Munto desperately needed to get back within range of the rest of themself. There was so much to process in this moment and yet, their treads couldn’t seem to move.

“Please restate the most recent statement,” Munto tried.

“I asked if the rest of the convoy made it. It was a long jump without much in between so I figured they were going to be my first bet. Since you’re here though, I figure I must have dropped out mid jump. I know the fire played havoc on my systems,” the alleged Terran said, floating almost offensively, positioned as though they were in a seat.

“I believe we need to restart the conversation. I am Terran Artificial Construct Intelligence Transport Munto 49172. I detected your vessel’s distress signal, a signal which hasn’t been used in over 500 years,” Munto revised.

The alleged Terran gaped.

“500 years? Huh… that’s… a problem,” the alleged Terran finally managed. “Oh wait, where are my manners? My name is Rixim, but I usually go by Rix. Colonist and ship pilot of the Terran Star Confederacy.”

Munto desperately wanted to delve into the databases that were back aboard the rest of themself, but couldn’t while they were in this shielded nightmare of a ship.

Rix reoriented and half-swam over to a panel, which illuminated to the Terran’s touch. Munto trundled over beside the Terran and observed the display. It appeared to be a highly simplified listing of resources and information regarding the ship and the surroundings.

“Are you able to provide some real indication that you are in fact a Terran?” Munto asked.

“Well, I’m here aren’t I?” Rix shrugged.

“I’m afraid that will be insufficient,” Munto replied.

“I guess what kind of proof are you thinking?” Rix’s face screwed up a bit.

“I…. am uncertain. This frame is very constricting,” Munto admitted.

“Wait a second, you said you’re a Terran Artificial Construct? Like an AI?” Rix’s face shifted, but appeared not to be fearful.

“Very simplistically expressed, yes, but we are significantly more than that would suggest,” Munto was almost annoyed at the question.

“I can’t believe they finally got it to work,” Rix’s face appeared to brighten. “How long have you been online? Any issues with negative feelings about organics?”

“Those are very personal questions and I do not appreciate you asking,” Munto intoned.

“Oh… uh… I’m sorry. It’s just… a bit much,” Rix appeared to look some semblance of embarrassed.

“I understand, but I will need you to accord yourself appropriately. Is your vessel capable of independent flight?” Munto asked, wanting to get away from this alleged Terran and the inside of this ship.

“Hard to say. I’m a pilot, not a mechanic, so I’ll have to go check out the rest of my rig and see what I can do without long enough to limp somewhere,” Rix indicated the screen.

The screen appeared to indicate a mass of numbers and indicators that had little to no meaning to Munto. Munto could read it, but interpreting it was akin to trying to understand a new lexicon without cultural references.

“Are you the only hibernation pod resident aboard this vessel?” Munto asked.

“No, I’ve got my pets too. But if you’re talking about other people, no, it’s just me,” Rix shrugged.

“I need to return to my vessel and resync. I will remain docked until you are able to indicate that you require assistance to the nearest station or until you are capable of independent flight,” Munto said, something about this Terran making them itchy in a way that they couldn’t explain.

“Sounds good. I’ll try not to keep you too long. I might hit you up for a few spares though,” Rix smiled and turned back to the panel.

“I do not believe that will be possible, but I will render aid if required by the TACIT Code of Conduct,” Munto replied, starting to trundle outward.

“TACIT, huh? Neat callsign!” Rix called after them.

Munto, having worked out a map in coming in, was able to much more expeditiously travel back outward. Various machines appeared to be indicating different statuses than when they had initially passed, but Munto attributed that to the work of the alleged Terran Rix.

As Munto came back within range of themself, Munto rapid fired a number of queries, starting with Terran Star Confederacy, and working through the rest of what the alleged Terran had indicated, as well as some protocols for gauging a found species.

Munto even put out a prompt to their fellow TACITs on ‘how to determine if a being is a Terran’. It was met almost immediate with the TACIT equivalent of laughter. After a few minutes, during which Munto reached the outer hatch and passed back over to themself, a set of criteria was cultivated.

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Terran Assertion Criteria:

Size - Nominally 2x height of standard walking frame

Capabilities - Percussive Maintenance, Grasping Reflex, Durable (exact standards not available), Omnivore

Meets - Skeletal structure within 15% deviation

Exceeds - Standard Biometric Readings Maximum 1-12 by >50%

If specimen meets >70% of all above criteria, recommend accept assertion of Terran Status (Alert Galactic Council, TACIT Network).

Munto glanced at biometric readings 1-12. Having not had much to do with organics where possible, Munto could only judge based on the readings. 50% exceeding the maximum seemed ridiculous in several cases. An organic that generates that much acid internally would destroy itself in short order.

Still, it was more than nothing.

The queries regarding the Terran Star Confederacy came back as well.

The TSC as it was known was one of the later generation attempts by the Terrans at empire building prior to founding the broader galactic society with plans for uplift throughout. The TSC however had ceased to be some 900 years ago though.

Munto rapidly fired off a query regarding longest duration expected for species to be retaining in a hibernation pod. The near immediate response was a maximum of 457 years, 2 months, 3 days without mental degradation.

Munto considered this for a long moment before sending a query on hibernation pod equivalents used by the TSC. This took substantially longer and Munto even had to sort through several stacks of data themselves before finding something even remotely realistic.

A stasis capsule was the closest system used by the TSC, but it worked by wholly isolating the interior of the capsule from the exterior in ways that didn’t get solidly recorded. What was listed in the records that no degradation had ever been recorded in the use of one (although they were expressly listed as being only intended to function for short term ‘lifepod’ operations or longer term cargo storage.

So… supposing that the alleged Terran was actually a Terran and was from the TSC, they were a minimum of some 900 years old and likely the only Terran still to exist.

Munto tried to consider how best to proceed. Naturally, the Terran needed to be reviewed against the criteria, but what then? Could Munto simply leave the Terran to their own devices? Should they?

A follow-up prompt had already been listed against their query for criteria regarding Terrans. Munto’s fellow TACITs were watching interestedly.

Munto also needed to know more about the alleged pets that the Terran was carrying as well as any cargo. Given the age of the vessel, it was entirely possible for it being a kind of a time capsule. Remembering the levers, Munto half-way shuddered at the thought.

A laser communication appeared to flash at Munto and it took them a moment to connect to it. It was… so very primitive, but it at least wasn’t radio, which Munto now noticed was no longer signalling.

A poor resolution video link came through. It almost hurt to watch, but Munto managed, putting up a static image of the walking frame in return.

Rix was on the other end, looking a bit dirtier than when Munto had left them.

“Figured you might still use laser comms. Not exactly high tech, but hard to beat for close in. I couldn’t actually sense you. Had to aim the laser by hand until your handshake activated,” Rix said.

“Do you have news with regard to your status?” Munto replied.

“Nothing much so far, but it looks like my jumpdrive bought it mid jump. I’m just lucky we didn’t materialize in the middle of a star,” Rix gestured towards the ship around him.

“Was that common?” Munto asked, firing off some queries regarding jumpdrives, that not being the standard means of FTL travel.

“Not really, but not uncommon either. I used to watch some shows of these guys who would sundive and use jumpdrives to pop to the other side. Closer you could get, the more the glory, you know?” Rix grinned.

“I do not understand that kind of risk seeking behavior,” Munto acknowledged, checking off one of the criteria

“Oh, well, maybe once I get back to civilization, I can see what I can show you. Do they still do re-runs of Seven’s a Crowd?” Rix asked earnestly.

“I am unaware of such a show, but I don’t work much with organics,” Munto answered, careful to include the qualifier, in case the Terran had particular psychological triggers to being the last of their kind.

“Well, it was bound to be replaced sooner or later. Oh and I think my ships chronometer is off. It’s showing that it’s 3571 Terran Standard Years,” Rix said, gesturing to one of several screens behind them.

“That is almost the correct year. It is in fact 3572,” Munto indicated.

“I thought you said 500 years,” Rix said, the disbelief evident.

“Since your distress signal was last commonly used. But according to my database, the Terran Star Confederacy ceased to be an independent organization approximately 900 years ago. Unfortunately, due to the timespan and issues with historical record keeping, I cannot be more specific at the moment,” Munto clarified.

Rix appeared to want to flop himself on a chair, but was clearly unable to do so given the zero gravity aboard his vessel.

“900 years in stasis… hard to believe. I mean, we all knew the colony was a long-shot, but I didn’t figure it’d end up like this,” Rix’s expression appeared to be some segment of regret combined with disbelief.

“If it helps, I believe you are in fact Terran and most likely to be a celebrity as a result of your long time in stasis,” Munto tried.

“It just… doesn’t seem real I guess,” Rix gestured vaguely.

A small beep sounded off on Rix’s side and a panel flashed with various colors and readings.

“Well, back in reality, it looks like my ship is basically fried. It’s only by virtue of the automated systems that it’s lasted this long. It probably shouldn’t have managed to keep me alive this long, if I’m honest,” Rix continued to appraise the panel.

Munto considered how overbuilt the vessel appeared to be and decided to agree with the Terran. Anything less overbuilt and it’s a solid chance that the vessel would have been obliterated by now.

“I concur with that assessment. I am able to take yourself and small quantity of your vessel’s cargo aboard myself,” Munto said.

“Any chance you could print me up some parts?” Rix tried.

“Unless you retain the original templates and firmware for the hardware that requires replacement, I am unable to do so,” Munto said.

“Well, templates I’ve got, but firmware… hold on a bit. Wibney may have stashed some software packages into the cargo deck. That kid was always up to something DIY,” Rix said and terminated the vid link.

It was only an extra moment before the vid-link popped back into existence.

“Wait, did you say ‘aboard yourself’?” Rix asked.

“I did. The vessel you are observing ocularly is myself,” Munto said.

“But… what’s this thing then?” Rix gestured at the screen.

“That is a walking frame. A smaller subportion of myself capable of going into places built for organics and exploration,” Munto said, ignoring the insult since it clearly wasn’t meant as one.

“Huh… I guess I never really thought about that. Anyway, back in a few,” Rix terminated the vidlink again, just as abruptly.

Munto could already tell that this was going to be something of a test of their adherence to the code of conduct.