PAVARTI, VENUS

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root root's picture
PAVARTI, VENUS

PAVARTI


Allegiance: Independent
Primary Languages: English, Farsi, Japanese
One of only two independent aerostats, Parvarti is advertised as the place where dreams come true. It is known for its somewhat seedy reputation as a sort of inner system swinger’s club or red light habitat that caters to almost any sort of fantasy, sexual kink, or perversion—discretion guaranteed. The habitat’s marketplace offers the entire range of vacation resort and adult services: spas, cloud-diving, gambling, customized companions, doll houses, robo-sex, exotic pleasure simulspaces, neotenic prostitution, porn XP casting, anonymous mass orgies, etc. For people in the know, various gray and black market agents provide darker services: animal sleeving/ bestiality, illegal fork-sex operations, snuff XP, non-simulated rape scenarios, and worse. Parvarti is part whorehouse, part non-stop bacchanal, and part shady speakeasy. Just about any deviance and permutation of sexual services is available, and private spaces (small and large) can be rented for special occasions, no questions asked, on short notice. To preserve privacy, most patrons sleeve into anonymous morphs for their stay, but the station also limits public spimes, performs regular countersurveillance sweeps, and closely limits and filters communication channels outside the aerostat. This makes Parvarti an excellent locale for conducting private meetings and deals, and it is commonly used as a neutral ground between negotiating parties.

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root root's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

PROXY 23-17

Find me that Xeno x-threat before she makes me label this whole place infected and terminate this circus. Although, if you want to take your time, I don't mind the idea of letting an erasure squad run through here with some god-hammers. Just saying.

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root root's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

Sleezy Sam's Resleezing Shop

SAM: You awake? Good. Welcome to Perverti, the most welcoming place in the Sol system for freaks and pervs. Your ticket requested basic cases, but we had a whole convention of case-fetishists farcast in today, so you got upgraded on the house. You need recommendations on places to stay? The spimes don't have info on the really good places, but Sam knows em. You let me know, yea?

MELETE: Thank you, we have a local guide. This pod seems to have a few non-standard upgrades?

SAM: Yea, we impounded that when the owner defaulted on a morph loan. Some of that gear is ego-locked, so it don't actually do you much good, but its other bits would keep you entertained for a few days locked up with yourself, know what I'm sayin?

MELETE: I get the general idea. We will take our leave now. We have much to see.

SAM: I betcha do. Just try not to wreck the morphs, 'cause that costs extra.

[ @-rep +1 | c-rep +1 | g-rep +1 | r-rep +1 ]

root root's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

Three fresh egos leave Sleezy Sam's ReSleezing Shop and wander into the perpetual dusk of Pavarti, the Sol system's infamous red-light district. They are clad in an assortment of pleasure pods, but the wings and avian eyes indicate a non-standard build. After a brief moment of teleconferencing, they take to the air and disappear into the gloom of the station's vaulted ceilings.

[ @-rep +1 | c-rep +1 | g-rep +1 | r-rep +1 ]

Picollo Picollo's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

Picollo-αα7@Pavarti


Words don't come back first. There is a time of floating, animal perceptions. They pool in the base of my new mind like some cthonic liquid; viscus with meaning, maddening to dwell upon. I look unblinking at the unmoving light in front of me with the eyes of some monstrous reptilian ancestor, quietly feeling the complex texture of the unmoving frame of vision I am latched to, detached from any will to volition. Glacial processes crush the information gathered by my faculties into a fine thing, too fine of a substance to register higher in the hierarchy of mind, too fine to trigger analysis.

An emotion resonates through this enormous cavity, a taught string of meaning setting off harmonic themes to conform to higher geometry of thought imposed on the bleak totality of perception rendering it a pattern with meaning to be unknotted and understood. Other melodies begin to play, and a chorus of voices drown the arithmetic of meaning, subsumed in the deeper calculus of inner social dialogue. I remember a me, in relation to a history, woven into a tapestry, with a shuttle and loom of probability and chance flowing the pattern into the future. My place in it brightens, points of light and color rendered into a matrix complex and wild, choices cascading into self-similar pattern of cause and effect; thought, plan and action.

"Fuck. Me. That always sucks.

"Ok, review. I am Picollo, a fifth column in Firewall, the Jovian Republic, and the Night Cartel; I'm a smuggler, bioconservative judas, spy, and a general bastard. I'm here to track down and capture or kill a sexy hive-girl that I may or may not have seduced or become seduced by, in an attempt to gather information about her reptilian Queen. I think I'm supposed to be working for Firewall on this one, although I doubt the Jove will bitch much, as I'm on "out-of-range leave" with them at the moment. For some reason I have a mysterious oligarch enemy who has enough direct power to burn me out of Jovian Intel, and did so just because I killed his muse for reprogramming me to sing silly songs and dance like a monkey when Jovian superiors entered the same room. Justice is a sad, toothless whore gumming the angry cock of the powerful.

"I'm currently immobile in a medvat. I'm in one of my backup caches, presumably the one on Pavarti. While I was waking up one of my seeds should have activated and printed my standard gear, minus my QE comm, and plus my rope spindle and the repair spray and medichines that should be standard gear for the Joivan Spy On The Go, if the Republic weren't still so bent out of shape over the hefty lead enjoyed by the TITAN side had in nanotech fac/med when the Fall blossomed. And last but never least, there are my specs. My Specs. It should be capitalized. A conceit, I admit, but I'm on Pavarti! With my ugly mug, I've gotta have something flashy to distract the ladies with besides my swagger and grin. You know, something substantial-like."

"Watch out Pavarti: I'm an alpha fork with a week left to live, a big bag of ugly tricks, and a self-destructive streak as deep as the abyss. And I just crashed your party."

"Not so immortal now, are we root?"




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Draconis Draconis's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

The strobing supply shuttle drifted lazily into Parvarti's hanger 37 like a bat returning to its cave to roost. The ship lurched to a stop and the exterior lights cut off plunging the hanger back into its perpetual amber twilight. A flick of a tail, a shower of sparks, and the dog brain autopilot AI with flight recorder joined the shuttle's two person crew in oblivion, it's housing damaged irreparably.

Minutes crawled by. None exited the craft. None came to meet it. Countless items and people had been smuggled in and out though the bay over months. Hands where well greased to look the other way, sensors where off if they even existed at all. This entire wing hovered in a permanent bureaucratic limbo, marked "under construction". This fateful day however was far different than any preceding it. That oldest of friends, greed, was once again rolling out the welcome mat.

A flicker of shadows and skittering sounds receding into several ducts where the only indications that the shuttle had begun to release its deadly cargo. Two humanoid shaped patches of inky blackness, followed a moment later by a larger third, disappeared into the dark corners of the hanger. A soft angry hiss and a crumpled grate marked their passing.

Marissa walked faster down the terminal's empty hallway. The sylph's heel's echoing loudly with each step. I hate this job already. Three thousand up front or not, this is so not worth it. If anyone gets any funny ideas I'm going to make sure the syndicate gets their balls.
She stopped and adjusted her black leather miniskirt tugging it down. For some reason she felt like eyes where upon her.
"This is the appointed place and location." Her muse helpfully supplied.
"Where's the client?" She replied timidly, beginning to toy nervously with her long blond hair. "Unknown. I'm unable to receive nor transmit outside signals at this location."
"Screw this, five minutes then I'm out of here." Marissa said with a confidence she certainly wasn't feeling.

Something rustled nearby among a pile of sheet metal covered by an old plastic tarp.
"Who's there? I'm gonna fucking waste you if you don't come out." The escort fumbled for the small stunner in her handbag.

The infection form hidden among nearby debris coiled ready to pounce. It was dark grey, the size of a dinner plate and shaped like a bloated starfish with two fluid filled sacks pulsing on its back. The creature practically shivered in anticipation of carrying out its sole purpose for existing.
It sprang at Marissa hitting her stomach with a meaty thud. The nimble creature clung tightly to her body digging the rows upon rows of wickedly sharp hollow fangs on its underside into her skin followed by the barbed pincer at it's center. In seconds the creature began to deflate rapidly as it injected its payload of infected exsurgent blood into her body. Seconds later Marissa's scream cut off and she crumpled to the ground as the virus worked quickly to paralyze her and begin her change. The small withered infection form slipped off her, dead, beginning to dissolve into a small organic puddle, its task complete.

A dark shaped slipped from the shadows. With a triumphant hiss a claw grabbed the sylph's twitching body by her legs and dragged her behind the stacks of plastic shrouded sheet metal into darkness. The xenodragoness crouched protectively over the newest member of the Hive and her soon to be body as the virus coursed through the unlucky escort. After an hour when the bare minimum changes had been wrought the Xenodragoness slid her consciousness into the morph at her feet leaving her body to the Hive in general to operate and keep safe.

Xeno blinked and looked up at her intimidating glossy black carapaced sleek eyeless form, this new morph of hers was massively weak and clumsy compared to it. Xeno stood shakily and flexed her hands experimentally, growling softly. This is pathetic. My Queen just gave you a gift you sorely needed Marissa. What bothered her most was her lack of tail, also she had to keep resisting the urge to drop and run on all fours. Instead she remained hunched over slightly and sighed. Passing for human was going to prove more difficult than she had previously thought. Xeno leaned forward and kissed the smooth black head of her former body lovingly, she rubbed gently under a chin that was hers only a minute ago. Good girl. Stay hidden and keep us safe until needed.
The fearsome xenomorph nuzzled her hand for a moment then vanished silently into a vent.

Xeno looked down at her new body, the virus had worked quickly. She lightly ran her hands down the black carpace that had already begun to cover her torso at the point of injection moving just up to under her breasts. Black infected veins splayed to the sides of her hips and chest. Xeno had entered the morph and slowed the transformation as soon as she could, but this was unfortunately the least change she could manage. Xeno tore off a strip of plastic sheeting lying nearby and wrapped it around her torso several times concealing her metamorphosis.

Xeno walked clumsily to the door on her new heels until finally she stopped, removed her shoes and snarling, tossed them against the wall. She tried to remain as upright as she could while exiting the terminal. She paused and transmitted a time and the location to Picollo encrypted through a blind drop. A location Marissa was happy to provide as part of the Hive. A place called "The Midnight Kiss of Eternal Bliss", some kind of underground snuff parlor. The xenodragoness would get what she came for there.

[img]http://boxall.no-ip.org/img/infected_userbar.jpg[/img]
[img]http://boxall.no-ip.org/img/exh_userbar.jpg[/img]

"Do not ask who I am and do not ask me to remain the same" - Michel Foucault

Picollo Picollo's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

Picollo-αα7@Pavarti


“For some odd reason the medvat doesn’t open automatically when I gain consciousness. This would be something of a life-threatening problem, but lucky for me the medvat’s glass is cracked wide open and even luckier than that, the hole was plugged. I would feel a little better about that if the thing plugging the hole didn’t look suspiciously like the mangled remains of a robotic face. Looking through the clouded glass gives me a view of a large pile of scrap electronics and misfabbed sex toys, which is decidedly not the dark, secure crawlspace I was supposed to be in.

“Needless to say, my gear printout doesn’t exist.

“Pulling the robot head the rest of the way into the tank and smashing open the rest of the glass lets me fall out of the vat onto the floor and its new pile of broken glass. Since I’m shivering uncontrollably as the medvat’s goo is slogging off, my medichines have to keep fighting to keep my skin closed, and that’s really only entertaining for the first few seconds so I do my best to sit up and assess my situation. After the disadvantages of doing this become painfully clear, I decide that pants are my first priority. Then shoes. Then a utilitool.”

"Not so immortal now, are we root?"




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Picollo Picollo's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

Picollo-αα7@Pavarti


"I don't find any convenient pants in the scrap pile. There are pants here, but assless chaps really won't solve the problems involved when sitting on broken glass. The shoes are even worse. I swear that sexworkers must have enhancements on their morphs in order to even walk in those damn things, let alone prance around on stage or perform the specialized athletics their jaded clients require. I end up spending some time with the medvat and having it grow me some cloths.

"While effective, there is something unsettling about wearing clothing that is alive, and the fashion choices are somewhat limited. Rubber isn't exactly a common biological substance, and while I could probably whip up a rubber tree, it's easier to just use keratin. My boots are effective, but down right creepy. I'd be embarrassed to be seen in public with them if I was anywhere else in the system, but this is Pavarti. Anything goes here, so my bizarre outfit will just look like a satyr costume rather than the freakish kludge-job that it is.

"My ass is now covered and I've got an impressive pair of shit-kickers on, but I'm still cut off from the mesh and I've got no tools. I could just grab some electronics off this scrap heap, as they are sure to have connectivity, but the program stacks on commercial computer systems are so full of bugs and sophisticated spy software that they aren't any use to me. You can't clean one of those systems, as the compromising agents are more than adept at spoofing diagnostic information. You need a fresh install, and then you get to be paranoid about the electronics the system is built on.

"I do get lucky when I'm kicking through the scrap pile: I come up with a vibrator covered with fractal ticklers. The toy has a unusual geometry, which I try very hard to not mentally match up to any anatomy as I harvest one of the ticklers. A little bit of tinkering using the monster vibrator as a tool that can be called crude in a number of ways, and I come up with a serviceable approximation to a programmable fractal digit. From there its just a small bit of effort to strip off the rest of the ticklers and build them into a true utilitool. It's feather-soft, colored a suggestive shade of purple, and tends to purr when near exposed skin, but I'm running around in fuzzy pants with a tail so I'm not concerned that it will make anyone think I am strange.

"I still need a secure ecto, and the only commercial computing hardware that is secure enough for my purposes is a cortical stack, and I don't have any of those around. That is, I don't have one unless this mysterious clanker who so rudely punched a hole in my medvat with its face still has a stack in its head. If it does, I can ask it what the hell it was doing that ended it up with a front row seat to the miracle of life that was my clone growing in goo."

"Not so immortal now, are we root?"




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Alysia Deveroux Alysia Deveroux's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

Alysia blinked her bright green reptilian eyes, as her consciousness returned. Blood, the thought assaulted her every sense. The air was thick with the scent of it, the dragoness could taste it in her mouth, she could feel it sticky against her emerald colored skin, and as her eyes adjusted she could see that the tiled floor she lay on was awash in it. The dracomorph hung limply over the edge of an expensive gold gilded tub. Her rump and tail remained inside while her snout was pressed to the floor coated in the congealed blood. She attempted to right herself and stand but only managed to slide completely out of the tub and flop roughly onto the slick tiled bathroom floor. Hello? Where the hell are you? Her muse remained silent and she remembered vaguely it had been absent for awhile.

Alysia growled and writhed, her emerald body rapidly becoming drenched in red, as her fore and rear claws seemed to be shackled together tightly behind her back. She lay there panting, staring at a bloody gobbet of flesh and beyond it the body of a man sprawled unmoving on the floor nearby. The lifeless man, an exalt morph, was naked save for a luxurious crimson spattered robe. His blood covered hands clutched at his ragged torn throat, staring back with dead eyes. A wave of hazy memories rushed back at Alysia through a throb of pain at her temple where she had struck the floor.

The dragoness had been making inquiries into the "Midnight Kiss of Eternal Bliss". An expensive private members only underground club frequented by her target. She hadn't planed on getting caught and made part of the merchandise, or more to the point the menu. This particular twisted establishment let it's patrons pick their bedmate then let them indulge their sadism in killing them. Then the unfortunate victim would be served up in a gourmet meal in their exclusive restaurant downstairs. This was the ultimate egomaniac power trip, one which was enormously expensive. Just the kind of place she had expected to find a Pathfinder executive at letting off steam.

She had gotten close to her target, too close. After this dangerous head case had his way with her a few times then ranted at her for a couple hours in the adjoining bedroom he had dragged her by the tail into this bathroom hanging her over the tub. Alysia whimpered and closed her eyes recalling how he had planned to skin her. After he had sliced open her tail with one of the glittering instruments now on the sink over her head, the muzzle she had been forced to wear had muffled her screams. That's where the bastard had made his mistake. Apparently he hadn't been around dracomorphs before because he removed her muzzle, the better to hear her screams after all. She had whispered something to get him to lean in close then lunged clamping her teeth down on his throat. The dragoness had shaken her head, twisting and yanking, a move any crocodile would be familiar with. She recalled the surprise in his eyes, someone had the audacity to fight back! He gave a gurgled cry as he crumpled pulling her down with him. She had struck the floor hard followed by blackness.

Alysia shook her head as if she could dislodge the terrible memories and lay there, shivering. I almost became this guy's next suit and dinner. If I had missed... The thought, mixed with the scent of death in the air made her queasy. Her head swam as she fought to keep her last meal down and failed miserably, coughing for a long while after. She glanced down at her savaged tail, mostly healed by her medichienes and felt slightly better. She squirmed, twisted her claws and formed a rotary saw from her wrist mounted tool, several minutes later she had managed to free her claws gingerly rolling onto all fours and stretching.

Alysia lifted her claws onto the marble sink and stared into the mirror beyond at her blood soaked form, trying to ignore the pain in her groin, tail, and head. Alysia's body was unique, even among dracomorphs, her owner had seen to that. The dracomorph shared genetics and implants with sylphs, pleasure pods, and ghosts. She didn't have the wings popular with some dracomorphs but she did have a glossy perfectly smooth artificial skin that changed color at her or other's whim. Her only accessory was her shiny gold metal collar ringing her neck that marked her as a Pride habitat permanent "servant".

I look horrible. Like a demon or something. She wiped at the blood on her snout, only managing to smear it more. With a snarl she turned bright red while sweeping the shiny knives and torture instruments off the sink sending them clattering to the floor. The dragoness snatched up a bone saw and began cutting into the corpse's head. With a cry of triumph she yanked his cortical stack free and tossed aside the saw. "Mission accomplished asshole." Alysia growled kicking the body as hard as she could while fighting back tears.

Alysia climbed into the tub and started the shower on hot and high speed. She lifted her snout and closed her eyes letting the water cascade down her now pure white body. Long moments passed while pink water flowed down the drain rinsing her clean of gore before she opened her eyes and glanced over at the mutilated body. Her tough facade crumbled and she flopped onto her rump curling into a ball as tears began to flow.

She hadn't minded being used, she had certainly been thrown at enough business people as entertainment and been treated roughly on a regular basis by her owner. Because of the extensive psychosurgery she had received as a courtesan she was conditioned to not only accept it, but to enjoy it. It also wasn't the killing that bothered her, enough people had died under her claws and the mandatory psychosurgery every dracomorph got turned even the meekest into a cold blooded killer. No it was the fact she was fighting the urge to dip her snout into the corpse and eat his organs that bothered her. In the end we're no different and I'm just as much a monster as you she thought.

"Predators make terrible prey." she whispered staring through tears at the stack gripped in her claw. It had been the same thing she had told him before she killed him.





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Picollo Picollo's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

Picollo picks up the robotic head and struggles with a bent panel to get access to its cyberbrain. He connects his utilitool to the exposed port and transforms the remainder of it to a haptic glove. He closes his eyes to better remember the technician's coding language mapped onto the touch modality. After some effort he manages to activate the robotic head's audio and visual systems.

He returns the unilitool to its standard configuration and squints down at the now animated face.

"You alive in there?"

"yes. i am root. if i may i ask, to whom am i addressing?"

Picollo hefts the head to look it more directly in the eyes. He searches the other's face, as if to find a telling emotion there. "I knew something called root once. Are you it?"

The head cocks an eyebrow quizzically. "no sir. i am set from a random seed, and the probability of there being another the same as myself is sufficiently close to zero for me to be considered unique. since my first memory is from less than a minute ago, i must conclude that we have never met."

Picollo grimaces. "Yep. That's you alright. But no more the you who recoded me than I am the me that was recoded. Screw it. root, I'm planning on using the stack in this thing as a computer. Tell me about the frankenfreak coded into it."

"while i prefer to not identify myself by the pejorative you have chosen to supply, i would be the entity you are querying for."

"Fine. Make your backups onto the cyberbrain proper and you can come with me and play muse. I'm calling you Yorick."

"i do come with a readme on agi rights, sir."

"Make your backups onto the cyberbrain proper, and come with me to play muse, please?"

"most certainly, sir."

"Not so immortal now, are we root?"




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Alysia Deveroux Alysia Deveroux's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

The sharp staccato of automatic weapon fire nearby followed by an inhuman screech shook Alysia from her morbid rumination.
Damn it, she's here already?
Her training came without thought as she tucked the cortical stack under her collar for safekeeping while simultaneously snatching up a nearby towel. It took only seconds to soak the cloth and dart through the door to the bedroom. The dragoness paused to clean the blood from the bottom of her claws tossing aside the soiled towel into a corner. In two long strides she sprung onto the tousled bed and jumped high adhering onto the mirrored wall behind the bed's headboard in quick succession.

Alysia's glossy skin shifted from stark white to a blurry indistinctness as she silently scampered up to the mirrored ceiling. She quickly traced a claw down the smooth ceiling until they caught on an almost invisible seam then with a sharp shove the tile swung up and open. The room below shook as a small explosion rocked the building dimming the lights to backups. Shrill alarms began to blare. The dracomorph gripped the edge of the entry panel then let go with her feet flipping up into the dark crawlspace above. A swipe of her claw later the tile slammed shut leaving her in inky darkness. Shapes began to resolve themselves as her reptilian eyes shifted into infrared. She lifted her snout sniffing at the air, Fan lubricant and ozone?. The dragoness followed the scent to a ventilation cover. Metal shrieked as her claws tore jagged gashes in the metal until enough of a gap was opened for her to squeeze her lithe form through. It was a tight fit even with her foreclaws held out far in front of her snout while she shimmied forward with her feet. Motion flickered at a junction ahead. Please don't be an xeno, I can't fight like this. Also is that smoke? Out of the frying pan and into the fire...

Alysia stalked forward as stealthily as she could manage until she pulled herself into the "T" intersection ahead. She growled and pounced smashing her claws down as quick as thought on her foe. A scrubbing drone beeped in protest and squirmed trying to escape while she sighed in relief.

Picking a direction forward wasn't hard, she turned right, ahead of the diffuse smoke cloud that was beginning to fill the vent and make her eyes water. She gripped the drone tight and dragged it with her. C'mon pal I have another job for you.

Soon the whump whump sound of a fan filled the vent. It whined as it sped up to suck the smoke out pulling her forward towards it's deadly embrace. The dragoness held the drone out in front of her as a shield. Sorry... Alysia winced and closed her eyes as the scrubbing drone impacted the blades and burst shredding into pieces. A large shard of shrapnel was flung centimeters past her snout ricocheting off her collar and burying itself deep into her right shoulder. She fought the urge to scream instead whimpering for several seconds before lashing out in retribution with her left claw removing the remains of the damaged fan from her path. Her AR display was still out but she didn't need it to know the wound was serious and that ironically the very symbol of her servitude had just saved her life. Had the shard embedded itself in her neck she would be twitching her last and sharing the same fate as her erstwhile captor left so recently behind. The vent was soon slick with crimson as she dragged herself the last few meters to the exit. With a supreme force of will she flopped out past another grate onto the roof of the building and began tumbling out of control over the edge. Her claws flailed trying to find purchase.

Weightlessness.... Why didn't I anticipate....? WHAM, she landed atop some sort of storage container denting it severely. Spots danced before her eyes and her chest heaved sending pain shooting through her chest with each breath. The dragoness lay there for what seemed an eternity before reaching up and fumbling at her collar for her muses' manual reboot. A chime followed by data scrolling across her vision told her she was successful.

"System reboot. Total down time was seven hour and twenty three minutes." A male voice growled harshly at her.
"I am Typhon, gamma 23-1"
"Currently assigned to Alysia Deveroux. Pride habitat property. Asset tag Echo Alpha Alpha 001. Identity confirmed."
"Pavarti local mesh link established"
"Current local time is 02:33:48"
"You have three new messages, one is marked priority"
"Alysia you have severe trauma to your right supraspinatus, you have multiple contusions about your body, three cracked ribs, vaginal and rectal bruising, a thirty centimeter incision on the ventral surface of your tail, along with extensive blood loss. Seek medical attention immediately."

"No shit." She croaked. Was that disgust in his voice? Why am I not surprised?

"Current mission parameters preclude me from requesting outside assistance. There is however a medical facility with resleeving capability within 159.4 meters of your current location now tagged on your display. Unfortunately this will put you farther from your equipment drop and your primary mission objective."

Alysia grunted, "No need to worry about that. It'll find me." She rolled off her back onto all fours and began limping in the direction indicated in her field of vision.

"Also your chameleon skin is ineffective at the moment unless of course you'd like to match your current coating of red. My avatar display is set to off, would you like me to fix that?"

"No." She snarled, she couldn't stand seeing the smug scarlet dragon gloating at the moment.

"Actually I was just being polite Echo." The bastard always used her code name when he was trying to get under her skin and remind her who was in charge.
"I'll turn it back on when I deem it appropriate. You should know Xenomorph presence is confirmed and you're leaving a trail a blind person could follow so I'd move that expensive ass of yours."





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Picollo Picollo's picture
Re: PAVARTI, VENUS

Picollo began to explore the large room. It was an oddly shaped hollow with an almost random, globular texture. It was poorly lit, but Picollo could make out the indistinct shape of pipes piercing through the gloomy cavity above. Picollo circled the room once and returned to the medvat that had spawned him.

"No doors. No ventilation shafts. No crawlspaces. And I think the crap lying on the floor is fused with it. Have you got access to any spimes, Yorick, or an idea what this place is?"

"i do not have access to the local spimes, sir. i do not come preloaded with advanced knowledge of orbital architecture, but my visual resolution is superior to yours and includes other wavelengths of electromagnetic radiation than just the visible light spectrum." Picollo waited for the computer to continue, but the program remained silent.

"So what do you see, then? It just looks a standard lattice structure to me. That tank I woke up in was supposed to be embedded in the wall of an access tunnel below the gardens. It was supposed to come with gear. I find it in instead in the middle of a sealed room full of trash with your skull smashed through it, gear nowhere in evidence. Do your frankenstein eyes tell you how I ended up in this room dressed for a bacchanal?"

"no sir. your choice of dress is a mystery i have not chosen to devote any processing threads to. i presume that your birthing chamber came here via the same mechanism as everything else."

"And that mechanism would be?" Picollo finally asked. The metal skull assumed an innocent expression that was remarkably unconvincing.

"but that would be cheating, sir. you seem to be enjoying the intellectual challenge, and it is my duty as your muse to see to your well being. but now i can see that your blood pressure is rising, which is dangerous with your heart condition. please stay calm. i have some tutorials on mindfulness and relaxation techniques. may i play some soothing white noise for you?" the skull flashed a grin across its display and began to loudly emit static. Picollo bounced it once in his hand, looked up, and arced the skull into the mess of pipes and gloom far above him.

"Huh. I guess I don't have to wonder what "mechanism" got your stupid fucking face smashed in my tube. Is being a prick part of your programming, or did you learn that one on your own, you mouthy, jumped-up calculator?" He shouted after the AGI. After receiving no reply for several minutes he began to pace around the room, occasionally pausing to kick or inspect the wall. On his third lap around the room, the robot's voice came down to him.

"whoever set the location for your clandestine exowomb didn't bother turning on its nanite hunters. the lattice this station is made from rebuilds itself in a way somewhat akin to biological skin healing. the medical vat wasn't registered to anyone so it was treated as a foreign body and expelled. it is possible whoever left it simply did not care about the transhuman thing that was supposed to come out of it and so was deliberately careless."

"Not so immortal now, are we root?"




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