[PG-13] Expendable: Gamma Moon

[Enigma]

Prisoner 49-0327:




Good morning.


It is now Thursday, August 1, 2143 09:43 AM Earth GMT.


Your appeal has been rejected, and you have been scheduled for termination on Tuesday, December 31, 2143 at 11:45 PM.


However, you may still be of use to the Corporation.


On May 1, 2143, the Corporation won the rights to the Lyca system, on the edge of Known Space. Lyca IV is a gas giant, suitable for fuel processing. Gamma, the third of Lyca IV's moons, has a breathable nitrogen/oxygen atmosphere but is subject to extreme low temperatures during its night cycle. It is primarily covered by water, but there is one island.


Survey probes have discovered an artifical structure on Gamma's island. This structure is not of human origin. As the other planets of the Lyca system are incapable of supporting life and none has been identified on Gamma, we assume this structure is of extraterrestrial origin.


The survey crew reported the structure to the Corporation, then followed protocol by landing a survey team to explore the structure.


Robotic explorer units were deployed, but were disabled when they crossed into the structure. Units were recovered and examined, no fault was found. Further examination suggested their systems were overwhelmed by random magnetic fluctuations. Two units were shielded and sent in.




They did not return.




Five of the human crew volunteered to enter the structure. Communication was lost immediately on entering the structure. A fiber optic tether was provided for wired communication, but communication was lost 45 minutes after entering the structure.




They did not return.




Your mission objectives:
1. Explore the structure.
2. Recover whatever remains of the Survey Team.




Because this mission is rated as Extremely Dangerous, please note the following conditions:




1. Attempt to escape or tamper with your security collars will result in your immediate termination.
2. Failure to achieve mission objectives will result in your immediate termination.
3. If you are able to only discover what happened to the Survey Team, your sentences will be commuted to life imprisonment (without suspended animation).
4. Recovering a dead body belonging to the Survey Team will reduce the term of your sentence by two years.
5. Rescuing a surviving member of the Survey Team will reduce the term of your sentence by five years.
6. Terminating a surviving member of the Survey Team or a member of the crew delivering you to the planet will result in your immediate termination.
7. Disable whatever is affecting robots and communications will reduce the term of your sentence by ten years.
8. Provide substantial information on the purpose of this structure, your record will be expunged and you will be released on the inhabitable planet or station of your choosing.
9. A Corporate Expert System will be provided to assist and monitor you while you are on Gamma. Failure to return with the Corporate Expert System will count against your sentencing and may delay your rescue from Gamma.
10. Any unauthorized departures from the surface are subject to immediate destruction by the Corporate ship in orbit.




Please state if you accept this mission.


Metal rang throughout the barge as docking clamps disengaged. Lights flickered on inside, revealing padded industrial green walls and metal grate flooring, with a row of cyro-chambers along one wall, along with an Android Shipping Container. Lockers and the entrance to the bathroom stalls was on the opposite side, with two long brushed-metal cafeteria tables with matching benches occupied the center of the room.

At the far end of the room was the airlock, currently sealed. Lights flickered on in there as well, revealing suit lockers and three more airlock doors.

A flatscreen on the forward bulkhead blinked on.


Prison Barge Stroud-Class B49-594, geosync orbit Lyca IV Gamma.
Omega protocols engaged.

Internal generator check completed.
Hull integrity check completed.
Atmospheric check completed.
Initiating compartment warming.
Booting Independent Corporate Expert System.
Corporate Expert System activated.
Initializing re-animation cycle for cryo-chambers.

Lights flickered on in the capsules as the suspension atmosphere was pumped out, replaced with warmed air. Each of the prisoners had a security collar, the red band fitting snugly. Already there was a change in some of them, their breathing getting deeper.


Booting Independent Synthetic Systems.
Synthetic System One activated.
Synthetic System Two activated.
Standing by for release protocol.

A door panel opened beside the forward flatscreen and the Corporate Expert System stepped out.

"Open capsule releases for Synthetic System One and the biological prisoners. Synthetic System Two to remain in its location," the Expert system said, the name display on his chest reading "Rand".

There was a clunk as the securing latches unlocked and the lids of the cryo-chambers rose. At the same time, the Android Shipping Container unlatched and swung open.

"Lady, Synthetic, and gentlemen, please arise and get ready. We have one hour before mission briefing. Fresh prison coveralls, undergarments, and toiletries are in the lockers, individual bathroom stalls are just behind that."

What the Corporate Expert System thought of the prisoners being dressed in the traditional bright orange coveralls, it didn't say.


http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845


Approved Characters:


49-7042 / ORI-7042 aka "Rigel" (Splat) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845&p=2807890&viewfull=1#post2807890)
49-7777 / Allister Caine (Ma1chbox) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845&p=2808201&viewfull=1#post2808201)
49-1199 / Nosau (Emet) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845&p=2808392&viewfull=1#post2808392)
49-0245 / Ivy Rae Tyler (AngelDellaNotte) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845&p=2807858&viewfull=1#post2807858)
49-0849 / Sonia Martinez (Azazeal849) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845&p=2807979&viewfull=1#post2807979)
49-1917 / Ted (Imperial1917) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845&p=2807963&viewfull=1#post2807963)
47-7606 / Croak (Crainium) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845&p=2809423&viewfull=1#post2809423)
49-8750 / Max Stone "Mad Max" (Potatrobot) (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845&p=2808164&viewfull=1#post2808164)
49-2561 / Kimberly McDonnough (KaraMei (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=82845&page=5&p=2809551&viewfull=1#post2809551))

[Crainium]

Croak’s eyes flickered as his translucent lids clicked open, shut and then open again over his glossy black eyes. The pod in which he had been put to sleep only moments before, or so it seemed to him, was opening, the internal lights already illuminated and casting a greenish light over his coral and turquoise skin. The effect was not flattering.

“7606, up and out!” a male voice barked and gloved hands lifted the lid of his pod until it slid into place on the far side out of the way. “Jeez, you are a freaky piece of work,” the owner of the voice leaned over the pod, his face barely visible behind the opaque shield of his hazmat suit. “Lying there just staring at nothing for weeks on end. Had to throw a blanket over that mug.”

The hybrid’s only response was a gravelly croak deep in his throat, accompanied by the slight swelling of the loose skin under his jaw. Inflation of his vocal sacs was only slightly obstructed by the red band of technology secured around his neck. Croak sat up slowly, testing for any ill effects from his hibernation but there did not seem to be any. He looked around as he climbed out of the pod unassisted, his guardian was tapping the screen of his hand-held and barely acknowledging his presence. Across the way, another figure in a white hazmat stood braced against a shipping container, his firearm pointed at Croak. The space was small and tightly packed with crates, boxes and a few barrels, each labeled with the contents in several languages.

“Move it, 7606; this is not a scenic tour,” the original Hazmat suit snapped. “This ship is not set up for accommodating prisoner transport, so you will have to change in the open. We have a new suit for you to put on and you will leave the jumpsuit you are wearing in your pod. I don’t know why they want it back because your stench is never coming out of it.”

Croak again responded with naught but a sound from his throat and stripped off the overalls he was wearing. His skin had left a residue on the inside and Croak decided the man was right; that smell was never coming out. Croak stood for a moment in the nude, moving his shoulders and flexing his arms and legs. The fabric of the coveralls had irritated his skin and it felt good to let it breathe.

“None of us are interested, Slick. Put on your new suit and get ready for transfer to the other ship. We are docking in about ten minutes.”

Croak pulled on the bright orange suit and was pleasantly surprised that the garment had been cut to his body needs; the sleeves had been removed and the upper portion had thick strips of fabric over his shoulders with the arm holes open to his waist. The legs ended just above the knee and were loose enough for him to use his legs without the fabric cutting into his muscle or being so tight as to not allow free motion. Croak crouched and stood a few times to test the motion allowed and discovered the outfit was a perfect fit.

“Yeah; you are going to be on the cover of fashion magazines everywhere,” Hazmat muttered, approaching the airlock at the end of the room. The man with the firearm shifted as Croak passed but kept the weapon trained on him. “We are in the docking sequence now, so we will have you transferred over shortly.”

Hazmat slid his key card through the reader on the panel beside the air lock and the door slid open. Hazmat waved him in and Croak obeyed, his three-toed feet making a slight slapping sound on the corrugated floor. Hazard waited until Croak was in the small chamber before taking a box from the crate to his right and passing it to him. “Your ditty box. Don’t lose it. It is set to open once you reach your final destination or whenever they decide you need the contents. Good luck.”

Croak was silent as Hazmat slapped the button beside the door and it slid closed. There was only the slightest of bumps as the courier ship connected with the prison barge and then the smallest hiss of air as the second door slid open and the two chambers equalized in pressure.

“Proceed into the next chamber,” Hazmat’s voice rang through the intercom. Croak entered the next room and the door slid shut behind him. He held his box to his chest tightly, fear over what would happen if the seal to the prison ship was not secure causing his palms to sweat and making it that much more difficult to keep a grip on his box. However, the seal was secure and when the door slid open, there was the same, minuscule hiss as the pressure equalized and Croak was ordered to enter the first chamber of the next ship.

The moment he was across the threshold, the outer door of the prison ship slid closed. There was no indication that the courier ship had departed, but Croak was certain it was gone. The prisoner stood and waited to be retrieved from the airlock.

[Azazeal849]

The first of the cryo-pod lids to hinge back revealed a tall, lean woman whose orange coveralls were stencilled across the chest pocket with 49-0849, Martinez S. The prisoner let out a low groan of discomfort, and raised her wiry arms to rub some moisture back into her eyes with the heels of her hands. Reducing a cryo subject's metabolic rate to far below its normal minimum had numerous side effects, and painfully dry eyes were one of the more common ones.

"Jesus Christ." the prisoner opined, through a mouth that sounded equally dry.

Perhaps it was a cruel irony to give someone sentenced to spend the rest of their life in a cryo pod a taste of the process first. Cryo-imprisonment was a relatively new punishment, born between justice hardliners and their opponents who wanted humankind to divest itself of the barbarity of the death penalty - or at least of the ruinous expense of its years-long appeals system. Needless to say, the equally expensive decision to keep the condemned in stasis until their extended biological clocks finally ran down was a compromise that satisfied neither side.

The prisoner groaned again, and dropped her hands from a tan face that was diamond shaped and diamond-hard. Tattoos covered her left cheek and temple in barbed black swirls, framing her bloodshot eye. She looked down at her hands for a moment, as if inspecting the nails that had grown no longer despite her four weeks in stasis, and rubbed some feeling back into her legs before swinging her bare feet down onto the mirrored decking of the cryo chamber.

"Ladies, synthetics, and gentlemen, please arise and get ready. We have one hour before mission briefing. Fresh prison coveralls, undergarments, and toiletries are in the lockers, individual bathroom stalls are just behind that."

Prisoner 0849 cricked her neck against the red security choker ringing it, and brushed her short mop of brown hair out of her eyes to get a better look at the red-and-black android that had spoken. The look in her dark eyes and the slight creasing of her broad nose gave an impression of little warmth reserved for the Corporate Expert System.

Without bothering to acknowledge the robot, she unzipped her coveralls and shrugged out of the sleeves, leaving a grubby grey sports bra to preserve her modesty as she tied them around her waist. Her tan upper arms were hard with muscle, and encircled by the same jagged lines and whorls of black ink that framed her face. Despite her obvious indifference to the CES, she took its advice and padded over to the lockers, opening one with a scrape of metal on metal.

[KaraMei]

Kimberly awoke from a dreamless sleep into a state of fugue. Her mind seemed fully aware, but was unable to access her body. She could hear muffled sounds. She could see nothing. After just enough time to become accustomed to these effects, her own twitching initiated a release sequence, and everything began rapidly changing.

Hydraulic and mechanical sounds. Check. No action required.

Dim lights brightening rapidly. Check. Blink rapidly to adjust to the lighting.

Rush of changed air. Check. Breathe deeply enough to cough several times.

Limited mobility. Check. Wiggle fingers and toes repeatedly.

A slight pinch as medical devices disconnected from her body. Check. No action required.

Reduction of pressure as cushioned pads retracted from the left and right side of her head. Check. Rotate neck, coughing as needed.

Reduction of pressure as containment bands retracted from across her arms and chest. Check. Flex shoulders, elbows and wrists.

Reduction of pressure as containment band retracted from across her waist. Check. Curl upper back, coughing again as needed.

Reduction of pressure as containment bands retracted from thighs and legs. Check. Flex hips, knees and ankles gently until certain of balance.

Kimberly reached out to grip the forwardmost edge of the biopod's access portal and flexed her arms again until she could safely use them to assist in supporting her weight. She leaned forward, pulled herself along with her arms while again flexing her knees to regain her balance. Once sure of herself, she stepped out of the pod.

She continued systematically following the recommended procedures for biopod awakening that she had memorized before being put to sleep. With the precisely proper breathing, stretches, bends, squats, and rotations, her recovery was as close to a textbook awakening as could be. The only deviation from the standard procedures was evaluating her left forearm to ensure that her embedded calculations module still functioned properly.

Once stable, Kimberly gave the pod chamber an evaluating glance. Others were also coming out of their pods as well. None were any she had interacted with frequently, though several she recognized as having seen from time to time.

Having categorized the other prisoners, she continued with the initial arrival process she had memorized. She crossed to the other side of the room and evaluated the contents of the locker directly across from her sleep chamber, bearing an identification label marked 2561. She pulled her ditty box, also marked 2561, from her locker. After verifying that it would not yet open, she put it back precisely where it had been on the upper shelf.

Obtaining the towel, toiletries and undergarments from the remaining shelves in the upper half of the locker, and fresh coveralls from the rack beneath them, she stepped into the assigned bathroom stall. She soon emerged again bathed and changed, having dropped the dirty laundry into a refresher unit in the bathroom. She pulled standard footwear from the bottom of the locker and put them on.

Having completed the protocol for the moment, she sat at the table and began running calculations on her embedded calc.

[Emet]

Something smelled fucking awful. Nosau opened his eye and sat up. He shook his head to clear the remaining flecks of whatever it was they used to freeze him in there from his fur. He looked to his right. The smell was a frog man. He shouldn't judge. He wasn't exactly normal himself. He sniffed the air again. There were a few humans in their own pods. Plastic suits. And the sound of whirring servos. A robot then. He hated robots.

Nosau stretched and shrugged off his suit. It was stiff, and his fur was sticking in the zipper. The new one had buttons. Thank you, whatever god runs the corporate clothing industry.

[Enigma]

Authorized docking with Corporate Fast Courier Exodus for Prisoner Transfer.
Prisonner 47-7606 has been loaded into Exodus' Airlock.
Exodus' External Airlock door opening.
Prison Barge External Airlock door opening.


The camera in the airlock showed the door opening and the nervous-looking prisoner standing inside with his ditty box.

"Prisoner 47-7606, please step into the next chamber," the Corporate Expert System instructed over the airlock speakers."

Once the prisoner was inside, the next sequence could take place.


Closing External Airlock Door.
External Airlock Door Sealed.
Notifying Courier prisoner transfer completed.
Fast Courier Exodus has undocked.
Fast Courier Exodus is now moving away from prison barge.
Opening Internal Airlock Door.

The massive internal airlock door swung open, revealing the Docking Annex. Straight ahead and to the left were two more massive airlock doors. The one on the left had Green/ Yellow indicator lights lit, while the one straight ahead had two Red indicators lit.

Between the three airlock doors were wire mesh lockers. Ten of them held space suits in the Sov-style, a door panel on the back of the suit facing into the compartment.

"Prisoner 47-7606, please join us in the forward compartment."

On the prisoner's right was a standard internal pressure door, beyond which one could see movement through the small windows. A square door switch was next to it.

There was also a massive Android locker between the pressure door and the air lock door opposite. It looked to be sealed.

[Imperial1917]

The pod door opened and Ted opened his eyes. The first impression he had was one of grayness. In the fashion of such vessels, the cryopod area was virtually devoid of meaningful colors. The only exceptions were the warning stickers plastered to the walls denoting the location of this button or that lever. In the grand scheme of things, and with the after-freeze blur, they were just smudges among the vast grayness. That suited Ted just fine.

After a moment his vision cleared and he saw that there was a man standing in front of his cryopod. At least, Ted thought he was a man, his form obscured by the unisex hazmat suit he wore. His gait said that he had been walking along the pods just a moment before he stopped in front of Ted's. In his hand he held an electronic pad. The glare from the nondescript overhead lights made it so that Ted could not see into the helmet, but his body language gave away confusion as he glanced at Ted and then down at his electronic pad.

Ted did not blame him. Few would ascribe any particular crime to someone so, well, nondescript. His features were easily recognized when he was arrested not for their specifics, but for the lack of specific nature. He looked in many ways like the description released to the public, so much so that he got away with it for a while because people's imaginations added to him features that he simply did not have. Looking down into his cryopod, the man must have thought there was some mistake, that such an unassuming man could not have committed any crime worthy of censure. Or any crime at all, for that matter. He looked like that well respected man (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AcSm0ShU8Y8) about town.

Before the man could speak, Ted got out of the pod. Quiet, but functional. He accepted the new suit from somewhere and changed quickly as the man just stared. For a moment they just stared at each other afterwards until Ted reached out and took the ditty box from him and he stammered, "You can go into the next chamber if you are ready, um, sir." Nodding in a nondescript fashion, as was his fashion, Ted followed the other prisoners exiting the cryopod area.

[Ma1chbox]

The clamps on the cryostasis pod gave off an audible clunking sound as they unlatched. Shortly after, the pod door slowly swung open, producing a loud hiss as it went. A thin cloud of frost seeped out of the bottom and slithered across the floor, forming an inch-high fog for a few moments before dissipating. Inside, a slumbering Caine began to stir awake.

Without warning, his eyes shot open as he inhaled deeply, savoring his first taste of fresh air in a long while. The sudden rush of oxygen took a bit of getting used to again. This was made obvious by the coughing fit that immediately came upon Caine a few moments after awakening. Finally, when he was able to breathe normally again, his eyesight returned, although not fully. Vision still blurred, he stepped out of the pod, almost tripping as he did so.

The AI wasted no time with the convict. Uncaring about his current state, it immediately ordered him to grab his ditty box and make his way into the next area like the others around him. To the disoriented Caine, the expert system's voice sounded like nothing more than mere mumbling, as his hearing had not fully returned yet. It had to repeat its orders a few more times before the convict managed to get its message. Begrudgingly, Caine did what he was told. For a few moments, he contemplated starting a riot, but he knew that he'd be neutralized well before he could do any real damage.

He stretched and warmed up for a bit to regain all his senses before dusting off any frosting on his person and walking over to the pile of small boxes. Out of habit, he raised his arm and put a hand on his head as if he was adjusting his hat. It was only when his hand sank into his dark brown hair did he remember that standard convict gear didn't include stetsons.

Breathing a final sigh of disappointment, he gripped the red band on his throat and stretched his neck, causing his spine to make an audible cracking sound. Without saying a word, he grabbed the box with marked with his number and followed the other jumpsuit-clad convicts to wherever it is they were being led to.

[AngelDellaNotte]

The lid to the cyro-pod creaked open, a fog coming from it. Ivy, laid in the pod for a moment knowing it was better to wake up a little more before trying to sit up. The first couple of times she had come out she had tried moving about right away and had become sick. One time there had been a rookie prison guard standing duty and she had managed to vomit all over his freshly shined boots. His partner had found it hilarious while the young rookie had not. It didn't help matters that once she was feeling a little better Ivy had started laughing as well. Since her first conviction, Ivy had lost count how many times she had been taken out of cyro-sleep and put back in. Upon discovering the murder of the politician, the Earth investigators had reopened every cold case on Jupiter 12 that Ivy had ever worked on in case she had a part in them as well. They had linked quite a few murders and the Corporation being as detailed as always felt the need to convict the already condemned woman in every case. Coming in and out of cyro-sleep was becoming far too normal to Ivy.

After a couple minutes, once the fog had cleared from the pod and her mind Ivy sat up looking around. She wore the usual orange jumpsuit that she always had on, orange was not her color. She reached up tugging at the collar around her neck, that was something new to her. Looking around the room she wasn't alone there were several other people, a quite unique group. From there she stood up and climbed from the cyro-pod a corporate robot instructing her about fresh garments and bathroom facilities. She went to the locker grabbed some clothes then headed to the stall, stripping her clothes off once inside and showering.

[Azazeal849]

Gang hitmen took pride in their appearance, even when they were locked up. When Sonia Martinez was satisfied with hers, she shoved her personal effects box back onto its rack and turned around to rest her shoulders against the lockers, picking a spot that let her see the whole extent of the cylindrical barge module.

There wasn't much to speak of in her personal effects box - a couple of well-thumbed war novels, and a prison-spec Omni PDA that she had never gotten used to using. Most folk back in the slums couldn't afford them, and although a fair few of Don Xavier's boys liked to flash the latest model, Sonia wasn't keen to paint a big, brushed-metal target on her wrist.

The box's only other contents were a lighter and two dented packs of cigarettes, one of which was in her hand. She tapped one of the sticks out and lit it. Funny; she'd never been a heavy smoker before prison, but she had heard that people who went into permanent cryo had their organs raided and sold by the prison surgeons. If that was true, then she intended to give her would-be donee the most diseased pair of lungs she could muster in the time she had left.

Sonia tipped her chin back to blow out smoke, and quietly observed the others gathering their effects around her. There was a grizzled older man with scruffy brown hair and a bionic eye; a short, doughy youth who barely looked out of his teens; and a fucking canid. As a general rule you didn't see animal Uplifts back in the slums. They tended to be a feature of the colonies that had money to waste on such things.

None of them she recognised, though she did know the faces of the other two women, who had shared the female Hi-Sec wing back in the prison complex. The young woman with the rich mahogany skin and the distinctive blue-dyed hair was well known to most; infamous for committing a string of murders on one of the Jupiter stations. Sonia wasn't surprised that she had been approached, even if she thought the corporation should have drawn a thicker line between people who killed for a job and people who were simply fucked in the head.

The other lady she couldn't figure out. She remembered seeing the thin, mousy woman around the common areas, almost always keeping quietly to herself, and retiring to bed earlier than the other inmates. Not being affiliated with any of the feuding prison gangs, she seldom got into serious trouble - although Sonia did recall her being harassed by a number of inmates once they figured out that she wouldn't fight back. What were the corporation thinking sending someone like that on a suicide run through an alien ruin? The curiosity got the better of her.

"Hey." she called out to the thin woman, who was methodically punching numbers into the cyber-graft on her arm. "Mouse. What's your special skill, then?"

[Crainium]

"Prisoner 47-7606, please step into the next chamber."

Croak silently obeyed, the noises in his throat compressed by his anxiety. Once he was inside the next chamber, the door behind him closed and the door in front of him swung open. There were doors and lights and lockers with space suits. Croak croaked softly as he walked forward.

"Prisoner 47-7606, please join us in the forward compartment."

Croak held his box tightly to his chest and looked around, not sure where the Forward Compartment was. To his right was what looked like a standard, internal door with small windows and through them, Croak could make out movement. Deciding this was as good a direction as any (someone would tell him if he was in the wrong place), Croak pressed the release button beside the door and the portal opened silently.

Croak paused for a moment to inspect his fellow prisoners. His time in prison had taught him to be extremely careful around other inmates as they generally felt they had something to prove. He observed the tattooed woman smoking a cigarette and he growled, his throat enlarging slowly and then releasing in a deep *Gurrrp.* The stupid human did realize they were on an enclosed vessel, did she not? Croak would have to stay as far away from her as possible unless he wanted that stink added to his own.

The dog-man would most likely be the worst conflict, as his kind had a stronger sense of smell than the common human. They could really pick up on the subtle nuances of Croak’s musk and tended to not be happy about it. Or they liked it enough that they wanted to roll in it. Either way, this was another prisoner Croak would be avoiding. Dog men were weird.

There was a thin woman fiddling with a device on her arm. Croak was no expert on human anatomy, but this woman looked way too skinny to be healthy. She seemed locked in rapt attention to her device and Croak labeled her a space case, almost cracking a smile at his mental pun. She might be ok to stick to if he wanted company but not conversation.

The last living being in the room was the young male human with light features. Croak had often heard jokes about how ‘they all look the same to me’ in reference to other races or species and now he understood. The kid’s features were so…boring. He could easily get lost in a crowd and looked vague enough that, even while looking at him, Croak would be hard pressed to mention anything unique about him. This kid looked like the standard human model that you would buy and then customize. It was rather unsettling.

Croak’s elongated fingers tapped against his box for a moment before he entered the room, a soft *grrrrowt* sounding from his throat. He stood still as the dead and waited for further instruction, hoping the unseen drafts in the ship were not moving his scent towards the others.

[Enigma]

"Prisoner 47-7606," called out the Corporate Expert System, still on the Rand name tag, "welcome. We will begin the briefing in one half-hour. Please make yourself comfortable."

49-8750 had yet to revive, much to the system's concern. A human digitally encoded and downloaded into an android body required some precautions - especially when that body was an industrial type. Androids didn't move in their "sleep" - but humans did, quite a bit. And when they were as strong as this one was, that could lead to real damage to itself and anything or anyone around it. However, waking one suddenly could be just as bad, even under restraints.

[KaraMei]

"Mouse." One of many unofficial designations for her by the other residents of Facility 49. Kimberly acknowledged hearing this only by changing the tilt of her head, aiming her ear towards the speaker, and by pausing her calculations. "What's your special skill, then?"

She mentally scanned her memorized list of of assigned objectives and goals, and selected the mode, the task most frequently itemized. She replied in a voice barely above a whisper, speaking towards her wrist calc rather than to the other woman, "Interface with the Corporate Expert System." She pronounced each syllable precisely, not even slurring the optional one in corporate.

Having completed the protocol of answering a direct question, she resumed her entry into her wrist calc. Her ear, though, remained towards the woman, prepared for a follow up question.

[Azazeal849]

"Interface with the Corporate Expert System." Sonia noted that she pronounced each syllable precisely, not even slurring the optional one in corporate.

The taller woman gave an amused grunt, and blew out another wisp of smoke which hung in the air for a moment before being sucked away by the barge's air scrubbers.

"If you're planning to hack the robot and get out of here, you'd tell me right?"

She looked up as a low croaking noise reached her ears. It came from a blue and red amphibian with bulging, glassy eyes. Another fucking Uplift. The frog-man was staring at her with open disapproval. That would have been a dangerous move back in the complex. You didn't stare at someone unless you were looking for a fight. Respect was one of the few things left to gangers and inmates both, and they were very defensive about it. Even if they took no genuine offence, no-one wanted to be seen to just let it slide and be branded a punk.

Lucky then that they were somewhere with bigger concerns - for the moment at least. Sonia jerked her head at the amphibian in a warning move along gesture, and left it at that.

[Ma1chbox]

Caine walked through the halls of the compartment, staying mostly unnoticed by everyone, save for the expert system, which called out his prisoner number when he first walked in. This was unsurprising, as without his getup, he didn't really stand out much. He more or less just looked like an ordinary bearded caucasian male with scraggly hair, which isn't really much for catching other peoples' attention. Even his most obvious defining trait, his alloy prosthetic arm, was hidden from view from the other prisoners since it was covered by the jumpsuit's long sleeves. The hand, in turn, was hidden behind the little box of belongings he was carrying. The only other defining trait he had was the bionic eye implanted into his face, but even then, it simply looked like a normal eye with a red pupil. Not very noticeable, as you can see. All that being said, he didn't really mind. It's not like he knew any of them anyway.

His gaze zeroed in on a nice little spot in the hallway that was at least a few feet away from any of the other convicts. A perfect spot to wait as any for a man like Caine. Still maintaining a lazy but stoic walking pace, he strolled over, looking around at the people he would soon be fighting alongside as he went. Since he used to be a second-in-command in charge of a crew, he knew they would have to have some sort of synergy, or else they were, well, already dead, to put it bluntly. Summoning his previous experiences, he surveyed the other jumpsuit-clad prisoners and tried to read each one as best he could.

The first two he laid eyes upon were the two women who appeared to be in the middle of a conversation. Even by just his first impressions, he could tell that they were stark contrasts from each other. One look at one of the ladies and it was obvious that she was a run-of-the-mill tough chick. Facial tattoo, short boyish hair all slicked and styled, a somewhat weirdly angled nose, probably the result of multiple fistfights in the past, and last but not least, a little white cancer stick between her fingers. No doubt fit right in inside the prison environment. Most likely cheeky and tough to work with when part of a crew, but could surely hold her own anyway. Classic.

The other woman beside her, however, looked more like a walking toothpick. Standard prison bob, a rather ordinary appearance, if a bit unflattering, blank face. Unassuming and most likely passive, probably easy prey for the prison alphas. For lack of a kinder word, probably useless in a combat team at first glance, but proves everyone wrong sometime later when anything involving lots of thinking comes up. Clearly a brains-over-brawns kind of person, no question about that. Hell, the lady even has a goddamn calculator grafted onto her arm. If that doesn't scream 'smart', nothing else will.

Looking the other way, he saw another of his would-be teammates. "Oh great. A young'un." Caine said to himself in his mind. The blondie looked like he was just fresh out of high school. Didn't even have facial hair to boot. By some miracle, he managed to looked even more non-descript than Caine did right now. Well, if only the teen would wipe that blank, angsty look from his face, that is. Kids like these, the cowboy never liked to work with. All bark and no bite, so to speak. Then again, he is in a high-security prison like the rest of them, so there should be something useful about him. The quality of his performance remains to be seen.

Next up on the judging roster is the big dog. Black and white, nice and fluffy. Has an eyepatch. For some reason, Caine is reminded of a bunch of snakes whenever he looks at him. Cool. From what he could gather, the big scruff was, well, pretty much a dog, only bigger, bipedal, and able to talk. The cowboy is amused.

Yet another future crewmate was another female. She was rather dark-skinned, unlike the others. Her curly hair was cut short and dyed blue, making her stand out quite a bit from the rest of the other inmates. She looked young, most likely in her prime. There wasn't much else Caine could figure out about her from first glances. She may stick out in a crowd, but as to what she can do? Eh, well, he'll find out sooner or later. With nothing else to say, he watched her walk into the room with the showers before looking over at the last guy.

Last but not the least, Kermit the Frog. Well, frog-thing, anyway. He... uhh... Well, Caine was stumped with this one. Most probably some sort of escaped experiment. Anxious, most definitely a lone wolf-- er, frog... or whatever. He watched him clutch his ditty box to his chest, like he was afraid someone might nick it from right under his nose. Pretty creepy-looking, definitely slimy, and stunk the place to high hell. The bright colors look pretty, but something tells Caine not to touch the guy without gloves on. Definitely a frog, alright. That said, he didn't really bother Caine that much. Life as a mercenary and a pirate didn't exactly let him choose who he worked with and/or fought against, and he's definitely worked with and/or fought against worse than a literal frogman.

Aaaaaand that's the last of them. A motley crew indeed. Whether they'd succeed in the mission or not, well, that remains to be seen. As far as Caine was concerned, as long as he was alive, he didn't really care too much about what happened to them.

Just as he finished examining the other inmates, he reached the little nook he was walking to in the first place. Not one to waste time, he quickly slumped back on it and rolled up his sleeves, revealing a toned, muscular right arm, and more importantly, a matte gray prosthetic left arm. With a few swift motions, he flipped open his ditty box, popped a cig in his mouth, and lit it. Now the waiting game begins.

[KaraMei]

"If you're planning to hack the robot and get out of here, you'd tell me right?" A follow up question came in just as her probability calculator had predicted.

"That process would require me to interface with the Rand module. I am tasked to interface with the Bones, Scotty and Spock modules." Kimberly gave no indication of any opinion as to the wisdom of such a plan or its odds of success.

Without looking away from her arm module, Kimberly turned her head to point an ear towards the Corporate Expert System as it welcomed Prisoner 47-7606 into the compartment. She adjusted her countdown timer estimate from thirty three minutes to thirty minutes, plotting that value at the peak of a standard bell curve for probability. She continued looking at her calc, and could observe most of the compartment in her peripheral vision. Several other prisoners were milling about, including an amphibian uplift entity that had just entered.

The woman who had asked questions redirected her own focus to this entity. As such, the probability of further follow up questions reduced from eighty five percent to fifty five percent, still high enough to engage alertness protocols. Not having an established protocol specific to amphibious entities, Kimberly defaulted to standard procedures for nonaggressive entities and ignored both it and the odor already accumulating around it.

[Splat]

The latches on Rigel's conspicuous pod clicked open to reveal his bulky metallic body. The light on his "face" flickered alive, illuminating with a purple glow. As Rigel's conciousness woke up (by human standards), he stepped out of the locker and observed his surroundings. Looking down to ensure his machinery was in order, he sighed. Apparently one of the prison guards thought it would be "funny" to paint a smiley-face in bright orange paint across his chest. As his circuits registered the angry emotions, he decided it would not be the best idea to have an outburst in this environment, especially given the "security collar" that has been attached to his neck, so he controlled himself for now.

His heads-up-display immediately scanned all of the individuals in the room, recording their biological data and storing it within his memory. Rigel's personality, however, had different thoughts about the motley crew.

Many of the prisoners scattered about the airlock were human, at least mostly, and many of which the android had seen in passing during his time at the facility. But there were several other interesting personalities aboard. A canid, as Rigel was somewhat irked to discover, and a humanoid-frog creature. The android's scanners also picked up another mechanical lifeform nearby, although he was surprised to note that it felt more human than machine. He ignored the chatter of the AI and proceeded to gather up his meager belongings. The box contained very little, only the materials necessary to sustain his systems off-world.

Rigel moved casually towards the frog-man, very glad he did not have a sense of smell judging by the other's reactions. He was eager to learn more about this odd creature, as he had never encountered such a strange combination of DNA.

"Excuse me, frog-man." His machinery hummed as the high British voice eminated from inside. "You are quite fascinating. It would... please me... to study you further." Although Rigel rarely felt pleasure, he used the word as humans would, hoping it would make him more approachable. However the long pause he took to register the phrase probably countered that fact.

[AngelDellaNotte]

After her shower, Ivy felt better to have the feel of the cyro-pod off of her. She changed into the new jumpsuit, still orange. Really what was with the corporation and this color? If they wanted people to stand out there were plenty of other colors to choose from yellow or maybe white. Least the white would be easier to keep clean. She grabbed her ditty box finding her books, glasses and ommi inside. She had requested her portable analyzer and her glock, but neither were there. They most likely would not receive any weapons until they arrived at their destination. She exited the bathroom area looking around seeing several more members of their party. The canine and the frogman interested her though the frogman had a rather unpleasant odor to him. There was a android there as well not looking to be one of the prison bots.

She recognized the two woman from prison not that she had any personal dealing with either of them. While at the prison Ivy had mostly kept to herself, partly on her own not wanting to mingle with anyone else instead spending time with her books. Though the true reason was there wasn't many people who wanted to associate with the crazy woman. When she first arrived at the prison she was hassled a bit by the old timers at least until her case hit the news wave then she was left alone. Several of the prison gangs had tried to recruit her though she had no desire to join.

Ivy walked over to the two woman, moving past the tough looking one and taking her cigarette. A normal person might think this was a bad idea but not Ivy as she sat down next to the smaller woman. “You'd have a better chance striking up a conversation with a service bot. Ain't that right mouse?” Ivy said, taking a drag off the cigarette and wrapping her arm around Kimberly.

[Azazeal849]

The tattooed woman sucked the inside of her cheek, her expression oddly neutral.

"Hey, Lady Blue." she addressed Ivy. "I give you respect and you give me. Just 'cause you're not in the complex any more doesn't mean you can break rule number one and start taking people's stuff without asking."

[Enigma]

The Corporate Expert System turned, considering the table the three women were sat at, then started walking over.

"Just to be clear," The Rand module said, "Currently we are orbiting Lyca IV's third moon, Gamma, in a prison barge. This barge has no engines or navigation system. Life support, generators, and the basic command system are in sealed compartments. As a precaution, the Omega Protocol is enabled. Should the barge's command system detect a security breach, this barge will self-destruct."

"There is a drop ship pod currently docked on the end of this barge, its flight path was pre-programmed for landing near the site we have been tasked to investigate. If the drop ship pod should significantly deviate from landing on Gamma, there are two Corporate Frigates standing by to destroy the pod. If the pod should lift from Gamma without my authorization, the pod will again be destroyed. I therefore recommend that everyone be on their best behavior."

"To help with that, I am opening the buffet station."

At the front of the compartment, under the main screen, a long cabinet slid out of the wall. The first location on the left held disposable dinnerware - plastic food trays, bowls, cups, utensils, napkins. The middle section held standard breakfast fare - scrambled eggs, sausage patties, rolls in plastic packaging, while the final station on the right was beverages, individual cereal packets, and various condiments.

A second panel opened on the wall above the utensils, loaded with sealed meal packs for those with more specialized diets in individual slots with a thumb reader.

"For some of you, this is your last opportunity until we return to eat something that isn't inside a foil packet."

The Corporate Expert System paused at the women's table, but instead of Rand, it was Spock who spoke. "Do you have a question, Ms. McDonnough?"

[Crainium]

A newcomer joined them, sizing up the group as he sauntered across the room. Croak decided he didn’t like him. During his training in the facility, he had come across cadets and officers who exuded his kind of confidence. They knew what they were doing, what needed to be done and when, and took charge at a moment’s notice. Croak had none of these things. It was incredibly difficult to lead others when they gagged in your presence.

The group grew by one more; a tall robot with a sarcastic smiley face painted across his chest. The machine made machine noises and clunked into the room, eventually approaching Croak. Croak’s eyes appeared still, as they were solid bubbles of onyx, but his vision snapped around the room. He identified three different weapons for use against the machine should he prove unfriendly. Four, if he counted beating the machine with the tattooed woman.

"Excuse me, frog-man." The machine addressed Croak in a hollow British voice. Croak looked up at the metal face, his eyelids snapping shut and then opening again. "You are quite fascinating. It would... please me... to study you further."

*Gurrrp* “Toad.” Croak corrected, his voice a deep baritone that gurgled from his throat. His tongue snapped out and slid down the side of his face, clearing a speck of dust. He smacked his lips when his tongue had receded into his mouth. “I am a toad-man. My name is Croak. You can ask me anything you want.”

Any questions would have to wait, however, as the robot “host” rang the dinner bell. Concealed panels opened and food was revealed. Croak started padding over, his attention focused on the specialized cuisine on the end of the display. He turned to look at the robot. “You can ask your questions while I eat. I am starving.”

Croak approached the complete meals and tilted his head to angle his eye on the thumbprint reader. He recognized the device from when he first volunteered for the mission, under the suggestion of his public defender. The young guy spent most of their meetings with a handkerchief pressed over his mouth and nose and Croak was sure the kid just wanted to get rid of him. Croak reached out a three-fingered hand and pressed his equivalent to a human thumb to the device. The scanner read his identity and a plastic box was dispensed, the contents a wide variety of large insects and a few larvae.

With his Ditty box under his arm and the food box in hand, Croak moved the very end of the table farthest away from the food to eat.

[AngelDellaNotte]

She looked up as Sonia called her Lady Blue with a smirk on her face, that was a nickname she hadn't heard before. Most people thought she dyed her hair, but if that were the case it would have been long grown out by now. When she was still in college Ivy had gone to a gene-mod shop and had the techs alter a couple lines of her DNA changing the color. When the science first came out it was seen as mad science limited only to crazy scientists but over the years it had become as common as the tattoos on Miss Big Bad and Tough. “Oh this? Didn't think you would mind.” Ivy said, taking another hit off the cigarette before holding it out for Kimberly doubting she would take it. “Momma always said sharing was caring.”

Sonia exhaled what almost sounded like a quiet sigh. Then her arm snatched out, viper quick, to twist her fingers in Ivy's hair and send her face smashing into the table edge with an audible crack. To the surprise of everyone, as she bounced back up, Ivy twisted free and rolled away before the taller woman could follow, nearly knocking Kimberly off her chair in the process.

Ivy hit the ground with a roll that stopped a good five feet from Sonia and sat up looking around quite dazed. Blood dripped down her face from her nose, she didn't think it was broken but it did hurt pretty bad. “That wasn't very nice.” Ivy said, bringing one hand to her nose and pinching the brow. “Just for that I am keeping this.” She held up the cigarette, not entirely sure how she managed to hang onto it. One of the service bots rolled over to her and a compartment opened up revealing a small medical kit. Ivy took a couple of cotton wads out and pushed them into her nose to stop the bleeding then took a puff of the cigarette before standing up and walking over to the food.

[Azazeal849]

Sonia was about to start after Ivy as she ducked away, but they were interrupted by the Corporate Expert System thumping into the room. It turned, considering the table the three women were sat at, then started walking over.

"Just to be clear," The Rand module said, "Currently we are orbiting Lyca IV's third moon, Gamma, in a prison barge..."

Sonia hesitated, and slowly folded her arms. Letting the Jupiter murderer know that she couldn't walk all over her was one thing, but it wasn't worth continuing a fight over a cigarette right under the camera lenses of the CES.

“That wasn't very nice.” Ivy said quietly behind the robot's back as it switched personality cores and began asking a question of Mouse. She brought one hand to her nose and pinching the brow. “Just for that I am keeping this.”

Sonia bit the inside of her cheek again, desisting from any more immediate threats. The CES mentioned food being prepared in the next module, which had the inevitable ring of a last meal about it. After all, they wouldn't be sending condemned cryo-lifers on this jaunt if it wasn't both dangerous and desperate. They would just have to see.

Sonia followed Ivy with her eyes as they filed through to the buffet. Sonia picked up the closest thing to unprocessed food that she could find, which turned out to be a trio of pre-packaged rolls, and quietly chose the table that afforded the shortest distance between her back and the contoured plastic wall of the module. Avoiding the hulking robot and the frog-man it was harassing, she took a seat a couple of chairs down from the shaggy-haired man with the red bionic eye.

[Enigma]

Once the prisoners seemed to have settled into the routine of breakfast, The Corporate Expert System moved towards the screen.

"Please patch the camera feed to Prisoner 49-8750," it ordered. "Display the site."

"Despite it's small size, Gamma is actually denser than Earth's Moon and still geologically active. The surface gravity has been measured at 0.67 G - your jumps will be longer and higher, but you won't fly off Gamma in a single bound. It is mostly covered in water - and that water contains algae and other simple water lifeforms. What isn't covered in water is one small island on the equator, and on this island is this structure."

http://i1254.photobucket.com/albums/hh620/Ex_Pendable/tower3_zpss8sdxual.png

"It's a truncated pyramid structure, with four extruded faces and each contains a single doorway. The structure is surrounded by a dry moat several stories deep with steep slanted sides, but there are four bridges connecting the doorways with the surrounding apron."

"And on that apron are four rings of towering blocks, each three stories tall, crowned with spikes that go another three stories up."

http://i1254.photobucket.com/albums/hh620/Ex_Pendable/tower2_zps9y6acf3s.png

"The entire structure appears to have been carved out of volcanic rock, basalt. The structure is warmer than the surrounding rock, more than we can account for. Possibly this is some sort of giant heat sink, intended to radiate away heat. You may find it unpleasant."

"The survey team who explored the structure reported that a skeleton of some sort was found inside the moat, lying up against one of the bridge supports. Visual examination suggests it was some sort of reptile that walked erect, but had broken both legs."

"A few artifacts were also recovered, described as coin-like, of a yellowish-metal alloy. The survey team took these into the pyramid."

http://i1254.photobucket.com/albums/hh620/Ex_Pendable/tower2b_zpsath5nhhm.png

"The survey team reported that the structure is hollow and dusty, with carvings on the walls and a soft light glowing from the floor. They were studying the carvings when communication abruptly stopped. When the fiber optic cable was pulled out of the structure, it was found to be cleanly cut."

"The crew of the survey ship sent in a remote camera, also running via a fiber optic cable. It found the structure empty. While crossing the floor, it as well suddenly went dark."

"We believe that there is some sort of matter transporter built into the floor. We believe this is what took the explorer robots, the survey team, and the camera. What we do not know is where it took them, or why they were unable to return."

"Any questions?"

[Emet]

"I want to know what our survival rate is," Nosau remarked. "Seeing as nothing's come back, it's looking a lot like 'zero'." His one eye stared at the robot.

[Azazeal849]

"Any questions?"

"Yeah, two." Sonia offered from her corner, where she had hooked one arm over the back of her chair and was frowning at the screen. "What makes you so sure it's a matter transporter, and what are you giving us that you didn' give the last team so as you're not banging your head on a brick wall three times in a row?"

[Enigma]

"I want to know what our survival rate is," Nosau remarked. "Seeing as nothing's come back, it's looking a lot like 'zero'." His one eye stared at the robot.

"At this time, the team's survival rate is impossible to calculate," The Corporate Expert System replied in Spock's stark tones. "That is the reason why this mission was provided to prisoners with Death or Extended Life sentences. Your odds of survival, however, are greater on this mission than staying here."



"Yeah, two." Sonia offered from her corner, where she had hooked one arm over the back of her chair and was frowning at the screen. "What makes you so sure it's a matter transporter, and what are you giving us that you didn' give the last team so as you're not banging your head on a brick wall three times in a row?"

"Well, Lassie," The Expert system said with a strong Scottish accent, "It weren't no blade what cut those cables."
"Correct, Mr. Scott," Spock answered. "Examination of the cut end of the cord found no tool marks or signs the cable parted under stress. Further examination revealed the cut end to have a perfectly smooth surface. Additionally, while there is dust inside the room, the center is absolutely clean. An ancestor of mine maintained that if you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the solution."

"As to what you are being provided to help even the odds, a supply pod was launched to the surface approximately thirty minutes ago. It contains weapons, which the Survey Team did not have, a VLF communications device that should help us to communicate if the matter transporter takes us to a location deep underground, and a long range beacon should it take us to another world."

[Emet]

Nosau nodded. "That'll have to do, then. I can't say I'm thrilled with 'impossible to calculate', but it beats rotting away or execution. Besides," he leaned back and spread his arms wide. "Could I ask for a finer group of people to die with?"

[Crainium]

Croak inspected the pictures as he slowly ground one of the large, dragonfly-like insects from his lunch box between his jaws. A lot of work went into this structure. The precision crafting, the symmetry…it had to have been important to the beings that made it. And importance generally meant government or religion, neither one known for being overly friendly to those not already a part of the group.

Croak raised his hand, swallowing the bug paste in his mouth. *guuurp* “I understand we are looking for the people and equipment lost previously, but what if we find…other people? Or beings? Or toy soldiers? Are we charged with a diplomatic mission, or do we shoot first and ask questions later?” The toad wiped his hands on the front of his jumpsuit. *yoom* “I want to make it clear that I have no intention of murdering innocent people.”

[Ma1chbox]

Caine stood off to one side of the group, posture straight and arms crossed like a first mate overseeing deck operations. The fact that it was him being briefed and not the other way around did nothing to deter his commanding stance.

With a relatively neutral expression, he watched on as the android droned on about the pyramid structure and the details. It was nothing like any of the ruins he and his crew had pillaged during their glory days. This one was... strange, to say the least. Deep inside, the thought of the structure gave him a mild case of the willies, but he didn't show any hints of it to the others.

After the briefing was done, Caine listened as the others proceeded to ask questions, some of which he was planning to ask anyway. Once they were done asking, he raised his prosthetic hand and chimed in, his deep, gruff voice accentuated by a southern drawl. "Any chance we get t' keep any o' the loot we scrounge up? I'm gonna need a lot o' money once I go free." A brash statement like his would have sounded like a joke, but Caine meant every last word of it. He was set on earning that pardon, even if it meant he had to drag along the rest of the inmates through the mission.

If there was one thing you could be sure of about Caine, it was the fact that he had no plans of dying just yet. He still had a score to settle with his former crew and captain, the bastards who left him for dead on that damned corporate raid. When he goes free, Caine plans to show them that nobody betrays Allister Caine and gets away with it.

[Enigma]

"Could I ask for a finer group of people to die with?"

"Well said, laddy!" Scotty said.


“I understand we are looking for the people and equipment lost previously, but what if we find…other people? Or beings? Or toy soldiers? Are we charged with a diplomatic mission, or do we shoot first and ask questions later?” The toad wiped his hands on the front of his jumpsuit. *yoom* “I want to make it clear that I have no intention of murdering innocent people.”

"We have no idea where this will lead," Rand asserted itself, somehow the Expert system stood straighter. "As the task that will earn you your pardon is finding out the purpose of this structure, should we find any living sentient beings down there, questioning them would seem more prudent. But if it's a matter of self-defense, shooting may be your only option."


"Any chance we get t' keep any o' the loot we scrounge up? I'm gonna need a lot o' money once I go free."

"The rights to this entire system belongs to the Corporation, so any 'loot' will be corporation property. Theft of corporation property will be charged against you," Rand warned, looking at Caine. "However, I am authorized to provide a bounty for each survivor brought back alive - $10,000 per person, to be divided among the team. If no one has survived, you can still earn a bounty of $1000 per body."

"Should there be others, as Prisoner 47-7606 suggests, the Corporation will gladly pay the same rates. Living beings are much easier to question."

"If you are ready then, organic life forms shall go to into the Airlock Annex and don one of the environment suits. While the atmosphere on the planet is breathable, we would like to take all due precautions. When you're done, you can join the Synthetics in the drop pod. Remember to grab the handle over the hatch and to swing in legs first, there is no artificial gravity in the pod. Take any available seat."

The pressure door at the end of the room slid open, revealing the lockers labeled with each prisoner's numbers, containing a red suit and helmet - and straight ahead, the hatch for the drop pod.

[Azazeal849]

The toad wiped his hands on the front of his jumpsuit. *yoom* “I want to make it clear that I have no intention of murdering innocent people.”

Further down the table Sonia rolled her eyes, as if to suggest that only a maniac would have any intention of murdering innocent people.

"We have no idea where this will lead," Rand asserted itself, somehow the Expert system stood straighter.

...

"Theft of corporation property will be charged against you," Rand warned, looking at Caine. "However, I am authorized to provide a bounty for each survivor brought back alive - $10,000 per person, to be divided among the team. If no one has survived, you can still earn a bounty of $1000 per body."

"One thousand split?" Sonia commented, scratching a tattooed cheek with her short nails. "Bodies aren't paying as much as they used to." She shrugged and let out a breath. "Alright, we know the where, the who and the price. Let's do this."

...

The pressure door at the end of the room slid open, revealing the lockers labeled with each prisoner's numbers, containing a red suit and helmet.

"At least we'll stand out nicely to anyone watching." Sonia frowned as she zipped out of the heavy prison overalls and reluctantly pulled on the red, single piece enviro-suit instead.

The pressure suit was thin enough not to be restrictive of motion, but still felt awkward to someone who had spent their entire life rooted firmly on Earth. The weight was well distributed though, with the air tank built into the armoured chest section, feeding through a segmented metal tube into the neck seal. The visored helmet fitted into place with an intuitive snap and twist. The seal locking into place brought the suit to life, with a soft hiss from the air tank and bursts of light across Sonia's visor as various test icons blinked into life and then switched off one by one. Sonia felt a wet trickling as pressure gel squirted out of the chest unit into the extremities of the suit, pooling anywhere the fibreweave didn't stick directly to her skin and ready to turn solid in a jolt of electricity if the suit detected a vacuum outside itself.

Sonia lowered herself into the pod slightly gingerly, carrying her rectangular item box in one hand. She hadn't experienced zero gravity before either, and the sensation was uncomfortably similar to falling as she lowered herself out of the barge's comforting grav field. She put her free hand on the ceiling of the pod as she bobbed along, and managed to lower herself into one of the four-point seats. That was slightly better, but still not comfortable.

Like the suit and the gravity-free landing pod, nothing about this expedition felt quite right. The alien ruins were a black box, in spite of the damned robot's cold and clinical description. The people going down with her were not gang-brothers, who could be trusted if not liked. And while Sonia would have had to have been mad not to take this offer over her currently assigned fate, the fact that the Corporation were desperate enough to be calling up hardened criminals for the job?

The growing, uneasy tension was beginning to make Sonia's heartbeat tick hard against her throat, but she was damned if she was going to telegraph the fact to the others. Before she shoved her item box into its sized alcove beneath her seat, she cracked the lid and teased out a well-thumbed copy of Band of Brothers. She flicked through to her place, pressed down the pages that were floating gently in the zero-G, and began to read quietly, looking up every time someone else lowered themselves into the pod to see where they sat.

[Emet]

Nosau huffed appreciativelly. His suit was larger than the others, but not just a XXL surplus, like his prison suit. It had been made for him, and it felt good to wear, even if the filtered air inside the helmet would smell like a stale office room.

He grabbed the bag and clicked it open. On top of his clothes was a bottle of TUMS. Sweet, sweet TUMS. He popped the top and swallowed one. They helped prevent Zero G and sea sickness alike.

Then he saw the photo. It was her. Elise. His heart ached at the sight of her. Beautiful auburn hair. A few freckles, she always told him that she hated them. Nosau thought they were cute. And brown eyes that defied the idea of the color brown. He missed her.

He tucked the photo into his bag almost reverently and sat in the seat beside Sonia.

[Enigma]

Once everyone was properly suited and aboard, strapped in, the Corporate Expert system sealed the hatch and floated down to the central raised dais. Producing a program disc, he inserted it into a slot in the side of the dias, then took a seat.

The lights dimmed inside the capsule as a holographic display came to life, showing Gamma and a dotted line for the flight path. Over it started a one minute count-down.

At zero, the drop pod disconnected from the prison barge and lined itself up for re-entry before firing the main engines. Within five minutes everyone was hearing the muted roar as the pod tore into the atmosphere of the moon. After ten minutes of being tossed about in their seats, the roaring faded as the falling pod raced towards the surface. On the holographic display, they could see the island rise up over the horizon. Braking rockets fired, slowing the descent until the craft hovered a hundred yards from the prickly thicket surrounding the dark pyramid.

Hatches on the side of the pod deployed spindly-looking legs, then the pod settled onto the surface. The engines died.

"Well, that wasn't so bad?" Rand module said.

Through the viewport on the hatch, the drone supply pod could be seen, a wide cylinder with a a curved heat shield and four pivoting engines nodes on top.

[Ma1chbox]

"Theft of corporation property will be charged against you. However, I am authorized to provide a bounty for each survivor brought back alive - $10,000 per person, to be divided among the team. If no one has survived, you can still earn a bounty of $1000 per body."

Caine grimaced, showing a hint of frustration. If the team split the earnings, then that would stand in the way of his plans. Silently, he thought to himself about any scenarios in which the team would rescue everything and everyone in need of rescuing, but he would be the only surviving convict.

His sinister train of thought was cut off by the sound of a pressurized door sliding open to reveal a line of lockers, each one stamped with prisoner ID numbers. Sighing in frustration, Caine loosened himself up and walked through the doors, approaching the locker marked with four lucky 7's.

He gave the numbers two taps for good luck before swinging the door open and donning the intricately engineered red suit inside. It was a bit uncomfortable at first, but he quickly became accustomed to the feel and was fully functional in no time. If anything, it was more comfortable than the outdated environment suits his old ship used to have.

All the parts seemed to be in working order, including the little displays inside the helmet. Fortunately, none of them seemed to clash with any of the reticles or displays inside his own bionic eye. Just for good measure, he tested it out by targeting the lady and the large dog as they put on their suits.

Seeing as everything was good to go, he turned to look at the other two as they walked towards the drop pod. He picked up his small box with one hand and followed suit. Without turning to look back at the others left behind, he spoke up loud enough for them to hear. "Make it quick, people, we got a job to do. Sooner we go down, sooner we go free, now chop chop."

Once the other two convicts ahead of him boarded and took their seats, he made a short hop and boarded the vessel in one quick motion. Caine was already used to the feel of being in a zero-gravity environment, and this fact was made evident by his effortless maneuvering through the interior of the drop pod. In no time, he was all strapped up and cozy on his seat, his box kept firmly on his lap by his forearms.

All throughout the entire landing process, Caine sat as still as a statue, unfazed by the rocking and the muted roaring of the engines. In his mind, he was still playing out scenarios and plans based around the premise of earning the most money at the end of this damned suicide mission. Even as the holographic display came up, he kept his eyes locked firmly in front of him in a thousand-yard stare. Both his hands were mimicking the act of gripping two pistols, letting them go, then gripping them again. Every now and then, he would gulp. There was only one chance, and one chance only. His plan had to be perfect, or else it'll all be for nothing.

He only snapped back to reality once the drop pod had finished landing on the small island. As soon as the vessel touched down onto its elongated landing struts, he looked up outside the window to see a supply pod dropping down as well.

"Well, that wasn't so bad?" Rand module said.

"Nope. Not bad," Caine replied, squinting his eyes as he saw the supply pod land with machine-like precision. "Not bad. At. All." With a quick sigh, he unlatched his seatbelt with one hand and made his way to the drop pod's bay doors, opening it as soon as he had his hand on the handle. As he did so, a slit on the underside of the pod slid open and a ladder extended down to just a foot off of the ground. Box in hand, the cowboy jumped down, ignoring the ladder altogether.

Looking around, the island really was bare, save for the gigantic gloom n' doom superstructure in the middle of it. In every other direction was just water. Nothing but water as far as the eye can see. The ground was a bit soft, as expected from a shoreline. Just as the corporates had mentioned, the gravity definitely was weaker compared to that of the prison barge, but at least it was manageable.

Caine took a few careful steps at first, acclimating himself to the gravity. After a couple of steps, he began to perform some hops this time, again, for the same reason. He repeated this until he was practically leaping meters as he made his way towards the supply pod, which was now down on the ground.

As he approached, it opened to reveal a multitude of high-tech equipment, all strapped to two high-tech All-terrain carrier mules. Still, that wasn't what he approached for. Scrounging deeper into the armory, he finally got his hands on his beloved revolver, as well as his backup pistol and machete. For the first time in a long time, Caine smiled.

He sheathed the machete horizontally across his lower back and holstered the backup pistol on his left thigh, but he kept his revolver at hand, admiring the handiwork and details on the deadly beauty. He looked down the sights, aiming at nothing in particular, and once again smiled to find out that everything was still to his liking. With a swift flick of his arm, he holstered it on his right thigh and like many other things dear to him, gave it two light taps for good luck.

[Azazeal849]

He tucked the photo into his bag almost reverently and sat in the seat beside Sonia. The tattooed woman lowered her book and gave Nosau a sidelong, slightly suspicious glance; trying to size up his motive for doing so when every other seat in the pod was still free. Still, she reflected, the expensive science project was better than having to sit next to the motherfucking robot. And perhaps she should try and get the measure of one of the people she had just met, who just like Mouse and Lady Blue would be standing behind her with a gun once they got down to the surface...

"Someone important?" she asked the one-eyed uplift casually, indicating the bag he had just stowed away with a tilt of her head.

Nosau nodded, ears turning momentarily towards her. "She was. Just a reminder that you're not all bad."

Sonia raised an eyebrow sharply, as if to inquire what he meant by 'you'.

Nosau's eye flicked towards the entrance where the others would come in. "At least, not the ones convicted of whatever the fuck we're all in for. No idea how bad you all are yet."

He turned to get a better look at her. Shorter than him, no surprise. Tattooed. Tattoos were one of the more curious things that naked races sometimes did to themselves, and Nosau had never understood it. He had seen one of his own kind try something similar with dye, once, but once it grew out it looked ridiculous, and upkeep was expensive and time consuming.

"So what are you here for?"

Sonia exhaled down her nose. "You're new meat, aren't you?"

And yet, the first timer must have received a pretty harsh sentence to make a volunteer mission like this one appealing. She bit her cheek for a moment, considering, then shook her head.

"A word of advice for you, Fido. One of the unspoken rules is never ask someone why they're in here. You might not like what you hear, and it might get you shanked."

He resisted the urge to snap at her. He wasn't a dog. "I didn't ask what you're here for. I asked what you're here for. I couldn't give a shit how many humans you killed to get thrown in prison. Why are you signed up for this suicide mission? Nothing left to lose? Don't want that life sentence? Fucking crazy?"

"You've answered your own question." Sonia shrugged. "For me and everyone else here. Although," She folded her book closed on her lap and glanced up at the bionic-eyed hardass across from them. He was clenching and unclenching his fists as if around imaginary weapons, in a way that Sonia was certain she didn't like. "Although the ratio of the three might vary a bit."


* * * * * *

Walking and turning felt strange in the lower gravity, especially with the extra mass of the air tank on her back. Sonia stepped carefully up to peruse the supply pod while Caine rooted around for his firearms. The two robot carriers were stacked with medipacks, ration tubes, full canteens of water, chemical lights, climbing ropes, and even a Trailblazer paintball marker.

"Cute." the tattooed woman muttered as she unlooped one of the magnetic webbing belts from the robot's back and fitted a torch, water canteen and ration tube to it. She stared for a long moment at the disc shaped homing beacon and VLF repeater pack, and decided she preferred to keep their only means of long range rescue on her person instead of on the god-damn robot pack mule.

As Caine stepped back with a revolver and a wicked-looking machete in his hands, Sonia turned her attention to the small weapons rack at the bottom of the pod.

"What, no grenades?" she asked the CES which was standing annoyingly close behind her. The machine just blinked its shutter-like eyelids.

The pod held no explosives, and unfortunately no automatics either. It did however hold a Riordan-Metzer 9mm, and what looked like a police-issue shotgun. Sonia wondered if someone in the corporation had an ironic sense of humour as she picked them both up and familiarised herself with the shotgun's pump action. Such a weapon would have earned major street cred back in the old gang - yeah, and I'd never get hold of one without painting a massive Fed target on my back.

She fed a row of red, brass-capped shells into the weapon, checked the safety was on, and let it hang from her gloved hands.

Still, she thought as she took a moment to drink in the seemingly endless ocean view behind the group, like almost nothing that could be seen down in the grimy projects of New Detroit, A shotgun is a shotgun.

She looked up at the alien megastructure for a moment, while the rest of the team prepared. Definitely not like home at all.

[Potatrobot]

Meanwhile, still in orbit around Gamma, the android locker in the docking annex budged. Inside, Max Stone was under the closest approximation of sleep he would ever experience in his current body, and as such, he dreamt. The neural matrix inside his head was designed to emulate the neurological make-up of the human brain, allowing it to function in a similar manner. However, it lacked some of the subtleties that millennia of evolution had granted the human mind. Max's dream was nothing more than a cyclic memory, replaying his capture over and over again. The last thing he remembered before the electromagnetic pulse guns finally took him down was the wailing alarms and the red and blue lights flashing everywhere. After that, the dream simply started anew.

The android inside the locker was tightly restrained - his feet were fastened to the floor, his legs and chest were held against the wall he stood against, and his four arms were braced against the narrow walls of the locker. Despite the restraints, whenever the robot twitched in his sleep, the entire locker shifted with him. It was only after some time since the rest of the prisoners had departed the barge that Max finally woke up.

"G--yaaaaaah!" Max's deep-set eyes lit up a fierce shade of red as his armature powered-up, and the deadlock collar installed around his neck armed itself as it registered the activity. The inside of the locker was bathed in the eerie red glow of Max's optics, barely revealing the rest of his body. The seven-foot-tall, matte-black armature was secured to the back wall by huge, mechanical brackets holding his enormous chest and thick legs in place, while his load-bearing arms were fastened to the adjacent walls. His head, unlike the rest of his body, was human sized, and was shaped like a skull without a bottom jaw, with a row of squared ridges along the top of his forehead. His huge, clamp-like hands clenched as he fought to free his arms from their restraints, but it was no use. After a few moments of vain struggling, he relaxed and began to look around to analyse the situation.

It was dark and he was the only thing in the locker.

"Oi!" He yelled, his unruly, gravelly voice slightly distorted by the mechanism that produced it. He looked around impatiently, expecting some sort of response to dignify his exclamation. He received none.
"Are we fuckin' there ye'?!" He bellowed, trying once again to wrest one of his arms from its restraints. His servos groaned under the effort, but yielded no progress. However, he finally got a response.

A rectangular section of the opposite wall, which he now realised was a screen, lit up and immediately displayed the image of the alien structure that the prisoners were being sent to investigate, while the disembodied voice of the CES droned the mission briefing at him. Max barely retained most of the information spouted at him until payment was mentioned, at which point his attention was focused entirely on every word that the CES said.

"Ten-thousand..." Max whispered. "Divided among the team." He didn't know how many other prisoners were in this team, but he figured it wouldn't be long before it began to shed the excess weight. Plus, with his armoured frame, he was counting on lasting the entirety of the mission.

"Alrigh'. When do I leave?"

[Enigma]

"What, no grenades?" she asked the CES which was standing annoyingly close behind her. The machine just blinked its shutter-like eyelids.

"Prisoner 49-0849, I see you've found the VLF Repeater," CES Spock said, pointing to the cylinder with the flattened side. "That will relay communication between the orbiting ships and the VLF transmitter we will be taking with us. Please set it on rock and press the buttons on each end to anchor it."

"Please collect your equipment, everyone! We will be moving into the artifact shortly. We're just waiting for one late arrival."




"Ten-thousand..." Max whispered. "Divided among the team." He didn't know how many other prisoners were in this team, but he figured it wouldn't be long before it began to shed the excess weight. Plus, with his armoured frame, he was counting on lasting the entirety of the mission.

"Alrigh'. When do I leave?"

"Prepare for jettison," the screen told him. There was a clunk, then the pod began moving sideways on contragrav floats into the waiting airlock. A large supply pod was in the rack, its cavernous door open swung open to receive Max's shipping container, which spun around so he was facing the closing airlock door as the unit settled inside. Yellow revolving lights began flashing as the room began depressurizing as the supply pod door swung shut and sealed.

"Please do not be alarmed," the screen told him. "The container will keep you restrained during the transit to the planet's surface, and you will be released after landing. The Corporate Expert System has been notified of your pending arrival. Launching in three, two, one, release."

With a clunk, the rack clamps released the supply pod as micro-thrusters flared silently, moving the pod through the open floor hatch and into space.

The screen showed the gas giant and Gamma, looming large in front of him - as well as a Corporate frigate watching silently in the distance. There was a sudden thrust as the engines fired, and the pod began racing towards the moon's surface.

"We are beginning the transition into the atmosphere, you may experience some turbulence," the screen warned as flames were picked up on the edge of the display. The pod bucked and shuttered, but finally burst clear, showing blue sky and clouds.

"Beginning landing sequence," the screen announced, panning downward to show the larger drop pod the rest of the mission team had taken, the figures below and two supply pods.

Braking engines roared in the sky as the plummeting pod shuddered and slowed, coming to a gentle landing. The engines suddenly shut off, the pod pinging as things began to cool. With a clunk, the pod door swung open, then with several thunks, the restraints released and the shipping container door swung open, showing the rocky surface of the moon, the basalt structure lying just beyond, and the waiting Corporate Expert System.

"Prisoner 49-8750, I am glad you were able to join us," CES Rand said. "Please collect your supplies, we will be leaving momentarily."


A cool breeze was blowing towards the black basalt pyramid, carrying with it a faint sulphurish scent from the water surrounding the small rocky island, giving everyone a faint chill as they strode past the patches of lichen surrounding the structure. However, as they draw closer to the outer ring, they can feel the heat radiating from it, at first welcoming, then becoming more oppressive as they reach the edge, like a hot muggy day in a strangely silent city.


The strange black blocks tapered as they rose several stories before branching out into black spires radiating out from each corner and from the middle, a very unsubtle warning to keep out. Oddly enough, the black basalt was smooth to the touch, the volcanic glass showing no blemishes as one would find in nature. Nor was there any sign of green from the lichen.


Between each block was a narrow alley, not quite eight feet wide on all sides. Peering down the center, one could see past the blocks there was an opening before the pyramid, the center walkway going right up to the dark entrance. On one side of the walkway was the first sign of wear, a gouge in the basalt in the gap between the blocks and the pyramid. As the party draws closer, they can see deep scratches, as if something clawing desperately for purchase to keep from falling into the deep channel surrounding the pyramid. Leaning carefully, one could see a skeleton of some large creature huddled at the base of the arch for the walkway, the bones of the legs and one arm shattered. The claws on this creature were huge.


Inside the doorway, one could see a faint glow rising from the floor inside the pyramid. While not as hot as the ring of blocks, there was still an uncomfortable warmth radiating from the structure.

[Splat]

"Prisoner 49-0849, I see you've found the VLF Repeater," CES Spock said, pointing to the cylinder with the flattened side. "That will relay communication between the orbiting ships and the VLF transmitter we will be taking with us. Please set it on rock and press the buttons on each end to anchor it."

Sonia squinted at the CES for what seemed like a long time.

"The fuck away from me, robot." she growled at the uncomplaining machine, before turning back to the pod. Once the CES had left to inspect the second landing pod, however, she did as it had suggested and configured the VLF transmitter. As she did so, she wondered what was so dangerous about the final prisoner that they warranted transfer in their own solitary pod.

...

Sonia didn't like the labyrinth. It reminded her of the grid-iron streets in the centre of New Detroit, except there you were relatively safe from getting iced because of the number of cops and innocent bystanders around. Here, you had to check left and right every few metres, where a new alley through the stone sculptures meant that something could leap out at you from either side, or even from behind. The sound of her own breathing inside her suit helmet only served to accentuate the hot, oppressive silence.

Leaning carefully, she could see a skeleton of some large creature huddled at the base of the arch for the walkway, the bones of the legs and one arm shattered. The claws on the creature were huge. Presumably, this was the xenomorph that the overly-polite CES had mentioned.

"Looks like someone took a leap of faith and missed." Sonia commented dryly. She put one foot on the seemingly solid stone of the walkway, reassuring herself that it was, in fact, solid.

Inside the doorway, one could see a faint glow rising from the floor inside the pyramid. While not as hot as the ring of blocks, there was still an uncomfortable warmth radiating from the structure.

"Alright." Sonia said, chewing her lip thoughtfully. "I vote we send the robots in first. Who agrees?"

She looked round, and noticed that the sleek Orion-model android that had been checking out the frog man earlier was watching her - or at least, the purple LED slits on the front of its smooth visor were pointed in her direction.

"Doing jobs better and cheaper than humans is the whole point of you, right?"

The robot let out what could only be described as a soft chuckle as he registered the human woman's question. He stood idle, still picking at the last of the paint that had been plastered on his metal chest. As he thought of a suitable answer, he looked up, the purple light on his "face" flashing, indicating a laugh.

"Yes, I suppose that is the logical assumption. It was the purpose of my construction." Beneath his matter-of-fact demeanor and his appealing, empty voice, a hint of sarcasm was barely intimated. "I would be glad to head the scouting party. Assuming, of course, that you follow."

Sonia shrugged, the police shotgun hanging loose in her hands. "That's what we're all down here for, isn't it?"

Sonia fucking hated androids. As soon as they came onto the market, companies started laying people off. And then they decided to give them sentience, for no fathomable reason other than they could. So now they had the fucking ridiculous situation where these robots had a right to human jobs, even though the corporation could pay them less because even a sentient robot didn't know what the fuck to do with money. Meanwhile, fuck the rights of all the people scraping to get by in the slums.

You can't even send one back to be disassembled when it goes defective, because sentient rights mean it has to go to jail like the rest of us poor fuckers, and so I'm stuck here having to look at your cold chrome ass.

Still, better a cold chrome ass with her shotgun facing it than to have the android behind her, metal claws twitching away. Sonia swung her shotgun barrel up to rest on her shoulder and extended an arm towards the doorway in invitation, letting it slap back to her side as the robot passed her.

The halo of light illuminating Rigel's mechanical head flashed red for a nigh-undetectable millisecond- but long enough for the robot to revel in the short, sadistic lapse into his duplicitous side.

[Enigma]

The doorway yawned open, towering two stories high, cutting through the thick wall of the structure before opening into a tall angled space. Dust covered the floor except where it had been disturbed by survey team, who seemed to be interested in tall square pillars free-standing but forming a square around the center of the giant room. Curious symbols were etched neatly into the basalt of the pillars.

Two bags were still lying next to the base of the closest pillar, as well as a forgotten camera.

It was in the center of the room that there was a subtle difference - a large circular patch in the middle of the building where there was no dust!

There was a second ring surrounding the larger one, of small numbered plastic tags standing tent-like next to small round depressions in the dust.The CES unit paused to check the abandoned bags. "Rations, a med kit, a sample bag...?"

He held up a bag containing golden coins.

"Fascinating," CES Spock replied, examining them closely.

[Ma1chbox]

Caine walked inside after all the others, his hand hovering around the grip of his revolver. His posture was straight and commanding, and his face was calm and stern, but underneath that layer of stoicism, he was incredibly wary of his surroundings. If anything unnatural so much as peeped its head out of the walls, it would be dead before it realized.

As soon as he neared the center, however, his attention drifted for a split second to the ancient structure. He'd gone tomb raiding plenty of times before as a pirate, but this... this place was nothing like he had ever seen before. Hell, he wasn't even sure if this was a damned tomb. There was just... something eerie and wrong about the place.

He made his way towards one of the strange pillars that towered above and into the ceiling, his heavy footsteps drawing minuscule clouds of dust as he went. The markings on it were definitely made by intelligent life, but it was completely unfamiliar, like everything else. One of his hands brushed across the writings as if in an attempt to read the strange language better.

By this point, a fear had taken root in Caine's thoughts. It was by no means the common fear. This one was quite unique. It was the kind that isn't outright noticed, as it would plant itself in the deepest recesses of the human psyche. Like a plague, it would spread, but slowly enough to go under the radar. It was the kind that veeery slowly eats at you and gradually fills you with dread, then before you know it, you're... not yourself anymore...

... But of course, Caine didn't know that yet.

Upon looking at his teammates, he found them a ways ahead already, standing near the strangely clean circle in the middle of the room. The Corporate System apparently already had its shiny metal mitts on a small bag of sunshine, as well as some extra rations and a medkit.

This sight caused Caine to smirk just a bit, but only for about half a second. The thought of already being guaranteed payment this early into the mission somewhat relaxed him. His hand moved away from the grip of his revolver as he began to walk casually towards the rest.

"I'm guessin' nobody else 'ere's got any ideas where the hell we are?" He mumbled half-jokingly to his fellow convicts. His eyes, however, stayed on the weird circle in front of him. It was completely and utterly empty. Not even a speck of dust on it, unlike pretty much everything else inside the pyramid-like structure.

A wave of curiosity washed over him, along with a bit of genius. After a short pause, he picked up one of the little plastic tags left on the floor and looked at the number for a second. Almost as if it was some cruel joke from the universe, the tag was numbered seven. "Lucky number seven, huh," he mumbled silently to himself and guffawed.

Caine then turned his eyes back to the clean circle. For a modicum of safety, he took three steps back and put his hand on his revolver's grip once more. With a short but firm flick of the wrist, he tossed the little plastic tag forward and into the middle of the circle. His bionic eye was now eagerly zooming around, anticipating what might happen.

[Potatrobot]

Max waited patiently as the drop pod descended to the moon's surface, tossing his locker about as it shuddered through the atmosphere. The moon itself looked nothing more than an abysmal backwater rock, though as his pod drew closer to the landing point, Max could start to make out the gigantic heat sink the CES had briefed him on.

"Beginning landing sequence," droned the screen. Max could hear the braking engines roaring from inside the locker, inside the pod, but with no choice but to remain still, he continued staring at the visual feed of the scene below. He started to make out a few large pods, with several smaller specks milling about them.

"There's the crew." Max muttered as the pod slowed down even more and came to a gentle stop on the moon's surface. The engines wound down as the pod cooled off, before the screen went dark. A few seconds of silence passed by before Max heard the pod door opening with a clunk. His restraints finally disengaged, and the locker door swung open, the cool, sulphuric air assaulting his olfactory sensors. The light of the day spilled into the locker, as Max grabbed the edges of its walls and stepped out.

The seven foot tall, matte black armature landed with an uncharacteristically soft thud, owing to the lower gravity. Clearly built for heavy lifting, the armature was so bulky that if it were organic, it would have been impossible for it to wipe its own arse if not for the second pair of arms it possessed, just as heavy-duty as the first. Each arm sported a massive, clamp-like hand with only three fingers, while his strong legs facilitated wide, heavy feet that had their own stabilisers to keep him balanced. His head was human-sized, but atop his massive body it looked like a toaster sitting on a fridge. His deep-set, red, glowing optics were already assessing each individual crew member in turn.

Who've we got here? Max mused to himself, as his optics passed over each crew member, trying to glean what they could through the visors on their ugly space-suits. Two of them were androids, but not like he was - proper androids. Artificial down to the kernel. One of them was standing right in front of him.

"Prisoner 49-8750, I am glad you were able to join us," CES Rand said. "Please collect your supplies, we will be leaving momentarily."

"Ah, brillian'." Max sneered. "It's you. Biggest wind-bag I've ever 'eard and ya don't even 'ave any lungs." He stepped past the CES, though having not acquainted himself with the reduced gravity, his first few strides threatened to topple him. His massive arms windmilled as he righted himself, but kept on walking without a backwards glance.

The others all looked the same under their suits, and he couldn't see through the visors well enough to take a gander at their faces either. He just continued to the supply pod where his gear was supposed to be kept. The others seemed to have pilfered most of the firearms and tools, but all the way at the back was a set of blades so large and heavy it would have been impractical for anyone other than Max to wield them. Two daggers, though machetes would be more appropriate given their size, and a single longsword that only the reduced gravity would allow a human to wield. Each weapon was composed entirely of industrial steel, with thick handles, square hilts, and segmented, trapezoidal blades.

"Ahh!" Max rasped, taking all three blades at once. He tossed the daggers into the air to test the affect of the gravity, and caught them with his upper pair of arms, whereupon he sheathed them into large slots built into his lower arms. The sword he kept out, practising some swings to get a feel for the balance. He kept at it for so long he didn't notice the rest of the crew leaving until he was the last one at the landing site. Once he noticed his tardiness, he quickly grabbed a large ditty box with his name on it from the pod and began lumbering after them.

[Enigma]

A wave of curiosity washed over him, along with a bit of genius. After a short pause, he picked up one of the little plastic tags left on the floor and looked at the number for a second. Almost as if it was some cruel joke from the universe, the tag was numbered seven. "Lucky number seven, huh," he mumbled silently to himself and guffawed.

Caine then turned his eyes back to the clean circle. For a modicum of safety, he took three steps back and put his hand on his revolver's grip once more. With a short but firm flick of the wrist, he tossed the little plastic tag forward and into the middle of the circle. His bionic eye was now eagerly zooming around, anticipating what might happen.

"What are you doing...?" CES Rand demanded, looking up from the coin, then the name tag flickered for a moment, then settled back to Spock as the plastic tag landed in the center of the clean circle - except it didn't. Just before the tip touched the surface, the tag vanished.

"Fascinating," CES Spock said, removing one of the gold coins from the bag, then tossed it into the circle as well. Once again, just before the coin could touch the surface, it too vanished. Or more accurately - it faded to thin air.

"I dinna think it were destroyed, I think it's some sorta transport," CES Scotty said, rubbing its chin. "Didya hafta toss in one of those circuits, Spock?"
"It was necessary to test my hypothesis," CES Spock replied as the android's name tag switched yet again. "By mapping the positions of the devices that were tagged by the Survey team, I believe almost all of them were tossed from inside the circle - by beings who just appeared in this room. I am uncertain as to why they would do so, unless having these devices had a different affect on this gate."

The CES unit walked over to one of the robotic pack-mules and fetched the other VLF Transceiver, then slipped one of the coins inside the robot's storage bags.

"As we cannot be sure what is below, I will go first, holding one of these coins. If the area is safe, I will signal 'AAA' and you will follow. If I signal 'XXX', return to the lander and you will get instructions from the orbiting ships. If you do not get a signal after twenty-four hours, return to the lander. This will earn you a stay of execution, but I cannot say you will avoid long term cryo-stassis."

He then handed the sample bag containing the gold coins to Sonia. "Please hold onto this, Prisoner 49-0849, as you have the other VLF Transceiver. Should I signal the follow-me code, please give one of these to some of the others. It's possible some of the survey team were separated, so those without a device should go to where the others went."

CES Spock then stepped inside the circle - and as soon as he raised his other foot from outside the circle, he vanished.


Five minutes later, the VLF transmitter beeped, displaying on its three-character display "AAA".

[Azazeal849]

Sonia instinctively put her back to the wall as she slung her shotgun and stopped to examine the dropped camera. Resting one exo-suited foot against the smooth basalt wall, she kept one eye on the others as she turned the camera over and thumbed the power button with her gloved hand. Nothing happened.

Fucked. Sonia surmised, Like all the other tech they sent in here.

She watched as Caine threw one of the abandoned marker tags into the dust-free circle, and couldn't help blinking in surprise as it disappeared.

"I dinna think it were destroyed, I think it's some sorta transport," CES Scotty said, rubbing its chin.

"Uh uh." Sonia said doubtfully. "Where's your proof of that?"

As far as any human knew, matter teleportation wasn't possible outside of stories. There were, however, plenty of things which could disintegrate people.

CES Spock replied as the android's name tag switched yet again. "By mapping the positions of the devices that were tagged by the Survey team, I believe almost all of them were tossed from inside the circle - by beings who just appeared in this room. I am uncertain as to why they would do so, unless having these devices had a different affect on this gate."

...

CES Spock then stepped inside the circle - and as soon as he raised his other foot from outside the circle, he vanished.

Sonia waited tensely with the others. As the seconds ticked by into minutes, she began to wonder if the God-damn robot really had been incinerated instead of transported elsewhere. Well fuck that shit!

Suddenly, the VLF transmitter beeped, displaying on its three-character display "AAA". Sonia clicked her tongue, not sure if she was relieved or simply raised to a new height of tension. A number of ugly questions flickered through her mind - What if we can't get back? What if it's safe for robots but not humans? What if those crazies who used to protest outside the research lab were right, and it does something like transport your body but leave your soul behind? Hell, what if it's one of those copying transporters that simply busts you into atoms, and some sort of clone steps out the other end and steals your life?

That last one almost made her chuckle.

Yeah, some life - locked up in cryo until some rich bastard decides he needs a replacement kidney.

She looked around at the others. It almost felt like a gang initiation - everyone waiting with baited breath to see who would be brave enough to make the first move.

Fuck it.

"Grab one if you're coming." she told the others, picking one of the gold coins out of the cloth back with the difficulty of gloved fingers, before dropping the bag onto the floor. She slid it through the dust in the general direction of the others with the side of her boot. The careless move was deliberate - the seconds it would take them to pick up the coins would stop one of the others coming out right on top of her, accidentally or otherwise.

She took a last wary breath, and stepped away from the wall and into the clear circle.

The ground fell away beneath her.

It was like the sick falling sensation of microgravity, only worse - she couldn't see, and she felt as if she were being dragged in all directions at once. Before the pressure could become pain, however, she found herself standing on a smooth disc in the middle of some cavernous chamber, suspended by four narrow bridges of featureless metal.

She pawed at her chest and arms for a moment, trying to reassure herself that she was all still there and hadn't been ripped into pieces and reassembled. She didn't feel any different.

The atmospheric monitor projected onto her visor still blinked green. Under her feet was a tiny tag etched with the number 7 - the tag that Caine had thrown. Then she looked up.

"Shit." Sonia murmured under her breath, struck dumb for a moment by the sheer size of the vaulted ceiling. She took a few steps towards the edge of the platform, the space swallowing the echoes of her footsteps. When she pulled out her torch and shone it upwards, the huge chamber did the same to the beam of light. Casting the light down the walkway she was facing, she saw it glint off a familiar silver shape.

"You made it then." she stated to the CES as she stepped out on to the walkway. The darkness hid the depth of the fall below, for which she was thankful. "Where are we? Underground?"

As she pocketed the gold token to free up a hand for her shotgun, she realised that the tiny coin had turned blood red.

[Potatrobot]

Max lagged behind the group on their way into the central structure. His gait was ponderous and slow at the best of times, and this wasn't helped by the reduced gravity. Each step was a test of balance as he hopped from one foot to the other, and then tried not to immediately fall over. His industrial longsword wasn't helping either, as it put a lot of weight onto his right side as he carried it. He marched past every building in the strange, city-like construction without stopping to look, and only paid more attention to his surroundings when he came to the bridge, should he fall off. He slowed to a walk and peered over the edge to assess the potential drop.

"Fuckin' 'ell." He muttered, raising the sword to his back, where a large clamp gripped it and held it in place. He continued along the bridge slowly, staying in the middle, and now looking around at the enormous structure before him, and now registering the heat radiating off everything.

"These wimps are gunna cook 'emselves soon." He observed, not quite aware of how loud he was talking. He chuckled as he imagined himself as the last surviving member of the crew, and the payout that would entail.

He eventually made it inside the structure and caught up to the rest of the group, who were crowded near a clean, circular area of the floor. The CES stepped onto the circle and disappeared. After a moment, one of the suited fleshies took a coin from a bag, challenging the group. "Grab one if you're coming." She seemed to have an attitude about her, which Max found amusing, and she shoved the bag of coins towards the group without much care for it. She then stepped onto the circle, and vanished like the CES.

Max looked around at the group, still unable to tell one suited gadabout from the other, and then at the bag of coins. Whoever this broad was, she was already taking charge of the situation, and there was no way Max would let himself fall down the pecking order.

"Outta my way." He announced, striding forwards without consideration for anything that happened to be in front of him as he did so. He reached down for the bag, but before his massive clamp of a hand could crush it, a pair of thin, black tendrils snaked out of his wrist and gingerly picked it up. With the bag sitting in his massive palm, the tendrils reached in and fished out one of the coins. Trinket acquired, he dropped the bag near one of the other prisoners, the thin, gangly one that didn't look quite human, even under the space suit. With that done, he reached behind his back and pulled his longsword off his back, and stepped into the circle.

The ensuing sensory cacophony was certainly registered by Max's sensors, but interpreted it was not. His accelerometers indicated falling for a brief moment, but that was the only detail he could glean from the experience. He didn't like this. Something could be ready to attack him and he'd be none the wiser. When he found himself standing on a solid, circular platform, he raised his sword and began turning as quick as his lumbering form could afford without falling over, checking every angle but up for potential dangers. When he found nothing but the four cardinal walkways, the CES and the woman who stepped through earlier, he hesitantly lowered his blade.

"Didn' figure you'd survive, Missy." He bluffed. He stood his blade on the ground and rested his upper-right hand on the enormous pommel, and looked around at the inside of the room.

"Streuth." He observed, looking up for the first time. His optics, though arguably better than a human eye, couldn't spot anything in the impenetrable darkness above. Without any warning, he formed his two lower hands into fists and slammed them together, producing an obnoxiously loud CLANG!! that echoed throughout the nebulous cave. He looked down again, and started towards Sonia and the CES, dragging his sword along the ground behind him.

"Better than the heat then, isn't it?" He prodded.

[Enigma]

First Sonia, then Max appeared. Both seemed startled by their transport.

"We appear to be 1.5 miles underground," CES Spock reported. "If it seems cooler, it is from the warmth of the temple above - this structure appears to be well ventilated and heated to a temperature suitable for most lifeforms - although that may be from our current depth. The gate however appears to be one way - stepping back onto the platform has no effect. These 'circuits' have been deactivated. If we can reactivate them, this gate should return us to the surface. Failing that, I can signal for the ships in orbit to begin drilling."

How long it would take them to drill down so far, the CES did not seem to want to speculate.

"There is one other thing," CES Spock said. Something moved in the darkness behind him, becoming what looked like a robotic shopping cart, its basket empty. It turned to avoid the three of them on the walkway, continuing on to the platform where a robotic tentacle extruded from the wheeled base to grab the tag lying forgotten on the platform, depositing it in the basket. It then turned, heading back towards them.

"This... token or circuit I believe identifies us to the system as an authorized visitor. Anyone else, all their possessions are stripped off and wind up here for collection. Where their owners go, I do not yet know."

[Azazeal849]

"Didn' figure you'd survive, Missy." Max bluffed. He stood his blade on the ground and rested his upper-right hand on the enormous pommel, and looked around at the inside of the room.

"Didn't hope you would, robot." Sonia returned, visibly sneering behind her helmet visor.

"We appear to be 1.5 miles underground," CES Spock reported. "If it seems cooler, it is from the warmth of the temple above - this structure appears to be well ventilated and heated to a temperature suitable for most lifeforms - although that may be from our current depth. The gate however appears to be one way - stepping back onto the platform has no effect. These 'circuits' have been deactivated. If we can reactivate them, this gate should return us to the surface. Failing that, I can signal for the ships in orbit to begin drilling."

"Better do that." Sonia agreed, casting her torch beam upwards a second time only to watch the light scatter and vanish in the sepulchral gloom. "I don't want to finish up and then be sat around for a week waiting for them to dig us out." She scissored her torch beam experimentally around the invisible dome of the cavern, and wondered vaguely why their gear hadn't crapped out like all the survey team's electronics. "You might want to warn them about the drop."

There was a soft hiss from the platform behind them, like air pressure equalising. Sonia turned, expecting to see the rest of their eclectic crew stepping off the platform, but instead only a pile of webbing and kit bundles greeted her eyes. The convict frowned, stepping warily around Max to get a better look at the new arrivals. By the time she had returned to the platform edge and begun playing the white circle of her torch light over the pile, a cold finger of unease was tracing up and down her spine.

"Shit." she murmured, stooping and laying her shotgun flat on the ground to pick up a battered wrist unit that lay among the supplies. "That's Mouse's calculator."

If the others were going to run, they wouldn't have thrown away all their supplies first. Had they all been stupid enough to try and step through without the coins? Had something inside the alien necropolis belatedly reacted to the first few teleports? Sonia snapped upright, racking the slide of her shotgun and panning it warily around. Nothing moved in the darkness, and there was no sound but the soft electric hum of the two androids. Oh great, Sonia thought, her jaw tensing, I'm the only survivor and I'm stuck down here with a pair of fucking robots.

"There is one other thing," CES Spock said. "This... token or circuit I believe identifies us to the system as an authorized visitor. Anyone else, all their possessions are stripped off and wind up here for collection. Where their owners go, I do not yet know."

"Well let us know when you fucking figure it out." Sonia replied, still tense with wary unease. Something told her not to hold out too much hope for Mouse, Lady Blue and the others. She couldn't decide if she was glad to have less guns aimed at her back, or sorry to now have Max's undivided attention. Looking at the hulking mechanoid, she was very aware that she probably couldn't take it in a straight fight. And I'll bet chrome-ass knows that, too.

Something moved in the darkness behind the CES. Sonia whiplashed round, aiming past the two robots, but hesitated as something boxy and silver emerged from the gloom, becoming what looked like a robotic shopping cart, its basket empty. It turned to avoid the three of them on the walkway, continuing on to the platform where a robotic tentacle extruded from the wheeled base to grab Caine's tag lying forgotten amongst the other supplies, depositing it in the basket. It then turned, heading back past Max.

Sonia followed the little machine with the nose of her shotgun, holding her torch against the barrel with her off hand. She paused to raise her eyebrows at Max. "Your turn to take point."

At the end of the suspended bridge, the cavern wall opened into a smooth tunnel. Sonia played her torch beam over the metal cladding on the walls. They revealed themselves to be dull and misted with age, but seemingly unmarked by rust. The little wheeled robot trundled ahead of them until the tunnel opened out into a second chamber, and the whir of its motors gave way to a louder chugging of conveyor belts. White lights flickered on one after the other, emanating from long glass strips that had been embedded in a spiral around the walls. In the centre of the room was a vast circular pit, marked on opposite sides by vertical conveyors that brought smooth glass boxes up from below before cresting and carrying them back down into the darkness of the pit. As Sonia watched, the wheeled robot snaked out its segmented tentacle once more and placed Caine's number 7 tag neatly inside one of the boxes as it reached its peak. The box curved over on its metal runners and began to descend back into the pit, as the little robot wheeled around on the spot and scooted back towards the tunnel - no doubt to fetch the rest of the team's abandoned gear. Looking around, Sonia saw that there was already a pile of recognisable items stacked in a corner of the room. It included cameras, portable lamp packs and what looked like the spare battery pack for a remote-control recon rover. That had to be the survey team's equipment. A second wheeled machine was zipping busily back and forth, depositing the items onto the second conveyor.

Sonia swore quietly as she clicked off her torch and clipped it back onto her webbing. Exploring further around the edges of the chamber, she found two angular alcoves that might have been doorframes, though each was blocked by a smooth metal panel that showed no obvious signs of a handle or control panel. She pushed experimentally against one of them, feeling the cold of the metal through her exo-suit glove.

"Locked." she surmised to the two robots.

[Potatrobot]

Max shrugged off Sonia's comment like a rock thrown at his impervious chassis. It meant that she was wary of Max and that's all that mattered to him. Her remark about drilling earlier to prevent a long wait underground did, however, catch his attention. He realised that it would serve as a perfect opportunity to let the group whittle down to just a few members, if it hadn't done that already by the time the mission was over.

There was a soft hiss behind Max. He spun around as fast as his momentum would allow and lifted his sword into an upright position. When nothing appeared except for a large bundle of equipment, he hesitantly lowered his weapon again. Sonia was already edging around Max to investigate the items.

"Shit." She murmured as she picked a single item out of the pile. "That's Mouse's calculator."

Max assumed that was the name of one of the team members, and at that one that needed a calculator on hand at all times. Looking at the rest of the equipment, Max was suddenly struck by a single, powerful revelation, and if he had a mouth he would be grinning from ear to ear, provided that he also had ears.

It was already down to him and Sonia.

Max slowly lifted his sword and stowed it on his back once again, and began to traipse towards Sonia.

"My deepest condolences, ma'am." He said sweetly, performing something reminiscent of a bow, though off-kilter, and while clasping his enormous hands together.

"There is one other thing," The CES started. Max turned around and saw the mechanical cart trundle past them him and the CES, take something from the platform, and head back the same way.

"This... token or circuit I believe identifies us to the system as an authorized visitor. Anyone else, all their possessions are stripped off and wind up here for collection. Where their owners go, I do not yet know."

Max didn't see Sonia following it until she passed him.

"Your turn to take point."

Max would have retorted if he wasn't already possessed by another concern.

"Hold on, you're tellin' me that this 'ere temple or whatever, sends the rubbish from the intruders to the same place as the authorised blokes? How the hell does tha' make any sense?"

He followed after Sonia and the wheeled robot.

"These people, they can separate a person from the shit on their backs, but they can't send it somewhere else? Unless this place is mean' ta be a rubbish tip to begin with, or some giant lost-n'-found."

He ducked through the doorway into the next chamber.

"A bit like that."

[Enigma]

"It's possible that visitors to this facility were of two types - those with admin rights, and those without. Any unauthorized visitors wind up somewhere else, while their gear arrives here for storage. The question is why separate someone from their possessions?" CES Spock mused, walking over to one of the robot shopping carts, waiting for its turn for the active conveyor. He pulled out a gun from its basket, and tossed it towards the door on the left where it bounced and skidded up to the door.

With an annoyed beep, the robot raced after the gun. The CES then grabbed a ration pack from another shopping cart and tossed it to the right side door, and watched as the robot went to retrieve it.

On the left, the robot cart slowed as it approached the door, stopping well away from it before unleashing a tentacle to collect the gun, then sped back towards the the conveyors.

On the right, the robot stopped next to the door, which opened as it unleashed a tentacle to grab the errant ration pack. The room beyond looked to be an automated repair bay, robotic arms working on a white, faceless android lying on a table. There looked to be storage niches along the wall of the repair chamber for the service robots.

"Looks ta be robots only," CES Scotty said in its thick, Scottish brogue as the repair bay door slid shut. Turning, the CES regarded the other door. "That wee beastie I think scared the robot. Best we avoid that one fer now."

"Our best course of action would be to check out one of the other passageways," CES Spock said, taking over. "Unless you'd like to try something else?"

As he spoke, two more shopping carts entered the store room from the pad, each with one of the robot mules in its basket.

[Azazeal849]

"It's possible that visitors to this facility were of two types." CES Spock mused. "Those with admin rights, and those without. Any unauthorized visitors wind up somewhere else, while their gear arrives here for storage. The question is why separate someone from their possessions?"

Sonia let out a harsh laugh. "Are you serious? A prison robot should know the answer to that one."

What she didn't say was how little confidence she had in the idea that her fellow convicts had been taken prisoner by whatever controlled this complex. Just as likely, they were dead.

She eyed the robots suspiciously as they zipped past. Something about their design, whether it was the segmented steel tentacles or the slightly imperfect angles of their rhomboid carrier baskets, didn't seem quite right. Not quite human-made.

She panned her shotgun around again, half expecting something to shift and dart away among the shadows of the tunnel.

...

"Our best course of action would be to check out one of the other passageways," CES Spock said, taking over. "Unless you'd like to try something else?"

As he spoke, two more shopping carts entered the store room from the pad, each with one of the robot mules in its basket.

"A'ight." Sonia agreed, pulling a handful of ration packs from the pack-mule's back as it was carried past. The others couldn't get to them now, and she didn't know how long they would be stuck down here. She tipped a mocking salute of thanks towards the cart robot as it hummed away.

"The one on the left work for you?" she suggested, picking an arbitrary clockwise circuit of the bridges as she stuffed the ration packs into a velcro pocket on her exo-suit.

[Azazeal849]

"You get an answer from the diggers on the VLF?" Sonia asked the CHS as she took point down the west-leading tunnel.

The circle of Sonia's torch beam turned from silver to red as it fell across a painted door barring the tunnel. As she edged towards it, a heavy metallic clunk made the convict snap up the nose of her shotgun, but it was only the sound of the door mechanism being triggered by some kind of motion sensor. The doors split open and retracted sideways into the walls.

A pool of light poured forth into the dingy tunnel as another spiral pattern of lights flickered into life, scouting the room beyond the doors of shadows.

"How big is this place?" Sonia murmured, thinking aloud.

The room was a long gallery, made from the same dull but unrusted steel as the rest of the underground complex. Like the conveyor room before it, the gallery was a hive of programmed activity - a web of runners criss-crossed the ceiling, and a huge, articulated robot arm hung down from them, extending with a hydraulic whine towards a row of metal cylinders that lay across another chugging conveyor belt. Each cylinder was over two metres long and perhaps half that in diameter, no doubt weighing the better part of a tonne. Sonia's eyes followed the arm as it lifted one of the cylinders clean off the conveyor and whirred away with it along the ceiling tracks. Pistoning again, it deposited the cylinder into a shaped alcove recessed into the far wall. There were dozens of identical alcoves arranged in three rows that spanned the chamber, and most were already full of identical grey cylinders. What they were stacked there for Sonia couldn't fathom, and even stranger was the silver window that she now saw fronted every cylinder, glinting in the light.

It occurred to Sonia to wonder how the seemingly automated facility maintained its power, miles below ground and at the bottom of the murky sea that covered 99% of the alien moon. Mind you, they had no idea how big this complex actually was. For all she knew, they had a full-on fusion reactor stashed down here and bled the waste heat up into the ocean. Sonia was no expert, but a heat-sink that big probably wouldn't show up on the prison barge's scanners.

"Keep an eye on the way out, Chrome-Ass." the convict advised as she padded over to one of the walls to inspect the cylinders. There was no telling how long they had before whatever intelligence had scragged Mouse and the others realised that there were three more of them down here. And that poor fucker upstairs with the broken legs had been jumping away from something.

Keeping one hand on her shotgun, Sonia peered into the reflective mirror of the nearest cylinder. It seemed perfectly smooth, but as she moved her head fractionally left and right, the reflection seemed to glitter and ripple as her perspective changed. It was almost as if the smooth mirror were liquid rather than solid.

Gingerly, she pulled one of the distress flares from her exo-suit pockets and poked the tube into the mirror.

[Enigma]

"You get an answer from the diggers on the VLF?" Sonia asked the CHS as she took point down the west-leading tunnel.

"Lassie, they haven't landed yet," CES-Scotty said in his Scottish brogue. "And we're over a mile below the surface. Going full bore, it'll be a week or ten days before they reach us."




Gingerly, she pulled one of the distress flares from her exo-suit pockets and poked the tube into the mirror. Surprisingly, the rippling mirror did not yield in the slightest. It was like trying to press the gun through a solid wall.

"Fascinating," CES-Spock muttered. "I believe this is intended to be a portable transportation unit."
"Transportation for what?" CES-Bones retorted, but there was a tone of unease in its voice as it glanced at the cylinders in their niches.

[Potatrobot]

Max had barely finished taking in the view of the chamber when Sonia returned to the central pad where they had all arrived. Seeing this, he quickly grabbed one of the passing carts - nearly crushing it in his grip - and fished out Rigel's repair kit and Nosau's automatic rifle before wheeling around and lumbering after Sonia and the CES.

"I'd a' though' the 'robots only' room would a' been a good idea, given the, ah, current numbers." However the other two were already talking to each other about the status on the excavation.

Sonia eventually led the way into the gallery from the west-leading walkway, with the CES following her and Max trailing behind. The factory that lay beyond was enormous and busy, but it didn't strike Max as particularly surprising given the previous room. What did confound Max, however, were the cylinders being stowed in the alcoves in the walls. Sonia tested the mirror-like cover on one of them, and the CES had every intention of taking the opportunity to postulate on the situation again.

"Fascinating," CES-Spock muttered. "I believe this is intended to be a portable transportation unit."
"Transportation for what?" CES-Bones retorted, but there was a tone of unease in its voice as it glanced at the cylinders in their niches.

"I'm sorry, wha'?" Max scoffed, dumbfounded. "Transportation for wha'? Wha' abou' transportation how? They're jus' metal drums! Fuck, they're probably solid, too!"

Max swung his sword up and over his shoulder and slapped it against his back with a harsh metallic CLANG, where the clip engaged and held it in place. He turned on the spot and stomped over towards the conveyor belt, selected a cylinder, and began to squat down. The stabilisers on his feet extended and planted themselves on the ground as Max placed all four of his enormous clamps onto the cylinder. His servos braces for a heavy load, and he attempted to lift the cylinder off the belt.

[Azazeal849]

"I'd a' though' the 'robots only' room would a' been a good idea, given the, ah, current numbers." Max commented.

"If you want to go sit in there and rust while I find the dig-team don't let me stop you." Sonia said dryly as she panned her light around. She glanced back at the CHS as she took point down the west-leading tunnel. "You get an answer from your crew on the VLF? If they've got a mile to dig it'd be nice if they'd get their diggers down here and get started."

...

While Max bench-pressed one of the huge two-metre cylinders, Sonia wandered over to a stubby pedestal which stood conspicuously in the centre of the room. In front of it were a round depression in the floor and a yawning pair of metal clamps, both of which looked like they were designed to accept one of the mirrored cylinders.

On top of the pedestal's rearside were two black glass panels - one flat and one standing tilted. The array almost resembled a touchscreen computer interface, of the kind that Sonia might have spent her days in front of if there were any actual jobs down in the Detroit slums. Yeah right. Eight hours a day going square-eyed, rotting your brain away on some ball-numbing paperwork? I'll take the streets, thanks. She probably made as much in a single hit as those poor assholes did working a solid month anyway.

"Hey, Chrome-Ass." she called over to Max, "There's a control panel."

There was also a squat, cylindrical chair sitting in front of the black screen, which didn't look quite like it was designed to fit ordinary human dimensions. Sonia slung her shotgun, flopped down into the oversize seat, and immediately sprang up again with an oath as she felt the seat drop a couple of centimetres beneath her. As she spun round, she saw the seemingly inert metal of the seat fold and reform, compressing into something that more closely matched her own dimensions. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the black glass panels had lit up in response to her gloved hand groping back against it. It showed a weird, wireframe image that twirled and unfurled like digital origami, presently forming what was a recognisable vision of the hall around them, with the rows of cylinders stacked waiting.

Sonia squinted again at the morphing chair, and elected to stand as Max came stomping over and clunked the heavy cylinder down into the depression in front of the control station. There was a sigh of hydraulics as the metal claws swung in to secure the load. The shimmering silver mirror was facing towards the pedestal, and Sonia.

"Uh uh." the convict said, shaking her head inside her exo-suit helmet. "I'm not sure it's a good idea fucking about with the machinery and tipping off whoever owns this place that we're down here."

[Enigma]

The mirrored panel shimmered - and winked out. Inside the padded cylinder, interrupted screams poured out from the human face staring back of them.

It wasn't, however, a face anyone recognized. He was dirty and thin, looking exhausted. A cut on his forehead was still bleeding.

"My god, they're full of people!" CES Bones whispered.

"Who are you?! Human?!? Get me out of this!" the man yelled, struggling.

On the screen there were four icons. One showed the cylinder with a white rectangle where the mirror was. The next showed the same cylinder with a black rectangle - this was currently highlighted. Third showed a cylinder separated vertically into two halves, while the fourth showed the cylinder with the white rectangle again, this time with a round circle in the middle.

"Who are you?" CES Rand demanded, then straightened. "You're one of the survey crew, Paul Margrew, yes? What happened to you?"

"What are you, an idiot?" Paul snapped. "I'm stuck in this thing! Get me out!"

Overhead, the loading arm paused, then turned so that the giant clamps faced the console and the figures clustered there, while a lens began focusing in...

[Azazeal849]

Uh uh." the convict said, shaking her head inside her exo-suit helmet. "I'm not sure it's a good idea fucking about with the machinery and tipping off whoever owns this place that we're down here."

Sonia was certain that she didn't touch the panel, but perhaps engaging with the clamps and the floor socket had already triggered something, because the mirrored panel shimmered - and then winked out, like a two-way mirror depolarising. The cylinder was hollow, padded...and occupied. Inside the padded cylinder, interrupted screams poured out from the human face staring back of them. He was dirty and thin, looking exhausted. A cut on his forehead was still bleeding.

"My god, they're full of people!" CES Bones whispered.

"Who are you?! Human?!? Get me out of this!" the man yelled, struggling.

"Who are you?" CES Rand demanded, then straightened. "You're one of the survey crew, Paul Margrew, yes? What happened to you?"

One of the missing crew.

"Holy shit." Sonia looked at the CES, and then at the man trapped inside the cylinder. "Paydirt."

"What are you, an idiot?" Paul snapped. "I'm stuck in this thing! Get me out!"

"Shut up!" Sonia snapped at him. "We're your fucking rescue party."

On the screen in front of her were four icons. One showed the cylinder with a white rectangle where the mirror was. The next showed the same cylinder with a black rectangle - this was currently highlighted. Third showed a cylinder separated vertically into two halves, while the fourth showed the cylinder with the white rectangle again, this time with a round circle in the middle.

Sonia wasn't a computer expert, but she hoped that the graphic of two halves meant "open". She jabbed the icon with a gloved finger. Something beneath her feet rumbled in response, and in her peripheral vision, the loading arm paused, then turned so that the giant clamps faced the console and the figures clustered there. For the first time, Sonia noticed something that resembled a lens mounted on the arm, nestled like a rifle scope between its grabber claws. It whirred forward an infinitesimal fraction, as if focusing in.

Sonia's response to trouble was immediate and hard-coded. You didn't survive in the gangs by drawing second. She shrugged the police shotgun off her shoulder and into her hands in one smooth motion, the cylinder and the two robots temporarily forgotten. The shotgun's roar was reassuringly loud as the metal stock thumped back into her shoulder.

The lens took a glancing blow and bent aside, like a wounded thing flinching away from the shot. Sonia hissed. She couldn't use the iron sights properly in this stupid helmet.

"We need to leave." she told the others, and pointed up at the loading arm that was now buckled by a pancake of pellet impacts, the black lens cracked and twisted back off its mounting. "Someone knows we're here."

[Potatrobot]

"Fuck me running." Max muttered as the cylinder winked out, revealing the prisoner it contained. Max hadn't felt true claustrophobia since being relegated to his new chassis, but he did recall something closely approximating it in his shipping container, and the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach that it brought on.

"Who are you?" CES Rand demanded, then straightened. "You're one of the survey crew, Paul Margrew, yes? What happened to you?"

Max turned towards the CES, then his gaze drifted upwards to focus on nothing in particular. Then it bolted down towards the cylinder. Sonia thumbed a button on the interface, and a scant moment later, the cylinder hissed and split apart vertically, allowing a panicked survey crew member to frantically scramble out.

Max didn't notice the loading arm's movements until Sonia fired at it. He wheeled around as fast as his chassis would allow without falling over just in time to see the arm recoil from the shot.

"We need to leave." said Sonia. "Someone knows we're here."

Max wasn't concerned by that, however. He was already back at the conveyor belt, picking up a second cylinder. He waddled over to the console, and using his lower arms, flung the empty halves of the previous cylinder to either side, oblivious to the loud crashes they produced as they collided with whatever was unfortunate enough to have been built in their way. He lowered the cylinder into the depression in the floor, grabbed the clamps by either side, and roughly forced them back onto the cylinder with his own hands.

"We're ge'in' paid for everyone we rescue!" He called over his shoulder, as a thin tendril snaked out of his hand and tapped the same button Sonia pressed to release the previous prisoner.

[Enigma]

The gunshot echo'd loudly in the massive chamber.

Paul ducked, hands over his ears and looked up wildly at Sonia.

"We need to leave," Sonia said, pointing up at the damaged loading arm. "Someone knows we're here."

"Are you crazy?!?" Paul demanded. "Do you know what you've...?"

The giant synthetic however was already loading another cylinder into the interview station.

"We're ge'in' paid for everyone we rescue!" Max called over his shoulder, as a thin tendril snaked out of his hand and tapped the same button Sonia pressed to release the previous prisoner.

However, this time nothing happened, the console was dark. Lost in the gloom of the chamber ceiling, several spotlights came on, converging on the group at the interview station.

"Oh my god, they're going to think this is an escape!" Paul gibbered, heading not for the door but the conveyor belt. "We gotta go now!"

The guy dived inside the wall slot and began crawling.

"An escape?" CES Rand demanded. The tag on its chest flickered as it said, "This is a prison."

[Azazeal849]

Lost in the gloom of the chamber ceiling, several spotlights came on, converging on the group at the interview station.

"Oh my god, they're going to think this is an escape!" Paul gibbered.

"An escape?" CES Rand demanded. The tag on its chest flickered. "This is a prison."

Sonia swore, shielding her eyes from the furious spotlights. If the CES was right, then it was one hell of an irony to be getting a reprieve from one prison only to stumble into another.

And if this was a prison... Camera, spotlights - we're only a klaxon and some pounding footsteps away from the riot squad arriving to kick our heads in.

There was a loud crash. Max had just hauled over a second cylinder and dumped it into the now-floodlit control station.

"The fuck you doing, Chrome Ass?" Sonia shouted at him.

"We're ge'in' paid for everyone we rescue!" Max called over his shoulder, as a thin tendril snaked out of his hand and tapped the same button Sonia pressed to release the previous prisoner. However, this time nothing happened; the console was dark.

"We gotta go now!" Margrew bolted, heading not for the door but the conveyor belt.

"Hey!" Sonia shouted after him, but the survey crewman had already dived inside the wall slot and begun crawling.

"Jesus Christ." Sonia grumbled, and lunged away from the control podium after him. She cleared the barrier surrounding the halted conveyor with a running jump and dived forward in time to grab Margrew's ankle with her free hand.

"Hey, Margrew!" she called him again as she temporarily arrested his flight, "Crawl and talk. Where you going, and who's they?"

[Potatrobot]

Max tapped the screen impatiently after it went dark, before swearing and swiping the console with his whole hand, tearing it off its mounting. The ground Max stood on lit up as the spotlights converged on him, and he squinted up at them, shielding his eyes from the light with his arm. As he did, his mind was flung back into a distant memory.

Max lowered his arm as the enforcer helicopters circled around him, keeping their searchlights trained on the rogue android. It was night, but the searchlights combined with the red and blue flashing sporadically against the walls, rain and wet ferrocrete illuminated the entire dock. Sirens wailed both distant and near as Max lumbered towards the truck bay, in the vain hope that he'd find some place to hide, at least from the helicopters. He could manage ground units.

Static flashed in his optics and his left arms went completely numb and limp, and he knew it was too late, yet he trudged on. Every step was filled with the dread of anticipation, that the EMP cannon would strike him in the back and deactivate every other part of his body, sending sharp pins and needles throughout his extremities, far more powerful than the instinctive, simulated tingle he could already feel in his back.

When the weapon fired again, it took out his legs. He dropped to the ground with a heavy CRASH, but he was still conscious, and his right arms were still operational. He clawed at the ground in front of him, but his enormous fingers found no purchase in the rough ferrocrete. He brought them closer and pushed off the ground, the servos whining with the strain, before they gave out beneath him and he collapsed for the final time. Just to be sure, the EMP cannon fired again, and Max would remember no more before waking up in prison, in a weak, humanoid armature.

Distant yelling brought Max back to the situation at hand.

"Oh my god, they're going to think this is an escape!" Paul gibbered, heading not for the door but the conveyor belt. "We gotta go now!" He dived for a slot in the wall and began crawling through.

"An escape?" CES Rand demanded. The tag on its chest flickered as it said, "This is a prison."

"Hey!" Sonia yelled before diving after Paul.

Max looked down at the CES.

"You'd be'er follow after 'em, Schizo. I'll go after you and block them."

Max turned to face the door and crossed his lower arms. With each hand he gripped the hilt of the oversized knives sheathed on each wrist. With his upper right hand, he gripped the hilt of his longsword. With his left, he gripped Nosau's automatic rifle, the tendrils wrapping around the trigger. He slowly stepped backwards, towards the passage, expecting a swarm of enforcers to flood the room. Once he was close enough, he turned, dropped onto his hands and knees, and began crawling after the CES.

[Enigma]

"Hey, Margrew!" she called him again as she temporarily arrested his flight, "Crawl and talk. Where you going, and who's they?"

"Robotic enforcers!" Paul struggled, then gave up, pointing back from where they came. "Look, nobody escapes from the Detention room, so there's no need for enforcers in there, right? Unless someone goes crazy and starts tearing up the place."

His bark of laughter was short and bitter.

"All the enforcers are in the Prep Room, it's the only time anyone there can fight. But now they're all gonna go to the Detention, so we've got to move, now!"


Max looked down at the CES.

"You'd be'er follow after 'em, Schizo. I'll go after you and block them."

"Don't stay too long, laddie," CES Scotty growled, hurrying over to the wall slot and slipping inside with Sonia and Paul.


Max turned to face the door and crossed his lower arms. With each hand he gripped the hilt of the oversized knives sheathed on each wrist. With his upper right hand, he gripped the hilt of his longsword. With his left, he gripped Nosau's automatic rifle, the tendrils wrapping around the trigger. He slowly stepped backwards, towards the passage, expecting a swarm of enforcers to flood the room. Once he was close enough, he turned, dropped onto his hands and knees, and began crawling after the CES.

The Red door buzzed, opening slightly to show cone-shaped robots striped with mauve, with a revolving flashing light for heads and flexible extending arms ending in large claws. The one in front started to move forward when the Red door slammed shut again.

Once Max was inside the wall slot with the others, a panel slid down, sealing the Detention room side of the conveyor. The other side sealed too.

Paul's eyes bugged out. "Why didn't that seal when you shot the arm?"
"The Arm?" CES Spock asked, tilting his head slightly. "Were you always in that tube?"
"No, I had a magic token," he shrugged. "It dropped me off on the Main Receiver, along with Rawlings and Davis. But we couldn't get out of this freak house, then I lost Rawlings and Davis. So I bashed one of the Enforcers in the head light and they processed me."

A light flickered on along the wall of the conveyor belt, revealing an open cylinder.

"That's the thing that took Davis!" Paul yelped, trying to crawl back from it.

[Azazeal849]

"Robotic enforcers!" Paul struggled, then gave up, pointing back from where they came. "Look, nobody escapes from the Detention room, so there's no need for enforcers in there, right? Unless someone goes crazy and starts tearing up the place."

"They already had a camera on us, prick." Sonia snapped back, and gave Margrew a rough shove to get him moving again down the tunnel. Her shotgun scraped along the conveyor as she crawled after him.

Robot enforcers. It looked like even aliens weren't immune to the job-destroying march of technology. The irony drew a brief cackle of laughter from the convict.

"Where are we heading?"

Margrew's own bark of laughter was short and bitter. "All the enforcers are in the Prep Room, it's the only time anyone there can fight. But now they're all gonna go to the Detention, so we've got to move, now!"

Go where the C.O's aren't. Makes sense.

A metallic bang reverberated down the conveyor tunnel, like a huge fist crashing down on a tin roof. Sonia crabbed around frantically, and nearly loosed her shotgun straight into Max's chrome faceplate as the robot convict came scrambling into the tunnel. A smooth metal panel had slid down behind him, sealing the Detention room side of the conveyor.

Paul's eyes bugged out. "Why didn't that seal when you shot the arm?"

"Was it supposed to?" Sonia shrugged inside her exo-suit. "Come on, let's hustle. There's nothing stopping your robot enforcers from opening that door again once they see we're not in the main room."

Feeling stifled after the sudden exertion of fleeing the Detention Hall, she fumbled at her helmet seal until the airtight lock twisted, and lifted it off with a sigh the matched the soft hiss of equalising air pressure. That was slightly better - at least now she wasn't feeling boxed in by the narrow conveyor shaft and the suit. She felt around for the magnetic pins on the top of her air tank and clunked the helmet into its storage lugs.

A light flickered on along the wall of the conveyor belt, revealing an open cylinder.

"That's the thing that took Davis!" Paul yelped, trying to crawl back from it.

Sonia cursed under her breath as the scientist backed right into her. Margrew was still so stressed and disorientated that he was liable to wig out at any moment, and that wasn't good for their survival chances - especially when he was the only one who had a real inkling of what was going on here.

"Yeah, just like the one we busted you out of." she told the scientist as she shoved him onward, hoping to focus him with her sharp tone of voice. "I assume it's not going to jump up and eat us."

"Were you always in that tube?" CES Spock asked, tilting his head slightly as they crawled.

"No, I had a magic token," Margrew shrugged. "It dropped me off on the Main Receiver, along with Rawlings and Davis. But we couldn't get out of this freak house, then I lost Rawlings and Davis. So I bashed one of the Enforcers in the head light and they processed me."

"Processed, eh?" Sonia huffed, holding her torch against her shotgun and sweeping the tunnel ahead as she stopped to listen for pursuit. The idea of the rest of the survey team trapped in those cylinders like cryo lifers made her skin crawl. Were Mouse and Lady Blue and the others locked away with them? Either way, there was nothing they could have done - whoever controlled the system had already locked them out.

And I don't owe those pricks a goddamn thing.

Her torch beam fell across solid metal, and she swore when she saw another steel panel blocking their path. She looked back at Max, who was covering their rear and only now catching up to her and the CES.

"Hey Chrome-Ass." she called to Max, "Fancy bashing that door down for us?"

She manoeuvred herself out of Max's way, which was no easy feat in the cramped corridor.

"What were you doin' back there, anyway?" she demanded of the convict robot. "Pulling out another 10K prisoner does us fuck all good if we don't get out. Your Three Laws programming suddenly kick back in or what?"

[Potatrobot]

Max could barely move in the conveyor tunnel. Getting past the three human-shapes in front of him without crushing them was more a matter of letting them squeeze past him so he could move forward. Eventually he made it to the front of the queue, the sealed door at the end of the tunnel before him, and Sonia just behind.

"What were you doin' back there, anyway?" she demanded of the convict robot. "Pulling out another 10K prisoner does us fuck all good if we don't get out. Your Three Laws programming suddenly kick back in or what?"

Max paused, one of his hands pressed against the door. He was having trouble putting the last cylinder out of his mind, with one of the survey crew packed inside like a sardine.

"Listen, love," Max said quietly as he attempted to look back Sonia's way, his voice a deep, slow croak. She couldn't see his face past his bulk, but the red glow of his optics cast eerie highlights against the sheer, black facets of his armour.

"I've go' my own laws. If it doesn't serve my ends, it's useless. Every one a' those dumbarses in the pods is ten kay tha' could be in our pockets, assuming we don't bump into the rest of our lot. Schizo back there is our ticket ou' of 'ere, and he seems to like figurin' out how this whole circus works. And you, well, you've go' a good head on your shoulders. You li'e to take charge, you want to survive, and escape, and you know you can't do it alone either."

With that, Max drew back his hand, formed a fist, and drove it into the door, forming a huge dent and filling the tunnel with the deafening clash of steel on steel. He drew his arm back again and slammed it back into the door, closer to the bottom. One of the corners gave as Max nearly ripped the door out of its frame, creating a narrow opening. Max forced his hand through the opening, gripped the door and bent it upwards, folding it back on itself. When half the door was out of the way, he threw one last punch at the remaining portion, tearing it out of what was left of its frame. He grabbed the edges of the tunnel and began to haul himself out.

Outside, he drew his daggers and checked the area for any more of the enforcer robots. Paul said they were moving toward detention, though Max could only assume that he was referring to this room. As Sonia climbed out of the tunnel, followed by Paul and the CES, Max realised that she'd finally taken off her helmet, and could see her face. Had he any eyebrows they may have quirked. She certainly looked as she acted - tough, take-charge, and pretty difficult to shake. He also noticed that her time in prison had been fairly kind to her face.

"You know, I've 'eard that when things get tough, sticking together's apparently a good idea. Strength in numbers, or some shit. More rescues'd mean more eyes, more hands, as well as more revenue." He reached down and plucked the automatic rifle from his hip and tossed it at Paul.

"And who knows, we might make it out of our old prisons, too."

[Enigma]

In the silence that followed Max's forcible entry into the Processing Room, CES Rand spoke as it climbed through the opening the cyborg made.

"When we can reach the surface, you'll all receive full credit for each prisoner down here. The question is how to escape from down here back to the surface? We may want to limit the amount of attention we bring down on ourselves. Mr. Margrew, you and two others were down here for considerable time, did you manage to explore this facility completely?"

"You mean between the machinery floor and this one?" Paul said, stepping in. "We couldn't get through the doors to the Eastern side."

In the center of the room was a large transport circle, about 3 meters across. Three loading arms were mounted overhead with padded jaws, while an empty coffer stood nearby, ready to be filled. Paul pointed at a device mounted just outside the transport circle, pointing North, away from the door.

"Mind that, if you get caught by its beam, you're stuck."

"Lassie," CES Scotty spoke, turning to Sonia as it pointed at a small door on the other side of the room. "There's a door goin' East over there. Think we can use our new can opener ta get through?"

"What say you, Laddie?"

[Azazeal849]

"I've go' my own laws. If it doesn't serve my ends, it's useless. Every one a' those dumbarses in the pods is ten kay tha' could be in our pockets, assuming we don't bump into the rest of our lot. Schizo back there is our ticket ou' of 'ere, and he seems to like figurin' out how this whole circus works. And you, well, you've go' a good head on your shoulders. You li'e to take charge, you want to survive, and escape, and you know you can't do it alone either."

Sonia didn't have any reply to that. She stared at Max's back as he swivelled away from her to attack the panel.

"You're a..." she blurted, and it was only by luck that the words were lost in the booming crash of Max's fist hitting the metal screen.

No robot, no matter how broken, would completely deny every AI's most basic programming like that.

You used to be a human.

Transplanting a human brain into the biomechanical life-support of a robot body had been possible for around twenty years now, but only crippled ex-soldiers and psychopaths with god complexes ever put themselves forward for it. Not after all those poor bastards from the Junipero project, who had been forcibly implanted after the government decided that uploading old people onto a server was no longer cost-effective. Most of those unwilling participants in the government’s latest Work Not Welfare scheme had gone batshit insane in their new metal bodies.

Her ingrained hatred of robots aside, Sonia couldn't even fathom the mindset of someone who would actively choose to be locked in a prison even more total and permanent than the cryo chamber that awaited her.

She ran a gloved hand slowly through her short mop of hair and turned aside, hoping that Margrew wouldn't catch the horrified, appalled look on her face.

---

"You mean between the machinery floor and this one?" Paul said, stepping in. "We couldn't get through the doors to the Eastern side."

Sonia was glad to see that the survivor had steadied somewhat. Perhaps it was the comforting weight of Max's gun in his hands.

"That's what that's for." she reassured Margrew curtly, jerking her head in Max's direction. She clenched her jaw a moment later, feeling a stab of unease that almost verged on guilt. Max wasn't a that - at some point the hulking robot had been a he. Or maybe even a she; it was impossible to tell.

She covered her momentary doubt by sweeping a circle of the room with her shotgun. She didn't want the others to see her looking uncomfortable. The room was still and quiet; no metallic cacophony hailed the approach of more mechanical enforcers.

"See those robot C.O's," she inquired, looking at Margrew. "Do they go down if you shoot them?"

---

"Lassie," CES Scotty spoke, turning to Sonia as it pointed at a small door on the other side of the room. "There's a door goin' East over there. Think we can use our new can opener ta get through?"

"No doubt." Sonia agreed, with a nod. She scowled, and resisted the sudden urge to go off on one at the CES. Can opener. A robot was the last thing with the right to compare a human - or something that had been human - to a fucking appliance.

We ain't friends. she reminded herself as she regarded Max's back.

She turned away, switching between covering the arched entranceway and scanning the ceiling for more hidden cameras. The loading arms and the turret-like beam projector that Margrew had warned them about stayed mercifully dormant. Sonia discreetly worked her way round, so that the CES was between her and the projector as she resumed her overwatch. Her nerves were stretched taut, and she found herself badly craving a cigarette, or ideally something stronger.

[Potatrobot]

Max stepped cautiously past the transport circle, following Sonia's lead. In his head, he was running through the arithmetic of the current situation.

That's three possible rescues, tops, ten kay each. Thirty kay. Not bad. Did they ever tell me how many people were down here..?

Max had to stop running the numbers to correct a sudden loss of balance before he fell over. His armature's motor functions still weren't entirely second nature, and he still needed to concentrate on where he stepped and compensate for the lack of gravity. He couldn't risk distracting himself. Only once he made it to the other side did he resume his thoughts.

So we've bagged one, but... he watched Sonia as she swept the room with her shotgun. We'll have to find the other two before they dig us out of here. No way I'm settling for ten kay.

Max eventually realised that Sonia and the CES were standing away from the door, and looking at him, waiting on him to get to work on it. He took a few steps back, deployed his feet stabilisers, and began jogging towards the door. As he neared it, he leaned forwards and began running, since if he were to fall over, he would most likely slam into the door anyway. At the end of his charge, he turned slightly and threw his shoulder into the door.

[Enigma]

The moon door bowed slightly, then flexed back unscathed.

"It would seem that the conveyor is lower priority than what's behind that door," CES Spock replied, then frowned as with a soft 'wrrrl' the moon door slid up, revealing a long, curved-wall passageway leading East as lights flickered on. At the far end, a door could be seen, still down.

"Did he...?" Paul asked, pointing at the door while glancing at Max.

"Unlikely. I believe we're being invited in," CES Spock replied. "This could possibly be a trap."

[Azazeal849]

"Y'think?" Sonia answered, in a tone that was dry with sarcasm. She twisted her head uncomfortably, before picking at the inner neck seal of her suit until it was no longer pressing her security choker into her neck. She didn't particularly care if Margrew clocked the damn bomb collar and realised that his rescuers were actually convicts. He would find out sooner or later anyway, and they had bigger problems. Like finding a way out of here that isn't an obvious set-up.

"Hey Margrew," she hailed the scientist, and jerked her head in the direction of the tunnel leading out of the gallery. "You said you'd scoped out this place pretty well. Where does that go?"

"Back to the bridges where my team teleported down." Margrew explained. "The room opposite is some kind of sorting and maintenance workshop."

"Yeah, we saw that. What about the east tunnel?"

Margrew shook his head. "There's a door on that one we couldn't get open, even with lasers."

Sonia sighed in frustration. "Fuck."

She looked around again, at the beckoning moon door. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them, baiting them in, even though this time she couldn't see any obvious camera lenses to blow to confetti.

"There anythin' we can use to jam that open in case it decides to slam on us?"

Maybe the fuckin' CES, was her first thought, except they were supposed to bring it back in one piece if the corporation was going to honour its half of the deal.

[Potatrobot]

Max was thrown to the ground by the door as it flexed back like a trampoline. He came down with a heavy crash, lying on his back. As the door slid up regardless of his efforts, he strained his neck forward to see.

"Did he...?" Paul asked, pointing at the door while glancing at Max.

"Unlikely. I believe we're being invited in," CES Spock replied. "This could possibly be a trap."

Max grunted as he pushed himself off the floor. "We've go' no choice, by the looks of it. Whatever's runnin' the place knows we're here 'n they wan' us ta keep movin'. Like bloody rats in a maze."

"There anythin' we can use to jam that open in case it decides to slam on us?" Sonia asked.

"I'll do it." Max volunteered. "I'm guessin' it won't, though. It's probably gonna lead us to that last door from the bridge, anyway."

He trudged forward and stood in the doorway, holding onto the frame with his four arms.

"But just to be on the safe side, I'd hurry."

[Enigma]

"I'll go first, then you two, then Max," CES Rand instructed, pointing to Paul then Sonia. "We don't know what's inside, but like Max said, we don't seem to have a choice."

Ducking past Max, the CES unit slipped through the door, finding a short passageway and another door, leading to some sort of common room. There were two passageways, one leading straight ahead, and one to the left - both were dark. To the right was another sliding door that as the CES unit watched, slid up, revealing a lit corridor.

"Will you walk into my parlor," CES Bones muttered.
"Indeed, doctor. Indeed."
"What is this place?" Paul asked, darting into the room.
"I would surmise these were the living quarters for the people in charge," CES Spock answered, turning back to the rest of the party. He pointed to the lit doorway. "I believe our hosts are expecting us."

[Azazeal849]

"I would surmise these were the living quarters for the people in charge," CES Spock answered, turning back to the rest of the party. He pointed to the lit doorway. "I believe our hosts are expecting us."

"Hold up a sec." Sonia deadpanned, holding her torch against her shotgun barrel and taking a few measured, cautious steps up the corridor directly opposite the open doorway. One of the basic rules of being a gang hitman was to have your fucking escape route planned out, and everything about this extended come hither trap was setting her instincts screaming.

"It could be Rawlings trying to guide us?" Margrew suggested as her torch's pale beam wavered across the corridor walls.

Sonia's jaw tightened. "Y'think?" she countered sourly. "After you were stuck down here however many days, y'think he suddenly found out how to crack the system?"

She advanced further, checking methodically as she went.

"If it's the same guys who set the robot C.Os on us, I'm not feeling much of an urge to go where they say."

That is, she refused to add aloud, Y'know, if there is another option. The possibility that there wasn't was more terrifying than she cared to admit.

[Enigma]

"If it's the same guys who set the robot C.Os on us, I'm not feeling much of an urge to go where they say."

"Shooting up the detention area most likely triggered the security bots," CES Spock replied. "Odd how the shutter for the conveyor did not close until after we were all inside, but we were allowed access to the preparation room and this one. It seems very unlikely that whoever is leading us around has hostile intent."

"So... someone doesn't want to hurt us?" Paul asked, confused.

"Can't be sure of that, laddie," CES Scotty rumbled. "Perhaps they were savin' us fer themselves. Can't fault the lady fer being cautious, best we take a look around before we trust what's behind us."

"Uh, right," Paul said, swallowing. "I'll uh, check that out over there."

He crossed to the dark doorway on the left of the door they'd entered, straying to the right side of the wall. Steeling himself, he quickly jerked his head over the edge and flattened himself back against the wall.

"It's... too dark," he admitted, red faced. Pushing himself off the wall, he turned and slid in front of the open passageway and took a step inside. Lights immediately came on overhead - and Paul crashed to the floor, looking around wildly. When the eight doorways revealed by the light and the strange carving at the end of the hall didn't react, he shamefully began picking himself off the floor.

At the far end, there was a gurgling noise, causing Paul's head to jerk upright - as a thin film of water began pouring out of a slot high on the wall and falling into the carved basin below.

Paul sighed. "Sorry, I don't know what I expected...."

"Who are you?" demanded a woman, stepping out of the lit passageway, next to the suddenly frozen CES unit. She was wearing a survey uniform that matched Paul's, but in much better condition.

"Davis?!?" Paul demanded, turning.

[Azazeal849]

"Wouldn't've thought this was the kinda place for water features." Sonia observed as she peered past Margrew at the carving and its gurgling water stream.

"Who are you?" demanded a woman, stepping out of the lit passageway, next to the suddenly frozen CES unit. Sonia wheeled round, and the only thing that stopped her from blowing the woman away - and probably catching the CES in the blast too - was the fact that she was wearing a survey uniform that matched Paul's, but in much better condition.

"The rescue party." Sonia snapped back at the woman, being selective with the truth. "What's left of it anyways. Who the mother fuck are you?"

"Davis?!?" Paul demanded, turning.

"Hold up." Sonia interrupted in a steely voice, putting a restraining arm out across Margrew's chest and shooting a questioning glare at the newcomer. "If you're Davis, how the hell you get outta that tube that Margrew said the robots put you in?"

[Potatrobot]

Max kept his hands on the door frame as the CES, Sonia and Paul scurried under his arms and into the passageway. The door didn't attempt to close on any of them as they passed, and as Max let go and tentatively stepped into the passageway after the others, it stayed open. It was only after he had stepped some distance from it that it shut itself.

"Who's watchin' me..?" he muttered to himself as he turned away from the door. He couldn't see any obvious cameras, but he supposed that would be the entire point. The corridor wasn't entirely featureless, so there might have been a tiny peephole hidden in some otherwise innocuous detail. He eventually resigned to his lot at the hands of whoever was guiding them through the facility, and trudged after the others, drawing his sword again.

He stepped into the common room just as Paul began inspecting the doorway on the left. It didn't help Max's confidence in him that he made a sorry display of it. He didn't notice someone step into the room from the corridor on the right until she spoke.

"Who are you?" The woman demanded, drawing everyone's attention - except for the CES. Max found his lack of movement particularly disturbing, and held his sword up with two hands in a defensive position.

"Davis?!?" Paul blurted out.

"Aaah," Max said, piecing together the situation. His sword lowered a bit, but he caught himself and raised it again. "So this is the Davis you've been bangin' on abou'. Where's the other one, then? Rowling, or some shit like tha'."

[Enigma]

"Davis?" the woman frowned, eyebrows furled in confusion - and then they relaxed.
"Ah," she said, laying a hand on her chest. "This body's name is Davis."

"Please do not be alarmed," Davis continued. "The person who belongs to this body is still here unharmed, merely sleeping. It has been centuries since the facility received new arrivals, nor have we been contacted for retrieving those who are stored here. This one bore the authority of a Caretaker, but gave up the token to be put into the system. We felt it necessary to question all of the recent biological arrivals, including this one."

"After you shot up the Internment area after retrieving that one from storage," she added, pointing to Paul, "We felt that you would be less likely to shoot one of your own people. So I shall ask again, who are you and why are you here?"

[Azazeal849]

"Ah," she said, laying a hand on her chest. "This body's name is Davis."

Sonia blinked at her. "Are you high?"

"Please do not be alarmed," Davis continued. "The person who belongs to this body is still here unharmed, merely sleeping. It has been centuries since the facility received new arrivals, nor have we been contacted for retrieving those who are stored here. This one bore the authority of a Caretaker, but gave up the token to be put into the system. We felt it necessary to question all of the recent biological arrivals, including this one."

Sonia shook her head. "None of that makes sense."

And it didn't. But Margrew's still-baffled expression told him one thing - this definitely wasn't the Davis he knew.

Her thoughts turned to the poor alien bastard lying in the trench outside the facility, as if it had fallen to its death while trying to flee. And then there was Mouse's calculator, being sorted by those fucking robots. Davis could claim to be a simple Caretaker benignly sharing her host all she liked - Sonia wasn't letting her guard down until those and a whole load of other things had been explained.

"So when the hell did you thaw out Davis?" she probed, wondering just how long this Not-Davis had been watching them.

"After you shot up the Internment area, after retrieving that one from storage." 'Davis' added, pointing to Paul, "We felt that you would be less likely to shoot one of your own people. So I shall ask again, who are you and why are you here?"

"I already told you, we're the rescue party." Sonia snapped. "We're here to get our people back, and that's all. And I don't know what you call shoving people in storage pods, but we have something similar back home and we call it cryo-prison."

Prison.

Sonia stopped herself, her mind suddenly winding back to one of the clauses in the contract she and Max had signed.

Clause 8: Provide substantial information on the purpose of this structure, and your record will be expunged and you will be released on the inhabitable planet or station of your choosing.

Sonia had dismissed it out of hand at the time. The company clearly had no idea, and were obviously never expecting their expendable explorers to find out either. It was a red herring; an impossible sweetener, designed to sucker in the dumber marks. But now their new employers had really written themselves into a corner. This was bigger than being spared the cryo-pods. This was bigger than getting her sentence reduced.

Fuck 20k for finding Margrew and Davis. Bring this alien back to them and I'm getting out.

"I'm sorry." she backtracked, lowering her shotgun just a fraction. "This is a lot to process."

She might even give the so-called Caretaker the benefit of the doubt, up until whenever it started politely suggesting that they surrender their weapons.

"Hey Max." Sonia suggested, lowering her gun muzzle a little more but not taking her eyes off 'Davis' while she addressed the former human. "This is all a bit above our pay-grade, huh? Maybe she should come up top with us and speak to the guys in charge?"

[Potatrobot]

"Ah," she said, laying a hand on her chest. "This body's name is Davis."

Max's head tilted in thought at the comment, but before long the penny dropped, and he sank into a defensive stance.

"We've go' a body snatcher..." he muttered, perhaps only loud enough for Sonia to hear. It didn't seem to matter; she was already having a heated conversation with the weird woman in the doorway. Max kept his optics trained on her as well as the CES, who he could only imagine was shut down by Davis, or some other agent of the facility.

For that reason he had reason to be wary of the woman. If they could shut down the CES, they could just as easily target him. He was also acutely aware that they needed to return the CES at the end of their mission. If he was dead as a broken toaster, that could bite them in the arse later.

The sound of his own name penetrated the fog of his thought process and brought him back to the situation at hand.

"Hey Max." Sonia suggested, lowering her gun muzzle a little more but not taking her eyes off 'Davis' while she addressed the former human. "This is all a bit above our pay-grade, huh? Maybe she should come up top with us and speak to the guys in charge?"

"If we can all ge' to the surface intact," he muttered back, "then yeah. Problem is getting up top."

A thought scuttled across Max's mind.

"What 'appened with the rest of our lot?" He called out to Davis.

[Enigma]

"Hey Max." Sonia suggested, lowering her gun muzzle a little more but not taking her eyes off 'Davis' while she addressed the former human. "This is all a bit above our pay-grade, huh? Maybe she should come up top with us and speak to the guys in charge?"

Davis eyed the small trio of humans curiously.

"If we can all ge' to the surface intact," he muttered back, "then yeah. Problem is getting up top."

A thought scuttled across Max's mind.

"What 'appened with the rest of our lot?" He called out to Davis.

"Probably the same thing that happened to my crew," Paul muttered, still staring at Davis.

"The caretaker system works automatically for new arrivals," Davis responded. "New caretakers are brought to the center transportation pad, those without credentials are brought to the processing area. They are most likely shelved, and hard to reach with the damage to the arm."

Davis paused, looking up at the ceiling as if she was listening to something, then looked back down at them. "Please return to the center transportation pad, we will override the Caretaker system to release everyone in storage and allow transportation to the surface."

"What about you?!?" Paul demanded. "I mean, Davis?"
"Davis will be returned to you shortly," the woman said, waving them towards the door to the processing area.

[Azazeal849]

Please return to the center transportation pad, we will override the Caretaker system to release everyone in storage and allow transportation to the surface."

"Just one thought on that plan." Sonia opined. "When you say release everyone...now who else might you be lettin' out along with our guys? There's a lot of specimen jars in there."

[Potatrobot]

"What abou' you?" Max jabbed, looking down his sword at Davis. "Are you just gonna disappear once we get up there?"

[Enigma]

"Please return to the center transportation pad, we will override the Caretaker system to release everyone in storage and allow transportation to the surface."

"Just one thought on that plan." Sonia opined. "When you say release everyone...now who else might you be lettin' out along with our guys? There's a lot of specimen jars in there."

"There are 57 different races in the caretaker system, approximately 311 individuals," Davis replied, cocking her head. "It takes approximately six of your minutes to select and place a stasis pod into the interview station to retrieve the occupant. Each will be sent up to the surface after revival, approximately 31 hours 6 minutes."

"What abou' you?" Max jabbed, looking down his sword at Davis. "Are you just gonna disappear once we get up there?"

"This body will be returned," Davis replied, glancing at Max curiously, "After the others have been released. While I can override this facilities' systems, I am only an operator. The surviving caretakers are in storage along with the others, including the engineers. I am sure if you are looking for technical assistance, one of them should suffice."

[Azazeal849]

"There are 57 different races in the caretaker system, approximately 311 individuals," Davis replied, cocking her head.

“Fifty seven?” Sonia repeated in a murmur. “Fuck.”

Humanity was aware of alien life - occasionally the news broadcasts back home would announce a new species of plant or bug that had been discovered on some moon or other. But they had never found evidence of sentient life, beyond fossils and ruined structures like the one they were stuck inside now. It was almost like humanity was chronically late to the party.

But fifty seven? And to think that Sonia had never had time for the kids who used to boast that when they grew up they were going to join Explorer branch and make the first alien contact. Now she and Margrew and two robots were going to make fifty seven of them.

She definitely didn’t have enough shotgun shells.

“Don’t tell me your plan’s to let ’em loose all at once?” she said warily.

"It takes approximately six of your minutes to select and place a stasis pod into the interview station to retrieve the occupant. Each will be sent up to the surface after revival, approximately 31 hours 6 minutes."

Sonia doubted that the operation would go quite that smoothly. Somehow, she predicted something closer to a prison riot. None of that was conductive to getting Davis to the corporation so they could pick her brains about what was going on down here, and so they could uphold their end of the deal to send Sonia far, far away from Earth.

“Are you sure they ain’t just gonna start running around all over the fucking place?” Sonia asked sharply. “We saw some dead thing with claws on our way in, looked like it had been running away and fell into the moat. You know anything about that?”

“I am afraid not.” Davis replied, levelly. “You will have to ask the caretakers.”

Sonia scowled. “I thought you were a caretaker.”

“While I can override this facilities' systems, I am only an operator. The surviving caretakers are in storage along with the others, including the engineers. I am sure if you are looking for technical assistance, one of them should suffice. And if I release the caretakers first, they can take over the reanimation process and could give you more information on the other individuals in storage. They can also change the order of releases.”

“One caretaker will be fine.” Sonia countered, thinking that being outnumbered by the alien body-snatchers was probably a bad idea. Speaking of, maybe we should get them to let Mouse and the others out first. While Sonia couldn’t really have cared less about the other convicts, there was a certain advantage to being the same species in this situation - even if it would leave her with a smaller share of the corporation bounty to start her new life with.

Step one: stay alive. Everything else can follow on.

"What abou' you?" Max jabbed, looking down his sword at Davis. "Are you just gonna disappear once we get up there?"

"This body will be returned," Davis replied, glancing at Max curiously, "After the others have been released.”

Sonia’s dark eyes flicked over to the CES robot - still offline and inert. That was going to be a problem, if Davis planned on disappearing before the corporation stooges made it down here. No doubt the CES knew the correct three-character code to summon them down on the VLF...though maybe they’d at least think about dispatching help if Sonia messaged them NOW and $$$. Either way, the idea of being stuck down here permanently with the rest of the caretakers’ menagerie didn’t appeal. Sonia glared at the disabled CES. Going dead precisely when they needed it was not doing anything to counter her already entrenched prejudice against robots.

"Would you mind switching the schizo bot back on?" she asked Davis curtly.

Davis shook her head. "I cannot."

Sonia's eyes narrowed. "And why's that?"

"It is a side effect of my presence here."

"That'd better not be a lie." Sonia threatened. She tugged the VLF transmitter from its mag-clamp at the android’s hip joint, and handed her own receiver to Max.

“A'ight. If you carry the tin can, I’ll go up top first. Same safety code as before. Sound fair?”

They traipsed back to the central cavern, with Davis leading and Sonia aiming her shotgun just slightly to the left of the other woman’s back. Their footsteps against the spindly connector bridges were the only sounds - the transport bots and the chrome, cone-headed guards seemed to have vanished. Sonia tried not to let her tension show, limiting it to a steady chewing of the side of her tongue. Now that she had had time to think about her plan to outfox the Company with their own contract, the more second thoughts kept coming to her. What if the thing puppeting Davis didn’t keep up its end of the deal? What if the Company didn’t keep up theirs? It wasn’t like she had a lawyer on hand. If there was a way to get her bomb collar off without letting go of her gun, then they’d be talking.

“Where does all the prisoners’ stuff go?” Sonia asked Davis, glancing briefly towards the tunnel where the transport bots had been sorting through the effects of the survey team and their would-be rescuers.

"This is a secure facility." Davis answered, glancing back over her shoulder. "Because you were carrying an authorisation token, nothing was removed from your person on arrival. Anyone without a token is completely stripped and transferred to storage. Dangerous items such as weapons and explosives are neutralised before being archived."

Sonia glanced back at the CES, still hanging inert from Max's shoulder, and lengthened her stride to pull closer to Davis and out of Margrew's earshot.

"I'm carrying a bomb," she confessed to Davis once she had almost pulled level with the alien that was piloting the human woman. "As a kinda last-ditch failsafe." It wasn't technically a lie. "If you're on the level like you say, I ain't really needing it anymore. Could your teleporter thing put it in storage?"

"You mean your collar." Davis stated, her eyes dropping immediately to Sonia's neck. "It has already been catalogued as a dangerous item by the system, so I can set the matter transporter to remove it."

"Yeah." Sonia nodded quietly. "If you could do that, that'd be perfect."

When they reached the circular platform in the centre of the domed cavern, Sonia retrieved the colour-changing token from the velcro pocket of her exo suit. “So I just step back onto the platform?”

Davis nodded.

Sonia took a covert breath, and stepped forward. Once again the sensation of pressure and falling enveloped her, like she had missed her step and tumbled from the platform into the abyss below, but within a heartbeat her boot scrunched down onto smooth stone, and a smell of dust and sea-spray invaded her nose. Sonia spun round on her heel, sweeping the empty basalt cavern for threats. Everything was just as they had left it an hour before - even the bag of tokens that she had kicked across the floor. Beyond the door, she could see the robot pack mules standing idle among the rows of monoliths. Criss-crossing footprints in the dust beyond the clear circle were the only sign that her fellow convicts had passed through.

Sonia groped at her neck with a gloved hand, and felt only the rubberised seal of the exo-suit against her skin. Her bomb collar was gone.

The convict grinned quietly to herself. Now, definitely, they were talking.

All seemed quiet. Chewing the corner of her lip, Sonia retreated to the wall adjacent to the entrance, and let her shotgun hang from one hand as she fumbled out the VLF transmitter and tapped in the all-clear code with her clumsily gloved fingers.

AAA.

[Potatrobot]

Max did a double take as he noticed Sonia handing him her VLF receiver, and held out his hand to accept it. A pair of thin, metal tendrils snaked out of his wrist and wrapped around the receiver, so as to not crush it between his enormous, clumsy fingers.

“A'ight. If you carry the tin can, I’ll go up top first. Same safety code as before. Sound fair?”

"Fair 'nough." Max grunted, looking back at Davis with a wary optic. "Ah, which code might tha' 'ave been again?"

"Triple A." Sonia muttered back with audible disdain, before turning and leaving for the central cavern. She stopped to allow Davis to walk in front of her, and once she was gone, Max lumbered over the CES and picked him up with two of his remaining free hands.

"Closing time." He called out, sparing a glance back to Margrew, before following Sonia back to the teleportation pad. He got there just in time to see her step onto the pad, and vanish. Max held up the receiver she had given him and squinted at the readout. Before too long, it beeped, and the code AAA appeared.

"Welp." He said, shifting the CES onto a more balanced position on his shoulder. "I'm out. See you topside." He picked his token out of the storage unit he had stowed it in, and nodded at Margrew, who was already fidgeting with his own token. He looked to Davis, then stepped forward onto the pad.

He was met with the familiar but disorientating sensation of falling, although his built-in gyroscopes couldn't tell him in what direction. However, his enormous feet were standing on the floor of the cavern they had entered through before long. Sonia stood just before him, and the sound of another pair of boots on the ground behind him told him that Paul was not excited by the prospect of staying behind, alone.

Max stepped out of the circle of cleanliness and set the CES down on the ground. "If wha' Davis said was true, he should be waking up, now that he's far enough away from 'er."

He straightened up and looked at Sonia. "All in all I'd say that wasn't too bad."

[Enigma]

The CES robot laid sprawled in the dust where Max had dropped it, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

"....use caution," it suddenly announced. The nameplate flickered on its chest, settling on Rand as it pushed itself upright.

"What happened?" CES Rand demanded as Paul suddenly appeared in the center of the circle. "We're in the pyramid again! How did we get up here?"

"She sent us back," Paul blurted out happily, then get out a loud whoop! "Finally free!"

"Who let us out?" CES Rand demanded crossly, glaring at the two inmates and the surveyor. "Someone tell me what is going on?"

[Azazeal849]

He straightened up and looked at Sonia. “All in all I'd say that wasn't too bad.”

“Hold that thought.” Sonia replied. “An’ say it again when we’re home an’ dry, yeah?”

“She sent us back,” Paul blurted out happily, then get out a loud whoop. “Finally free!”

“Who let us out?” CES Rand demanded crossly, glaring at the two inmates and the surveyor. “Someone tell me what is going on?”

Sonia took the withering look she had been directing at Margrew and his premature celebration, and shot it towards the CES instead.

“Short version,” she snapped. “Some alien caretaker is wearing your pal Davis like a suit, and they’ve got the rest of our gang in cryo down there, along with three-hundred-odd other aliens that they’re about to start thawing out. So what you need to do,” She shoved the VLF transmitter against the robot’s chest with a solid clank. “Is get on the line to your corporate buddies and tell them to get down here right fuckin’ now.”

[Potatrobot]

"So what you need to do,” Sonia commanded as she shoved the VLF into the CES's chest, “Is get on the line to your corporate buddies and tell them to get down here right fuckin’ now.”

"Yes, please." Max grunted, looking over his shoulder at the pair. "The sooner we get off this rock the be'er."

Already he was trying to calculate just how much they would be paid, considering that they had managed to retrieve the entire survey team.

"... which makes fifty kay right off the bat, then there's the 'undreds of fridged sods down below, they could net us 'undreds of thousands... we found out what this place was for, so I s'ppose we're free to go..."

He turned around and stared back at Sonia. "I think we've just won a lo'ery and walked right ou'a jail." He paused. "I guess tha' comes down to when everyone else down below gets out, an' if this Corporation 'olds its word 'bout our pay."

He turned back around and stared out the archway of the pyramid, the muggy, sulphuric breeze barely reaching him from outside. "I guess we'll need ta start makin' travel plans."

[Azazeal849]

Max turned around and stared back at Sonia. "I think we've just won a lo'ery and walked right ou'a jail." He paused. "I guess tha' comes down to when everyone else down below gets out, an' if this Corporation 'olds its word 'bout our pay."

Sonia tilted her head to one side and then the other, stretching her neck. "I'd be quite happy to back you up in persuading 'em." she remarked casually.

Max turned back around and stared out the archway of the pyramid, the muggy, sulphuric breeze barely reaching him from outside. "I guess we'll need ta start makin' travel plans."

Sonia offered a grunt and a lop-sided smile in agreement. She and the former human might not be friends, but self-interest was far more reliable. That, at least, set her fellow convict aside from a fucking robot.

[Enigma]

The CES paused, eyeing the two convicts carefully, then CES Rand said, "I see. This structure is blocking communication with the ships in orbit, I will go outside to contact them. Do we know when our people will be coming up?"

In the center of the circle, a figure appeared, dressed in a standard survey uniform. He jerked, looking around. "What's going on?"

"I should contact the ships," CES Rand muttered, heading towards the nearest doorway.


The first shuttle landed 93 minutes later, by which time the survey team including a very bewildered Davis had appeared as well as a number of aliens wearing black jump suits with a red stripe running down their right side, and a small dwarf wearing an orange jumpsuit with a white stripe. They stood in a separate group, eyeing the humans curiously.

"You two should board the shuttle with the survey team," CES Rand told Sonia and Max. "A fast courier is on standby to send you to any location outside of Corporation-controlled space. As you two were the primary agents on this mission, it was decided to pay you each $1 million for your services here. The remaining $1,110,000 will be split among the others."

CES Rand handed them each one a card. "This will allow you to access your bounty, each is keyed to you alone."

"Before boarding, the shuttle crew will prefer you to disarm yourself. Your weapons will be added with your personal possessions and released to you when you exit corporate space. I have been instructed to remind you that while you are in corporate space, you are still subject to corporate law and that any violation will be strictly enforced. Please do not maim or murder any individual until you have left our boarders. I trust that is understood?"

"Additionally, management has asked me to relay an offer?" CES Rand continued. "Should the Corporation find itself in similar circumstances, it wonders if you would be willing to be contacted for other recovery operations? Without the collar, of course."

[Azazeal849]

The salty air was growing cool against Sonia's exposed face as the sun dipped towards the horizon, and still the released prisoners kept coming. Sonia eyed each one warily, one hand on the stock of her slung shotgun, the other holding a foil-wrapped protein bar scavenged from the robot pack mule. She chewed and swallowed methodically, leaning her back against the alien monolith closest to the pyramid.

"We come in peace." the former convict murmured, sucking the inside of her cheek as she watched the small knot of life-forms, keeping to themselves by another one of the dragon-tooth pillars. No doubt some things were going to change in human space with a discovery of this magnitude, but that was emphatically Someone Else's Problem.

As yet none of their fellow convicts had emerged from the teleporter pad - which, really, suited Sonia just fine. They'd done the decent thing and secured their release, as long as the Caretakers kept up their end of the deal. Apart from Max (and maybe even then...) Sonia didn't trust the other convicts as far as she could throw them. She certainly didn't fancy watching her back all the way back to the orbiter, after Lady Blue found out that Sonia and Max were waltzing off with the majority of the bounty, and she and the others were getting the comparative shaft.

Margrew, Rawlings and Davis were already loading the pack mule back into the surface-to-orbit shuttle. Now seemed as good a time as any for Sonia and Max to make themselves scarce. Sonia pushed her exo-suit boot back into the stone pillar and levered herself up, tossing aside the empty wrapper of her ration bar. It snagged in the wind and went skittering away through the rows of alien monoliths.

The CES, still hovering around after completing its task of calling down their ride, came pistoning over as Sonia approached the shuttle ramp. Sonia wondered idly just how much the schizo bot was worth, and if now - courtesy of her new-found fortune - she could simply absorb the damages of shooting the ugly machine in the faceplate.

"Before boarding, the shuttle crew will prefer you to disarm yourself. Your weapons will be added with your personal possessions and released to you when you exit corporate space."

"Is that prefer like a friendly suggestion?" Sonia asked, curling her gloved hands around her shotgun. "If so then I'll be keeping a hold on them, thanks."

"I have been instructed to remind you that while you are in corporate space, you are still subject to corporate law and that any violation will be strictly enforced. Please do not maim or murder any individual until you have left our borders. I trust that is understood?"

"Course." Sonia replied, almost breezily. "You ain't paying me to."

She stole a glance at Max, but predictably the re-skinned human's black chassis gave no indication of any humour he might be feeling. In any case, his back was turned to Sonia as he rifled through several caches of confiscated goods that had been shipped up from the prison. A small pile of repair kits, weapons, gadgets and other miscellaneous valuables was growing by his enormous feet as he dragged them out of the caches with the manipulator tendrils on his wrists. After a moment, seemingly feeling confident he had taken anything he could conceivably use, he emptied out some poor soul's duffel bag and stuffed it with his spoils.

Max straightened up and took in his surroundings one last time on the planet. Everything was grey, bar the odd splash of colour on the uniforms worn by the seemingly never-ending line of prisoners filing out of the pyramid. The shuttles could only ferry so many to the orbiter, which from the surface appeared as a hollow silhouette on the hazy sky, lit from below by the setting sun. The shuttle designated for Sonia and himself was parked nearby, and it looked like the last of the personnel and cargo was being loaded, so he began to approach the loading ramp.

"Additionally, management has asked me to relay an offer?" CES Rand continued as the three converged on the shuttle ramp. "Should the Corporation find itself in similar circumstances, it wonders if you would be willing to be contacted for other recovery operations? Without the collar, of course.”

Sonia paused with one foot on the shuttle's boarding ramp. She looked up at the sky for a moment, as if considering, and then scrunched up her face and shook her head.

"Fuck off." she told the CES, and turned to hike up the ramp into the shuttle. Max lumbered after her with his bag in hand and his three enormous box-cutters clamped to his arms and back.


* * * * * *

To Sonia's great surprise, the transfer process on the Corporate orbiter and their onward journey went off without a single hitch or double-cross. It seemed that it really was company policy to throw money at a problem to make it go away, rather than expend any actual effort in tying up loose ends. Still, she didn't allow herself to relax until she and Max were on their transfer shuttle down to Donovan Station. And she wouldn't be celebrating until she'd had a chance to check the card the CES had handed her, preferably at one of the more reputable station-side banks.

Donovan Station loomed large beyond the cockpit glass, all spine-like comms masts and jutting docking arms; backlit by engine flares from the ships pulling away from it, outbound to the wider universe.

Sonia snapped the catches closed on the lock-box that held her shotgun and shelved it in the overhead storage. The company could have it back; the police-issue weapon wasn't easy to carry quietly, and would only attract the wrong kind of attention, even on a station with notoriously lax gun laws. Painting a target on her back was not something Sonia was keen to do ever again. The Riorden-Metzer 9mm holstered at her hip would do just fine.

Sonia chewed the inside of her cheek. It seemed strange to be going back to sleeping with a gun under her pillow after four years behind bars, where she had had no such luxury despite being locked up with people like Lady Blue. Civilian life would be safe by comparison - especially since even after paying her ticket to Beaumonde she'd have enough of her bounty left to rent (perhaps even buy!) a place in a much nicer neighbourhood than she was used to. She let out a breath, caressing the rough metal grip of the pistol with her thumb. Maybe one day she'd throw the gun out. Maybe.

She turned to Max, who was sitting at the opposite end of the cabin, performing maintenance on his machete-sized 'daggers'. They would be going their separate ways soon, and while Sonia would probably never have felt truly comfortable with the hulking cyborg at her back, it was odd to think that until a few hours ago there had been a real possibility of them rampaging through the corporate orbiter together to take their freedom by force.

"Hey Max." she called over to him, as she fished her lighter and a packet of smokes out of the pocket of her new, freshly laundered cargo trousers. She figured by now that she owed the former human the courtesy of using his real name. "Where are you planning on going after this?"

Max’s tiny, skull-shaped head swivelled up to face Sonia. He vocalised something meant to sound like a sigh, though the mechanism that produced it left it sounding profoundly synthetic.

"Tha's the million-dollar question, innit?" He lifted his daggers with his upper arms and sheathed them into the slots built into his lower pair. "What does a charmin' bloke in the body of a forklift do, now tha' the 'ole galaxy is his oyster?"

He replaced the small grinder he was using on his blades in the repair kit and clamped it shut, but held it like that for a few seconds, seemingly paused in contemplation.

"I can't go back to the shit'ole where this happened," he said decisively, gesturing at his armature, "I was only makin' ends meet. Barely scraped by, doing wha' I did, and then the 'ole thing goes ta shit and I jump into a digi'al Valhalla to get away from it all."

"Junipero?" Sonia guessed. The Junipero euthanasia project had been one of humanity’s more outlandish experiments in consciousness transfer, until the government decided that even dead people should work for their welfare payments.

"Yeah," Max grunted, then seemed to pause for thought. "I'd be long dead by now if I stuck with my old body. I 'ave... forever... ta figure out what I wanna do. How the fuck d'ya even begin ta plan around tha'?"

He looked back up at Sonia, who was wearing a somewhat more sincere expression than he usually associated with her.

"Ah, fuck, listen ta me just pra'le on. I've got forever ta get my shit sorted. You got any plans?"

There was a metallic chink as Sonia flicked open her lighter and cupped her hands round a cigarette, buying herself time to think. Max’s candour left her with an uncharacteristic urge to reciprocate.

"Beaumonde." she told the cyborg. "I hear it’s nice there." She had also heard that most of the planet’s sovereign nation-states regulated the coke trade, which meant she could feed some of her dirtier habits without worrying about crossing paths with pricks like Don Xavier again.

She paused to inhale and blow a squirt of pale smoke towards the cabin ceiling. To hell with the air scrubbers.

"After that I really dunno." she admitted. "Bodyguard work, maybe? Or maybe I'll aim a little lower first, like nightclub bouncer. As long as it ain't Earth and New Detroit, I'll manage."

She wasn't going back home, even if the old gang had been the one place she'd ever felt any sort of belonging. Not even to put a bullet in Don Xavier for hanging her out to dry after the hit on that congressman had gone sideways. It wasn't worth it to have every ganger in New Detroit out for her head, and besides, she knew now that it had been nothing personal. Xavier wouldn't be going to jail now; the feds had been after him for twenty years. He certainly wouldn't be going for the sake of one of his low-level hitmen. She could almost picture him rationalising it with the same words she had thought down in the alien ark facility. We ain't friends. That realisation made her profoundly uncomfortable.

"Bouncer..." Max mused. "Tha's not a bad idea. I could make serious bank just standing outside a door. Nobody sane would step up to this tank. Then, who knows? Maybe I could do more stuff like this, jus' keepin' a crew safe while they travel around, diggin' shit up or wha’ever."

Sonia chuckled - or rather, she exhaled down her nose and flickered a brief smile. “Just hope they don’t dig up any more aliens, huh?”

While Max sounded enthused, already he could feel doubt pulling at this ambitions. Whether it was due to technological limitations or bare-minimum provisions, his corporate labour armature sentenced him to a hollow existence. The neural matrix in which his consciousness resided, while advanced enough to emulate the human brain's major functions, lacked the subtleties its organic counterpart had spent millions of years perfecting. It was as if parts of his mind had been lobotomised, leaving all sensation distant and rudimentary. He was bereft of pleasure, and pain, and even from his short time working in the body, he knew that it was no substitute for his old brain, and if he was going to persist for generations, he would need something better.

"Maybe, though, I could find a be'er body. When all's said 'n done, and I 'ave my fortune, it'd be nice to slip into somethin' tha's actually comfortable to live in. So I don't 'ave to trot aroun' in this bloody thing tha' can't feel anythin'. Maybe jus’... live like a normal person."

The last part struck a deeper chord with Sonia than she cared to admit.

"You know," she said, placing her booted foot against the wall of the cabin and taking another draw from her cigarette. "I get you. I actually do. I'd been wanting something different from all this since I was about 13. I wanted to be able to walk down the street without looking over my shoulder...I wanted to be able to go down the shops and buy something without having to think about whether I could afford it. I wanted to be able to help my mum out when she never had anything either."

She bit her tongue and shook her head, the tattoo around her left eye compressing as she frowned at the memory.

"Course, she's 8 years dead now. If we'd been able to afford medical they might have caught it in time."

She shrugged, and blew out smoke.

"But now I can do all that stuff, and there’s nothin’ tying me back to the old life...I don't have a fucking clue where to start."

"You an' me both." Max grumbled, looking out of a porthole on the other side of the cabin. Stars scuttled across the view like the myriad of possibilities Max and Sonia were now forced to consider once they arrived planetside, free to finally choose how their lives would play out.

Sonia shifted round and leaned her forearm against the overhead locker, looking through the forward window to watch another ramshackle starship cast off its grav tethers and coast free of Donovan Station in a halo of white engine flare.

“I’m sure we’ll figure somethin’ out.”