Arrival
Apr 12, 2020 15:50:12 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2020 15:50:12 GMT -5
The Milky Way
Outer Sector
Oversquare sat quietly, leaning back in the stuffing-popping-out of chair that had seen better days, her peds crossed on top of the gaming table. She divided her attention between the data module held in one hand and the stars streaking past the observation port of the transport vessel.
Since exiting the Outer Rim, ship traffic had dwindled down to nothing. That was the problem with planetary cultures who hadn’t yet developed space travel. Effectively trapped within their own atmosphere, the traffic was next to none and zero opportunity for mercenary work.
So, why in Hades was she heading for this little ball of water and mud known as Earth again?
Because, this is where you need to be right now, the little voice inside her processor shot back.
But...I’m not even getting paid!
Details, details. A leader sent out a call. You’re responding and will offer your assistance.
The signal registered as an Auto bot leader code going out as general coding on most frequencies, though...why the Hades was she doing this?!
This internal conversation had been going back and forth for days now. Bobo called it ‘her conscience’. Oversquare kept calling it her need to wander warring with the responsibilities of a soldier she had been all those cycles ago.
That was all it was. Right?! Exactly. So what if the job didn’t pay? It was an opportunity and she was taking it...right?...and are you sure it has nothing to do with getting your aft handed to you at the Blue Le-Matya? Or those electro-whip gouges on your back plating?
The older mech growled low in her throat, tearing her attention away from the stars and back to the data stream highlighted on the slate. That job with that wet behind the audio Chastity had been a jinx from the start…she should have known better then to take the escort contract position. And it wasn’t just this last job that had taken a final toll - metaphorically and physically - on her steel hide.
A change had been long in coming.
There had been a shift in some of the merc companies these last few cycles; leaderships had shifted, the jobs had gone well beyond simple protection services, smuggling contracts or tracking down a target that owed credits to whoever or a tenure of service in whatever military. The contracts had started getting into hits, most with brutal consequences and outcomes.
Oversquare had never done brutality very well; it always left a sour taste in her mouth diode refractors.
She was distracted from her internal conversation as an alert beacon dinged and the lighting inset into the deck plating began to flash in a steady pattern.
“Passenger Oversquare, to the control deck. Passenger Oversquare, to the control deck.”
Smirking, she placed the data module down on the top surface of the table and unfolded her frame from the seated position and spent a few seconds adjusting the canvas material tarp that she wore as a poncho covering.
Chuckling to herself, the femme-mech walked across the compartment and pushed the communications node set into the wall plating. “Control Deck, this is Oversquare. Uh, last I checked,” she looked about the passenger area bemusedly, “I’m currently your only fare this cycle.”
BoBo’s oinking voice came back over the communication and she could just picture his annoyed pig-jowl face twisting in consternation. “Oh, stuff it, ‘Square. I’m just trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism.”
“What’s going on?”
“Entering Earths solar system in twelve cycle-klicks. You better get ready; I’ll drop down below their strato and you can do that HALO thing you do out of the airlock Gotta be quick, or I may show up on whatever sort of primitive tracker programs these monkeys have looking in our direction.”
Oversquare couldn’t help but let go a snerk at the ‘monkey’ statement, as said by the organic being descended from porcine ancestors.
“Thanks for the lift, BoBo. I’ll be around; take care.”
“I could say the same for you. Later, ‘Square!”
Adjusting her stance, the femme mech gripped the maintenance hand holds on the outer airlock of the transport and counted down.
3...2...1 and go!
Pushing off the hull edge at the moment BoBo steered the ship away and out of the atmosphere, she went into a free fall dive and pressed her arms tightly to her sides and legs straight out, shooting like a plasma stream.
With a “woooooooo!” of glee, Oversquare enjoyed the rush as her internal chronometer counted the seconds until she shot out of the cloud cover. Breaking through the fluffy and white patterns, Oversquare activated her ped boosters to slow her descent as she righted her frame. Engaging hover mode she took just long enough to enter coordinates into her ECM gauntlet access and then took off like a Tiberian Bat out of Hades.
The topography was varied, from water to mountains to flat plains and areas. Human developments scattered the landscape.
Switching from the chronometer reading to tracking, Oversquare internally clicked down as she circled the planetary landscapes below and made her slow arc towards the Signal origin.
Outer Sector
Oversquare sat quietly, leaning back in the stuffing-popping-out of chair that had seen better days, her peds crossed on top of the gaming table. She divided her attention between the data module held in one hand and the stars streaking past the observation port of the transport vessel.
Since exiting the Outer Rim, ship traffic had dwindled down to nothing. That was the problem with planetary cultures who hadn’t yet developed space travel. Effectively trapped within their own atmosphere, the traffic was next to none and zero opportunity for mercenary work.
So, why in Hades was she heading for this little ball of water and mud known as Earth again?
Because, this is where you need to be right now, the little voice inside her processor shot back.
But...I’m not even getting paid!
Details, details. A leader sent out a call. You’re responding and will offer your assistance.
The signal registered as an Auto bot leader code going out as general coding on most frequencies, though...why the Hades was she doing this?!
This internal conversation had been going back and forth for days now. Bobo called it ‘her conscience’. Oversquare kept calling it her need to wander warring with the responsibilities of a soldier she had been all those cycles ago.
That was all it was. Right?! Exactly. So what if the job didn’t pay? It was an opportunity and she was taking it...right?...and are you sure it has nothing to do with getting your aft handed to you at the Blue Le-Matya? Or those electro-whip gouges on your back plating?
The older mech growled low in her throat, tearing her attention away from the stars and back to the data stream highlighted on the slate. That job with that wet behind the audio Chastity had been a jinx from the start…she should have known better then to take the escort contract position. And it wasn’t just this last job that had taken a final toll - metaphorically and physically - on her steel hide.
A change had been long in coming.
There had been a shift in some of the merc companies these last few cycles; leaderships had shifted, the jobs had gone well beyond simple protection services, smuggling contracts or tracking down a target that owed credits to whoever or a tenure of service in whatever military. The contracts had started getting into hits, most with brutal consequences and outcomes.
Oversquare had never done brutality very well; it always left a sour taste in her mouth diode refractors.
She was distracted from her internal conversation as an alert beacon dinged and the lighting inset into the deck plating began to flash in a steady pattern.
“Passenger Oversquare, to the control deck. Passenger Oversquare, to the control deck.”
Smirking, she placed the data module down on the top surface of the table and unfolded her frame from the seated position and spent a few seconds adjusting the canvas material tarp that she wore as a poncho covering.
Chuckling to herself, the femme-mech walked across the compartment and pushed the communications node set into the wall plating. “Control Deck, this is Oversquare. Uh, last I checked,” she looked about the passenger area bemusedly, “I’m currently your only fare this cycle.”
BoBo’s oinking voice came back over the communication and she could just picture his annoyed pig-jowl face twisting in consternation. “Oh, stuff it, ‘Square. I’m just trying to maintain a semblance of professionalism.”
“What’s going on?”
“Entering Earths solar system in twelve cycle-klicks. You better get ready; I’ll drop down below their strato and you can do that HALO thing you do out of the airlock Gotta be quick, or I may show up on whatever sort of primitive tracker programs these monkeys have looking in our direction.”
Oversquare couldn’t help but let go a snerk at the ‘monkey’ statement, as said by the organic being descended from porcine ancestors.
“Thanks for the lift, BoBo. I’ll be around; take care.”
“I could say the same for you. Later, ‘Square!”
======
Adjusting her stance, the femme mech gripped the maintenance hand holds on the outer airlock of the transport and counted down.
3...2...1 and go!
Pushing off the hull edge at the moment BoBo steered the ship away and out of the atmosphere, she went into a free fall dive and pressed her arms tightly to her sides and legs straight out, shooting like a plasma stream.
With a “woooooooo!” of glee, Oversquare enjoyed the rush as her internal chronometer counted the seconds until she shot out of the cloud cover. Breaking through the fluffy and white patterns, Oversquare activated her ped boosters to slow her descent as she righted her frame. Engaging hover mode she took just long enough to enter coordinates into her ECM gauntlet access and then took off like a Tiberian Bat out of Hades.
The topography was varied, from water to mountains to flat plains and areas. Human developments scattered the landscape.
Switching from the chronometer reading to tracking, Oversquare internally clicked down as she circled the planetary landscapes below and made her slow arc towards the Signal origin.