Zedara's new captain was certified insane. But that came with the territory of being a Deathworlder human. Let alone being a clone, or the sheer extent of his cybernetics.
Case in point, how she met him.
But right now was another mark to having a methodology to his madness.
"Captain…." She sighed as she watched him flick the controls deftly, directly plugged into the vessel as she felt impulse engines humming along as they zipped past the last of the planetary ring, headed towards a station seated above Orbit of a gas giant. "We do not have any local funds in a sufficient enough manner to attain any kind of components or supplies for long term flights." She said, with a grimmance. Her own finances wouldn't even cover it, not that her Captain accepted.
"I am well aware. We are going there for information. And potentially searching for a job" Asimov said simply. She conceded to that point at the least. Freelancing, while it didn't pay glamorously, wouldn't be too bad. He had morals at least, more than her previous Captain.
"This is EHS Event Horizon to station Akina, requesting permission to dock." Asimov calmly hailed, even as he glanced at a raised screen, showing a scan of the station….
And showed the Seeker also docked there.
"Permission granted, Event Horizon. Docking bay four. Please keep personal armament below a class two station side." The flight control crew responded, getting a confirmation from Asimov.
"Class two armament?" Asimov asked, head spinning to lock onto Zedaras gaze. "One handed weapons, hand held plasma pistols, stunners and laser cutters. Class one are….sluggers…… oh Kriff." She said as her head thumped against the console.
Asimov only shook his head. "Their foolishness." He said simply as he lined their ship up with the docking collar, extending the adaptive collar again.
As the two sentients got up, two defense drones flanked them, headed towards the port, ready to remain just inside to defend the vessel…..
---------------/
Station master Krinx enjoyed his job, and who wouldn't?
Well, probably quite a few people, but for him, he loved cataloging the ships that passed through, the stranger the better.
And the current vessel? Took the cake.
It was clearly a early Era human vessel, if his studies were correct, though the engine cluster was very, very odd shaped. The name itself was drawing up blanks but he could have sworn he had heard of the name before…..
No matter, hopefully it was just a collector or a salvager flying her, and not an actual human. Or heaven forbid, a cloned human. Seriously, neither version had self preservation instincts and could find trouble faster than a pissed off Saurian Raptor. Or Carno.
The hatch opened and he nearly balked as two old Mk1 defense drones took up positions in the adaptive airlock, their visors not needing to pan around when their sensors gave them such a large field of view, the towering Mk12 staring down at his squatter form, triad of optics unwavering. "Stationmaster." The AR Mk12 said evenly, likely having spotted his bars and insignia, it, correction, his own captain bars and the serial number under his name making the station masters stomachs drop like neutron stars through the floor.
"Welcome aboard the Akine! What can we interest you in today?" He said, projecting joviality as much as he could, hoping to not startle the human too badly. "At the moment, I would appreciate it if you could direct me to the nearest jobs board, if that's at all possible?" The….cyborg, if he read the serial correct, said. ".....of course, right this way." He said, even as he heard a ding from his datapad, showing that the docking fee was paid in full, even as a Trike walked up beside the towering machine, falling into step with the longer legged captain.
Well. More than could be said for most vessels docking here at the least.
He lead them down the halls of the station, ignoring the whispers around them and the curious, and even sometimes hungry gazes other salvager crews raked over the machine with. The fools. He sighed and turned around once they got close to their destination, relieved to see that the two hadn't taken offense. Yet. "The jobs guild is up ahead. Be warned, they do take a bit of a cut for services fees, but it's fairly reasonable compared to other guilds. And please….don't put too many holes in my station?" The stationmaster begged.
"I will try not to, however, if someone's starts something, I will end it before it can threaten the station or my crew." The cyborg before him said in a flat voice, as the Trike did their version of a grimmance and chuffed, shaking her head. ".......I suppose I'll take what I can get." The stationmaster said, before scuttling off as his many little legs would carry him.
Maybe he could admire the Captains ship a little more? Wouldn't hurt to try and paint the vessel on a canvas, after all.
----------------/
The ameboid behind the counter huffed in indignation.
So many jobs, not enough time. And it didn't help that there was a distinct lack of pilots and ships that were applicable to most of them.
Especially the current Urgent one. That one drove it up a wall…..
Shaking its pseudopod, it glanced up with its ocular organs, before retracting them deeper into their cytoplasm and then pushed them back to the surface, a blink of sorts.
An older human machine stood before them, towering over them as it's optics bore down on the smaller, much softer, and weaker organic.
"Ah…..can i….help you?" The ameboid asked nervously, their voice burbling more as they tried to not secrete their water stores. "I would like to sign up for a few jobs with the guild. What would I need to apply?" The machine asked, voice a even tone, as if unaware of the distress the thing was causing….but also non-threatening, which helped calm down the ameboid.
"Well, at the least, you would need a standard galactic account, ID papers from any of the various factions of this galaxy to prove your identity…or make one." The ameboid said slowly, watching the metal entity. "I see…..I have the documents with me, however, I am…unaware of where to go to set up a account." The machine said, a little ruefully, holding out a older style ID badge, and flaired it's IFF unit, allowing the amoeboids computer to catch it and log it, calming the single celled sentient more.
"I can certainly help with the account. Your two proofs work sufficiently….let's see here….. ARC-CC-217? IFF Code….. creation sector…….Ship name and IFF code….. Ok….Asimov Voidbuilt……odd name……. Species-cybernetic human clone!?" The ameboid nearly shrieked, but it came out more as a horrified hiss.
A Cloner ship was still active. And this thing was just created!
At least it wasn't a Rogue one though, and was trying to at least be civil. "Of course. Though just Clone, or human clone, works if you need to be specific." The cyborg before them said, as if he wasn't a walking terror.
The ameboid nodded nervously and entered the information in, before it shakily pulled out an older Padd and offered it to the machine. "Here's a Padd unit with your account and credentials installed. The first one is free, since you are a new sentient in the system, however, a charge will be given each time it's lost, stolen, or broken. I would advise installing a internal version at your latest convenience." The ameboid said, familiar words and actions helping calm it.
The machine nodded, examining the device before its arm bent back in some strange parody of the amoeboids own limbs and clicked it into a metal pack on its back, a series of clicks heard, meaning that padd was locked up tight.
"Now…..down to business." The ameboid said, calming itself, and reminding itself to find a can of liquid dopamine as soon as possible. Or caffeine. Or cocoa. "Normally, I wouldn't have many jobs available, however, I have a job that is fairly urgent and specifically requests an nonaligned vessel. As your vessel….matches the bill as nonaligned, I will offer it to you." The ameboid said as the padd in the pack beeped, and the captain retrieved it in a reverse order of how it had been put up.
"Courier and passenger services, arrive as fast as possible……. And the pay is….correct?" The cyborg said, head tilting up as the ameboid did its best to replicate a human nod. "Quite. From what I understand they do not wish for any….imperial entanglements." The ameboid said cautiously even as the machines optics narrowed, shutters closing over them to replicate it.
"Hmmm…. Send me the contract and let me look it over. If I am to take this job, I do not want anything that will be a threat to my crew or vessel being brought on board." He said flatly, as the ameboid nodded hurriedly. "Theres a clause that protects the ships contracted and their crews, as well as a part for the passenger or person placing the contract to be on their best behavior or to not place knowingly dangerous cargo aboard without disclosing first. Payment is half upfront, half on arrival, with our ten percent cut taken out in the first half " The clerk said nervously….
At the least, the machine was fast, reading through it in mere moments, before he nodded. "Everything is in order, I suppose……. If you don't mind, can I have a physical copy of the contract? And one for yourself as well." The machine asked, and the ameboid nodded happily, using its gravity reducer to quickly zip off.
Despite the nerve wracking situation, not a bad cycle. A new guild freelancer added on AND a problematic contract with a nice sum associated with it to be fulfilled. The request for a physical copy was…..unexpected, but a welcome one. Physical copies were harder to ignore, alter and more, especially if properly watermarked and verified, a good, ironclad protection for the guild and their freelancers, but not done often anymore.
Now, to find that caffeine and cocoa dispenser. Despite how brutal those…humans could be, the ameboid couldn't deny they made wonderful drinks that many an ameboid enjoyed greatly.
-----------------------------/
Zedara scowled at the shopkeeper, hand flat on the table, her head tilted forward as her headplates/frills became more visible, a sign of aggravation. She clacked her beak in frustration as she scowled at the Wellian before her.
"300 credits, and not one iota more. I can clearly see damages on the box itself, and I'm not purchasing potentially compromised rations." She said, motioning to the beaten up crate of what the furry, long bodied sentient before her told her was food.
"400, I will NOT go any lower then that." The wellian said folding its upper arms, though it's species version of a smirk flitted across its face.
Zedara growled, her voice slowly getting thicker with her guttural growl and language tinging her tone. "I svear ro Thall, I vill-" "Not be buying THAT." Came a very specific, digitized voice from behind her. She spun around, cursing herself for not paying attention as the Wellian let loose a chattering yelp, staring at the towering machine.
"The box is more then compromised. It's half empty." The cybernetic captain said. "I'm detecting a dense metal of some form and packing keeping it from moving around and" He said, knocking a metal claw balled into a fist on the box. "Keeping it from echoing like it's hollow." The machine stared at the shopkeeper with an almost burning glare.
Zedara hissed in frustration. Of course the damn creature was trying to swindle her. Why wouldn't he. "Aresh. I thought you would have had more honor then that. I see your reputation is nothing but lies and falsehoods." She hissed, making the wellman panic. "No, no, I'll drop the price! 200! With a set of-"
"That will NOT be necessary. We are leaving." He said calmly, spinning around as he walked for the door.
With a feral smirk of her more fleshy parts of her mouth, she swept her credit chits off the table, and back into the box she carried on here where they belonged, even as the other sentient slumped, more then what should have been for a half empty box of rations……
Not her problem. She followed Asimov out, and fell in step with her Captain. "Zedara, so you know of any place that sells data on what your kind requires for food and nutrients?" He asked as his head spun to her, as she hummed. "There's an information broker to the north of the station that may have it, though it would be easier and cheaper to simply head to a medical store and purchase it….why do you ask?" She said, as she remembered something about the Horizon.
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The aquaponics bay, and how empty it was.
"If I can attain the DNA structure of any foods you rely on, and biomass required, we may be able to replicate the foods you require. You are a herbivore, correct?" He asked her, as they made their way to the medical sector of the shops. "Herbivore and insectivorious." She corrected, wondering what he was playing at. She could live off standard rations easily enough, but she missed food from home, expensive as it was.
Hopper caviar encased in what humans called Aloe leaf jello, mix with some ground chitin over the top… or a bowl full of stone beetles.
She sighed as she shook her head. Home delicacies could wait, she supposed, looking at her Captain as they got to the store, who pulled up her species files….
But he grabbed everything. Their medicines, their foods, information on treatments, the works, and paid for it. He grabbed a basic universal medical kit as well, and a medical padd for the information, haggling with the shopkeeper, who, while didn't swindle them, was hard put dropping his prices, though at least enjoyed the back and forth.
She hummed. Advance pay from a job? At least he didn't spend it all in one place, like her previous Captain.
She then saw him gathering up a tank of biomass and requested the price on it.
The shop keeper grimmanced. "Those old things? 500 a pop. No one short of collectors buy the things and they don't want much for them, scuffed as they are. The biomass is still good in them! But no one has the connectors for them anymore and if biomass is exposed to air, well……" the shop keep said, before shutting up ad he watched Asimov calmly heft one under his arm, and used his padd to pay for it, not even haggling for it, given how damn cheap it was.
"If the others aren't sold when we return, I may buy more of them." Asimov said, even as the shopkeeper grinned a little, happy to be rid of the sizable tank taking up precious shelf space.
Her Captain carried most of their gear out, tied off on his arms like some strange cargo mechanoid, even with the massive tank tucked under his arm.
Their next stop was, oddly enough, a livestock shop, and she soon learned why when he looked for Hoppers, large insects with delectable muscles and exoskeleton and laid good caviar by the hundreds, and Stone beetles, as well as a few long crawlers.
He carefully haggled, though she grimaced at the price tag they still had to pay for the supplies. Still, cheaper than what she feared, and helped arrange for them to be delivered to the Horizon, making sure to warn them NOT to enter the airlock but to wait inside the station for them.
Finally, they began to meander their way back to their ship, their shopping done for the time, though she would have liked to have found herself replacement parts for her…
Hmm. Maybe she could ask her Captain if she could upload a few schematics to the fabricator he has…..see if she could get replacement parts made.
Once they got to the ship, though, she gave a flat look at the small cluster of people huddled under cloaks near the airlock, the employees from the livestock shop on the other side, eyeing the others nervously.
-----------------------------/
Hota was worried. They had gotten to the ship just fine, the contract was FINALLY accepted once an applicable pilot had been found.
The ship was…..less then grandiose, old, but didn't stand out too much apart from the massive kark off ring on one end. It looked big enough to fit all of his guards and their food supplies at the least, but he eyed the live stock employees nervously as they stayed to one side, various insectoids in their enclosures, as well as the collapsible, large habitats nearby.
He had hoped the ship would be fast, but apparently not. Least they had enough food they could ration it for a few months-
He nearly balked as he felt the two consciousness enter the room. One was like a rock, or a metal shield. A Trike, her expression flitting to flat look her kind often had when someone was being foolish. "Would someone mind explaining why the station has bullet trenches in the deck when there wasn't any there before?" He heard the mechanoid, who made Hota balk.
A human presence resided within the machine, annoyed at the damage to the station and the fact it was near his vessel, tendrils of his presence flitting out and brushing against the environment passively, unlike being bound up in a weak ball like most psi nulls.
A human Astrogator. Encased in a metal shell, how had it not gone insane yet!?
"They were there when we got here. Couple of station security was escorting a Wellian off who had wounds on him, with the stationmaster nearby. Said something about idiots not paying attention to automated defenses?" One of the employees said, nervously, as the mechanoid managed to give put a flat look using his shutters and body language, despite the less then expressive head he had.
".........wonderful. I'll speak with the stationmaster before we go." He sighed, before setting the tank he was carrying down, pulling out his Personal padd.
A ding was heard, as the employees across from them blinked and grinned a little at the tip they got. "Thanks, boss." They said, moving to gather the insects….only to yelp as old cargo mechanoids skittered out like four legged spiders, their central bodies gently placed atop the heavier items, and latched on. The legs lifted the enclosures up and they hung from the bodies, and were carried inside rapidly. Hota shuddered a bit, but it wasn't the most unnerving thing he had seen.
Yet. The rest of the employees gave groans of relief as they gathered up the lighter livestock and carried it inside, followed by the captain, who Hota began following….
Only for the machines head to spin and lock onto his gaze. "You have yet to identify yourself." He said, upper torso spinning around to face him, despite the bags and the tank.
"Ah….I am Representative Hotus of the Saline hegemony." Hotus said nervously, bowing his head to the captain. "I require passage to the Human Federation….I was the one who placed the contract with the Guild" He said, as the machine tilted his head. "Proof of contract?" The machine said, one clawed hand held out before him, arm bending in ways that made Hotus shudder.
"Here. The guild Token." He said, watching as it was scanned, turned over in the light…before returning it. "Authenticated. Welcome aboard. The cargo drones will get your supplies, one of the Defense drones will guide you to your rooms." He said, motioning to one of the spider-like robots that scuttled over on the wall. The barrels were carefully aimed above them, not at them, it's visor green, pulsing calmly. "This one will lead you to where you will stay for the time till we undock. Given that my ship has been attacked once, please stay on board and do not pass the drones with yellow visors. You will be given only one warning per person. The warning will be a flash of red from the visor. Ignoring this without an adequate reason will result in the drone……disabling you. Are we clear?" He said, head panning to the others, who nodded hurridly.
Hotus followed the drone to a rather simple living quarters. Four beds, a table, some lockers, and a standard pair of human restrooms and showers. No soak tub of course, but that was to be expected. This ship looked to be a no frills type ship…..though the engine cluster at the back was very, very strange.
The grey like alien pulled back his hood and sat down heavily on one of the surprisingly comfortable chairs, a beanbag like thing that conformed to his shape as he watched his guards all nervously pull their hoods down, and sat down on the beds.
He sighed. They weren't cut out for running around like this.
----------------------/
The stationmaster waved off Asimov. "No, it's quite alright. We had been chasing after that group for a while. Should have realised they may bite off more than they can chew some day" the stationmaster said, the strange, rock and crab like alien fairly relaxed about it…
Despite being covered in some form of paint.
"Had been making a painting of your ship when the group made their move. Must say, never thought I would see the day I'd be happy to hear class ones over anything else. I'll get the repair costs out of the shell less idiots." He said, jovially, waving what looked like a paint rag over his own shell, trying to scrub it off. Asimov gave an amused blat of binary before shaking his head.
"We will get going then. I need to get my passengers to their destination, and I think it would be wise before-"
Asimov's head spun towards the muffled footstep he heard, spotting several furious sapients. Many of them appeared to be wearing a hodgepodge of weapons and guns. Curses rang out as the sentients jumped, seeing their element of surprise was lost. "Gettem!" One snarled, a rat-like creature, sprinting forward, blaster up and flashing as it unloaded wildly. Scorch marks littered the wall and the body of Asimov.
Placing himself between the stationmaster, Asimov caught the majority of the fire that came at him, giving the rat a flat look as he caught the creature, just before it could Grapple him, arm bending and flung the creature back at the amongst his friends.
"Please evacuate the area, sir." The cyborg said, before launching up, arms grabbing onto the ceiling, before his Iegs bent back and grabbed the ceiling and skittered across it, rapidly, even as the stationmaster scuttled away, eye equivalents wide as he watched the combat.
Like some strange insect or spider, Asimov shot across the ceiling, causing screeches of terror from the opposing sapients as they got up, unloading on the form of the approaching mechanoid, dodging left and right, before leaping off the ceiling at them, claws wide open, four claws open wide as he smashed two of them to the ground, heads giving loud cracks as they slammed against the ground.
Not done, the cyborgs legs launched him forward again, the bending limbs allowing him to launch forward at a rapid rate, making the rat snarl as it lept to the side, leaving his fellows to get flung to the side, the head on the mechanoid spinning around, locking on their position for a second before snapping to the next, before spinning again, keeping an eye on everyone as his arms snaking around, grabbing one of the plasma pistols off the ground, clicking it onto a magnetic strip on the side of the pack on his back, before drawing his own slugger.
The size of the thing still made the plasma pistol look like a toy, with a resounding click heard as one of the claws, acting like a thumb, switched the safety out of position near the slide.
With a snarl, a new sentient burst into the room, a massive, armored creature, shaped like a giant pill, or lozenge, with six legs, tipped with three claws each, with two larger ones that unfolded from near its head area, it's hands curled up within its scythe.
It charged forward with a bellow, arms wide as it moved, deck plating shaking as it charged, it's face seeming to be covered with a biological mask, giving it a vacant look.
Asimov seemed to roll his shoulders and made to strafe to the side, the barrel of the massive pistol slamming down onto the creatures head, smashing it into the floor, other arm grabbing the scythe arm trying to slice him, before flicking himself over the arm and slid back, head locked onto the massive creature.
The others took advantage of the attack, firing away endlessly, their plasma bolts splashing against the cyborgs body over and over again, splashing off, scorching off the paint. They lowered their blasters as they glanced at one another worridly.
This thing was taking the hits they had dished out at it, shrugging it off like it was nothing, even as their massive beast of a teammate slammed forward again, only for the cyborg leap and land on the ceiling, using three limbs, before flinging himself off, spinning in the air, and-
BOOM
The hand cannon went off, causing those with more sensitive hearing who were still standing to cover their ears, or hearing organs, or fall to the floor, as the massive beast screeched, a massive hole appearing on one side of the beast, and a even bigger hole on the other side, the massive, overpenetrated round slamming into the chest of another of the hooligans, punching in and making a bloody hole in their flimsy armor and atmosuit.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM
It went off, again and again, two more holes appearing on the living tank, one more towards its rear, sending it spinning as the round dug into the wall of the station, leaving a crater, the next round punching between the bulbus eye like protrusions for the mask, a squelched sound as ichor gushed from the preexisting holes and the back end ripped open, the round digging into the floor due to change in trajectory thanks to internal obstructions in the creature.
The last of the three round salvo was in a whole other direction completely, severing the spine of the rat like creature as he tried to make a break for the Horizons airlock, the round making the oxygen tank explode on the Atmo Suit he wore, minus the helmet for some stupid reason,helping rip the rat in two, a chunk of metal slamming into the back of the creatures head, ending its existence swiftly, even as the others backed up.
"Damn Deathworlder tin can! Boshrke is fast!" One of them hissed, even as another rapidly drew a pin on a canister-like object and tossed it to the floor, smirking as the device exploded with grey smoke, completely unaware of just how ineffective the move was.
After all, this was an old model Astro Robot frame, designed for deep space.
Designed for low to no light environments, zero G to aquatic, and some level of warmer, and even colder climates…..
------------/
:warning, vision obscured
:optical sensors impared
:infrared impared
:Lidar impared
/cmd_ activate sonar
:.........Sonar systems operational.
:sonar online
---------------/
For Asimov, the world became black and white, mainly shapes and depths, his optics no longer glowing, making his opponents curse as they lost a quite viable target in the smoke.
"The kriff? Did it just shut its optics off? Why the-"
Asimov launched up onto the ceiling, his feet claws clinging to the ceiling, as his sonar systems allowed him to line up the iron sights on the one speaking
BOOM
The head of the speaker evaporated, the bulkhead caving in, thanks to the thicker hull there then on say, the Seeker.
The last two stumbled back, horrified as the two who had been knocked out got up in time to see the headless form fall to the floor, and the machine to launch off the ceiling, the smoke filling the room thanks to the canister, unable to be easily filtered out by the life support thanks to the canister still pumping out smoke.
"Sh- why did you use the Mil-grade!?" One of the others coughed, before letting out a 'gurk!' When Asimov slammed into them, crushing their upper body to a thick paste, covering the lower segments of the legs with blood, slowly raising up, before rapid footsteps were heard, and the sound of breaking bones and a screams were heard, the sick sound of popping heard as a head was ripped off, flung to the side, before the clicks were heard, and then a clank and a crunch.
The room cleared up, revealing the two remaining goons…..
And the bloodied robot, slightly paint stripped off parts of him, blood dripping from his claws, holding the canister in them, one near the port that had been gushing smoke everywhere…..had.
It had been crushed shut, little, manageable sprays still coming out, but it no longer overloaded the atmospheric systems.
"Stand. Down." Asimov said again, firmly, optics booting back up, the shutters managing to give the impression of a scowl, throwing the now damaged canister to the side, drawing his pistol again, again aimed at the floor.
And at that moment, security FINALLY showed up, behind the Stationmaster, who pointed at the remaining attackers.
-------------------/
Delta four raced down the halls along side its combat team.
"Stationmaster said some vac-brain tried jumping a deathworlder ship. Again." One of the more insectoid members said, their many legs skittering as their armor clanked on their bodies. "Which ones? The saurian Rox? Xinth?" Said one of the others, a many legged, worm like Taxxon. "No, human. OLD human. Said it looked like an early Cloner vessel, and going off the Guild ID and manifests, going to have to confirm." The cadian said with a laugh.
"You're joking. They are STILL finding those damn things!?" Said another, a Trike, their reptilian bulk making the deck shake as they-
BOOM
"Slugger fire detected, caliber unrecognized. Station feeds indicate from a large caliber pistol." Delta four stated, their tracks spinning faster. "Archaic Human Android is currently defending stationmaster and vessel designated EHS Event Horizon. Hostile species includes Tarantian-"
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM
"Thalls teeth! That sounds like an artillery piece!" Cursed the cadian, antenna, already slicked back by their speed, wiggled back and forth in worry.
"Station feed indicates android is employing heavy slugger. Confirmed penetration and several dents in bulkheads from overpenetration of the rounds. Low class two, high class one categorization. Assessing pattern…… weapons pattern match found. Human, modified and upscaled variant of a 1911." Delta four stated, watching the data feed the heavy mechanoid was receiving from the station as the team neared the docks.
"........Kriff. who brought out the museu-"
BOOM
Muffled cursing was heard, as they rounded the corner and saw the stationmaster crouched behind a bulkhead, one of his eyestalks peeking around the corner, when the other locked on them as they rounded the corner.
"Thank the stars, the good Captain has already dealt with the Tarantian, quite impressive really, and-" the stationmaster said, before the doors slammed shut. "Military grade Smoke Chaff emitter deployed. Station safety protocols online until emitter is disabled or runs out." Delta said grimly, even as the mechanoid projected a hologram. "Switching between infrared, gamma and other visible ranges ineffective. Auto targeting sensors blocked due to EM chaff, lidar inoper-" the machine froze, before a audiograph and the hologram showed where Soundwaves were coming from
"Out of standard audio sounds detected…… frequency matched, as is standard audio pulse. Mechanized Sound Detection system in use." Delta four said, in no small amount of surprise, even as they watched the dots that now represented the Android and the others zip around the room.
"Odd, why is his signal so high up, on the ceiling like that?" The cadian said, before Delta four showed a earlier part of the fight as the Stationmaster snorted. "Crazy cyborgs body seems to have some sort of mag lock system in his hand and foot claws. Definently made the fight interesting."
".....that's a CYBORG!?" The taxxon yelped, it's multifractured eyes seeming to widen in shock. "But, how is he not going mad from sensory deprivation? Or overload?! There's no way he can remain sane with that much of him being machine!" "That's because it's a human in that frame. Research variant of a old Mk12 Astro Robot body, as well. While not as armored as a fully fledged combat variant….." The stationmaster said, motioning to the holo. "Is fast and versatile. Often doubled as repair teams on later, manned expeditions. First I've seen of a frame used for this-"
BOOM
Everyone jumped, even as Delta four flinched. More muffled, thanks to the door, it was still loud, as they watched one of the signals fall and go still.
".........delta four?" The Trike said slowly. "Yes, officer Kine?" "You said that there's EM chaff affecting targeting systems, right?" "Yes." The machine said, systems curious about the query.
"Then HOW in the name of Thall can that thing still AIM!?"
".....accessing. 1911 pattern pistol. Upscaled and modified for larger, unknown caliber. Other changes include a wider grip. No alterations to line of sight Iron Sight targeting method-" the machine said, giving its assessment, before getting interrupted. "Wait wait wait, you mean to tell us there's no targeting assist on that thing? He's just……eyeballing it!?" The taxxon said in shock. "Correct. A forward sight post corresponds with the rear sight pair. Align the two properly, and they will ensure the barrel is aligned with your target. The system predates aim assist systems, visors and implants. Due to the physical sights, soundwaves bounce off the posts, allowing them to be used with sonar systems with…..moderate difficulty, depending on the sensitivity of the system, as opposed to a holosight system or autotargeting system, which would have been completely useless due to requirement of light to use." The machine said simply, as the taxxon looked at it in horror.
"Humans, flesh and blood, cloned, or mechanized, are insane, as are their creations."
Another signal winked out, along with a wet sound, making everyone grimace as they realized what happened.
Crushed to death….unpleasant, and likely horrifying to the others, who could not see their foe. "Optical lights are off. A prudent decision, minimizing visible targets till he is on top of opposition. Demoralizing tactic as well. Fear of the unknown is making opponents sloppy."
A scream, and a pop, before they heard the soft clicks, and saw the smoke leaving, revealing the Android holding the smoke/Chaff unit, disabling the smoke at the least…even if the EM emitter still operated.
"Stations clearing the air, insert action in three, two, one, go!" The Trike growled, sprinting in after the stationmaster to come into a war zone, bodies all over, damadge and blood smeared on the deck and bulkheads.
"Stand. Down."
The cyborg showed great restraint, finger off the trigger, firearm aimed at the oor, but he did not let his remaining opponents out of his sight….
Well. Not till the team surrounded them.
DING-DING-DONG
The musical tone announced throughout the station.
"Biohazard clean up crews to dock 4 please for cleanup. Mortuary and ambulance units to dock 4 for deceased body removal." A automated system stated over the the entire station.
Delta four sighed.
This, was a going to be a long, long cycle.