Military grade NanoMass is one of the most tightly controlled substances in the galaxy. NanoMass in general is tightly controlled, but there’s only so much one can do with the civilian grade stuff, due to the baseline coding limitations in each individual nanite. But a few cubic centimeters of unrestricted military grade grey gloop can turn a basement lab into a fission bomb factory. Understandably, military grade NanoMass can’t just be shipped unsecured on any old civilian transport craft. It certainly isn’t allowed to buy a seat and walk around the cabin. 

And that is why a medium sized secure crate ended up in the [i]Infamous Alto’s[/i] cargo hold unopened. “Javelin Platform mk-1” was printed in big letters on the side, with it’s shipping number below. The crate was indeed listed on the [i]Infamous Alto[/i]’s cargo manifest, and it had been loaded without any problems. The shipping instructions specified it was to be opened once the [i]Alto[/i] was under way, but their busy schedule meant that nobody had gotten around to doing that yet.

A light tapping began emanating from the cargo crate, echoing around the cargo hold. It went quiet for a minute, then resumed, louder. The tapping grew more insistent, finally becoming a loud knocking sound, but there was still no response. The crate went silent again. Suddenly, a shining chrome blade shot out of the side of the crate, quickly slicing through the secure clasps. The blade widened into a wedge, and slowly pushed open the crate’s lid. A large blob of chrome liquid crawled out of the crate and down onto the floor with a light [i]plop[/i]. The blob then quickly began to twist and turn, rising upwards into a column. Arms sprouted from the mass silver, and the base of the column split into legs. The top pinched off to form a head, and the middle adopted the shape of a human torso. Then the details started to appear; fingers, chin, nose, feet. In seconds, the blob had transformed into a well defined silver human female. After a few more seconds, sections of silver started to change colour and shift into clothing, and before long a young woman opened her eyes.

“That’s better,” Javelin said as she stretched her arms. “Terribly rude of them to leave a lady locked in a box.” She turned around and gave her crate a critical look, then retrieved a small case from the bottom. Without any further delay, Javelin opened the cargo bay door and wandered down the ship’s corridors until she found a person. “Hello good chap,” she said jovially, “might I speak to the Captain?”