In Case of Emergency... (Open, FT/All, Read First Post!)

[Sunset]

Molotov Cluster...

"Just press that button there," Bond prompted, nearly pushing it himself as he leaned across the half-empty space to demonstrate. The rest of the empty was occupied by K'Artash's curling furry tail. This had succeeded in becoming so annoying that he'd considered somehow sawing it off before the aggravating alien expired.

That moment was now very close as he turned his head to supposedly secure something or other out of the small collection of survival supplies the escape pod carried and instead clamped the kerchief-sized rebreather that hung around his neck over his mouth instead. It had been a necessity to deal with the sometimes rarified atmosphere favored aboard his previous vessel but here it was a gift. He eyed the hatch out of the corner of his eye.

First the seal would break and then the lid would lift and then there would be the first breath of fresh air as the moron indulged in the unknown. Then his face would turn sour, K'Artash would claw at his throat, and then his small eyes would turn red as the blood vessels burst. His lungs would fill with fluid as whatever noxious vapor ate them away and he would then vomit a bile of gore mixed with whatever foul liquor the creature enjoyed. At that moment, deprived of oxygen (or whatever his species prefered) his brain would die (half-die - half was already useless) and Bond would lightly kick him from the pod to rot away in the corrosion atmosphere outside. The hatch would close, he would purge the contamination, and then he would be happy.

The hatch opened and K'Artash took that deep breath, "Yo, we're stuck on a tree, you dumb fuck. You suck!"

Bond did nothing of the sort though half of his words were correct; They were stuck in a tree just a few feet off the ground and further less from the corner of a crumbling building that was slowly being torn down by that same tree. The slab-faced man did, however, brace himself against the sides and push hard against his improbably stupid companion with both feet. Perhaps he would break his neck...

[Primordial Luxa]

Una Luxa

“You’re very poetic J’Hira, they seem to look the same to me. I suppose there are some aesthetic differences if you look for them.” August said, having grown up in Hypatia it all seemed very standard and mundane to him. They turned down a sharp corner and began jogging briskly along the stone sidewalks towards a gated park at the end of the street.

Along the way, they passed all sorts of strangers and figures who began to look at J’Hira with a mixture of expression’s as reality began to radiate out of her gem’s. Many of the looks were of curiosity but not confusion, they seemed to understand what was going on, but they seemed to not know exactly why. Solid black eyes stared with a sadistic hunger, while lips whispered veiled rumors and myths to empty ears.

August looked back at J’Hira noticing the strange expressions aimed in their direction and his eye widened. He was quickly becoming more worried and possessive. Here was a real treasure a living creature that seemed to seep with unrestrained metaphysical anomalies. Was she a lesser known servitor race or perhaps just a powerful alien, either way, things would get bad if he didn’t get her somewhere more secure.

Grabbing her wrist again he dragged her towards the green patch at the end of the road. As soon as they were through the gate it was clear that it was not, in fact, a park but a graveyard filled with all manner of tombstones and mausoleums. Dark rocks carved into vaguely human shapes looked down on them as they clambered to find a path through the headstones. The entire area was a chaotic jumble that lacked the orderly nature of other cemeteries. Plagues and strangely shaped rocks were arranged more like weeds and organic growths than by specifically bought plots of land. Clutches of family stones sprout together in clumps that were impossible to walk through and in other places victorian styled mausoleums rose three stories tall.

When they finally exited the tangle of morbidity that was the burying ground they were running across a street towards one of the townhouses that were all around the cemetery. It was a reddish orange bricked building with a dark green door and the number’s 9381 above it. Nothing could be seen inside through the heavy purple window shades but there was the same ominous sinister sensation of hidden radiating from it as radiated from the other houses on the block.

“This is my home. It should be safe but we’ll need to not upset my parents.”

[Dimoniquid]

SHIP LIEUTENANT INGE OF HOUSE ALVARSON - VIKINGAR TERRITORY, IN THE TERRIS SYSTEM
IN COMMAND OF A KLEIN BOARDING CRAFT DESIGNATED BRAVO-CHARLIE PAPA TWO-SIX, INFORMALLY NAMED AS "TERR'S WRATH"
NINE YEARS INTO THE USURPERS GRACEFUL RETRIBUTION

The group of officers had been studying the silver lozenge for a considerable amount of time, making sure to examine it's effects on the surrounding area and cargo, along with another battery of tests and scans. "Lieutenant, I think we might have something here." One of the officers called, as the droids were cutting the ties and attempting to move to move the object so one of the cameras could achieve a better view. Alvarson responded to the call by halting the move, and adjusting his position around the object and moving next to the officer. "I see a wires, and the metal bar that impaled it. Some shards hanging around, as well." They announced, shining the light attached to their rifle to the wound of the lozenge and then to the shards.

Alvarson himself picked up some of the shards, planting them in the base of his palm and allowing his camera to examine it. The lieutenant fingered some of the shards, picking one up and placing it directly into his view point, letting it shine slightly. "Never seen anything like that. Maybe it's something from the Lorros Supremacy?" He suggested. The small, but ever prominent, empire that belonged to the Lorros Supremacy had a knack for materials, and even more for technology - most of the technology harness by the Vikingar that hadn't been developed by themselves was bought from the Lorros Supremacy, including a lot of genetic manipulation, healthcare, and wormhole technology used for easy travel across entire systems. "They like their silver looking objects." He continued, one of the officers taking off the back pack he was wearing and revealing the contents to themselves. They pulled out a small yellow cylinder, around five inches in length and the same in width, capped by two thick black seals on both ends of it, and a hazard symbol printed onto it. Alvarson had one of the officers twist the cap and pull out the inner black cylinder with a square opening of the canister and present it to him.

The lieutenant placed each shard in individually into the canister and then dusted off his hands. He then gave a quick thumbs up, signifying that the officer could close the canister. Alvarson and his crew began discussing their predicament. "Let's look at the facts we have on hand. The ship was travelling; we know this because of passing ships. The transporter-elevator-things suggest there's a crew; why else would there be elevators? We know that the undocumented cargo is not of the ship's original cargo, and doesn't correspond with the design of ship." Alvarson began, before being interrupted.

"That doesn't necessarily mean that it doesn't correspond. Just because something doesn't match another thing, it doesn't mean it doesn't come from the same place." An officer called out. Alvarson couldn't make out who had said it, but from the person gesturing towards the object, he assumed it was them. "We still don't know about why it was travelling in Vikingar territory, we still don't know why it was even put into the cargo hold. This is beyond a regular customs operation, Lieutenant. Perhaps we should be calling this in to the military?" The officer suggested. Alvarson could admit that this was highly unusual, but they weren't at the point where they needed to call in the military.

"Maybe the AI knows something we're missing here. Interface, can you give us any indication of a crew on board?" Alvarson asked.

"Hello! Unfortunately, I can't. This ships has an incredibly advanced and complex language, both in literary and coding terms, so understanding most of the logs and programming is going to take some time. I've managed to start working my way through the ships systems and have nearly half of it online. Perhaps I can lead you to what I think might be the bridge?" The AI interface chimed once more. "Perhaps I could notify a more appropriate authority with the communications array?"

Alvarson was formulating a plan inside of his head while the rest of the crew debated among themselves. He tried to weigh each side, but each plan lead to the same conclusion; they would have to open the object. Everyone could wait around for days while, searching the endless halls of the freighter while the interface translated everything but by the time they figure out what had happened to the crew, they could have solved the bigger mystery that they were all probably itching to solve. Alvarson could hear the crew starting to raise their voices in hot debate. "Crew, attention!" He called. "I'm making an executive decision. We carry on with the plan we have; Gardener, take Tyler, Haversham, Vhal and Merrick and find the bridge. Sergeant Manderly, you're going to attempt to find the power plant and the crew with Fitzpatrick, Svenison, Madison and Ferris. I'll stay with the technicians and droids so we can get this thing open." Alvarson ordered, silencing the rabble. The lieutenant ran the palm of hand against the wall of the object, particularly over the shimmering lights, cogitating it's mystery for a second. "Any objections?" He asked his crew. He could see that some of the officers disagreed with staying any longer, especially with a customs operation that was starting to resemble a horror movie.

The lieutenant was greeted with silence from the officers, meaning that everybody agreed with the plan. Alvarson and his small group watched as both of the squads left the vicinity of the cargo hold, being guided by the AI interface to their destinations. The lieutenant and his technicians immediately set upon cutting open the object. The technicians admired the array of tools they had brought with them; plasma cutters, electromagnets, some hacking tools, and when some elbow grease was required, a halligan tool, a sledgehammer, and a set of chisels and other hand tool that might be useful for opening the object. "Let's get this thing open; hand me the cutter, sir." One of the technicians called, examining the edges and beginning to cut the object open.

[Cyberex]

The local AI network picked up an atmospheric entry in the nearby non populated planet of Kharak II. The area were it was located was the last planet on the galactic ring and thus was located in an rather forgotten place.

98.87% chance of it being an crashing ship, 89.54% chance that it was due to an slipspace malfunction

The AI searched through all the known ships database without success the ship was likely of alien origin.

99.76% chance of survival with those odds the AI decided to send in an automated recon squad of MetaRev's to Kharak II, they were to land in 15 mins time.

The MetaRev's having landed around the crash object confirmed it was an alien spaceship of unknown origin. Scans revealed its dimensions as well as likely internal components. The initial scans also indicated that a slipspace accident was now a 98.45% probability.

Prepare first contact video feed, move in to secure object

The AI then sent the information to higher Cyberex authorities as the MetaRevs were slowly entering the crashed object.

[Sunset]

OOC: No, I'm not keeping to the posted order. For now I'm responding as time and inspiration allow.

Cyberex...

Cynthia scream and wailed, turning from the display where the strange mechanical men hunched forward to press her face into daddy's shoulder; "Hush," he whispered, his voice even despite the fear hidden in the depths of his brown eyes. "Everything will be alright. We should let them come in..."

His eyes sought confirmation from the man who sat across from the two, his cocoa skin, tight curling hair, and indeed every feature a mirror for his own. The single differences between the two was the young girl - barely more than an infant - that clutched at the one on the right while the one on the left had a row of two parallel slices through the hair in front of his ear.

"Yes, better they come in than we go out. No surprises..."

Again he looked around the cabin for anything that would allow them to communicate with the outside world but again there was nothing. Survival supplies hidden behind concealed hatches, a flexible tank of water filling the odd spaces behind the three crash couches, and the hibernation patches that had proven unnecessary. That and the large display that sat in front of them with its endless entertainment and information that had kept them assured that indeed someone was coming all the way to the moment when the robots had appeared over the dunes. Nothing; But there he was wrong.

Noise came from the pod. A high chirp, then a beep, and then a warning in a half-dozen of the galaxy's more common languages and at the same time a warning flashed across the screen; 'Viable Atmosphere Confirmed... Local Conditions Are...' followed by a host of technical data that confirmed that the planet was at least hospitable though with the aid of the provided survival gear. Something had triggered the hatch mechanism and now there was a matching chirp and beep outside.

'For your own safety, please step back. The hatch will be opening in three... two... one...'

A bright new day and the cries of a small girl.

[Molotov Cluster]

Molotov Cluster...

"Just press that button there," Bond prompted, nearly pushing it himself as he leaned across the half-empty space to demonstrate. The rest of the empty was occupied by K'Artash's curling furry tail. This had succeeded in becoming so annoying that he'd considered somehow sawing it off before the aggravating alien expired.

That moment was now very close as he turned his head to supposedly secure something or other out of the small collection of survival supplies the escape pod carried and instead clamped the kerchief-sized rebreather that hung around his neck over his mouth instead. It had been a necessity to deal with the sometimes rarified atmosphere favored aboard his previous vessel but here it was a gift. He eyed the hatch out of the corner of his eye.

First the seal would break and then the lid would lift and then there would be the first breath of fresh air as the moron indulged in the unknown. Then his face would turn sour, K'Artash would claw at his throat, and then his small eyes would turn red as the blood vessels burst. His lungs would fill with fluid as whatever noxious vapor ate them away and he would then vomit a bile of gore mixed with whatever foul liquor the creature enjoyed. At that moment, deprived of oxygen (or whatever his species prefered) his brain would die (half-die - half was already useless) and Bond would lightly kick him from the pod to rot away in the corrosion atmosphere outside. The hatch would close, he would purge the contamination, and then he would be happy.

The hatch opened and K'Artash took that deep breath, "Yo, we're stuck on a tree, you dumb fuck. You suck!"

Bond did nothing of the sort though half of his words were correct; They were stuck in a tree just a few feet off the ground and further less from the corner of a crumbling building that was slowly being torn down by that same tree. The slab-faced man did, however, brace himself against the sides and push hard against his improbably stupid companion with both feet. Perhaps he would break his neck...

When they opened the hatch they were to be treated to a nice cooling summer breeze with a few fallen leaves dancing about in it as if indicating it was near the end of the summer there and inching toward autumn or the fall.

The sounds of birds and small woodland creatures were popular but not so much to be noisy or overcrowded in one's ears.

The sunlight seen would be shining through the trees and crumbling structures in beams of light like something out of a fairy tale forest. Illuminating what could be considered either a gratuitously beautiful sight or something rather depressing and morbid depending on the point of view of the viewer.

The average sized but not too enormous metropolis by the standards of some of the other bigger cities they could have come across on that planet, was not only crumbling and abandoned but looked like it had been that way for quite some time.
Certainly whoever left this place behind hadn't been back for many generations, leaving nature free to reabsorb it, naturally growing nature popping up everywhere, growing between the cracks of an abandoned civilization, now more of a forest and other greenery style landscapes than there was visible city at this point, now filled with all manner of birds and woodland creatures frolicking around, what ones that hadn't fled when the large human construct had came crashing through the canopy, seeming uninterested or unnoticing that it was even there.
But be that as it may, the city as it was, was still there, however long it had been since it had been abandoned and left to rot,
a testament to the building prowess of its previous inhabitants.

And more importantly and near directly of concern to the inhabitants of the pod, the crumbling ruins of the building they were near were very much a real thing and something for a fragile boned creature to break their neck or any other bones on if they were not careful, all sorts of exposed sharp metal and broken glass and crumbling bits of stone scattered about. Everything that made a building, slowly falling off and spilling out into the street or around the base of the building that the tree they were hanging from was trying to push out of the way.

What would be eventually evident, if not already due to the furry tailed creature's ability to continue speaking, was that whatever it was that the quarantine was warning about was either not meant to affect his species or was merely something not immediately fatal from the get-go. Warm sunlight and fresh forest-y smelling cooling air would waft by in every direction, even swaying the tree the pod was in a bit, making the pod itself gently rock a bit due to the physical connection.
Whether or not that was a reason to panick ofcourse was to be dependant on the strength of the parachutes and how much weight they were intent on holding clung from a couple tree branches.

Well that and the thick Asian newspaper likely long since considered old and seeming to broadcast different points and situations of what was already obvious about the planet on many of its pages being picked up by the wind and plowing the pesky "yo" speaking creature square in the face.

(ooc:asian newspaper displaying warnings of an upcoming or currently happening pandemic and various stories about what has already happened or theories about what could happen due to it and how people should prepare for it ect....
all that fear mongering stuff you see in media when a new dangerous disease crops up)

[Cyberex]

OOC: No, I'm not keeping to the posted order. For now I'm responding as time and inspiration allow.

Cyberex...

Cynthia scream and wailed, turning from the display where the strange mechanical men hunched forward to press her face into daddy's shoulder; "Hush," he whispered, his voice even despite the fear hidden in the depths of his brown eyes. "Everything will be alright. We should let them come in..."

His eyes sought confirmation from the man who sat across from the two, his cocoa skin, tight curling hair, and indeed every feature a mirror for his own. The single differences between the two was the young girl - barely more than an infant - that clutched at the one on the right while the one on the left had a row of two parallel slices through the hair in front of his ear.

"Yes, better they come in than we go out. No surprises..."

Again he looked around the cabin for anything that would allow them to communicate with the outside world but again there was nothing. Survival supplies hidden behind concealed hatches, a flexible tank of water filling the odd spaces behind the three crash couches, and the hibernation patches that had proven unnecessary. That and the large display that sat in front of them with its endless entertainment and information that had kept them assured that indeed someone was coming all the way to the moment when the robots had appeared over the dunes. Nothing; But there he was wrong.

Noise came from the pod. A high chirp, then a beep, and then a warning in a half-dozen of the galaxy's more common languages and at the same time a warning flashed across the screen; 'Viable Atmosphere Confirmed... Local Conditions Are...' followed by a host of technical data that confirmed that the planet was at least hospitable though with the aid of the provided survival gear. Something had triggered the hatch mechanism and now there was a matching chirp and beep outside.

'For your own safety, please step back. The hatch will be opening in three... two... one...'

A bright new day and the cries of a small girl.

Sarlerii Dasmur was surprised anything noteworthy would come out from such a remote part of the galaxy as he received an request for a direct neural feed from a far flung AI. What could possibly make it resort to demand assistance from higher authorities? A space anomaly? Asteroid impact? Maybe even an alien?

The last prospect exited him greatly as he accepted the neural feed.

The MetaRev's successfully opened the hatch and were proceeding to the room where signs of life were most possible. Then suddenly they came face to face with the 3 individuals housed within the ship.

This greatly surprised Sarlerii Dasmur, initial scans indicated they were not a known species and they most likely evolved from their homeworld's apex predator. A full neural scan also discovered that they did pocess some prosthetics, altough their level of advancement was unknown.

"Sarlerii Dasmur of Sector 863.76 I am taking over direct administrative control over solar system designation: zharvarr, cause: alien first contact" he told the lowly local AI.

"Affirmative, Sarlerii Dasmur now pocesses direct control over zharvarr, local AI to remain on standby" replied the AI.

Without wasting any time he initiated first contact protocols with the aliens, further physiological scans indicated they were lightly injured, stressed and dehydrated and needed medical support which were to be provided by a craft which was now on the way.

One of the MetaRev's stepped closer and a holographic emitter came out of its chest, it was to play the first contact visual message:

The message worked in the following way, at first colours would be shown to see if the alien individuals reacted, if they did then the Cyberex alphabet would be displayed to them as well as their corespondent binary values. Finally the video would show Cyberex Prime's location in the galaxy as well as its chemical makeup. The MetaRevs were to scan the individuals and preferably have them communicate in order to understand and decipher their language. Knowing that they were an space faring race meant that they possibly had language pattern translators and thus some words were included in the feed.

As the MetaRev's played the feed, the medical craft gently landed besides the crashed spaceship, it's hatch opening and waiting for the occupants to step out with the assistance of the MetaRevs

[The New Polish Lithuanian Commonwealth]

ooc: gonna tag this. incoming post.

[Sunset]

Cyberex...

"Oh thank god, they're civilized," Marcus breathed, clutching onto the edge of the pod with one hand while the other held up the self-supporting hatch with the other. Beside him Mark climbed out with Cynthia in his arms, the young girl still pressed up against him. Both were of late middle age with the rounded stomachs and barrel arms that spoke of men who had been strong in youth but who now enjoyed heavy meals together.

"What's that?" The first looked at the array of colors and symbols. "I," he pointed to himself, "I'm Marcus. And you can't understand me, can you?"

It was enough to understand that they were under no threat - nor were they themselves threatening - and he again sighed with relief before reaching inside and pulling out two boxy survival packs. The arrival of the nearby ship was a good indication that they would be leaving soon but the survival suggestions from the pod's information systems had been quite specific.

"Just in case, right?" He looked to his partner, who nodded; "Sure. And the beacon. Any idea what they are saying?"

"No," but something ticked over in his head and Marcus knelt under the open hatch and poked at the still-illuminated display with a finger. "Something in here... Ah, got it," he finished, his smooth baritone rising only slightly with excitement.

There was a squeal from speakers hidden behind tasteful wood paneling but it was not the rattle of polycarbonate cones damaged during impact but the rapid-fire sound of mathematics. A pulse and another pulse and then two pulses made one double-length pulse and the pattern repeated itself until the concept of base ten and then binary and then an alphabet and the sounds of that alphabet passed far more rapidly than they could even consider the concepts. A dictionary flashed through the ether and there was a pause as the screen flashed as it too understood.

Language Translation Completed

But Marcus had been busy. Slinging one pack to the other he had reached inside and pulled out a hexagonal orange box by a handle hidden under the seat. This he kept, straightening to look up at the blazing sun before noting the warning and accepting with another press of a button. For a moment his eyes were elsewhere and then he spoke, adopting the language offered by the robots, "Hello, I'm Marcus, this is Mark, and this is our daughter Cynthia."

[Sunset]

Molotov Cluster...

There was a scream - satisfying - and then a sickening crack - more satisfying - and then Bond leaned forward to look through and to the ground where the crumpled form of K'Artash brought a rarely seen grin to his face. The idiot was laying in a heap with his chin resting on some delightfully hard looking rubble and his rump and tail high in the air.

"Perhaps he broke something? Knocked out a few of his teeth? All of his teeth?"

A wind-blown newspaper chose that very moment to settle across K'Atash's face and that decided the matter, "Why check on him? Clearly dead. Even the trash knows its own and has decided to bury him!"

That may have cost him any forewarning but a sudden thought struck him, "You know, he could be a she. I never asked!"

And neither was he. There were three pre-packed emergency bags in the pod and two hit the ground before he descended with the third as well as the orange beacon he'd purposefully failed to activate. This brought him to within footsteps of the fallen douchbag - pushed, he admitted it freely - but instead of the civilized impulse to put his feelings aside and see to the health of his fellow sentient he drew his one remaining possession from his current profession as pirate and looked down the barrel of the heavy pistol.

"No," he turned and walked away, the weapon held loosely at his side, "Not even worth the charge. Perhaps some poor animal will suffer the indigestion and eat him. Her?"

That settled he adjusted the packs and set off into the city in search of something useful or familiar.

[Sunset]

Dimoniquid...

A touch at the seam between hatch and pod, a proper twist of the tool, and something inside popped with the brief hiss of equalizing pressure as accompanyment. The first rose overhead to reveal the previously described; A vertical space meant for three individuals between the height of half and two and a half meters with a crash couch provided for each as well as a small storage space. These were cleverly worked into the interior dark wood paneling so as to appear both decorative and functional. A small medical unit was similarly mounted above the center couch and a large black glass display took up the upper half of the interior hatch. Various fine textiles had been used to upholster every surface one might conceivably bump an elbow against with the only jarring detail a bright orange handle that rested between the knees of the center occupant in its own protected cowl.

Luxurious though the details were, this was not the most forward and interesting of the life raft's - for that is what it was - contents. Instead this was a large mesh bag that hung from hooks that had undoubtedly served some other purpose. Inside this bag were a baker's dozen* of medium sized (about a quarter meter in average diameter) black balls printed in a hexagon pattern and fitter with a flexible looking black metal collar on one end. Odd but it was only when one ventured close that they would realize that the strange features on each resembled eye sockets, the ridge of a nose, or the protrubance of a chin. Each bag therefore held one and only one disembodied head...

*Thirteen

[Cyberex]

Cyberex...

"Oh thank god, they're civilized," Marcus breathed, clutching onto the edge of the pod with one hand while the other held up the self-supporting hatch with the other. Beside him Mark climbed out with Cynthia in his arms, the young girl still pressed up against him. Both were of late middle age with the rounded stomachs and barrel arms that spoke of men who had been strong in youth but who now enjoyed heavy meals together.

"What's that?" The first looked at the array of colors and symbols. "I," he pointed to himself, "I'm Marcus. And you can't understand me, can you?"

It was enough to understand that they were under no threat - nor were they themselves threatening - and he again sighed with relief before reaching inside and pulling out two boxy survival packs. The arrival of the nearby ship was a good indication that they would be leaving soon but the survival suggestions from the pod's information systems had been quite specific.

"Just in case, right?" He looked to his partner, who nodded; "Sure. And the beacon. Any idea what they are saying?"

"No," but something ticked over in his head and Marcus knelt under the open hatch and poked at the still-illuminated display with a finger. "Something in here... Ah, got it," he finished, his smooth baritone rising only slightly with excitement.

There was a squeal from speakers hidden behind tasteful wood paneling but it was not the rattle of polycarbonate cones damaged during impact but the rapid-fire sound of mathematics. A pulse and another pulse and then two pulses made one double-length pulse and the pattern repeated itself until the concept of base ten and then binary and then an alphabet and the sounds of that alphabet passed far more rapidly than they could even consider the concepts. A dictionary flashed through the ether and there was a pause as the screen flashed as it too understood.

Language Translation Completed

But Marcus had been busy. Slinging one pack to the other he had reached inside and pulled out a hexagonal orange box by a handle hidden under the seat. This he kept, straightening to look up at the blazing sun before noting the warning and accepting with another press of a button. For a moment his eyes were elsewhere and then he spoke, adopting the language offered by the robots, "Hello, I'm Marcus, this is Mark, and this is our daughter Cynthia."

"Fascinating" taught Sarlerii Dasmur. "They've managed to develop a linguistic pattern with minimal help"

Seeing this was essentially a potential opportunity to establish an relation with the spacefaring aliens, Sarlerii Dasmur decided to request a neuro feed with the President himself.

This is Sarlerii Dasmur of Sector 863.76, cause of message: alien first contact and a possible opportunity to establish relations

The President responded almost instantly: I did go through your neural feed with the ground units, what we have here is highly interesting. Assume direct control over the MetaRev units and bring the ship's crew to the shuttle where they will receive medical care. The shuttle is to leave for your ship where official physical communication will begin.

Very well, I shall assist the ship's crew at once and with that said Sarlerii assumed control over the MetaRevs. He also proceeded to extract the ship's entire digital information for any useful information they could salvage.

Greetings Marcus, I am Sarlerii Dasmur of the Cyberex, we would be delighted if you and your companions would follow me to the shuttle.

[Sunset]

Una Luxa...

"I am secure," she admitted, drawing herself after him in a manner that suggested neither fear nor reluctance. Instead there seemed a strange taste of desire, a longing that perhaps what she was tasked with was that very notion of upset - of change. That perhaps sprang from the very particular way she had arrived; Brought whole and unharmed from the stars as sudden as lightning.

"Do you wish security, August?"

Her voice and thus the question was oddly passive as she followed him inside, her eyes now dark and empty. A touch at his shoulder that said, if he asked, that something might indeed change.

"Safety can only be made through detachment. We are safe. There are no risks, only misunderstandings. The risk is to you. Do you desire safety," she looked around the house claimed by his parents, "Or security?"

[Primordial Luxa]

“I want safety...I think” he said unlocking the door and stepping inside.

The house's interior was painted a dark green color and was covered in shelves which seemed to dominate every wall and surface. These shelves were packed with various nautical looking items and book. Small shell’s, taxidermied fish and water plants dotted the rooms while a carpet covered in lily pad designs lay underfoot. The books themselves seemed to have a similar naval fetish and many of them looked like ship logs or ancient sea journals. On the walls were various paintings depicting famous boats, pictures taken of fishermen battling waves and ancient maps of uncharted parts of water.

As the two of them were climbing the stairs at the end of the hallway a loud animalistic croaking sounded echoed up behind them. It was extremely guttural and sounded aquatically diseased as though a mucus laden patient was trying to scream. “August? Is that you boy? Where have you been? I was worried sick!”

August’s eye’s widened momentarily as he heard his parent calling for him. “One moment mother,” he called back before whispering to J’hira “Go upstairs second door on the left stay there please.”

He then began walking down the stairs and through one of the doorways leading to an out of sight room. Looking back up J’hira could see the hallway at the top of the stairs looked similarly decorated to the one below, but this one had sounds and movement, as it was very clear a figure was walking back and forth in the hallway above.

[Molotov Cluster]

Molotov Cluster...

There was a scream - satisfying - and then a sickening crack - more satisfying - and then Bond leaned forward to look through and to the ground where the crumpled form of K'Artash brought a rarely seen grin to his face. The idiot was laying in a heap with his chin resting on some delightfully hard looking rubble and his rump and tail high in the air.

"Perhaps he broke something? Knocked out a few of his teeth? All of his teeth?"

A wind-blown newspaper chose that very moment to settle across K'Atash's face and that decided the matter, "Why check on him? Clearly dead. Even the trash knows its own and has decided to bury him!"

That may have cost him any forewarning but a sudden thought struck him, "You know, he could be a she. I never asked!"

And neither was he. There were three pre-packed emergency bags in the pod and two hit the ground before he descended with the third as well as the orange beacon he'd purposefully failed to activate. This brought him to within footsteps of the fallen douchbag - pushed, he admitted it freely - but instead of the civilized impulse to put his feelings aside and see to the health of his fellow sentient he drew his one remaining possession from his current profession as pirate and looked down the barrel of the heavy pistol.

"No," he turned and walked away, the weapon held loosely at his side, "Not even worth the charge. Perhaps some poor animal will suffer the indigestion and eat him. Her?"

That settled he adjusted the packs and set off into the city in search of something useful or familiar.

The noises of the falling soon to be corpse person were loud enough to echo through the empty city and send several flocks of birds huddled in nearby buildings and plants growing out of buildings to flee and head to the skies, giving the already somewhat quiet city a more sinister seeming eeriness as the birds and several woodland creatures fled due to the noise of either the crashing ship or the person falling from it afterwords. Whatever animals left making the eerie quietness even more disturbing with their twig snapping and wrustling in bushes and the like as the one still alive being from the pod wandered about the empty abandoned building debris and old world litter covered streets of what was once an amazing Asian city.

Assuming the man could read the odd language which looked like a slightly alien version of Japanese, evidence of what happened was everywhere. in newspapers and phamflets and notices in windows or nailed on telephone and power poles,
on sandwich boards and on road blocks or near enough to them in some cases, and in other such similar examples.

It seemed not only was nuclear war eminent at some point in the past but so was several different plagues and contagions.
Multiple signs of diseases or other dangerous substances that would lead to crazed cannibalistic madmen aka zombies, as well as a mutated, possibly alien version of the more prominent and popular seeming creeping fungus known as cordyceps known to mutate humanoid head areas, on this planet seeming to grow further and grow fungus and spore pods all over the host body instead of just the head and upper area around there And it is a bit more colorful and detailed in its growths.

It was this last one that seemed to be the most likely outcome of most creatures and people that got sick and didn't turn into some zombie apocalypse movie stereotype. Plus, as with all the other sicknesses and diseases, notices and phamflets and other detailed information on them and how to avoid them or deal with the situation if you or someone you knew caught it and things of that nature were scattered about as well as quarantine measures and inoculation stations and other long abandoned preventive measures all over the city and likely in other parts of the country as well no doubt.
(ooc:the last of us FEDRA or CDC related type stuff but Japanese style)

It was civilians and military personnel infected by this alien looking fungus disease crawling across a large portion of their bodies and mutating them into things barely recognizable as humans that would be the first direct contact towards the presumably unaffected male wandering the city though various humanoid noises and shadows in the distant which were likely either shambling zombies of various forms or more of these fungus beasts were likely prominent if a bit in the uncommon but not completely unheard of spectrum but nonetheless hard to pinpoint to anyone unfamiliar to the area unless they had some tech directly corresponding to the situation at hand.

But even if that were the case, it likely would not end well, given the verocity and ferociousness of the mutated beings that used to be humans and their pets and the like.

And thus in comes a gaggle of humanoid and large canine shaped cordyceps fungus covered creatures in an area surrounding several once well fortified buildings possibly resembling some Japanese anime styling of the CDC or a w.H.O headquarters but broken up into multiple buildings, all crumbling and falling apart just like the rest and whatever fortifications they had left, likely not as strong as when they were first built to keep out the onslaught of the mutated and the undead.

But would it still be strong enough after all this time to keep them out? No one can say for sure. All that can be known is that there wouldn't be very many other options on where to go due to the debris and collapsed buildings all over the place and that the other types of dangerous beings in the area were starting to notice and hone in on the living being's position and the fungus ridden creatures in the general direction of the facilities were likely to notice the man and attempt to descend upon him if he ventured forth too much without a lot of hiding and dodging around rubble and abandoned bits of city structuring and the like. And even that wasn't sure to last for long with all the different types of fungus creatures and their heightened senses.

Only time would tell if what the man would chose and where he would go, only a few options in terms of direction and most of them having something or someone in or near the escape routes, seeming to head straight for the guy.

[OOC: apologizes if this new post sounds too much like character manhandling but it was the only thing I could think of to get anything to really interact with your character at this time seeing as its meant to be a mostly dead abandoned planet.
And I figured it would help to give him some sort of direction seeing as he was heading into the city anyhow.
Also I figured I might as well point out that pretty much every country on the planet before they were all wiped out,
built things in fallout style constructing. By which I mean, they are built to last with minimal to almost no upkeep for centuries,
even after a nuclear blast happened nearby. ]

[Sunset]

Cyberex...

"Greetings Marcus, I am Sarlerii Dasmur of the Cyberex, we would be delighted if you and your companions would follow me to the shuttle."

"Thank you, yes," the closer of the two men nodded, any attempt at a handshake obliterated by the pack he still held in both hands. There didn't seem to be any nervousness or anxiety about interacting with the robotic MetaRevs but his eyes were almost constantly on the bleak world around them and in particular on the sun high in the sky. Occasionally he would look to his daughter and then back to the pod, "Yes, I think that would be best."

It was Mark who asked the questions as soon as they were all aboard, though perhaps a question better asked outside; "Sarlerii Dasmur? Mr. Dasmur," the formal was a guess but the meaning was in his tone, "I've never heard of Cyberex," he looked over to Marcus, who confirmed this with a nod, "And I'm not quite sure where we are either. In fact I'm pretty sure we're very lost," he confessed, shifting in his seat to move the young Cynthia into a more comfortable position for her, though this left him in less. "We were on the Star's Charter - a cruise ship - and we'd just entered a nebula for some sightseeing when - and I don't know the particulars - there was some kind of distress call from a yacht and then a few minutes later the Captain warned everyone that pirates had boarded the ship."

Again Marcus confirmed his partner's story with a nod, "That's right. We weren't too far from where they came aboard and when we heard shooting we ducked into this - that - escape pod. We figured we'd be safe in there but then something happened and... Well, here we are, Mr. Dasmur."

"And with no idea where here is, or who you are," Mark finished. "Except that you look to be civilized enough to not shoot us or knock us unconscious. Better than the pirates," and both men finished with a shared nod, "Mhm!"

[Cyberex]

Cyberex...

"Greetings Marcus, I am Sarlerii Dasmur of the Cyberex, we would be delighted if you and your companions would follow me to the shuttle."

"Thank you, yes," the closer of the two men nodded, any attempt at a handshake obliterated by the pack he still held in both hands. There didn't seem to be any nervousness or anxiety about interacting with the robotic MetaRevs but his eyes were almost constantly on the bleak world around them and in particular on the sun high in the sky. Occasionally he would look to his daughter and then back to the pod, "Yes, I think that would be best."

It was Mark who asked the questions as soon as they were all aboard, though perhaps a question better asked outside; "Sarlerii Dasmur? Mr. Dasmur," the formal was a guess but the meaning was in his tone, "I've never heard of Cyberex," he looked over to Marcus, who confirmed this with a nod, "And I'm not quite sure where we are either. In fact I'm pretty sure we're very lost," he confessed, shifting in his seat to move the young Cynthia into a more comfortable position for her, though this left him in less. "We were on the Star's Charter - a cruise ship - and we'd just entered a nebula for some sightseeing when - and I don't know the particulars - there was some kind of distress call from a yacht and then a few minutes later the Captain warned everyone that pirates had boarded the ship."

Again Marcus confirmed his partner's story with a nod, "That's right. We weren't too far from where they came aboard and when we heard shooting we ducked into this - that - escape pod. We figured we'd be safe in there but then something happened and... Well, here we are, Mr. Dasmur."

"And with no idea where here is, or who you are," Mark finished. "Except that you look to be civilized enough to not shoot us or knock us unconscious. Better than the pirates," and both men finished with a shared nod, "Mhm!"

"I can understand this is pretty difficult, we are currently on the planet of Kharak II on the Saresbod system in the Eyerian Nebula" he said taking out a holographic galactic map."If your story is correct you must most likely have been attacked..here" he zoomed on a red dot in the middle of the nebula. "Unfortunately we know very little about this area...we have only recently expanded in this place as we are still a young spacefaring people.."

As they walked in the shuttle peacefully parked on the dunes, he made sure that their guests were in a correctable health, they were still extremely dehydrated and stressed and the youngest of the tree had a broken knee, knowing this his notified the onboard AI to prepare them the required goods.

Welcome onboard, I hope you find this humble craft comfortable, we will soon liftoff to encounter with my main ship were I will present myself officially, in the meantime I will assist you as much as I can from here he said, taking out from the wall compartment a small tube which he hovered over the young girl's broken knee. "These are healer nanites, they will quickly access your broken knee with the information I have received and fix it, you should be good in a minute or two"

[Sunset]

Molotov Cluster...

They say a picture is worth a thousand words... And a newspaper is full of both.

"And we'll just keep this on," Bond said aloud, his lips wrapped firmly around the flexible post-rubber mouthpiece of the re-breather that had been draped around his neck. A narrow lozenge-shaped apparatus, it was just about as comfortable to use as a snorkel tube but at least somewhat more stylish with the added functionality of a high-intensity light on one side and a thermal sensor on the other. Useful for navigating both the odd water-filled chamber aboard his previous employer and for picking out the relatively warm bodies of exothermic post-apocalyptic zombies. It also left his voice - picked up by a microphone inside the mouthpiece and relayed to a speaker on the outside - sounding even more robotic than his normal cadence; "Much must be sacrificed for style!"

Not that he was particularly stylish. The squared-off man wore a similarly angular and possibly metal breastplate under the regulation navy blue jacket that he'd acquired from an unattended locker. Similarly styled boots worn over the matching blue trousers (complete with an orange and white warning stripe down the outside seam) seemed to suggest something of an ass-kicker but beyond the martial traits common to those of his pressed profession his only particular skill was the will to survive.

Possibly to meet and mate with a similarly angular example of his own species, but that was driven more by biology than momentary need.

When the first of the strangely furry carnivores - it not being fair to call them cannibals as he was not of the same species - appeared, he simply shot it in the head. Thus was learned the lesson between space-age weaponry and zombies; Always bet on the one that makes a pretty crimson-rainbow splash as the head disintegrates and the remaining chunks of bone, brain, and flesh decorate the landscape in a particularly artistic manner. Hold up a template and one might have a Banksy but Bond was neither the renegade street artist nor the particularly inquisitive type. To poke around in the remains meant perhaps to get vital fluids on his hands - finger-less gloves being just as stereotypical to space pirates as peg legs and hooks to those of a terrestrial bent - and spreading fluids was a sure way to end up as something less than he already was. There wasn't a lot he could do even if he had dipped his digits in the goo - his marks had tended to those of the feminine (whatever passed for such among his species) or the type more broadly known as 'suckers'.

"Gross, but valuable data... Right?"

He raised the pistol again, squinted at the sharp image that appeared above the barrel, and pressed the firing stud twice more. More data gouted into the air before the scientifically important bodies hit the ground with a meaty thump but this had provided another kind of data - they were attracted to loud noises. Particular Krrzrap and Krrzrap-Splort. More emerged from the solid-looking ruins and his best option was to take flight. Feet as fleet as fear (Rule 1: Cardio) took him on a dead run back the way he'd came and past the still-still K'Artash before a convenient turn presented itself and then another and then, seeing as if he was lost then his pursuers were as well, he slowed down a bit until another intersection presented both caution and opportunity.

"Large, imposing, government-looking building?" Bond looked from the street, where the requisite number of unholy monstrosities roamed, up and up over the many stories of shattered and whole windows to where the unfamiliar characters and more-familiar numbers were picked out in giant form along the very battlements. "What's important to them is important to me, right? Maybe some kind of government office, or a secret test facility responsible for the release of... Who am I kidding? I don't really care."

What he did care about was getting into the building and for that there was both a crowd of unmentionables and the obvious problem of access to worry about. Where they could not enter, neither could he; "Unless I could hotwire this thing..."

But the notion of standing exposed at the door while he shoved his hands into what was possibly a nest of raw current did not strike Bond as particularly wise. Rather it was that most utilitarian and regulatory necessary of structures that provided the key as he circled from alley to alley. A mop procured from a shattered storefront and then a creepy-crawly-sudden mad dash across enemy territory to the back of the building where, as fate and common sense would have it, the iron metal of a fire escape hung within reach of any super-human sports star or the swung head of his mop. The ladder rattled down, he scrambled up, and then crimson gore painted the ground as he capped a couple punks before hoisting the ladder again.

"And thus the bureaucracy triumphs. Witness the soul-grinding power of regulation and..." The fingers of one particularly spry zombie came a little too close to the bottom-most rung; "Whoops. Can't go monologue, can we?"

It was time to find a way inside and several floors of safety between here and there. He headed for the top.

[Dimoniquid]

SHIP LIEUTENANT INGE OF HOUSE ALVARSON - VIKINGAR TERRITORY, IN THE TERRIS SYSTEM
IN COMMAND OF A KLEIN BOARDING CRAFT DESIGNATED BRAVO-CHARLIE PAPA TWO-SIX, INFORMALLY NAMED AS "TERR'S WRATH"
NINE YEARS INTO THE USURPERS GRACEFUL RETRIBUTION

Alvarson's technician nearly fell on his back from the mild shock of the hatch opening half way through it's plasma cutting. One of droids reassured and ushered the technician to the left of the hatch, while the other held it open wide enough for the camera droid to fold its antennae in slightly to record into it's insides. Alvarson and his technicians were watching it scan from up to down on their HUDs, gathering a full dimensional view of the pod. The lieutenant and his crew studied the insides intently before Alvarson posed the question: "How many people do you think could fit in there?"

"From the seating arrangement, three sounds like a good shout. You could probably squeeze another one, maybe even two if you disregard any belongings they're taking with them." One of the technicians replied, both of his counterparts nodding in agreement. "I see a some sort of kit over that middle seat, most likely medical or some supplies, and that bag looks of interest as well. That's all I can see from the camera."

"No visible interior damage, no liquids or live objects either. I'll run over a scanner just to be safe. It doesn't look of alien nature, and it still doesn't match the ship interior either." The other technician announced after their observation. "It could be some sort of life pod, or escape pod. Maybe there's a built in recorder somewhere? I can't see one in the pod." They continued. Alvarson was taking on-board their observations while making his own. Everything looked pretty untouched from Alvarson's eyes, but he was more interested in that pack that was hanging from the top of the pod. He could see that there was something organic, yet also synthetic stowed inside. Once the camera droid was done, Alvarson and his technicians began to remove the medical kit and the mesh bag from the pod. Alvarson himself was investigating the mesh bag, examining the outside until he could find some kind of fastener. The lieutenant's investigation had not finished in vain, as he found a line of fastenings and began to unclip them. Alvarson wasn't too sure of what he had found; it was clear which bits were organic and which bits were synthetic, and the hexagonal patterns were a nice touch, but he wasn't too sure of what it was until his camera had zoomed in for more detailing. "Fuck me!" He yelled impulsively, grabbing everyone's attention. "Are those head?" He continued, much quieter in volume this time. Alvarson had never been the biggest fan of blood and gore, but this had given him more than just a shock.

"That's some voodoo stuff right there." One of the technicians replied, taking one of the heads for themselves. "Why the hell would they have shrunken heads? That superstition seems a bit primitive."

"Okay, we'll put those aside for now, let's not start praying to some dark cosmic being just yet." Alvarson said, backing a few yards away from the bag of heads. "All squads, give me a report on your status."

---

CUSTOMS SERGEANT FRANCIS OF HOUSE GARDENER - CONTROL STATION ABOARD WANDERING SHIP
ALPHA SQUAD - ALONG SIDE CUSTOMS OFFICERS TYLER, HAVERSHAM, VHAL AND MERRICK

Gardener and his squad had been trailing the AI's route of lights to the bridge, but had only wound up in some sort of control room. Gardener stood at one of the three entrances, rifle trained at the large object that was placed firmly in the middle of the hexagonal room of which he could only assume it was some sort of computer core. The core was two domes, one on the floor and one on the ceiling, with four long cylindrical pipes connecting them. The pipes were infested with pulsating white lights, wires tangling around connecting into the domes and into the pipes themselves, with more smaller, thinner pipes wrapping around the larger pipes while emitting regular thin bursts of mist from some coolant valves. The squad immediately acknowledged the three consoles, two spouting from separate walls while a third was connected directly to the core itself. "AI Interface, is this our destination?" Gardener asked, the squad spreading throughout the control station.

"Hello, Sergeant! I can confirm that you and your squad have reached your destination. From the schematics I've been running through, this station is the most likely place from which the is controlled. I've gotten approximately one half of the language on the ship translated - it's just enough to form coherent sentences, however I'll have to give you some help on what some more complex sentences could mean as I go along. I'll bring up the main control directory now." The AI quickly snapped up a large holographic screen, a meter long by half a meter wide, right above the console that was connected to the core. "I've also flushed the air and cleaned it out, so your helmets will not be necessary while in the control station. It's odd; there were some odd percentages when flushing out the oxygen and nitrogen. The nitrogen was significantly lower, while the oxygen was significantly higher. There were also higher amounts of argon as well. I adjusted the percentages to something more reasonable, so you're welcome!"

Gardener rolled his eyes. All the AI had to do was tell them that the air had been recycled, not give them an entire speech on it. Gardener and Vhal had taken an interest in the holographic screen and it console; a touchscreen with a turning dial in the top corner planted to one side at a slight angle on a longer, slender platform that rose just above waist level with a keyboard of clear white buttons settled neatly in a grid of four by three, with an array of buttons dotted around the console itself. "How can such a big ship be controlled from such a small place?" Vhal asked, taking off his helmet and setting it on the floor under the console. "I would have thought there'd be more to it."

"Don't think of it as a big ship. Think of it as a small ship towing a big box of cargo." Sergeant Gardener replied to his question while taking off his own helmet. Freighters, even if they were alien, seemed to be fairly easy to understand if you spent all of your time on ships, unlike Vhal who had just been transferred. "You think you can get access to their logs? Maybe the recorder?" Gardener asked. Vhal scrunched his face up, fiddling with the turning dial that changed the position of the directory. He pressed a few of the buttons, each one lighting up and changing the information on the directory.

"It seems simple enough, with the translation." Vhal answered, fiddling with the dial some more.

"All squads, give me a report on your status."

Gardener quickly checked his ears for his communications piece, and adjusted it so he could speak. "Lieutenant, Sergeant Gardener speaking. Alpha squad has found a control center of the ship, no crew or resistance encountered along the way. We're attempting to access the flight recorder and the control directory now, sir. What about you, sir?"

"We've got the cargo open - it's some sort of life pod, fits three, maybe four people. Nobody inside, but there's some sort of bag full of small heads and some sort of medical kit from what we can tell. Continue to search for the recorder and I'll get back to you on your next orders once Charlie squad report in, Sergeant."

"Understood, Lieutenant." Gardener replied.

[Sunset]

Una Luxa...

"Then decide," and before he left she reached out a hand to touch his palm in a peculiarly odd fashion. The tips of her fingers came together as the beak of a bird or as the shadow cast by a child on the wall from a flickering candle and left behind a tingle. It was a gem similar to those that held at temple, sternum, and wrist but far smaller but that it appeared on first gaze to be far larger on the inside than out. Purple was its shade and there was motion there, a faint drawing from the air that held change aloft as a banner while something beckoned from beyond. There was a tangle notion of security, of safety, of distance contained within the facets as each sparkled in turn in a manner that did not quite match up with the play of light.

Turning on a breeze she climbed the steps, each foot now barely clearing the lip of the next while the very hem of the dress slipped between as if she might trip at any moment. Strange shoes had appeared on her feet; Heels that split as though cloven hooves. Click, click, click.

Hand on the banister she reached the top to pull the world towards herself and call to the strange figure, "Valasha'no jon terrif... What is your soul?"

The twice-counted doorway parted to her touch and she passed inside but to tarry at the frame, waiting for response or the end of creation.

[Sunset]

Dimoniquid...

The other technician was wrong on two counts; First, the heads were very much alive. Second, they were not shrunken and there didn't seem to be any superstition at all at work. Instead the collars were some sort of life-support apparatus that showed, through a curved indicator panel where the two ends of the coiled rod came together, the tell-tale pulse of a heartbeat and the low-level static of neural activity. Where the first came from was anyone's guess but the device was thick enough that some kind of artificial circulatory system could be housed inside. The how and the why of the heads' presence would have to wait for further questions but a peak showed that one looked... Well, normal for whatever species they might have been and whatever the crew of the Terr's Wrath happened to be. Perhaps one was blessed with overly large - or even overly small - craniums. It had yet to be established.

Further investigation would reveal additional information, however. The inside of the hatch - that facing the presumed occupants - was fitted with an entertainment system of some kind. Perhaps fortune had not favored the inhabitants or the original designers but the shard of debris that had shattered the casing had not only cut the external atmospheric safety sensor but the power cable to the display. If a log of sorts was to be found, it would be there. Otherwise the contents of the various storage lockers were exactly what one might expect from a well-stocked and luxurious - but oddly untouched - escape pod. Whoever left the heads had done nothing other than clip them into the dangling mesh bag; A particularly grisly game of basketball. That left two options - wake one of the heads and ask, or attempt repairs on the entertainment unit.

[Primordial Luxa]

Una Luxa

August felt his face grow flush as he took the purple gem. He stood looking hungrily for a time his eyes and soul lost in the vast immensity of color and light that reflected throughout its heliotrope surface. It was hard to tell which of the two was interested in consuming the other but eventually Mother Konaka called out again in a terrible throat belch. He quickly scampered down the stairs turning one of the corners after putting the stone in his pocket.

As J’hira climbed the stairs she saw a girl around August age standing in one of the other doorways looking at her with a raised eyebrow. She was striking similar to August possessing his pale almost greenish skin and long ethnicity uncertain features. Dressed in a black cloth that covered her entire body she appeared almost spectral and her head was topped with a black turban.

“Who are you suppose to be?” she asked with genuine surprise and interest, but there was a guarded tone as well at seeing a stranger in her home. It was only as J’hira got closer however that she noticed the stranger's eyes which were a deep brown in color but had incredibly long vertically slit pupils. “You look too good to be transient, but I don’t recognize you so you can’t be royal.”

Downstair August came into the kitchen to see his mother’s very stern expression gazing back at him. Her unblinking eyes, which were usually a glassy haze seemed unnaturally focused on him. “What was that all about hmmm? The news has been going on all day about a ship crashing in the Philips district, where you went shopping and you didn’t think to call? I almost called the guards.”

“Mother, I'm sorry. I really am. I was honestly terrified and I ran home as fast as I could. I didn’t even think to call I really am sorry.”

[Dimoniquid]

CUSTOMS SERGEANT GARRIS OF HOUSE MANDERLY - ABOARD WANDERING SHIP
CHARLIE SQUAD - ALONG SIDE CUSTOMS OFFICERS FITZPATRICK, SVENISON, MADISON AND FERRIS

"I think it's this one." Fitzpatrick called, pointing to a door with a flashing light above it with her helmet in hand. They'd been following the winding corridors and halls for a good amount of time with the lights flickering on for their directions, and they'd just come up to a junction with three doors, with one only lighting up. "What kind of aliens do you think we're going to find?"

"I don't know." Manderly replied bluntly. He wasn't a man of many words; heck, only few of the customs officers knew which planet Manderly was from. Manderly was a firm believer of not mixing work life and personal life, and it would show. "Camera, you first." He beckoned, pressing a button on the doors interface. The door split open, revealing some sort of equipment room. Hexagonal lockers were fitted on the walls that contained tools and equipment, a rack of weapons stood along another while a group of re-breather-like apparatus hung in separated sections along a bench, bar two that had recently been removed.

"Two are gone." Ferris announced, inspecting over the apparatus. Ferris was unsure on how it would exactly fit, but he assumed the device that filtered the air would fit on the users abdomen, and the tubes leading up to the mouth piece would lead up the back and over the shoulders to prevent any hindrance of movement to the user. The mouth piece also had some sort of goggle and communications systems connected to it. "Should we be worried?"

"Let's not worry, but be cautious instead, people. At least we know what we're looking for, now." Manderly countered, examining the weapons rack. Some weapons were small, one handed devices with a similar rustic and webbed aesthetic design to the ship, while some were much larger rifle-type weapons, with stocks and some sort of fuel canister sat atop of it while the barrel had it's own smaller canister a series of vents along the barrel. Some of the technicians would be most curious about how the weapons worked, along with most of the ship, but investigation of the equipment wasn't of importance at the moment. Manderly and his squad continued through the to the other side of the equipment room, the camera drone leading them through another door and into a long narrow room, full of computer interfaces, screens, pipes and wires all connected to a row of ten spheres. The bronze spheres sat in the room, equally spaced apart, lying dormant as the humming of the engines vibrated beneath their feet. The camera drone slowly panned across each of the spheres, flashing its lights to give a clear view of the area until it found itself stopping at the end of the row before quickly flashing towards the squad.

Charlie squad inspected the spheres and its monitors, attempting to make sense of the data that was running on them. "That looks like neural activity readings... there's numbers and information on here suggesting some kind of nutrient intake..." Fitzpatrick said, wiping the dust from the monitor and attempting to decipher its meaning. Fitzpatrick was reading numbers on oxygen levels, nutrient intakes, along with some kind of body scan and a scan on brain activity was also being included. "I think these are some kind of stasis pods. There's no cryogenic freezing freezing involved, from what I can tell." Fitzpatrick's conclusion had led to the squad to a crossroads. "Should we open one up?"

"We aren't even sure on how these work, let along what's in there." Ferris called back, attempting to gather a better view of the rear end of the sphere where most of the pipes and wires were plugged in with his attached camera. "Maybe we should wait until the AI has the entire ship running yet."

"By the time the ship's running, whatever was, or is, in that silver thing in the cargo hold is going to be running around the ship, which does beckon me;" Manderly replied tapping into his TACPAD. "The lieutenant hasn't reported to us yet. Surely he must be in that thing by now." He continued, running through a record of his transmissions. "Lieutenant, this is Sergeant Manderly, can you read me?" He called through his radio. Static. Ever ringing, never halting static. "Does anyone else have an available transmission?" He asked his squad, each person checking their own communications pieces, with each reply garnering a negative response. "Interface, can you relay to the lieutenant for me?"

"Hello! I would, sergeant, but I have a slightly bigger concern for you; I may have opened a few pods while you were on your way here." The interface announced, worriedly. "I didn't know what the system was, and since it's software was so heavily protected I had to do a few reroutes while Sergeant Gardeners squad was attempting to sift through the control directory. I didn't realize what I had done until I was looking through the camera logs for Sergeant Gardener and they were leaving the stasis bay. From the internal camera records, they're heading to the control station now."

"This is why I don't like working with AIs. Interface, here's what I want you to do, and do it very carefully; you're first going to announce to both Gardener and Alvarson of your blunder, then, you're going to send the camera feed to all of Charlie squad's HUDs so we can keep track of them. After that, you're to tell us of any problems occurring on the ship, when they start occurring. Is that understood?" Manderly scowled at the interface. Few of the officers had seen this side of him before, and few were going to address it at this moment. "Ferris, Svenison, stay here with the stasis pods. Fitzpatrick, Madison, we're going to follow the aliens and make sure they don't double back for reinforcements."

"Understood, sergeant." The interface whimpered.

---

SHIP LIEUTENANT INGE OF HOUSE ALVARSON - VIKINGAR TERRITORY, IN THE TERRIS SYSTEM
IN COMMAND OF A KLEIN BOARDING CRAFT DESIGNATED BRAVO-CHARLIE PAPA TWO-SIX, INFORMALLY NAMED AS "TERR'S WRATH"
NINE YEARS INTO THE USURPERS GRACEFUL RETRIBUTION

"For fucks sake." Alvarson swore to himself, after hearing of the AIs blunder. "What do these things look like?" He asked himself, bringing up a picture taken by the AI onto his TACPAD. The two creatures stood at around four feet tall, compared to the human's six feet tall, with two long arms, and two legs that looked like they could travel easily on all fours if they wished. From the cleaned image of the camera feed, he could see some leather-like skin, with two sunken black eyes and a small mouth hole that was surrounded by two sharp points on its small, but well rounded skull. Alvarson was unsure of what the rigid plates on either side of it's skull were, but he assumed it was some sort of ear-protection that they evolved to have. Alvarson also noted the metallic chest plate they were both wearing, each with bronze backing with a dull grey inside, with a protection to their abdomen of sorts, and metal gauntlets that covered the thin forearms and four fingered hands. "Well, they aren't what I expected."

"Lieutenant, sir, I've got some more information on the heads." One of technicians announced to him. Alvarson turned around and saw the technician holding both a head, and a scanning device. "I've been doing some deeper scans, and I've also examined this collar-type-item around the base of it; it's not a shrunken head, it's... dormant, or alive, or catatonic. There's some sort of faint neural activity, from the scans of my equipment and collar fits a similar pattern. My guess is that there's some device inside of the collar that's keeping it dormant until it's ready to use for whatever it's used for."

"I've also gathered some information about the pod, if you'd like to know, sir." The other called, putting down a data pad while a droid was sifting through the contents of the lockers. "The shard of debris has cut through some sort of screen device housed on the hatch, and through a sensor array in the pod. When there's a screen and sensor array, there' s a computer, which means I might be able to access it if I can cut though some of the paneling inside. I think we can get through to it with a conversion program, or maybe with the AI's help." They continued. Alvarson's judgement now had everyone's eyes firmly placed on it. He had two rampant, and potentially dangerous, aliens running around a strange ship, a mysterious pod that had a bunch of head stuffed in it, and an AI that was so incompetent of its job that Alvarson was almost tempted to take over its duties and do the jobs himself. "Sir? What do you want us to do?"

"Let's try and get access to that computer, while we also see if we can get some more scans of these things. If it's got neural activity, then maybe we can activate it through some sort of electrochemical experiment." Alvarson ordered, taking hold of the head from the technicians hand. He fingered over it, examining the collar, and then over the detailing of the eyes, and the mouth, before stopping in his tracks. It was familiar. Slightly too familiar. It couldn't be - there was no way it could possible be what he was seeing. "That's not right. That's fucking abnormal." He said to is technicians, before bringing up the picture on his TACPAD of the alien creatures. The resemblance was uncanny; they both had the sunken, black eyes, with the small mouth hole and the rounded skull, and even have the rigid ear blades on the sides to match. "Technician, are these all the same?" He asked, comparing the head with the picture.

"Not that I've seen, sir." The technician called, making their way to the mesh bag and sorting through each of the head. "Why is that one so important?"

"It's... some sort of copy, or replica or... something." Alvarson replied, concerned. "I really don't like it. What the fuck are you?"

[Sunset]

Cyberex...

"Well," Marcus settled back into his seat, pulling the restraints over his shoulders with a precision that indicated some manner of familiarity with the arrangement, "If you're going to do that, I'll be honest - we're exhausted." He looked over to Mark, who nodded, and down at Cynthia. "Unless this is going to be a bumpy ride, we're going to close our eyes and get a little shut-eye. Not meaning to be rude, you understand, but we... Yeah, it's been pretty difficult," he finished, echoing Sarlerii's own words.

It didn't seem to be a request as much as a promise. A moment later he had put his head back against the seat back and closed his eyes and in seconds his breathing had slowed to nearly the point of unconsciousness. Whether this was through exhaustion or some trained ability both men were in equally the same state and only little Cynthia was left to squirm up between the two of them, arranging herself so that one of her father's arms fell around her. Even if the flight to orbit would take only seconds they seemed intent on occupying the same seats for hours, neither watching the window or the display as the deserts of Kharak II and the tiny escape pod that had been their salvation faded into nothing but memory...

[Cyberex]

Sarlerii Dasmur looked closely at his guests slumber, he had ordered a new body to be printed in time to make a physical meeting with the Sunsetians.

Finally after a few hours, the small shuttle docked what could only be described as an highly luxurious ship.

As he was leading Marcus,Mark and Cynthia he told them to wait awhile, they were quickly approached by an perfect Sunsetisn woman.

"She is a biorod" Sarlerii Dasmur's voice could be heard echoing "We have designed these semi sentient biorobotic units to serve you and resemble your people. Infact this whole ship is just a few hours old, we printed it out and made sure to include traits which you would hopefully deam highly acceptable. We generally refrain from using windows on our ships as we believe them to be a major compromise to structural integrity for example"

"Please follow me" the Biorod said in an perfectly feminine voice. The biorod led them through large corridors with perfectly shiny stone, the large windows of the ship gave the visitors an beautiful panoramic view of space

"This ship is in pocession of 2 swimming pools, 1 sauna and 3 robots programmed to give perfect massage according to your physiological designs" most of these structures and words such as "massage" were highly alien to them, and were only known by retrieval of the crashed ship AI's information, which was used to design numerous components within the ship.

Finally the biorod led them to a large door "Sarlerii is waiting for you" she said.

As the large wooden doors automatically opened, a beautiful feast could be seen spread perfectly through the whole table, chicken, assorted fruits, curry, exotic vegetables were all present on the table.

"They are all printed I assure you, we made sure that these biochemical agents were perfectly similar to your native planets dishes" said a young man approaching them. "I am Sarlerii Dasmur, it is a pleasure to finally meet you in person, as I believe that physical interaction is highly important for your people".

Sarlerii watched and smiled as the guests took enormous platefuls of food, once they were all comfortably installed Sarlerii introduced himself and the Cyberex people. He would listen with great attention about Marc's description of Mars and Markuses trips around Sunsetian space. Cynthia often interrupted the conversation stating that she was bored and was eventually given a small insect like robot for which to play with.

"You may not have realised it" said Sarlerii. "But we are now in orbit around Cyberex Prime, my peoples homeworld, the President has greatly insisted on meeting you people personally, and you are to rest aboard this ship for a few days before we land"