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RP The Cell

The vent in the ceiling stopped blowing atmosphere into the room.

"Good night, Ms. Aliset, we will see you when you wake up."

The oxygen quickly began to deplete.
 
"Oh, you are not doing that shit to me, you little... Fack!" She hefted Theo's form, standing to gently set him on the chair before breaking into a dead sprint and launching herself like a linebacker to tackle the door. Her nearly four hundred pound mass should push through the padding to slam against the metal. If nothing else, it would give her an idea of the quality of material.

But she hoped, considering how she had to be asked, and the others had questions, that none of them had ever seen a Senti before. And none of them had known how to handle a pissed off one, let alone how to build a door that could contain her in an adrenaline fuelled maternal rage.
 
The padding of the door compressed, the metal door deformed. Aliset could see that one corn had torn away from the frame, and heard the far too familiar sound of atmosphere escape into empty, cold, vacuum. The temperature began to rapidly drop and the voice came back on the speakers, weirdly, the sound having trouble transmitting across the rapidly depleting air. All Aliset could hear were the giggles of a small girl...
 
"Son of a bitch, I'm on the outer hull?!" Aliset screamed, turning and throwing a precision aimed fist to attempt to seal the hole. She wouldn't survive in temperatures much below 80 degrees, her body would go hypothermic. "She could see, now, that the only option to save her and Theo's lives would be to get back into the chair.

"I need help in here!" Had she actually screamed that, or was she too close to blacking out? Still, she stripped the gown off her shoulder as though to use her own body to seal the hull breach.
 
Aliset tore the shoulder of her paper gown, and she fell to her knees. The world turned black.

Some time later
Aliset once again awoke with a pounding headache, her fist was sore. He body was swollen and bruised from slamming it against the padded door. Had the padding not have been there, she may very well have done far more significant damage to both the door and herself. There was a harsh white light shining in the room. Glances around the room revealed the familiar padding. She was back in the chair. There was something else, a large metal cylinder, floor to ceiling. The middle section had some sort of opaque curtain around it.

"Welcome back to the realm of the living Ms. Aliset, my dearest friend. I took the liberty of adding a decoration to your room! I found it rather fetching to be honest." The curtain pulled aside, revealing Theo's lifeless body inside, floating in some type of liquid. The cylinder moved to be in Alisets direct line of sight, tracking with her eyes. "I call it; Consequences. Why don't you think about this and I may come for another talk, oh how I love our talks.

The shadows on the wall, they seem to come alive
The moonlight shines so bright, but there's no place to hide
For the monsters in my mind, they're always by my side
With claws and teeth so sharp, they'll keep you there inside.

Dread, dread, it's creeping near
The darkness of my song, you'll soon hold dear
For in my voice, you'll find the fear
Of things that go bump in the night, my dear."
 
Two can play that game.

Aliset snapped her wrists against the restraints a couple of times, feeling if they had been reinforced as she considered her situation again, and what she knew about it. The scars indicated some form of neural implant, possibly a single component. "See that's the funny thing, host. You're the one who's underfunded enough to use ten guage steel on an outer hull door that should be made of durandium. At least eight. Using single object neural implants and sending me brain dead puppets? Cowardly and talentless, you worthless hack. If you let me go, I can teach you how to do this. But you've already violated the first law. For slavery, inhumane experimentation, murder, and terror attacks against civilians, you have violated the autonomy of mind, body, and soul of everyone around you. You will die by my blade. The one you took from me, inscribed with 'Dye tynusa, gyt gede kymėdų kojahde myecje.'"

She leaned her head up to bare her fangs and give a growl of animal fury to whoever could hear, the growl of a threatened mother. "It translates to These things we do that others may live free. And I will show you evil. You are an insignificant, petulant child. A rank, arrogant amateur working on less money than an unskilled trainee. Your death will be celebrated. Prove me wrong and face me yourself. No more puppets," she spat that last word, spewing venom and rage, amplified by the dispair she could still feel from her neighbors. If she could not feel hope from them, she would make damn sure they could feel it from her. She would become a beacon of defiance, spread like a plague, build her own gestalt, a shield that could stop that blade and better. She would break it.

So she started chanting a countersong, an ancient battle hymn from deep within the Library, one taught to her by her mother, carried down from the era of the last time the Senti went to war and a tune that refused translation, the language was older than Shuristan, but a few words could be translated here and there.
 
More time passed. Hours, weeks, days, minutes? It was nearly impossible to tell. Aliset was left alone in the room, secured to the chair with only the....tube to keep her company whenever she opened her eyes. The door to Aliset's cell hissed as the hydraulic hatch pulled away. Aliset was able to see the room beyond was some sort of airlock umbilical, although the padding on the walls and hatch on the far side were identical to those of her cell. Abigail stepped into the room. Aliset had not sensed the doctors approach nor did her prescience register now. She seemed as if she just didn't exist in the telepathic sense. The metal collar around the Doctors neck was far more prominent now. It looked cold, sterile, made of some sort of alloy. The aggravated red skin around the collar on the woman's neck left no doubts as to how comfortable it was.

"Please describe any physical ailments you have and the proper treatments." She stated flatly.
 
Aliset let her eyes settle on the collar before she laid her head back in the chair. "What did I tell you about puppets, prey? Theodore was already dead when you sent him here. As is doctor Sholeti, isn't she? I can't feel anything from her Whether that collar is jamming the signal or she's a husk, I can't tell from here. And I'm not gonna violate her mind by probing to see if she's more than a remote controlled vegetable. My joints are falling apart. Zero grav therapy. My head hurts, and I'm pretty sure it's from not wearing my collar. Same reason it's getting harder and harder to focus."

She was bluffing about the loss of focus. She had never been more clearheaded since before she'd taken that injection. It seemed she was getting used to her abilities, and had figured out how to subdue the emotions she wasn't looking for. Just as she hoped her nearby partners had gotten used to her dreams. Day and night cycles didn't matter to Senti circadian rhythms. Their time, their years were measured in sleep cycles matched against the growth cycle of a certain fruit endemic to their culture, as common as potatoes or rice for humans. Finally, she was starting to get her bearing on time back. Yamataian days were so short, never allowed her to settle into a proper sleep cycle. She didn't know about this place, but the cycle felt right.

"So who's the master behind the puppets? Rogue AI? Gestalt psychic consciousness? Whatever you are, you're afraid of me. That blade hasn't returned cause it knows I can and will shatter it like the glass it's made of. Send all its precious work crumbling like it tried to do to the shipyard."
 
“Oh, my dear friend Ms. Aliset, I am so sorry to hear that you are not feeling well. Dr. Sholeti will tend to your ailments however. As to who the master mind of all this is? This epic villain of your fantasies, I have given this great thought. Before I introduce you, I will have you know that Abby is a dear friend whom has full control of her own actions.”

Aliset heard a faint click, then a buzzing she had not realized she heard was gone. The “blade” was there, in the room with Aliset.

Cold, calculating, emanating hate and malice. The feelings rolled off of the doctor before Aliset like an expulsion of plasma from a sun. Her mind loomed high, an alloy bastion in this miasma of pain and fear.

Another click. The buzzing returned and once again Aliset could not feel the good doctors mind.

“I digress however, I would like you to meet the face of these travesties set against the hood peoples of Gashmere and the Yamato’s Empire.”

Five seconds passed, ten seconds. Then a hiss came from the door as it slid aside. A young Separa’Shan entered. She was tall, some would say freakishly so. The light peach of her skin offset the emerald eyes and green hair pulled back in a braided bun. Her tail was a full greenish-gray with a full yellow belly.

“Hello, my name is Sacre, what’s yours!”
 
"You hate that collar, don't you, Doctor?" Aliset gave Abigail a vicious smirk as she felt and heard the device reactivate. "Telepaths like us shouldn't be so very... Leashed."

But when the copy of Sacre... No, a child's image of Sacre's visage slid into the room, Aliset's heart skipped several beats, her blood pressure rising for a moment. She carried herself too tall, didn't have that distinct scar ringing her tail. But the resemblance was clear. Too much so to be coincidence. Giving a small chuckle, she turned her head to face Abigail. "All this shadow work is so unbecoming. Your creations are stunning work. But uncontained, uncontrolled. If you only knew her, you would see the flaws. Sacre is Separa, naturally gifted to resist and unaffecable by our gifts. But that doesn't stop me from feeling mine. Or knowing that this is a copy's shadow. Just another body for this machine to speak through."

Finally turning to the Separa, she offered a warm smile. "You know me. You fell in love with the Starbreaker's vadasirinidias, sheltered her when she was stripped of her ability to see the stars. Your father is so proud."
 
The Separa clone coiled close to Aliset, a curious look on her face. "I...I have a father? Can you tell me about him?" Abigial gave Aliset a long appraising look before turning to depart the room. Leaving Sacre and Aliset alone. As Abigial left the room, she was obviously in some sort of pain, emotional or physical. Her body was rigid, with short truncated steps and heavy breathing. The hatch slid shut with a hiss of finality behind her.

"What happened to that boy Ms. Aliset? Why is he in that tube?" The young Sacre asked, her gaze turned to the upright cylinder.
Click to expand...
 
"I only met my father in law to be once. Not much I can say. Not even sure I remember his name," Aliset tried to shrug "But that boy was dead before he entered this room. The... Being in charge of this whole mess decided his death would be my fault because my people are aggressively free. I am no exception. I refused to get back into the chair, so it killed his body. Started draining the atmosphere. I hit the door hard enough to bend it. Found vacuum on the other side. That's the last I remember. You look a lot like my fiance. Could even be related, for all I know. Similar names. I dunno. I don't know why the chair's necessary. Or why they keep doing this. I just want out. I want to go home."
 
"Progress requires sacrifice Ms. Alisret. There is vacuum outside. You are being towed by a ship in this cell. The chair is for your safety, as well as all of the other guests here. I have no answer as to the similarities with your beloved." The you Separa came closer, her hand traced the line of Alisets jawline, down to her neck and lingered for a moment. "Although I think I may understand the attraction."
 
"Progress... Progress to where? Is putting an entire world and people at risk really worth the result?" She thought about this Sacre's words as she was touched, considering as she readjusted her back against the chair.

"My species is evolved for low gravity environments. We live on mobile megastructures. Our bones are magnetic. We don't need gravity. In fact, it can be quite harmful for long term exposure. I'm glad you think I'm pretty. I'm actually pretty unattractive for my species... Or to them. Overweight. Thank you for answering my questions, you're the first. You said this cell is being towed. To where? Is there a destination?"
 
"If there is a destination, I don't know where it is. Dusk is upon us, Night will fall soon. We cannot think in terms of self or tribe, nation or planet. We must think in terms of...survival."

A soft tone, like the chime of a light bell, rang through the chamber. "I need to part with you for the moment. However, a gift, before I go." The young Sacre produced two blades from a pack on her back. I think these are yours. She then turned to leave, the door opening with a hiss and closing slowly. The restraints on Alisets chair opened, leaving her alone with the cylinder, her chair, and the blades on the floor before her.
 
Her first instinct was to rip free, keep the restraints from binding her again. But Aliset knew better. Her captors had made a show of good faith, she would respond in kind. She had to make some serious considerations about her captivity and what she knew while she stood, stretched, and collected the blades for inspection.

  1. At least one of her captors was a powerful telepath, one she couldn't smite without causing more trouble, even if her attacks were ineffectual at best, as she had never received psychic combat training.
  2. Her captors knew about and utilized telepathic abilities freely, and had access to psychic limiting technologies as evidenced by the doctor's collar.
  3. Most, if not all of the people that had come into her cell had been psychically "dead", with her unable to get a read on their emotions, despite her ability to feel other cells nearby. Including this unscarred mirror of Sacre's genetics, indicating access to ST banks and files, likely older non updated systems, possibly captured Star Army hard drives from early, before the Kuvexian war.
  4. Whoever was in charge here was vindictive, with little care for information given freely, rather prone to forcing answers and compliant by threat of or acts of violence, rather than a "carrot and stick" approach.
  5. The powers that be here believe that this violence will move the sector "forward", though that definition is still ambiguous, though their goals seem larger than Gashmere.
  6. Prior to her capture, this group's modus opperandi seemed to be large terror attacks in Star Army areas of operation, quickly followed by forcing Star Army engagements, denying capture of the perpetrators, which would make it easy to blame the Star Army.
  7. The Anti-Xenoist league was not likely to have perpetrated these attacks, due to their emphasis on cultural preservation in the Empire, and having loudly and openly denounced violence in the past.
  8. Her cell was being towed, likely behind a ship or station, with nothing but hard vacuum outside. Possibly using a physical umbilical to keep it in place and formation. This would offer advantages of concealability over using gravity based towing systems.
Stepping to the blades on the floor, Aliset reached up, ripping the itchy, papery gown off. The only ones that would see her was whoever was watching the cameras, which she didn't mind. Considering how many questions they had asked, there were likely no Senti involved. But this lack of modesty in her temporary home would force some small semblance of privacy. Now, she hoped, they would knock before sending someone in. Give her an opportunity to position herself. Squatting down, she scooped the blades off the floor, feeling the weight, the balance. the song of burial steel in her mind's eye.

Psychic active materials were known by the Yamatai Star Empire. Notoriously difficult to detect or confirm, but theoretical, and suspected materials were often just given the tag. Burial steel was not one of these. She remembered the scraping taken from her necklace, and the chemically perfect copy that had been used to line her first quarters. But chemically perfect was just that. It matched some of the features. But she had read the report. Neutron ablation of the copy had been far more rapid than the original, with the original showing superior flexibility, oxide layering, and strength.

Her knife was even more so. Hardened, shaped, hardened again, until the steel was razor sharp as it had been made ten years ago, even with the near constant use. Easily able to cut through the bones in her spine, bite through the soft steel of her body so like that which had been carved to make the handle. But the ten inch tanto style blade was a tool. Not a weapon. It was meant as a work and utility knife carried by the law enforcement of her people. By every government worker, even a postage girl like herself. Like all service knives, it carried an engraving, a Shuristan script cut into the blade to read something that would give her peace, should she ever need to drive that golden steel into the neck and sever the spine of a predator.

"These things we do that others may live free" The twin slag rubies glinted in the harsh light, and the leather wrapping the handle trailed softly, giving her an easy hook to draw the blade, even in bulky space suit gloves. But she didn't need it, sliding the blade back into its sheath and hanging it near the door by stabbing into the padding with the other and tucking the belt loop inside. Near to it, she made another hole, tucking the other blade's sheath into the hole, at least the belt loop, where it could be easily seen from anywhere in the room.

Then she found time to inspect the other blade. This one was far more fluid and organic in design. Partially because the razor sharp metal was. It looked disposable, mostly cause it was. Little more than a spike with a single, serrated edge and a rounded, six inch long bulbous handle, this was an excretion from her fiance's symbiote. Technically metallic waste, made to be thrown, or to be broken off in a victim where the serrations and barbs would work it deeper and deeper into the victim as they moved. Like ivory, it crosshatched itself with tiny layers built in cones of material, and she had spend a solid amount of time working on a proper sheath, shaping the blade into something less vicious, but still as useful, carefully maintaining the balance and sharpness. This was meant to pierce and hold. Not like the knife of the Civil Service, meant to cut, slice, and work. She didn't see any modifications. So she hung it, as well, returning to the area of her chair. Across the room from her blades and the door.

Placing her hand on her lower abdomen, she breathed a sigh. That twist in her pelvis left her with muscular scars that hurt if she eluded proper exercise too long.
 
As normal, it was impossoible to tell how long Aliset sat there, thinking, meditating, feeling the energies of those around her... Plotting.

Finally, she looked up to where she had heard the voice before. "So. You've given me my blades. I take it you want something from me. Want me to join you? Think I have... Potential. I'll admit, I'd rather be paid and work than be languishing in a cell getting bored. If you've done any research, you know that bored Senti, bored Shuristans, are a bad thing. I'll even tell you about the sick experiment that left me with these powers. I don't believe that Separa you sent me is your leader. But she will suffice as a mouthpiece. For now."
 
The cell gravity began to feel very odd. Having been in space so long, Aliset recognized the feel of a structure that had just been detached from a larger ship in motion. After a few moments of continued spin, the hiss of the hydraulic door sounded. The young Sacre entered, somewhat awkwardly. Sacre gently set down two large and unremarkable duffle bags. A Naginata was strapped across her back. The dull blade was matte black, the slight shimmer along the edges betrayed what was most likely a mono-molecular edge.

Aliset could feel the spin correcting and then the gravity settled, the centrifugal forces no longer trying to pull them in opposite directions. The hatch slid closed behind Sacre, and a metallic thud heralded the airtight lock engaging. Sacre's hand slowly traced its way along the smooth wooden haft of the weapon on her back, as her other hand released the sling. She rotated the weapon before her in a graceful arc, the practiced ease was demonstrable evidence of her obvious competence with the weapon.

"I'm sorry its come to this Aliset, I wish we had more time together, however that is not the case. One of us must die for the other to survive. Defend yourself or not, I will do my best to make this quick."

Sacre lunged forward, the blade of the long weapon leading and aimed for Alisets throat.
 
Instinctively, Aliset pulled back and let one foot slide across the floor, pulling her away from the Naginata's edge before she leapt bakwards at roughly 90 degrees from Sacre's swing. She immediately hit the chair, sprawling over backwards as her naked form cussed in incoherent Shuristan.

She quickly scrambled to her feet, keeping the chair between her and the Separa that had entirely too much blade and reach on her, considering her options. Senti were inertia creatures, adapted to zero gravity and the application of that inertia, rather than persuit or ambushing prey. Separa were, however, ambush predators, with long, efficient bodies that could deliver disproportionate power in short bursts. Both weighed about the same, but close combat with a Separa, especially a pythus, was a bad idea. She had learned that lesson sparring with her fiance and getting wrapped in coils and crushed faster than she could breathe. Getting in close would be even more difficult, and the serpent was between her and her blades.

"Can we at least discuss this for a few moments? I'm buckass naked, my tits keep hitting me in the face, and I could really use some proper clothes. Plus you're between me and my only defense! Shuristan duelling rules are to first blood with a knife, not a damn spear! And I don't kill people! Does it count if I manage to put you to sleep or are you just gonna wake up and try to kill me again?"
 
Sacre slid backwards slowly, coiling her body beneath her, directly on top of Alisets knives.

"If you want them, you must come retrieve them. I do not need to hear your pathetic whimpers of life being unfair." Sacre held the Naginata in a mid-guard before her, the blade pointed to the ceiling, the length of the weapon bisecting her profile towards Aliset diagonally from left to right. Then she waited.
 
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