grey metal, so you knew it was an Origin vessel. Always reminded her of a virtual render with no texture loaded.
Stomach hit them with a sudden pang of guttural agony. Head swam. Loaded more stimulants. Repressed brain node A41 and D46. Focus restored to 56% percent. Starving to death was a less pressing concern than the humans finding them. High probability for this type of vessel; Local police, pirates, or even smugglers that would kill to protect cargo.
Winding over her shoulder, a mechatendril claw carefully ripped the motion sensor off of the wall without activating it. T-33 dropped down on their six spider like leg-limbs, totally silent. Loaded the schematics for this type of vessel... Data found. Courier 2c. It was one of those dumb ones, with the airlock really close to the bridge and engineering.
Not good. They'd notice a disturbance here quickly. Corridor beyond would almost certainly have sentry guns, this far out into open space.
Footsteps? Perhaps moving this way? Perhaps not?... Shit.
Red eyes darted along the panels of the floor, looking for common fittings- There, the fluid exchange valve for the sanitary system- The permanently attached autodecoupler on her rear right mechatendril wound the screws out of the sheet metal facing, and exposed the twin nozzles of the ship's organic exchange system. There was a gap down the side, but too small for even T-33's diminished form to fit through. Not a best case scenario.
A glimpse of a flashlight through the small viewport window outside. The clink-clink-clink of physical keypad buttons being pressed-
No time left. The bulbous grappling claw of her right arm had been a blessed friend through many encounters, but... Yes, it was time to part ways.
She used the autodecoupler on her own shoulder, and was met with the uncomfortable sensation of her own arm freely sliding down her sleeve, thudding onto the cold deck below.
The outer door of the airlocked opened, and the crew member swore as they loaded a weapon, but flinched in shock at the mechanical spider before them, gazing back with wide eyes from under a mane of silver. The stubbled grimace of the land-gorilla met hers, and then the arm on the floor- Like a predatory creature confused by the disconnecting tail of a lizard.
Into the space between the pipes. Protective darkness. A treasurable corner, to block the potential line of fire. Behind the wall of the head, and down the spine of the vessel, between the crew rooms. Their six legs pushed them deeper and deeper, apposable appendages gaining grip on looms of wire, the grills of heat exchangers, the odd air duct fitting. Working on schematics, an internal 3D model, and pure sensation now. Didn't matter that they were practically blind.
Into the guts of the ship. The true environment that the baroque little thing was designed for.
Unblocked brain node DJG41, allowing a swilling little boost of endorphins to hit them with placid, euphoric exhaustion.
Didn't care if they knew she was here. They'd have to dismantle half the ship in drydock to get her out now.
Not a warrior. Not a thing of peak performance. Just an undetectable insect, a sentient junker. A thing that never really needed an empire to exist in the first place.
