Episode ONE: Introduction are in Order
A cat and a dog and a robot have space adventures
Episode 1: Introductions are in Order
Bryan sighed as the hot water poured down his body, cleaning out the spotted auburn fur and relieving several weeks of stress. From the indeterminate canine's relaxed tail cascaded a stream like a mini garden hose, his pointed ears lying down as he swept water over his short red hair and down his back. His body was lean, from metabolism rather than exercise or diet, and tall, almost lanky and bony. Lying on his chest was a pair of metal ID tags hanging from a long bead chain.
There was nothing better than a nice hot, real shower after weeks of space flight and bullshit 'vibro-showers' that just filled a closet with steam and squealed at you. And he didn't have to worry about power management or water usage or having to fix the goddamn fucking pipes for the sixth time. Though brushing off loose fur still clogged up the drain something fierce, as the two inches of water around his toes reminded him.
"Probably been in here long enough as is."
Swiping the clog with his foot, he let the water drain while shuffling the mass of fur into the disposal and stepping out. The station showers were private, but the room didn't extent much beyond the actual facility. There was just enough room for him to dry off and get dressed, less even than he had in the shower and shared it further with a few shelves piled with belongings.
He walked out of the bathhouse in his violet and white pants, sleeveless blue shirt, and grey work vest and beanie; getting a cheery sendoff from the clerk and invitation to come again. The station, Telum, was a relatively new gas refinery, built near the end of the war around the gas giant Serpentis III by a private fuel company. A common stop for space travelers as it provided decent accommodations along its upper levels including affordable fresh water and O2 harvested from below, hydroponics, galactic media, and of course in house breweries, though most visitors were stuck with their ships, the floor, or trading favors as far as sleeping conditions went. Meat was about the only thing they needed to import since they mined metals from the local asteroids and planetoids, and they got it cheap in exchange for fuel discounts.
The hangers were actually separate from the station proper as it was too low in the atmosphere for convenience and saved power on keeping itself aloft. Visiting ships were stored in secondary facilities in high atmosphere while mining ships and equipment were sunk even lower down, both groups tied to the station by elevator tethers like a very expensive spider web, the whole thing held together by gravity, thrusters, shields, and a very well made computer. Higher orbit was where you would find the big ships whose crew had to take shuttles down and which needed special facilities for refueling.
The place also had the benefit of being in the mid-systems, away from the Republic and other pushy big governments, its protection provided by the Coalition's merchant navy as it had become a nexus of a few trade routes. This was rather good news if you happened to be a Synthetic Intelligence, especially if it inhabited a rogue combat droid.
Lose-one five six happened to be one such individual. An imposing construct for sure, though vaguely humanoid and of similar size, it was more like a tank with arms and legs, and a computer brain inside. It had no discernable head, just a glowing blue set of visual sensors mounted on its 'chest'. Its body was heavily armored with bulky arms and legs ending in opposable digits on its hands and wide stable feet on bird-like legs. Though its body was heavily dented and scratched from gunfire, it was still fully and perfectly functional, its armor plates clean and rather poorly painted a cherry red.
Currently the war machine was against a wall, its extremities pulled in and forming a highly armored storage mode, in an alcove. Even like that it was rather conspicuous. From the outside it appeared as if the synthetic was just switched off, however its 'eyes' were still dimly lit and, although it had disarmed itself, was fully prepared for combat at a moment's notice. It was also connected to the local Wi-Fi.
"Hey, Lose," Engineer Bryan said as he approached, his scent indicating a recent bathing routine, "Enjoying your shore leave?"
Lose spoke in a deep bass and stiff voice through the speaker ports on either side of his primary eye, "Affirmative, until you came along."
"Ha. Ha. I'll remember that the next time I'm recalibrating your eye."
"Is there a point to your bothering of me?"
"Not really, just checking around to make sure no one's causing trouble."
"You fears are ungrounded. My weapons have remained on the ship, which is in the hanger, which is not even a direct component of this facility. I assure you that this unit has no other means of causing damage to physical objects or individuals beyond brute force. If you wish for a demonstration, please inform me."
"I'll take your work for it." Voice composition and body language indicated that he was not taking the statement seriously. "You seen our pilot?"
"Negative, I was enjoying time alone knowing that we would be returning to the ship and that there would be limited media access."
"Yeah, I figured. Well, enjoy yourself."
"Once you leave, I am sure I will."
____________________
In a bar on the station;
Apter jumped atop the bar counter, displacing some discarded bottles and glasses, his right metal right foot clanking against the stained wood, and sang loudly and quickly:
"Oh! What do you do with a drunken sailor? Oh, what do you do with a drunken sailor? Oh, what do you do with a drunken sailor?"
The regulars clinked their glasses and joined in, first as a whole:
"EARLY IN THE MORNING!"
Then Telb stood, swinging a jug, and sung solo:
"Put him in the long-boat and make him bale her. Put him in the long-boat and make him bale her. Put him in the long-boat and make him bale her."
"EARLY IN THE MORNING!"
Beth picked up there:
"Put him in the guardroom till he's sober! Put him in the guardroom till he's sober! Put him in the guardroom till he's sober!"
"EARLY IN THE MORNING!"
"Let her sleep before she shoots everyone!" a disjointed and off tune voice shouted above the noise.
Apter jumped down and grabbed ahold of the speaker and hefted them back into a sitting position on the chair they'd been curled under. A small athletic feline, disheveled sandy blond hair just long enough to hang in front of her amber eyes, gold and cream fur streaked with brown stained and stuck with who knows what, a silver ring in her left ear, and right arm and both legs below the hip replaced with robotics. Her neck was tied with a worn light blue bandana and a set of dog tags hanging between her otherwise bare breasts. In her hand was a very nearly empty, and large, bottle.
"But this is our favorite pass time, Arid."
"YEAH!" the tavern agreed, some patrons continuing to sing.
She groaned and stood, fixing her bandana and giving a passing glance for other garments while heading for the exit, leaning rather heavily to the left and with trouble placing her next step like she was walking in a gale, mechanical feet clinking on the boards. Before she got more than a few steps, the crowd grabbed ahold of her and began swinging the poor thing about like it was a square dance.
"What'll we do with a drunken Arid? Oh, what'll we do with a drunken Arid? What'll we do with a drunken Arid?"
"EARLY IN THE MORNING!"
One of the larger patrons grabbed her by the ankles and hoisted her like a strung fish. He then sung:
"String her up till she sobers. String her up till she sobers. String her up till she sobers."
"EARLY IN THE MORNING!"
Next she was roughly dropped onto a table and two people pulled her legs apart, modesty saved only by her short tail curling over it.
"Put her up on display. Put her up on display. Put her up on display."
"EARLY IN THE MORNING!"
Blushing, she pulled her legs free and again tried to flee, only to be caught by the arm and swung back around, a mop and bucket shoved into her hands.
"Make her swab the decks floor by floor. Make her swab the decks floor by floor. Make her swab the decks floor by floor."
"EARLY IN THE MORNING!
They threw her into the old single man cockpit mounted to the wall next.
"Toss her in a ship and watch her pilot. Toss her in a ship and watch her pilot. Toss her in a ship and watch her pilot."
"EARLY IN THE MORNING!"
Thankfully, the routine was interrupted when she found her weapon, an Ember pistol with a modified grip and a bird etched into the slide. Drawing the weapon from its holster, currently dangling from a mounted trophy's horn above the cockpit, she stood and brandished it at the crowd around her, who promptly stepped away, while the rest of the room froze.
"Now, will someone give me my clothes?" she requested nicely, pulling the slide.
-
It wasn't the first time Arid had walked through the station naked and clutching a pile of clothes, and most everyone bet it wouldn't be the last. She crossed through one of the larger outer halls, large windows open to the thick clouds of green and orange and ships moving around in the sky. Below the refining and storage center was visible and the station's many tethers stretching out in all directions to hangers and collection facilities. Other passersby would give anything from prudish snorts to enthusiastic whistles; there was even another 'nudist', a male coyote with dark fur, though he was at least clean and well groomed.
"Well that sure looks dignified."
She grit her teeth and turned her head to look at the engineer approach from behind.
"We've only be here, what, a few hours?"
Arid kept marching down the hall, "Did you check the engines?"
"Yes, I ran through the usual and realigned the drive core. It's all locked and the thrust efficiency is still beyond the green zone. I even got to take a shower, which you might want to try doing yourself."
"Piss off."
"Well I can't say I don't enjoy the view."
She turned to him, but found he had stopped to watch her walk. Snarling, she pressed the clothes against her rear and continued on.
"What did you even do?"
"Half the bar I think. Don't you have something better to do than bug me?"
Holding his hands up in surrender, Bryan walked the other way. Arid watched him go, admiring his rear.
-
The Pathfinder belonged to the discontinued Nicolou line of freighters, not a pretty ship but also not one that stood out from others. Clearly privately owned as several of its components were clearly retrofitted and third-party. Its hull was lined with ceramic armor and an advanced shield network had been installed along with additional communication and sensor equipment with its engines clearly larger than what it was built with. Its skin showed signs of many an adventure, scares lingering here and there with nothing of the original paint or identification markings remaining.
Inside, the ship was rather simply designed; a focus on cargo space rather than personal comforts. Most of the interior was dedicated to a trio of cargo holds with only a small space filled with cots for the crew to sleep. It appeared the ship had at some point suffered severe damage as not only the cockpit but the sleeping quarters and a portion of a hold were completely redone. The cockpit was filled with a much more modern version of its factory original and the cots were actual beds. The damaged portion of the hold had been retrofitted into a makeshift living space with a couch, entertainment display, and easily accessible food storages. At the far back lay the fusion plant with an oversized FTL drive and particle engines squeezed in, both obviously heavily modified.
Many of the bulkheads were either loose or completely missing, wiring was running all over the place on the floor and ceiling from small bundles to thick tubing, repair jobs were left exposed or half done, you could see the infrastructure in places, equipment was just lying around, even the gravity plates were tampered with for some reason, not to mention the hidden smuggler holds. At least at the fore there were nice leather pilot seats.
Arid threw her clothes violently into the crew quarters, not stopping to even see if they made it to her bunk, and stomped to the cockpit. Sitting down and flicking on her console, she looked through the internet for a while.
"Mao"
A tawny furred Bengal hopped onto her lap, rubbing herself affectionately on Arid's belly.
"Hey Mika, you hungry?"
"Mao prrrrr."
"Yeah, you're always hungry. Let's go."
The larger feline got up and headed back to their living space. The hall between was narrow and had a door on the port side to the sleeping bunks and one of the starboard which lead to the airlock and boarding ladder. The living area was built a corner of Cargo2 around the original access door, welded in sheets of metal separating it from the hold with a simple slide door, currently open, giving access to it and a semi cleared path along the hold's wall that lead to the engine.
Hanging on the starboard wall was a TV and a couch was set in the center of the room in front of it. A couple mini fridges and repurposed crates held their food and a portable stove and simple microwave oven sat on the floor next to them. On the floor between the TV and couch were a few game consoles amongst an untamed jungle of wires and scattered game and movie cases, every single one in its proper case. Some other personal items lay here and there, a hat, discarded coats shoes and boots, tools, removed parts of the ship, a roll of duct tape, a few sketchbooks, etc. Arid set down a bowl of cat food and Mika ate greedily. She poured her own bowl of corn cereal and ate it on the couch, flipping on the TV and watching whatever was on.
"Used to have this thing to myself, but now I've got a techy and a doom-bot stomping around it. Not to mention you, ya mooch."
Mika took just a second to look up from her food and utter a "Mao" back.
"I did want a crew I suppose, and Lose certainly seems prepared for a fight and as long as Bryan keeps the engine running I suppose I won't space him."
"Mao."
"I suppose I should get cleaned and dressed, huh?"
Finished eating, the cat curled up on her bed and napped.
"I need a therapist."
____________________
"So we just go in, grab the guy and whatever they're carrying?"
"They don't care what happens to the target, they just want the cargo."
"So how do you intend to approach this?"
The organic crew sat around the living quarters, Arid now dressed in shorts and a T-shirt with her bandana and tags.
"Well, apparently they have a favorite club," she said, indicating such on a hologram of a station, "so I'm thinking we go in, scout around for them a little bit, see what backup they might have."
"So what do we do with mister can-o-bolts?" Bryan indicated towards the TV, the wall behind it separating them from Cargo1.
"We can't draw too much attention to ourselves, so I think we'll leave him here, if things get dicey we'll call him in," she said, rubbing her shoulder, "We can't be seen entering together either, I'll go first, scope it out, give me ten to twenty minutes before going in or until you hear gunshots. Keep any communication between us to a minimum."
"And if they run?"
"Whatever they're carrying, blood will probably wash out."
"Creepy."
"We're being paid for robbery, kidnapping, or murder. Take your pick." Arid sniffed and stretched her shoulder like she was trying to pop the joint.
"Cyber bugging you?"
"Yeah, something goes off inside every so often, can pop it back in when I'm lucky. The mark is supposed to-"
"How often do you get it checked out?"
"Last time was during the war, mandatory checkups on everyone with cybers. Can we focus?"
"That's not good, you could have something stuck or warped. I know the Reps outfitted everyone with the best they could, but that doesn't mean it's perfect."
"What are you a doctor?"
"I'm a mechanic, and you're mistreating a machine. Take your shirt off."
Arid smiled, "Well, aren't you forward. Usually they buy me a drink or two first."
Bryan blushed and mumbled, "Uh, I mean, you can roll up your sleeve and I'll just..."
"Oh no, the doctor knows best."
Removing her shirt and bra revealed cream and gold modest breasts and flat stomach. She wasn't overly muscular, but it was clear that her military body hadn't softened just yet. Tossing the tops aside and straightening her bandana and tags, she leaned back and invited him to come over.
"Well?"
Bryan slowly shifted over next to her and examined the arm.
"Come on, just pretend I'm one of your machines, feel around till you find something wrong."
Feeling as though she was having too much fun at his expense, the technician placed his hands on her shoulder and felt along it, squeezing the skin and muscle hard enough to feel the bone beneath, and get a few discomforted grunts from his 'patient'. Both the right clavicle and scapula were replaced to provide a proper housing and keep the arm from popping out of its joint under too much strain he assumed. Everything felt alright there.
The arm was mostly made of flexible silver metal pieces with faded blue stripes and a red bird flying towards a sun which vaguely mirrored the basic humanoid muscle groups, except along her arm pit which used a flesh-like rubber for comfort and the outer part of the lower arm which was a sturdier metal plate that seemed custom chosen. The pieces were held in place by a handful of small covered bolts each.
"I think something is out of place inside."
"No, really?"
"I'll have to take off the skin.
She sighed and reluctantly nodded.
Bryan grabbed his tools and, removing the covers, carefully twisting the bolts on the shoulder piece. They were stuck and hard to get moving at first, but after the first shift each came off easily and, with a grunt from Arid, the piece popped off. Beneath it laid a layer of gel that served as artificial nerves and a cushion which came off with it for simple reattachment in the field. Carefully he removed the other pieces to the upper arm the same way, leaving just the skeletal base and cord like 'muscle'. Gently he poked it and got a wince from Arid.
"Yeah, it fucking hurts when someone touches you after taking their skin off, would you like to try it?"
"Sorry."
As he thought, one of the shoulder 'muscle' cords was out of line due to a warped housing, flicking over the joint and around the back of the arm, and her repeated attempts to put it back had done nothing about the actual cause, and possibly done more damage. The only thing he could do without proper equipment, and taking the arm completely off her body, was try and bend the housing back into place.
"This might hurt a bit, or a lot."
Gently as he could he placed a wrench around the bent metal, making Arid groan, and his other hand on her chest. He pulled it sharply, making her yelp and nearly punch in him the stomach with the arm.
"Well its back in place, but you'll need to see someone more trained than me if you want it to stay that way, the metal's twice bent now."
"Just put my arm back together."
He did as instructed, putting the muscle back in place and fitting each piece back in place and making sure the nerve-gel still worked. His work done, he got up to leave.
"Hey, uh, I've been having another problem with my cybers."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, my right leg, it keeps hurting and itching. I usually ignore it, but since you're already checking me up."
She slipped out of her shorts and boxers, now sitting naked other than bandana and tags on the couch. Bryan's face turned a dark red and he nearly tripped over his own feet backing away.
"Wha, but uh, I..."
The feline spread her legs and slid down the couch, short tail wrapped over her crotch. "Come on, please?"
"I...uh...ok."
He walked back up to her and kneeled down, looking at where the cybernetic attached just below the pelvis with barely any of the original leg left to fit into the socket. Hesitantly, he kneeled between her legs and placed his hand on her thigh. The outer thigh was reinforced with a metal plate similar to her lower arm and the inner and posterior thigh had a cushion also similar to her arm. And given how she grinned when he touched it, she had a layer of nerve gel installed as well.
The legs were much different from her arm, clearly an older model that might not have even been built for her but instead modified to fit, not all that uncommon in some other soldiers they shoved back onto the field following their injuries, and appeared rather beat up. It was almost skeletal in appearance below the thigh and mostly black and none of the 'skin' of the arm. Its two primary muscles, cordlike ligaments behind the knee and in front of the digitigrade ankle, were exposed as were the knee, ankle, and foot ball joints. Said foot was a large metal 'toe' like the front of a boot and stabilizing toes on either side, and a plate protecting the joint from the front with a similar one protecting the back of the ankle. The thing hurt like hell to be kicked with but was rather vulnerable to external damage and casual wear-and-tear.
"Given the look of your cyber, it's probably just a bad fit; you might need it to be resized."
She sighed, "Wouldn't surprise me, they just kinda threw them on me. Just wanted me off the bed and holding a rifle again. Still, could you take a closer look?"
"Fine. You know, I was thinking of becoming a cyber-surgeon, but everybody in my family's worked on starships for generations, most died on them too."
"Couldn't disappoint good all ma and pa huh?"
He ran his hand along the inside of her thigh, making her sigh, "More or less." His fingers worked around the edge, digging into the fitting and getting a wince. "I can't find anything and I haven't looked at prosthetics for years, not since I was a kid. I think this model was just coming out."
"Well you should pick up a magazine on it."
Bryan yelped when two metal legs were placed on either shoulder and began curling around his back.
"Say, while you're down there..."
Cheeks darkening gain, he pushed away, "No way!"
"Ah come on," she wined, trying to hold him in place.
He broke free and stomped out chased by her giggling.