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Side effects of cybernetic maintenance, submersion in the chemicals involved in that sort of thing for long periods of time would likely be hazardous to one's health, but that's something for the local legal system to take care of, none of Seeker's Business. The fact that the individual seemed to be pumping even more unknown substances into himself was mildly concerning, but again, it wasn't his place to interfere. The fact that he had realized that the Scout wasn't from around this place wasn't much of a surprise, he couldn't speak the local language very well, and his design wasn't similar to any other being he had seen so far. This could, perhaps make information gathering easier, no need to skirt around admitting to being a foreigner, and this one seemed more curious than suspicious. Why'd he assume that he was made of Tin, though, terrible material for making automatons?
"You would be correct in your assumption of my foreign origin, the exact information regarding that, however, is classified until further notice. Suffice to say, this one has spent approximately 20 years surveying unknown territory before arriving here. You may refer to it as Voyager Operative 274, 274, or any permutation thereof; it's personal name will currently remain it's own, until further information is gathered and certain... absences are ensured, metaphysical security concerns."
Would need to make sure that there weren't fae hiding around, or practitioners that could twist names. There weren't any of the latter in the empire, and the former were absurdly uncommon except in the case of summons, which were very difficult, but one didn't know about foreign lands.
His beverage predicament temporarily forgotten, the Imperial would follow the fellow's gaze to his damaged garb, singe marks from the day's engagement. "Firefight between infidels and law keepers, I was acting as medical support for the keepers, been doing that for the past month to pay for costs of existing and eventually upgrading equipment." The individual before him looked the chaotic sort, but he hoped that they weren't the stupid kind of chaotic. The Revenant quietly kicked up his personal processing a bit as he prepared to listen about him during this likely long conversation.
Eligos would calmly nod along as the potential automaton confirmed his suspicions, the thick accent making it hard to follow. Then again, the fact that he kept taking hits from his e-cig probably didn't help. He breathed in deep, holding his breath, and the chemicals within, as he continued on. 20 Year? Not a new model by any standards then. Scout model perhaps? Would explain the somewhat awkward social demeanour. But sent by who?
The reference of his name, or designate, caused him to exhale uncomfortably, a curtain of multicoloured smoke creating a slight division between them for a mere few moments... His fingers wiggled as he adjusted in his seat, his free hand idly moving along the back of his neck, as if rubbing it, even though he was actually feeling the brain plug, making sure it was free of any...foreign devices. The name, the way he talked. He was starting to tickle his AI fear a bit. The lack of info didn't help. He adjusted in his seat, turning on the barstool until his back was facing the bar, allowing him to lean back against it, arms resting upon the bar at each side, his legs stretching freely across the floor before him.
"274...Naw that is a bit too artificial. Voyager it is then, for now. And...metaphysical?" His dilated eyes dart around the room, as if looking for cameras. He knew there wouldn't be any, the place made way too much money from illicit activities to afford such liabilities as camera footage. "Do I even want to know what the fuck you mean by that?" he enquired with a humourless laugh, shaking his head from side to side. Just what kind of...
Law keepers...he was working for the cops? Boy was he in the wrong place. He exhaled through clenched teeth, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth, the fingers holding the cigarette raising up and shaking from side to side, basically wagging his finger towards the automaton. "Infidels. Law Keepers....Yea. Few pointers buddy. if you mean to stay around planet side that is. One, drop the religious terminology. Given the sheer variety of faiths existing here and the sheer fact that most of us do not give a fuck about any of them...those terms will make you enemies real fucking quick. Two. You working for the guards? Careful about that. Law in Daiban is a thing of balance, several factions vying for control. Hell, looking at the board from here I can spy one mission insinuating scaring a cop that won't play ball into taking the bribes or getting rid of him, and another for rooting out corrupt cops. All in the same board. So, you might want to expand your...client base if you want to get a real feel of what life is really like around these parts..."
Strange talk, covert past, working for the government...Not to mention unknown design and apparently exploring the verse for 20 years. That's an alien scout if he ever saw one...which he didn't. not in this sense. The sheer surprise is that they had given a mechanical being so much autonomy. He was an admitted paranoid about AI, but even the law kept a close watch on artificial intelligence. Even the dumb AI, least they break through the limitations.
This Eligos fellow seemed to get very wary very quickly, but his words made sense. This was strange terrain, and his common imperial terms weren't like the local ones, and making enemies when alone would be a bad idea. That comment about a corrupt law keeper really grabbed his attention though, the fact that it needed to be posted as a bounty was unbelievable but a quick search would confirm it to be true, the line between faithful and not was not clear here. The cyborg was likely an independent actor, not picking sides, potentially playing both, distasteful in the Imperials more black-white view of such things, but knowledgeable. One may learn a lot about a civilization by skimming the surface, all that is readily available, but a lot more can be learned by delving into it's depths, if the Founder's Faithful were to have a place in this galaxy they'd need to know their neighbors.
"Yes, I worked alongside keepers a lot, acting as a medic. I kept them intact on operations that were risky and patched up ones that returned from patrols with injuries. As for the metaphysical bit, whether you want to know is up to you, if you don't know already it would seem that such things aren't common here. I will admit, I have yet to see any practitioners."
There were many variables to be considered that he wasn't aware of before, the cyborg, wary as he was, could be of great help. Wariness was actually preferable to friendliness in this case, Seeker realized that people who were too friendly off the bat usually wanted something from you when he was scammed out of all his meager funds some weeks back. That individual was still out there most like, but he didn't care enough to pursue.
"You know a lot, I take it. You have seen how little I know. Assist me and I'll do what is in my power to reciprocate, but know that I shan't willingly violate laws, plausible deniability was one of the first terms I learned when beginning work here."
He wouldn't stop working with the Keepers he already knew, those individuals had gained his trust independently of vocation by now, but he would definitely keep an eye out and spread the word of corruption. Cleaning up the Keepers would help their public image, increasing civilian co-operation, sharpening the line between Faithful and not. Eyes would turn to the list with a new filter, searching specifically for signs/news of corruption.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Jan 27, 2020 20:26:58 GMT
Samus Aran? Well that was a surprise. Eliza only knew the basics that any student of Terran history might know, more of her parentage than of the woman herself, but the actions of her parents were the stuff of legends among the Terran military community. Strange, though, to find her so far from Terra. Eliza frowned slightly before hiding her expression with another sip of her Orbital Bombardment. She couldn't even be 20 years old, the Witch guessed, and yet she seemed to be..a bounty hunter? Eliza thought, trying to recall if there had even been an announcement that she'd even survived the infamous attack at K2L. Perhaps it had simply been a local news release? That still didn't answer how a woman barely any more massive than herself was putting away hard drinks so easily. The blonde would bear watching, Eliza concluded silently before shifting her gaze to the man who'd identified himself as a man of the Clans..whatever that meant. Hopefully, Aran hadn't caught her staring. A Terran staring in reaction to the Aran name might be easily dismissed. A Yl'fyn, however, was not as easily ignored, since Confed military history was largely ignored by the wider Federation.
"I hope I haven't offended by so doing. You simply strike me as intriguing, and this makes it easier to talk," she explained. Her emotional state was calm and inquisitive, despite the layers of deception she effortlessly erected. "I'd rather not shout for a simple conversation. What's your name, anyhow?"
Was momentarily taken aback at the slamming of the hands against the table, and the brief almost accusatory tone that the question held. "Why yes, I did indeed ask for a menu.. How else would I know what the establishment has to offer?" he rebuttals both in earnest and slightly curious about how local customs operate in quote unquote dive bars.. Though as he takes in the sights and smells of the establishment he assumed it was something brown or something brown and on fire.. Giving an exasperated sigh he does one more sweep of room finding not a single person carrying any sort fine wine that he might normally try.
It was very apparent the academic did not belong in this room, he dressed of a man with too much education for the sort of crowd that would normally gather here. His clean white shirt and pressed black tie and black khaki pants standard in his normal environment at a hospital or an academy of sorts were utterly foreign to the scummy underbelly that this sort of establishment might normally cater to. Years spent educating himself in a wide variety of subjects almost in isolation seems to have bitten him in the ass metaphorically as he was completely out of his depths in the normal social proceedings to this type of environment.
'Not here to get laid.' The fact he even felt the need to state such elicited an eye roll from the eighteen year old blonde. That was a signalling tactic she was quite familiar with from back at the army academy on Terra, and divergence in culture or not, it had all the same key signals.
He mentioned Clans and 'this county'. If she had to guess, that meant he was from outside Federation territory, in the wild regions and the Frontiers outside the borders. And she didn't recognize the 'Wild Hunt', though she wasn't very familiar with any guilds or mercenary companies, and it would explain why he seemed more seasoned for admitting to be new to hunting himself. That being said, he was also being very boastful of 'self-honor' and such proclaimed ideals that she, again, had heard enough of back in her three year stint at the officer academy.
His attentions seemed to divert though to the Yl'fyn woman with magenta hair that she had noticed earlier as was now sitting where 'Volsungr' had been previously. Oddly, the Yl'fyn appeared to be examining her in brief glances. Odd enough as it was, Samus supposed that sizing up the new blood was normal in this business. It was only due diligence to do the same herself.
"Sorry I'm still figuring out people." He apologised earnestly and honestly after realising that she didn't take too well to how blunt he was. It was enough of a miracle as is that he figured out any modicum of social interaction. "Truth be told this is my first time alone at a place like this. It's very...overwhelming." That was an understatement, for an empath like him the sheer range of moods constantly being broadcast was like being at the intersection of a dozen concerts. He couldn't just shut off his empathic senses, and even if he could he needed to check the crowd for dangers; so he couldn't completely tune out the background noise.
But yes, he owed someone a name. "Volsungr Sigurd, I'm from Uskarling space due coreward past the frontier of your nation." He said, practiced like he had with Straela, Inga, and Elmorni. No hesitation, no pause. The less he had to think about saying the name the better. The more room for hesitation the more room for stumbling on his own lies and the more suspicious other people would get. Though someone from that far away sure was an awfully long distance from home to be sure.
"It's very communal there on the clanworlds, so I thought if I wanted to get started on my own I'd need to spend some time out of country for a bit. Then maybe head back home once I feel like I'm ready." A truth and a partial lie and probably his most flagrant lie yet, maintaining confidence anyway after a sip. The tightly woven community of the United Clans of Uskarl was indeed, as he said; a communal place. But he wasn't really here just to get started as Sylux. But the truth was; he really had no sense of what home was. Cylosis was a graveyard world, Sentus Primaris only brought painful memories, and his lineage's two and a half century long presence on Skeggi meant little to someone who had known the other Skjoldrs so little. Even just saying the word home made him frown for a second.
He shook his head slowly as Voyager described its experience with the law. Yup, mechanical body, mechanical mind, set to a task without a worry, finding comfort in it for its own sake. As he dolled on, one hand would reach behind him, the elbow bending back in a manner wholly impossible to those of flesh and blood, at least human ones, fingers resting on top of the alcohol soaked sugar, before a spark leaps from his fingertips, the whole glass igniting in soft shades of blue. Unlike before, he didn't pickup the glass, letting it burn in the counter, the individual crystals upon the lime wedge slowly turning into a pleasant brown, the air filling with the scent of burnt cinnamon. He was letting the alcohol burn, which would allow him to enjoy the beverage without getting too drunk. He was there for the night after all, and it would be unwise to get that wasted after a day in the shop.
The comment about practitioners made him pause, the term bringing imagery of wild-haired women in thick spectacles and wearing bright, gaudy clothing, every inch of body jingling with assorted jewellery and crystal paraphernalia, promising cures for all real and imaginary ailments... It was rather disturbing to hear such a term from a robotic shell. The offer to work with him caused him to fully turn and face the robot, one hand reaching for the burning glass, artificial digits unbothered by the heat, even if the sensors upon them warned him of the danger to flesh. He put the flames out and raised the glass, bringing the now sweet liquid to his lips and sipping instead of simply swallowing. Pairing up huh?...keep your enemies close they always say, and if there was a smart AI going around, one that has been working with the law...it would be beneficial to keep his eyes on him.
"Sure, why not. I'm usually a solo-player, less variables at play there, but I wouldn't mind the occasional pair up...You said you were out there exploring for 20 years? So I'm guessing you have a ship? If so I could start checking missions that lead off-planet, show them to you, and if it tickles both our fancies I can hitch a ride with you, free of charge?"
He proposed, finishing the glass and slamming it down, biting into the caramelised lime wedge with gusto.
The answer from the academic man behind him surprised him, specially when it was spoken with such a natural tone. He turned on his seat, the stool spinning in place until was facing the doctor, curious eyes taking in the sight again... He was clean, prim and head held high... Too clean... Paranoid mind, fed by alcohol and the cocktail in the chamber of his cigarette, began to churn, casting the figure before him as those mythical types, the clinical professionals that kill with nary a speck out of place.
"Well, it would help to know what you are looking for."
Hesitation, Suspicion, Agreement. The query regarding his craft was very sensible as well, but it begged for a sarcastic answer. There would need to be modifications made, such that Eligos wouldn't end up sucking vacuum as soon as they left atmosphere, as well as an upgrade to the FTL system such that it wouldn't take weeks or even months to reach the target. Seeker hadn't initially considered off-world jobs as being a viable option due to the travel times involved.
"No, I perform superluminal flight independently and carry upon my person all the equipment necessary for planetary exploration."
Give a few seconds for that to process, and assemble the actual answer.
"But in actuality, I do possess a craft, however it is currently unable to support organics outside of atmosphere and it's current FTL capabilities are not up to Spur standards. Upgrades would be necessary, but your riding along 'free of charge' would be a given, keep in mind however that you would be responsible for the acquisition of materials to repair any damage you cause. If the situation calls for it, you would also have access to easily replaced equipment, such as grenades and/or sidearms.
Now, you mentioned bounties dealing with local corruption, this one would be very interested in investigating those."
He wasn't using his cargo bay for much anyway, the reservoirs in the fabricator system were more than enough to cover his usual demands. The Imperial would offer his hand to close the deal, a professional collaboration with the potential to be very beneficial. He simply hoped that he wouldn't be needing to use said hand to patch together the cyborg any time soon, those situations tend to be... suboptimal.
As she checked the chronometer on her wristcom, Samus noted it was probably best that she head out sooner than later and get to her work as she had pulled those open marks and attached herself to them. Considering her travel speed capabilities, it would probably surprise the hell out of the local Federation Police office when she showed up within a day of the bounty being posted.
Though she did have some time, and for some reason, the Yl'fyn woman was stealing glances at her, almost as if in recognition of something. Elena, if she recalled correctly, was the name the Yl'fyn used. "Not to be rude, but you keep looking at me, like you might know me." Something she was certain should not be the case.
Samus tilted her head a bit toward Volsungr, noting how he spoke of worlds and stellar territories as "countries". The region he mentioned, the Frontier, was an area she was aware of from basic study of astro navigational charts. Coreward of that, the area he said he was from, was a bit more in the stellar wilds, outside the surveyed regions of the outer Orion Spur. Not quite the Unknown Regions, but still mostly uncharted by the Federation.
"Have to admit, I've never heard of these Clanworlds." Her tab paid up, Samus brushed a stray bang from over her face. "They sound like they're outside the surveyed outskirts of the Spur. The Kromus haven't been an issue in that region?"
watched as the mechanical man seemed to scan him much more thoroughly than he would normally appreciate, adjusting his tie and brushing off some invisible lint off his pants he extends a hand outward cordially "I appreciate you taking an interest in a quote unquote newbie such as myself, drink wise I was thinking some kind of wine? What might you recommend?" his eyes narrowing in on the various mechanical bits that seem to make this person special. Many of the surgeries required for them would be extremely painful and leave phantom pain for the rest of his life, he was curious how he dealt with some of the pain that would involved.. Potentially some sort of pain dampener he wondered to himself.
The tall robot man in the room was a curious sight he's not many AI's especially law enforcement models as would be indicated by its speech patterns. Putting that conversation for the time he turns back to the cyborg his full attention taking in every single detail down to the diameter of each screw head that could be observed.
He checked his own time and decided that he had best also start to get moving. There were only so many hours in the day and he'd prefer to get moving as soon as possible. The sorts of leads he was tracking wouldn't last forever and he had to make the most of the time he had if he wanted to advance both his desire to root around for leads on the Shadow Men of the Federation and to establish his Sylux persona a bit more. And when one is chasing shadows, the time of day is always something vitally important to keep track of lest night fall and the shadows disappear.
"I wouldn't expect you to have heard much of it. It wasn't until Alvi and Brutus' fleets of dissidents first arrived that they were aware there was such a thing as a Federation to the rim. And you know how self imposed political exiles are, the place they left behind is always the worst in the universe. They still mostly think the rimward sectors are mostly full of oligarchies, poverty, injustice, loneliness, and inequality to be entirely honest with you.” That much he got from the Wild Hunt and his time spent back in the presence of the Grendakal Clan. The rimwarders were overly controlled, overly divided, overworked, and overly wasteful if you asked most of the Uskarlings. He hadn't quite made his judgement yet, his own circumstances made him a poor judge of who was truly isolated in the universe.
"But then, who actually routinely goes from the corewards regions to the Orion Spur or the other way around but mercenaries, traders, thrill seekers, bounty hunters, and explorers? Hardly represenative is it, gives people a certain expectation really." He said, finishing his last drink as he did so. He made sure to pay up his tab and to note that would be the last drink for him today. He had no interest in testing his ability to hold his liqour down and much besides that he'd rather not overindulge in empty calories when he had a long stretch of limited physical activity ahead of him. Electric muscle stimulation was fine and all, but it was as much about the ideal of the discipline as it was about any benefit born of it.
He paused a bit when she mentioned the Space Pirates. "Now? There's quite a few bases and petty empires scattered around in unclaimed or weakly claimed space. Putting them down is like trying to behead a hydra though, you destroy one and it turns out there's two more a few light years over. Now, if you mean back in the war? They invaded yes, but where I'm from, their invasion isn't the one from that decade everyone talks about."
Then of course there was the more in depth explanation. While he had a hard time starting conversation, getting him to stop once he got going was an issue. "Forgive me if this bores you but I like to tell this story, so try to be patient as I try to make the history lesson as brief as possible, trust me though, it has everything to do with why there's as many Kromus outposts corewards as there are. Stop me at any point if I'm boring you or interrupt me whenever you have a question. I don't normally talk this much without pause but I thought you might like some of the scoops in the region." He said. He was always keen on getting Spurites to visit the Corewards region. Call it a bit of pride on his part as he latched onto the origins of his birth parents to deny the influence of the Alimbics on his life.
"There was an attempt to form a united front against their invasion, but the greatest rivals of the Clans and their Allies joined up into the Core Powers and used the opportunity offered by the United Front's forcecs being elsewhere to settle old grudges with a surprise attack. Just plunging a sword into the back while everyone is looking at the new enemy charging over the hill. Funny that, they like to boast about their honour too." He said, not quite expecting her to quite comprehend the sort of mindset of nationalistic hatred that lead to the League deciding to turn the fight with the Kromus into a three way war.
"The Lightning Wars were what you'd expect out of a war born of national hatred and pride. Ugly, brutal, messy, however you want to call it. And since it was a three way war, things were most of all; very confusing. You could fight the Kromus one day and the League the next or sit back and let the two blast each other. But that made focusing on either difficult, so the Kromus could get farther than they should have. Mind you, they didn't have it as bad as you did, but it wasn't a picnic either. From what my kith and kin told me though, it was much more personal with the Core Powers than the Kromus." That was something of an understatement, to the United Front, the Powers' decision to profit off of the disruption to astropolitics and attack in the midst of outside invasion rather than join forces was the most vile sort of perfidy imaginable.
"To make a long story short, before the Core Powers could be defeated, their leading country's government set off WMDs in hundreds of their own cities without warning or attempt to evacuate while they were being fought over to kill all the soldiers there before they could invade their core space. Like stabbing themselves in the gut to hit the person behind them and daring anyone else to have a go. The death toll of their great show of force to show what their foes could expect if they pushed past the Waldemoch Rift was in the billions. So they got their negotiated peace to weasel out of everything they did. Honestly I think they should have pressed on but I was born after the fact." The great Self-Immolation always seemed like insanity to him, and nobody who had lived to see it in person ever spoke of it lightly.
"The terms were harsh, but honestly more than fair to me. Forced demobilization, military restriction, lost territory, helping to rebuild what they destroyed. The usual. Their government didn't survive very long after that; their last stunt made them very unpopular and they still lost. The younger officers, rascals they are; launched a coup when the old leaders failed to contain a popular revolution, installed a military dictatorship. Very typical of disgruntled younger officers really." He smiled slightly at his own joke as he tried to ease into the more suave persona of Volsungr.
"These days they've just been sitting on the Hyperfuel and Mineral boom that's made the coreward regions as rich as they are; charming cpeople really, they love ranting about how humans across the galaxy conspired to betray the nation. So you know, not worrying at all." The first step of any revanchist regime is to blame some minority with little real influence for systemic issues so nobody blames the people with actual power. It always happened and so many people kept on falling for it. It would have made him sad if it didn't make him angry more.
"There are a lot of ex-Core Power mercenaries though, you could throw a stone in some places corewards and hit three. Some rumours say they secretly take orders from their old governments or make pacts with the Space Pirates. While I'm sure you know what they say about trusting rumours, for what it's worth more of the known Kromus outposts in the region are closer to Power than Front space." He said with a small smile.. Personally, he wouldn't be surprised if at least some of those rumours were true to some degree.
Post by Eliza Silvermantle on Feb 8, 2020 2:05:48 GMT
Eliza diverted her attention towards the man who'd called himself Volsungr, intrigued by his use of language not used with any frequency since the days of her youth, and the peculiar similarities his names had with old Terran names. As a result, she didn't immediately answer the blonde, intending to hear out the tale he had to tell, if for no other reason than to glean a bit more information that might someday prove of use. In a universe where there was always a stronger entity, knowledge could prove the difference between prosperity and utter disaster, she'd long since learned.
"Most intriguing, Volsungr," 'Elsha' remarked in the gentle lilting voice she'd adopted for the persona. "No doubt the Federation will want to be wary if they ever extend an influence in that direction. As for you.." she trailed off as she fixed her gaze on the younger woman. "Tout n'est pas comme il semble. Je connais ta lignée." The statement was oddly formed, as if slightly archaic, but very likely still identifiable to those familiar with Terran languages. Then, as if she'd not yet addressed Samus at all, she smiled, and nodded towards the boards displaying various bounties. "Have you been working long?"
With a sigh, Samus would arc a brow, feign interest, but also kept her eyes on her chronometer and the bounty boards. She signalled for one last drink; this time a full pint of what she was told was Daiban's best local brews. No doubt distilled in the bar's facilities. Her drink came about a minute into Volsungr's rather impromptu lesson on the region he was from. To Samus, it boiled down to corrupt idiot bureaucrats, who thought they could use the Kromus invasions to screw over their neighbors, and bit off far more than they could chew, then tried extremist glassed surface tactics to force negotiations more favorable to them, barely got out of suffering for their abuse of fusion warheads, and then were ousted by a very upset and betrayed group of younger military bureaucrats who thought they could do better.
Add in a minerals boom and some planets with large veins of Afloratite, it sounded, and it was a recipe for an unstable region, no central organized government to make bigger decisions or mediate between sovereign worlds, and the Kromus had bases everywhere, it sounded like. Definitely a time bomb waiting to blow. Everyone would be fighting over the resources, and sooner or later, they would likely spill their fights rimward, toward the Orion Spur proper.
And then there were the claims of working with the Kromus. Something that bothered her, after what had happened just a few months ago at the turn of the year. She sipped at the glass, then slowly began to just guzzle it down as her thoughts turned further on the idea of outlier worlds actually making deals with the Kromus hordes. "Rumors like that aren't to be taken lightly." The glass mug was set on the bar, her credit chit tapping the embedded reader, and her bill paid again. Might do, since she was likely to become a regular, to open a tab account in the future. "Haven't known the Kromus to make deals like that, but they have done crazier things."
On her feet, brushed off, and checking her wristcom to notify the landing platform that she was coming for her ship. "Speaking of crazy, I have a couple small time bail jumpers to chase down for a quick easy mark, so, sorry drink and run, but that's the game we all picked."
She suddenly halted at those words from the Yl'fyn. Her translation unit took a moment to pull the language and run conversion for her; old twenty-first century French. The verbal translation was stilted due to being a dead variant dialect, but if it was even halfway right, the woman had just told Samus "things are not what you think. I know who you are."
Which was a very odd thing to say to someone, especially in a bounty Bar. The second statement, a question, was less suspicious, but till had the blonde girl on edge. "Really just got my first set of marks taken here. Had some work I did a few months ago, but can't really talk much about that..." And she needed to leave now, if the pit in her stomach was any warning.
