Bone'ead rubs his head for a moment and speaks
Am Bone'ead Rotgut. Boss man is Ron Bu..can..ero
He says the last very slowly, having difficulty pronouncing the name. After a moment of thinking he adds
Oh! Ship name is The Lucky..uh... The Lucky Sixes. Yes.
Bone'ead nods firmly at the Vid-Thingy
Sona does everything in her power not to be caught on any video owned or viewed by the Kvothan government... just yet.
You hear a loud curse from the ready room and the Cap'n storms onto the bridge with an exasperated look at Rotgut.
Aye, Captain Buck Nero, at yer service ma'am. Dis be t' Plucky Pixie. The Cap'n gives a meaningful look to Sona. We do be looking fer repair and resupply. And work, if ye be the payin' type.
The Cap'n drones on for a bit more, and you get the sense he is stalling for time.
What do you do?
If Jamee knew they were approaching Protectorate space, he would have emerged from his cabin - the first time anyone in his group has seen him in person. If he had known, he would've accompanied the Captain to the communications array, that he may make an appeal on his ship's behalf.
If he wasn't aware, he simply stares agape at the viewscreen that is connected to BoT his mouth hanging open in shock that they are where they are.
Do I recognize the face on the viewscreen?
Unattended in the cargo hold, the recovered Cryo Pod, no longer attached to anything slowly thaws.
A pale skinned being opens it's eyes for the first time in a long time.
Dark
Cold
She is gone. I cannot follow her
A clawed index finger searches for a release lever. Before releasing it, the creature uses its heightened senses to test the area outside of his prison.
Heat. Not lifeform level.
Sonic vibration...steady. Engines.
The cargo bay is clear in his mind, like a hologram he sees it in his mind's eye.
Pulling the switch, the pod opens with a fierce hiss. Omega stepped out.
He looked at his chest. He still wore it. It hummed with malicious energy. The Chaos armor.
Do I recognize the face on the viewscreen?
Probably not. She is the equivalent of a bored TSA employee in US customs.
Do I recognize the face on the viewscreen?
I'm sure she would recognize your name, at least.
Jamee steps forward, into view of the cameras on the ship so he can be transmitted to the other viewscreen. "I'm Jamee Lestrade, and we'd like to order a pizza." Those were, after all, the code words that Jamee had been instructed to use to gain audience with the contact he was seeking.
The alien crept down the dark halls of the ship, listening for signs of life. He made his way forward until he found the bridge.
He clung to the shadows, listening outside the doorway.
Sona quietly edged out of the doorway where বহিরাগত waited. She was facing the bridge, walking backwards in short, shuffling steps, paying more attention to the vid-screen than where she was walking.
A silver skinned humanoid backed out of the doorway until she was nearly face to face with the alien.
"Hello" He projected in his Psycho Sonic mouthless voice.
She was shorter than he. He could smell her skin, it was...metallic, synthetic. Beautiful in her way. Beyond her the smells were, worse, different. Sweat, fermentation, someone was a drinker. There was a large pungent presence. It smelled, uneducated.
The Theta engineer blinked, lacking the fast-twitch musculature to jump or otherwise make a fool of herself. "Hello..." she says, the perturbation plain in her own synthesized voice. "All cargo is intended to remain in the cargo bay... even clan chieftans and high shamen. Feeding times are at 0800, 1300, and 1600, with a late feeding at 2000 for nocturnal specimen." she clearly thinks বহিরাগত is one of the fauna from the death planet. "conscription was held on planet. I am sorry that you have chosen... poorly." There is a click as Sona's right thigh panel opens to her holster. She looks like she may draw her weapon if provoked further, but a perceptive predator would know she can't get to it fast enough, even with the magnetic grip.
His heightened senses feel her going for the pistol. He focuses and his eyes glow briefly, a burning yellow.
Her gun was in his hands now. "Where am I?" he asked calmly.
A projection of ThetaMaps(tm) sector starcharts slowly etches itself in the air. The image zooms in on the ship's current location as Sona understands it. She has not yet manufactured reliable SPS receivers. Once zoomed in on Bastila, the projection changes to a rough map of the ship, the one the ship's terminals use for a screen saver. A neet red triangle blinks in their current position outside the bridge.
"That was for allowing me to record your strange ability. Do not worry, I have not captured your 'soul' and cannot... yet." A polite smile is etched in Sona's features. She is not terribly worried, since বহিরাগত does not seem to know which is the business end of her arc-beam separator. Her eyes continue to glow with a scintillating light.
বহিরাগত Flips the arc-beam separator around in his hand with a practiced ease that says he is quite familiar with weaponry.
"One cannot take what the lady has already taken. Light has forsaken this one." His tone is a thrumming cadence that makes it seem like he is singing a poem. That was most likely referring to the bit about soul that Sona had spoken of.
His pupiless eyes took in the star map. "This answers my question with no answer"
He looks at the weapon. And holds it out as if it's no threat to him for Sona to take back. "Am I among friends? Or has the dark delivered me into the hands of enemies?"
Sona accepts the weapon and returns it to its holster. "It may have helped to ask a more useful question. You are far too valuable to the crew of this ship to harm- and I might also say, far too valuable to me to allow them to sell you. I will add you to the crew manifest, what is your name and field of specialty?"
"I am called বহিরাগত" the alien says his unpronounceable name. Trying to explain what it meant in the common tongue he continued. "I am the first of the last. The unseen, the one at the end. The end itself. Outcast." he seems to struggle to put it into words.
"As for my speciality. I am able to change myself. It is a curse, a chaos. I am also versed in infiltration, long range engagement, high velocity projectiles and squad combat."
"This ship does not support galactic unicode, so I will have to file you as... Omega. It is an ancient concept of finality that I think suits that description."
this.parent.Manifest["crew"].apend("Omega", ENSIGN, DEPARTMENTS.OPERATIONS, "Phillosopher", "Artillary");
"The ship should grant you access to room and board, as well as certain consoles and weapons cabinets. You are also part of the crew's SpaceBook group, if you are familiar with the diversion. The crew is assembled on the bridge, through this door. I have a mess to clean up. Have a pleasant day, Ensign বহিরাগত." Sona turns and makes for the Repair/Recharge deck.
"Omega." The alien tried the word aloud. "It is satisfactory." he declared.
He nods as the metal woman departs. He walks silently onto the bridge behind the others.
"Omega is here." he announces, unsure how else to introduce himself.
"WHOA! You're speaking in my head!" Jamee turns away from the viewscreen to look at perhaps the strangest alien he had ever seen. Fortunately he can tell from Sona's body language (he was always better at reading machines than people) that she didn't consider the creature a threat.
The woman on the viewscreen ignores the newcomer and focuses all of her attention on Jamee.
Lestrade, as in the Lestrades?! She loses the aura of absolute boredom. Oh wow! Welcome! You are looking for pizza? There is a great pizza place in Shan City on the Talravin continent. It is to die for. She seems to have wholly forgotten her duties. ... Alright you are cleared for landing, Mr. Lestrade!
The Cap'n gives an approving look at Jamee as the viewscreen winks off. Pilot, take us in. Shan city be as good a place as any.
He walks over to Rotgut. Best be careful wit' me name friend. I be havin' t' death sentence on twelve systems! Including dis one here. Simple misunderstandin' is all.
With a cheery smile, Jamee waves goodbye to the attendant when the viewscreen turns off. Settling himself into the pilot seat, he brings up the coordinates to Shan City that are being transmitted to his navigational console. A few button presses later, the diminuitive elf places his hand on the throttle control and eases it forward, bringing the Lucky Sixes down through the planet's atmosphere to follow the coordinates.
2BR stomps towards the latest crewmember.
>Greetings Ensign [ERROR CODE]
> ...
>Greetings Ensign "Omega"
> Combat specifications please
£%$¢¥ obsequious #+@¢€ programming... !@+&% drunkard already ®¥%£¢ sleeping in his $@#%®¥£¢ clean &#¢£€ bed with fresh @#&%¥ pressed linnens... $#!+¢®@?€~©¥)@™&@!!$
It would seem Sona was angry- even infuriated as she burnt the crusty film from her recharge station with a blowtorch from her internal workstation, but her grawlix had hardly begun to get creative. She was only blowing off steam... figuratively and literally.
As the ship lands, the Cap'n turns to the bridge crew. I shan't be joining ye ashore mateys. But ye knows ye job. Contact TERRA, be rid of t' poison down below. Aye, and see if ye can't move that Lodestar booty. We be low on fuel. Finally he turns to Omega. And who might ye be?
When The ship's engineer is done with the mess, she docks in her recharge station. Her arms split down the middle, and her chest plate hinges forward into a serviceable workbench. The open cavity of her chest holds a wide array of compact tools.
Locked into the recharge station, Sona is able to maintain an overclocked state. Her arms are a blur as she sets to the task of altering the rope gun to better fit her holster, and repairing and modifying her operation modules.
Bone'ead shrugs his shoulders at the Captain before turning to greet the new crewmember
Hi! Am Bone'ead! am for...uh..."Waste Disposal"
He chuckles to himself for a moment before continuing
Omega is hungry? Lil 'Un Jamee say good pizza place and...
He suddenly stops mid sentence as he finally notices the Alien mutant appears to have no mouth. This seems to confuse him greatly
Omega is..robo?
Bone'ead looks around, hoping the others have an answer...
"Greetings Lifeforms, I am designated as crewmember Omega. My compat specification is Sniper and Infiltration. Good day to you Captain, and... Bone Head. To answer your question Master Bone Head, I am a spectrum synthesis being. I absorb what little nutrition I need from solar energy and radiation, and take water through the skin. I could still accompany you to this...Pizza, if you like."
"Photosynthesis? You're telling us that Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious is a PLANT?" Jamee's voice is teasingly incredulous. "Now I've seen everything..."
As he talks, the pilot takes the Lucky Sixes in for a landing at the city marked on his navigational console's coordinates. Their descent from outer orbit through the atmosphere is relatively smooth with only faint red flares on the viewscreens to indicate the massive frictional heat on their hull.
The elf guides them in to the indicated landing pad, extending the Sixes' landing gear and easing her down gently. Jamee reaches to his right, and flips on the comms.
"We're heeeeere," his voice sings all over the ship. At the lower aft of the ship, the boarding ramp extends to the landing platform below. Jamee won't even glance at it before heading to his own quarters and locking the door.
A moment later, Blast-O-Tron's head camera's indicator light switches from Blue (Autopilot) to Orange (Assuming Direct Control). Jamee's voice emits from the bot's speech box, sounding deeper pitched and "manlier."
"Let's get some pizza take-out, right everyone?" the robot says when everyone gathers at the exit of the ship.
Bone'ead scratches his head. Spectra-who? Syntha-wha? He scratches his head as he continues to ponder the question of how something can eat with no mouth. He turns to Blasto when pizza is mentioned once more and cheers
Pizza! Pizza is good!
He lumbers toward the exit, obviously excited at the prospect of food.
"Try to watch where you step on this planet, Bonehead," the robot warns. "Remember last time you squished a space halfling by accident? We had to fill out paperwork at the police station all afternoon before Sona found us and got us out of there!"
Bone'ead scratches his head and frowns
Is not Bone'ead fault. Him was in way. Him was old and blind. Him time go anyway.
Blast-O-Tron stares at Bonehead. "Dude, even the robots in our crew aren't so cold! Dang!"
"Unlike your own race, twenty-four is not considered old for a halfling. It was not easy to prove the boy's corrective lenses were a hindrance to his navigation. We were lucky Grommet&Refractory™ were willing to settle out of court." Sona is the last to reach the ramp, still making minor adjustments to a module. "Hold still, pops, you still have a few scratches on your hull."
Bone'ead grumbles as he is berated by Sona
Hrmph. Lucky Bone'ead not eat tiny halfthing. Was already squish.
When she looks up from her repairs, Sona notices the crowd filing out of the dock. Even the presence of a crowd is a bit of a concern, but when she sees the telltale scanning arches of a full TSA roadblock it puts her in a bit of a panic. Surely they weren't there just for her, yet just as surely they would retain her if she tried to get through by conventional means.
"Any of you experienced with machine smuggling and VIN masking? No- don't specify; it's better if this one doesn't know..." Sona bit her lower lip as a social signal of distress. "It may be better if the crew goes through in groups, but this one is open to any better ideas."
The bay is a long strip of landing patches, mostly empty, with a crowd of visitors edging through the security block. The tall, indomitable high-rises that flank the landing area are covered in overlapping digital advertisements hawking everything from world-class pizza to Sona's more affectionate cousins. Without walking through one of those solid concrete and rebar walls, there isn't another way out other than through security.
Blast-O-Tron's visual sensors track from the expressions Sona is giving off to the roadblock up ahead. "Something we should know about, Sona? I'm no smuggling expert."
"It could be said that this one is a well-documented Montague in Capulet turf... One who is composed entirely of red kerchiefs." She may be confusing two bits of Terran mythology. "The security agents may require a private word with this one, if they do not order a decommissioning on the spot. It is doubtful they have the facilities, though." She says this last item in an almost cheery tone. "This one may be able to address the scanner on civil terms, but if a mortal agent is alerted... they tend to be less rational."
> Forced digital entry query?
> Install direct uplink into local network for a... relaxed... holiday experience
Sona does not have to use the ORACLE to generate the results.
>Margin of error is still 16.67%
>Results of failure perhaps more critical
>Forgive this of the hesitation
>No disassemble Sona Θ3
"We should be fine~ Just line up individually. If anyone asks, one arrived separately. Only... if you see a tall black box, like a public skype booth, with 'Bomb Diffusal Chamber' maybe look back to make sure this one makes it through." Sona depresses a small clasp on her temple and removes her face plate, tucking it into a compartment. Few of you should be reassured by this.
"If someone could go before this one and Discern the capabilities of their equipment, it would improve the odds of a happy holiday"
The crowd begins to funnel towards the security checkpoint, and you follow suit. As you do so, you overhear several concerned conversations nearby. It appears that there is a great deal of concern over recent attacks by something called "the Fleet."
As you each approach the security checkpoint, a bored man with a name badge "Singh Lebork" stops you and asks you the following:
Name?
Purpose?
Last port of call?
What do you each say in response to these questions?
> Designation: BunkR BustR
> Purpose: Mur-
> Purpose: Dest-
> ...
> Purpose: Controlled demolition
> None
Bone'ead rubs his head for a moment before responding...
Am Bone'ead. Here for Pizza! Last place was..uh....Bone'ead not remember. Can get pizza now?
He grumbles the last as he pats his expansive belly.
Omega stands behind Bonehead and B2R trying to pass unnoticed.