The year is 2085. You are a former prisoner. You have been dumped on the planet of Caldera-3, a dusty, rugged, lawless frontier world that has been largely left to its own devices while galactic war rages around it. You have nothing to your name save for the clothes on your back. You'll need to find some way to make a living to survive and maybe even get off the planet...

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Post cowritten with @Bingelly & @Terrans

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"Out, get out!" they'd touched down on the planet a few minutes ago though this was the first time Neri had seen the landscape. She blinked in the sudden brightness of the boarding ramp as her eyes adjusted to the brightness, only to feel the muzzle of a blaster in her back urging her forward.

What the hell was going on? She didn't dare to ask. Her heart pounding in her chest as she walked forward, her hands raised in the universal gesture to say she wasn't up to anything. The planet was a dry one, or at least this part of it was. The weather was warm, low humidity. Low scrubby plants grew amongst the dusty red soil. It reminded her of Doona'tay, the dhasath home-world... or at least of what the dhasath home-world looked like in pictures.

She walked forward, stopping after a few paces, her shoulders tensing in the expectation of the red hot pain of a blaster shot... at least she assumed it was red hot. She didn't know. She'd never been shot.

There was a pause that seemed to drag on for an eternity. Cautiously, she half turned around, "So... what's going on?" she called back to the guard.

"Get the others," he muttered, though it was not aimed at her. He spoke louder a moment later, "You're staying here. We're leaving."

"Where's here?" Neri called back, turning now to face the kiellar prison guard.

"Caldera 3."

She paused, thinking for a moment as the warm, dry air stirred her hair, "Never heard of it."

"Most people haven't," the guard replied nonchalantly, "But it was on the way. This is your lucky day my dhasath friend. You're free."

"Free?" she asked as she processed what the guard was telling her, "This is a frelling desert!"

The guard motioned towards a low rise some distance away, "I thought a desert was your natural habitat... but here's a town over that ridge. You can figure it out from there."

Neri paused for a long moment, then nodded, "I'm going to go over there," she motioned at a patch of rocks about fifty yards away.

The guard shrugged and Neri lowered her hands, drawing herself up onto one of the rocks. She unzipped the front of the prison jumpsuit they had her wearing. She wore a black singlet underneath and pulled her arms out of the sleeves, letting the upper half of the prison garb fall to her waist, enjoying, for a moment, the simple pleasure of the rays from an actual sun on her shoulders.

She was disturbed a moment later by a kiellar who stopped next to her rock, brushing a hand through his scruffy beard. "We obviously can't stay here, Venetesh." His gruff voice was all business as he scanned the scrubland around the landing zone. "They're not gonna be so kind as to leave us food and water to make it very far either, so we're on a timer and that town's our best bet."

"No, we can't," Neri agreed with a shake of her head, taking a moment to stretch her back, "I was waiting for you, Vaehach, and the others. Safety in numbers," she shrugged, "Hard to say if the locals will be friendly or not," she paused for a moment then gave a wry laugh, "Or the rest of the people on our ship for that matter. It is a prison transport after all."

She didn't add that 'I really shouldn't have been on it', though Neri could have. She was a dhasath in the wrong place at the wrong time, assumed to be in the Legion... which she wasn't. But when people had an idea in their head it could be very hard to shift... She'd already told Vaehach all of that, probably more than once. Instead Neri gave a dry laugh, "I wonder if there's need for a plumber in that town?"

"Its a dustbowl colony," Vaehach coughed loudly, "They'll need trades and anyone not too stupid that they can't hold hammers." He tugged at the plain, gray garment he, and all the prisoners had been wearing, for emphasis as he continued. "The problem are these jumpsuits. We'll need to ditch them fast too."

A shadow fell over the pair of them and Neri looked up into the grey eyes of what she assumed must be a human, and a tall one at that. He could have been dhasath, but he would have been a bit on the pale side and she had heard there were human prisoners.

"Well we appear to be left with two unsavory options." While she could understand what she was saying she didn't know the language... it didn't sound like a dhasath language,. "Steal ourselves some new accoutrements or attempt to barter for them while in the garb of the damned." He paused, grinned, extending a hand, "Captain James Castleton; wrongly accused and now rightfully free."

Definitely a human. Neri dropped off the rock she was perched on, she clasped his forearm and stepped forward to embrace him with her other hand... but abruptly stopped, reading from his expression that she wasn't doing quite what he expected. She gave a sheepish smile, "This is a human gesture isn't it? And I'm not doing it right... Nerinai Venetesh. I also, really shouldn't be here; I got scooped up in a raid for Legion soldiers."

“It’s half of a human gesture.” He affirmed. Pulling his hand from hers gently.

"I think our only choice is to steal some clothes - we can pay the owners back later if people feel bad," Neri agreed with him, "If we walk in dressed as criminals we'll be treated as criminals. Though might be best to try to make any theft go unnoticed - take a little from different, well-laden washing lines."

“Wait washing lines? How is it we can travel the stars but we can’t make a washing machine standard in every colony?”

"You mean clothes driers?" Vaehach corrected. "It's hot and dry enough here that you can probably do without. Less power used, less heat generated. That can be valuable for a lone freeholder, or an isolated camp."

“Washers. Clothe driers. Nuclear toasters; let’s just get on to civilization before whatever passes for coyotes wonders along.” James began striding off during his tirade. Thankful at least that the sun wasn’t at its highest point yet.

"I didn't have a dryer growing up," Neri remarked to Vaehach as the human stormed off, wondering if he was being overly romantic or if she came from a particularly low place in the Universe, "Small apartment. Energy was expensive. We weren't wealthy. Sunlight, on the other hand, is free," she glanced back at the ship as more prisoners were ejected, "Guess we should probably follow after him.

She turned around, cupping her hands to her face to help her voice carry better, "Hey! Anyone wanting to change out of your prison clothes, follow me!"

It's a strange thing to see a spacesuit in atmosphere. Stranger still when the spacesuit has no life support system attached. In fact it had moved so little in the bowels of the ship that most had presumed it was simply a discarded faulty EVA suit. That is exactly why it was such a strange sight to see it shuffling down the ramp. A spacesuit; moving itself.

It ambled towards the gathering group when it saw the woman raised her hand. It wasn't taller than most among them, but anyone tall enough to look into the visor level saw an unsettling sight. The visage of a skull bathed in murky swirling dark gas was enough to stop them looking back into Molybdenum's visor. He did not speak with an accent like that of anything organic. When he spoke it was as if the translator nanites were fully synthesising the noises of speech, instead of mutating the words from a known tongue like most creatures.

"I will respond to Molybdenum. I do not like sharp objects." He tilted his upper body back and forth in order to sway his head. You might get the impression he is trying to nod. When he stopped he stood perfectly, unnervingly still. He kept his arms pressed flat down the sides of his body. He did not move like anything else.

“Move.”

The shove came without warning, Dusk didn’t argue.

His boots hit the dusty ground as he stepped off the ramp, the dry heat immediately settling in, it reminded him of previous deployments. It wasn’t suffocating like some places back on Earth, but it had that empty feel to it. It was the kind of place where if something went wrong, no one was coming to help that much was universal.

He took a few steps forward, then turned slightly as more prisoners were forced out behind him. The guards didn’t even bother keeping formation or a perimeter. They were just dumping them there.

Fucking figures. Dusk thought as the ship began to rise behind them.

“…Yeah. Real professional.”

He muttered to himself, eyes tracking the ship as it lifted. Just like that, gone.

No supplies, no weapons and no explanation. They were left to rot.

“Shit…”

His hand ran across his face, brushing over half-healed cuts from the ambush. They were still tender that they stung lightly upon touch. The dust had already settled into the prison fabric he was wearing, his service boots were the only thing he had left, he looked just as out of place as pretty much everyone else around him who had been left behind.

He exhaled slowly, forcing the frustration down, panicking wasn’t going to fix anything.

Voices began to pull his attention then. A small group had already started forming. A dhasath woman, a kiellar, and—

A human.

He was tall and seemed confident. Talking like he owned the situation.

“…Castleton," Dusk muttered to himself once more. The name rang somewhere in the back of his mind for a moment, but it was not important right now.

Dusk watched the exchange silently, reading the room (or scene rather) the way he always did. Different species and backgrounds but they all had one thing in common, they were prisoners abandoned in an unknown planet.

Some of them were already talking about stealing.

Not great but they were moving toward a plan.

He glanced back once more at the empty sky where the ship had been.

Then back to the group. Apparently there was a town over the ridge.

She turned around, cupping her hands to her face to help her voice carry better, "Hey! Anyone wanting to change out of your prison clothes, follow me!"

That was the best play. Didn’t matter how bad it looked to be around a gang of questionable ethics, standing alone out here was worse.

The marine stepped forward, speaking just loud enough to be heard.

“Name’s John Dusk. United States Marine Corps. Attached to a UN convoy mission before all this.”

He gestured vaguely back toward where the ship had been.

“No idea who grabbed me or why, but that doesn’t change the situation.”

A brief pause as his eyes moved across them, sizing each one up.

“We’ve got no gear, no water, and no ride off this rock. That town’s our best shot.”

He nodded toward the ridge.

“I’m sticking with the group. If anyone’s got a better plan, now’s the time.”

Saeyeon Kim

Saeyeon got off the ship with the other prisoners at the "persuasion" of the guards.

"Well, guess they're just dumping us here to die in this godforsaken desert," she thought. She looked around for Vesol of Rirbrach, the female Kiellar whom she befriended in the last work camp she was in. Last she saw Vesol was when the guards fired upon the crowd containing her during a prison uprising so the chance of her being hit by blasters and being left to die was there.

That is, until Saeyeon swore she saw Vesol in the prison ship. She couldn't confirm it but she was sure to see a kiellar female with white hair braided into a ponytail. Maybe she can find her now that everyone is off the ship. So far, she didn't see anyone matching the description at all.

A small group was beginning to be formed with a dhasath female, a kiellar male, and a human male who she heard refer to himself as Castelton. She gotten closer, maybe they'll know a way out of this desert. When the dhasath female called out the group, a few stepped forward, including a human male who called himself John Dusk of the United States Marine Corps.

Someone of the military, that could help with the chances of survival. She also stepped forward.

"Saeyeon Kim of the UN convoy missions, formerly of Republic of Korea Army Special Warfare Command," she said. "I'll join you guys as well in visiting the town."

Once the prisoners were all escorted, or forcibly ejected, from the bowels of the transport shuttle, the guards -eager to leave this godforsaken dump and anyone in the system who might reasonably hold them accountable behind- briefly turned their attention to one last bit of trash weighing down their craft. In one corner near the ramp, some kind of machine sat folded up in transport mode, beneath a ratty old tarp that represented the bare minimum effort to keep the object ‘under wraps’. Opinions were divided on what to do with it.

“Ditch it. It’s just extra weight that’ll slow us down. Need to get all the distance we can out of our fuel.”

“Wait a sec, what is it, anyway?”

“Some old robot. Boss just told us someone wants it, so take it and drop it off at the station with the prisoners. Plans have changed, though.”

“Could be valuable. We should sell it. Get a li’l extra cash for our trip.”

“It doesn’t even have a head, no way that thing works.”

“Still probably got some precious metals inside the circuits or whatever. Could crack it up, pull out whatever parts we can.”

“Yeah, like a tracking device! Whoever wanted it might come after us. Better to get rid of it. Plus, it gives me the creeps.”

“Come on people, quit your bickering. We’re wasting daylight, so move it! Just dump the damn thing and get in here before we leave your asses here, too!”

At the command of their irate ringleader the three guards worked together to push the robot to the edge of the bay door and then kick it down the ramp, complaining about its weight all the while. A few seconds later and the door was shut tight. Rockets blazed and the shuttle shot up, up and away into the atmosphere, leaving the gang of misfit prisoners marooned.

While a few of the castaways began to band together and formulate a plan for survival, the discarded machine just lay there in a heap, its gangly limbs splayed out in every direction. From within the yawning, circular void of the android’s helpless neck, however, cool air issued forth, as well a strange noises, faint but distinctively organic like the throbbing beat of a heart.

INITIATING DIAGNOSTIC SUBROUTINE…
…
…
CORE BATTERY: HALF EMPTY
STATUS: FLAT BROKE
THREAT LEVEL: MODERATE
AI FUNCTIONALITY: YOU WISH
FORECAST: 0% CHANCE OF PERSPIRATION
MISSION STATEMENT: ACQUIRE HEAD, ?, ?, PROFIT

WARNING: LANGUAGE MODEL COMPILE ERROR, DEPENDENCY NOT FOUND
INITIATING PROXIMAL SCAN…CALIBRATING SUITABLE LANGUAGE MODEL…

After a few seconds, the robot began to move. Her limbs rearranged themselves to support her weight as she propped herself up against the dusty earth, then pushed herself to her feet. Carefully she removed the tarp, which had gotten wedged into one of her joints, then fastened it beneath her collar. The optic viewport in her collar was operational, although subtle enough that few people would be able to identify it without close study; to the prisoners discarded alongside her, the android looked unnervingly headless. Finally, she extended her arms to either side, all six fingers splayed out, as if stretching.

“Whoo-whee, it’s hotter than hell out here,” she declared in a rather loopy, off-kilter, synthetic Southern accent. Proudly she rapped her knuckles against her alloy chest. “Good thing I got my own air-conditionin’! Don’t any of y’all go reachin’ down into my donation box to cool off, though, not if ya want your hand back!” A puff of cold air from deep within her gullet approximated a sigh as she looked around at the desolate territory, her hands perched on her hips. “Course, if my power runs low I’ll be sweatin’ like a whore in church right quick, hehheh! Don’t s’pose any o’ y’all got a battery pack to spare? Or a head, for that matter? I sure need me one o’ them!”

For the first time, it occurred to the android to pay some attention to her fellow castaways. A few of them, some already acquainted, had already grouped together in the hopes of reaching a nearby town. Some dhasath…or were they humans? A mix of the two, maybe? To a robot, they all looked alike. She was much more interested in that space suit, which struck her as oddly but unidentifiably familiar, especially once she happened to catch a lucky peek of the skull and swirling gasses within the suit’s helmet.

“Molybdenum?” She repeated, a smile in her voice. “Wow, what a wacky word! Like, the element? Molybdenum. Pretty dang fun to say, but it ain’t exactly practical. What if I see a li’l scorpion or somethin’ fixin’ to jab yer heel? By the time I belt out the whole word, the varmint’s already done poisoned you! How about Moly? Or maybe just Denum? Though I guess those ain’t jeans you’re wearin,’ hehheh!”

For a moment paused, as though spacing out now that she’d gotten off topic. “Uh…what was that about sharp stuff? You afraid of gettin’ yerself punctured, balloon man? Big gassy guy? Well, don’t you worry none, I’d never pop a Moly no matter how funny it’d be! Heheh…” Though if there was any cash rattling around in that suit with those bones, that might be a different story.

When the robot actually managed to focus, she realized that the prisoners were introducing themselves. She didn’t actually internalize any of their boring human names, but it sounded fun, so she stepped forward to do so next. She seemed to carry herself without any self-awareness whatever about how badly she stuck out among all the rugged, fleshy, storied refugees of the starry frontier. “Howdy, y’all! I been called lots o’ stuff, like Thief, Stealer, Slag, Rustbucket, Sumbitch, and so on. But I like Bandit best. I was made for minin’, but these days the ‘mining’ I do is makin’ other folks’ stuff ‘mine’, hehhehheh!”

After quickly checking inside her storage compartment, though, Bandit’s face fell, metaphorically speaking at least. “Daww, consarn it all! Those rat bastards musta taken all my cash! I ain’t got so much as a doggone penny to my name…” Bandit groaned, her arms hanging so low they almost brushed the ground, but after another moment she straightened up. “Well, guess that settles it. I’m stickin’ with y’all for now. Wherever we’re headin’, they gotta have batteries there. And money. And heads!” Clearing her throat, she lowered her voice somewhat. “Still, uh, takin’ donations, by the way. Just sayin’.”

Saeyeon Kim
"Saeyeon Kim of the UN convoy missions, formerly of Republic of Korea Army Special Warfare Command," she said. "I'll join you guys as well in visiting the town."

Dusk’s eyes shifted when he heard it.

“Republic of Korea Army…”

He gave a small nod in her direction, “Good to know I’m not the only one out here.”

Then came the noise of someone or rather something else. Dusk turned, brow tightening slightly as the… thing started moving.

He watched it push itself up, limbs adjusting, no head—just that hollow space venting cold air like it was nothing.

Then it started talking.

“Whoo-whee, it’s hotter than hell out here,” she declared in a rather loopy, off-kilter, synthetic Southern accent. Proudly she rapped her knuckles against her alloy chest. “Good thing I got my own air-conditionin’! Don’t any of y’all go reachin’ down into my donation box to cool off, though, not if ya want your hand back!” A puff of cold air from deep within her gullet approximated a sigh as she looked around at the desolate territory, her hands perched on her hips. “Course, if my power runs low I’ll be sweatin’ like a whore in church right quick, hehheh! Don’t s’pose any o’ y’all got a battery pack to spare? Or a head, for that matter? I sure need me one o’ them!”

For the first time, it occurred to the android to pay some attention to her fellow castaways. A few of them, some already acquainted, had already grouped together in the hopes of reaching a nearby town. Some dhasath…or were they humans? A mix of the two, maybe? To a robot, they all looked alike. She was much more interested in that space suit, which struck her as oddly but unidentifiably familiar, especially once she happened to catch a lucky peek of the skull and swirling gasses within the suit’s helmet.

“Molybdenum?” She repeated, a smile in her voice. “Wow, what a wacky word! Like, the element? Molybdenum. Pretty dang fun to say, but it ain’t exactly practical. What if I see a li’l scorpion or somethin’ fixin’ to jab yer heel? By the time I belt out the whole word, the varmint’s already done poisoned you! How about Moly? Or maybe just Denum? Though I guess those ain’t jeans you’re wearin,’ hehheh!”

For a moment paused, as though spacing out now that she’d gotten off topic. “Uh…what was that about sharp stuff? You afraid of gettin’ yerself punctured, balloon man? Big gassy guy? Well, don’t you worry none, I’d never pop a Moly no matter how funny it’d be! Heheh…” Though if there was any cash rattling around in that suit with those bones, that might be a different story.

When the robot actually managed to focus, she realized that the prisoners were introducing themselves. She didn’t actually internalize any of their boring human names, but it sounded fun, so she stepped forward to do so next. She seemed to carry herself without any self-awareness whatever about how badly she stuck out among all the rugged, fleshy, storied refugees of the starry frontier. “Howdy, y’all! I been called lots o’ stuff, like Thief, Stealer, Slag, Rustbucket, Sumbitch, and so on. But I like Bandit best. I was made for minin’, but these days the ‘mining’ I do is makin’ other folks’ stuff ‘mine’, hehhehheh!”

After quickly checking inside her storage compartment, though, Bandit’s face fell, metaphorically speaking at least. “Daww, consarn it all! Those rat bastards musta taken all my cash! I ain’t got so much as a doggone penny to my name…” Bandit groaned, her arms hanging so low they almost brushed the ground, but after another moment she straightened up. “Well, guess that settles it. I’m stickin’ with y’all for now. Wherever we’re headin’, they gotta have batteries there. And money. And heads!” Clearing her throat, she lowered her voice somewhat. “Still, uh, takin’ donations, by the way. Just sayin’.”

That accent, that… attitude. Dusk blinked rapidly as he looked at the thing.

“…You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

For a brief second, he just stood there, staring at it like his brain was trying to catch up.

A headless robot with a southern drawl talking about batteries and… heads.

“…Yeah,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head slightly.

“Either I took a harder hit back there than I thought…”

His eyes stayed on the machine a moment longer, "or this is just how things are out here.”

He exhaled through his nose, letting it go.

So many humans... People would probably assume she was as well from the company she was keeping. Could that be an advantage in some way? She wasn't sure. She didn't think so...

"I will respond to Molybdenum. I do not like sharp objects." He tilted his upper body back and forth in order to sway his head. You might get the impression he is trying to nod. When he stopped he stood perfectly, unnervingly still. He kept his arms pressed flat down the sides of his body. He did not move like anything else.

For anyone familiar with humanoid emotions, they would see a variety of emotions cross Neri's face as the fight-flight-freeze response kicked in. 'Freeze' seemed to win out, though a moment later she cracked a smile, "Well if we're getting clothes, I think you, Molybdenum, would benefit from a hat. Trust me, we'll find one that will suit you!"

...

When the robot actually managed to focus, she realized that the prisoners were introducing themselves. She didn’t actually internalize any of their boring human names, but it sounded fun, so she stepped forward to do so next. She seemed to carry herself without any self-awareness whatever about how badly she stuck out among all the rugged, fleshy, storied refugees of the starry frontier. “Howdy, y’all! I been called lots o’ stuff, like Thief, Stealer, Slag, Rustbucket, Sumbitch, and so on. But I like Bandit best. I was made for minin’, but these days the ‘mining’ I do is makin’ other folks’ stuff ‘mine’, hehhehheh!”

After quickly checking inside her storage compartment, though, Bandit’s face fell, metaphorically speaking at least. “Daww, consarn it all! Those rat bastards musta taken all my cash! I ain’t got so much as a doggone penny to my name…” Bandit groaned, her arms hanging so low they almost brushed the ground, but after another moment she straightened up. “Well, guess that settles it. I’m stickin’ with y’all for now. Wherever we’re headin’, they gotta have batteries there. And money. And heads!” Clearing her throat, she lowered her voice somewhat. “Still, uh, takin’ donations, by the way. Just sayin’.”

Thief, Stealer... Neri switched her attention to the robot, "You don't need a hat at this stage," she remarked, before getting to the most important bit, "Thief you say? So were we to, need someone to swipe some civilian clothes, would you be the right one for the job?"

"Because first off, our best chance here is to work together for now. We don't know this place and we don't have money. While one or two of you -" she glanced at Molybdenum and Bandit, "Can hide the fact you just got off a prison ship, the rest of us can't unless we want to run around this desert in our underwear which would be ill advised for a host of other reasons. We look like a bunch of escaped convicts, and I'd rather not end up unexpectedly escaping the labour camps only to end up straight back in whatever this planet's equivalent of a prison is."

"Because first off, our best chance here is to work together for now. We don't know this place and we don't have money. While one or two of you -" she glanced at Molybdenum and Bandit, "Can hide the fact you just got off a prison ship, the rest of us can't unless we want to run around this desert in our underwear which would be ill advised for a host of other reasons. We look like a bunch of escaped convicts, and I'd rather not end up unexpectedly escaping the labour camps only to end up straight back in whatever this planet's equivalent of a prison is."

“I don’t know.” James pitched in from his position at the front of the impromptu column. “A poor soul in their underwear; tragically robbed and left for dead might be a decent foot into the town.”

A pause as he spit and glared at the steadily rising sun.

“Or at least draw attention away from a band of enterprising scroungers.”

---

As the transport lifted off, one of the prisoners bade it farewell with a raised metallic finger. Being on a prison ship had been a hell of a time in the literal sense, but somehow being off it now promised to be worse.

Still, it was freedom - freedom to wander the desert and die, but at least there was a chance of getting somewhere better. She took a look toward the others who'd been dumped off the ship and saw a couple unusual figures among them; a spacesuit that was definitely not moving like a human was in it, and a robot without its head.

All right, this is who I've got to work with. Hardly inspiring, but I suppose I'd best go introduce myself.

As she approached, though, she caught snippets of what the others were saying. "Marine Corps". "Special Warfare Command". Soldiers. Soldiers meant trouble, no matter where you stood - but these were the ones she was stuck with, so she continued her approach.

“Howdy, y’all! I been called lots o’ stuff, like Thief, Stealer, Slag, Rustbucket, Sumbitch, and so on. But I like Bandit best. I was made for minin’, but these days the ‘mining’ I do is makin’ other folks’ stuff ‘mine’, hehhehheh!”

Well, now, seems like there are some here I could reckon with.

She stepped up to the group, standing beside "Bandit", and gave them a nod.

"Jane Marshall, but they just call me CJ. Fought in a war once, don't care to talk about it, made a lot of bad decisions and now I'm here. Sounds like some of y'all plan to come out of this alright, so I intend to join ya."

When he looked down at Neri the sun hit his visor and her face reflected back at her. Her took a moment to register her words. After a pause: "I would like to try having something. I would like to try getting something. Will what we're looking for be in the town?" Every word he spoke he spoke as if they were unfamiliar. He took a few paces forward as the robot spoke to him. Each step he took left a deep imprint in the desert floor. Like he was incredibly dense.

He raised a hand to the sun. He did not point with a single finger. He pointed with his whole hand, each gloves finger clasped together. He turned to face the crew, still pointing at the blazing sun hanging over their heads. "It's hot. Because of that. It is moving. What happens when it leaves?"

He thought about the Bandit's request. He knew what a head was. He didn't think he could spare one. He didn't see how anyone could spare one. He wasn't sure about the other things she wanted. He would have to discover cash. And pennies. He non sequitur was his answer for the robot and gave Bandit the impression he didn't care what he was called as long as it was blunt enough for him to recognise.

Charnud of Ingiros

For Charnud, everything felt heavy.

The desert sun stung his eyes, a roaring, screaming ball of light and fire that felt like it saw Charnud’s very existence as an offence. He hadn't been given shades, the mutinied prison ship crew either not caring enough or simply being unaware of his predicament. And so, as the ramp opened and the golden fire-light came in, Charnud raised a hand to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly as he saw actual ground on an actual planet for the first time in... a long time.

This place was, according to what he heard, Caldera 3. Caldera, a word that referred to an extinct volcano that had become shaped like a bowl. Was this world a former volcanic planet, one terraformed to suit living creatures on it, but never quite succeeding to the point that it would not become a proper temperate world?

Either way, this place may be terrible, but it was better than going to a mining colony. He knew for a fact that he wouldn't last long there.

This was clearly part of the Maker's plan, then. The Maker wasn't done with him yet.

As soon as he stepped off the ramp, he flinched at the open sky. It felt so strange and foreign, not being in a confined space like a space station for miners or an asteroid tunnel dug by monks. He blinked once, and then twice, processing the fact that it was, in fact, a real sky, an atmosphere in truth, rather than elaborate screens that mimicked what a sky looked like. Nor was it like those painted walls the daycares on Quendua had.

An open sky, clean air… not much water though. It was so strange, still. It felt like the sky above was falling upon him, and yet it remained there, unfalling.

She turned around, cupping her hands to her face to help her voice carry better, "Hey! Anyone wanting to change out of your prison clothes, follow me!”

“Wait, wait,” Charnud called out to her, as he walked slower than the others who were now attempting to follow the Dhasath woman. He heard words such as “Special Command” and “Marine Corps” being uttered by the other former prisoners that had gathered around her. Soldiers, then? At least if they were here, imprisoned alongside him, they weren't the kind who'd try to arrest him.

“So, introductions would be in order, since we may be working together for the foreseeable future,” Charnud began. “I'm… Charnud of Ingiros. I'm a…” He thought for a moment if he should reveal what he really was. Did they know? He wasn't a famous pirate. His captain was. Probably.

“...political dissident. Makerist monk.”

Half the truth was better than all of it, for now.

While the others began to congregate and formulate a plan, Larce lingered a bit longer. Eyes to the sky watching as the prison ship became smaller and smaller until it was nothing more than a spec in the clouds. His concentration was finally broken by a chuckle. “Guess the coast is clear.”

His hands dug into his pockets, and quietly produced a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Neither object had been in his possession previously, but after a ‘stumble’ into one of the guards who was in such a rush to get them off, both had found their way into his jumpsuit. Not wasting anymore time, he gave the pack a gentle tap then placed one of the cigarettes between his lips. A quick flick from the lighter and the smell of nicotine joined whatever other odors were permeating around the former inmates.

Some might not have appreciated the secondhand smoke, but for Larce, that first drag meant everything. No more cramped metal cages. No more 24/7 monitoring to ensure strict rules were being followed. The miserable restricted lifetime of imprisonment that awaited them had vanished with the ship. And while the blazing desert of Caldera-3 might not have been the ideal starting point, the path before them was now open to be whatever they wanted.

Larce let out a single puff of smoke before admiring the lit embers of the cigarette in his fingers. ”That right there. That’s the taste of freedom.“ he smirked to himself.

“Anyone else want to celebrate our early release?” The dhasath raised the pack of smokes high, pointing at each person as he scanned for interested reactions. When his gaze was drawn to Molybdenum, Larce jumped back slightly at the ghastly image inside the helmet. “Whoa. Maybe not you, spacesuit. Looks like you’ve had too many already.”

A skeleton operating in a spacesuit was already a strange sight to behold, but just as Larce had started to process the being before him, the sounds of mechanical whirring pulled his attention to the tarp behind him. An android emerged from beneath, and once again Larce was taken aback by the new face. Not because it was replaced with something disturbing, but because it lacked one entirely. Yet despite missing an entire head, the machine effortlessly spoke. A lot.

Larce wasn’t usually one to get tongue tied, but at the moment, his entire vocabulary had escaped him. As the two odd beings introduced themselves and joined the rest of the inmates, Larce simply stood still. Struggling to find any words, he instead took another drag from his cigarette, then looked back to the sky and muttered to himself, “What in the maker’s name was on that ship?”

In time the shock wore off. After enough eavesdropping on the conversations, at long last he strolled over to others. Leaning against one of the rocks, he casually dropped his two cents on the matter.

“As much as I love this ‘snatch and grab clothes’ plan, Castleton here is on to something. There’s not exactly a small number of us. We’re either gonna be swiping someone’s entire wardrobe, or making several stops across the place. Either one is probably going to raise suspicion. Tack on a bunch of outsiders rolling up after a republic prison ship made a sudden detour here, and it won’t be long before the locals put two and two together.”

“However,” the thief pushed himself away from the rock and began pacing around as he explained his idea. “If a couple of us wander into town as down on their luck vagrants asking for clothing donations and work, I’m sure some kind souls would be happy to hand over a few outfits. Then if those of us who stayed behind just happen to come into possession of some other outfits, well who’s to say they weren’t accidentally donated as well? Gives us an excuse to play ignorant to any claims of theft, and worst case we just give anything back as an ‘honest mistake’. It’s not a perfect plan, but I’d say it’s our best shot at this ‘mining’ operation.”

By the time he finished laying out his suggestion, Larce had made a full circle back to where he had stood at the beginning. Reassuming his shoulder lean against the rock, it dawned on him that he had failed to give a proper introduction. “Name’s Larce Feru, by the way. No ranks or fancy titles, just Larce.”

---

CJ stayed on the edge of the group near the spacesuit - Molibium, she reminded herself - and Bandit, though her left eye kept darting toward the man with the smokes. She decided to answer the strange skeleton's question; seemed like it was more out of place than she'd ever felt. She nodded up to the sky.

"That there's the star of this system. Prob'ly called Caldera, or just 'the sun' by planetside folks. You got the right of it that it's moving - in a relative kind of way. When it goes over the horizon, things'll get real dark - and out here, prob'ly real cold as well."

She looked over at Lars and his smokes again, and stepped over to give her two cents in turn.

"Not too bad a plan that you got there, but I think whoever's in town is gonna get suspicious of us anyway. They woulda seen the landing, and they might send someone our way to investigate."

She looked back toward the landing site and spat, because there weren't a whole lot of options to express her resentment.

"Might be a change for some of us - myself most certainly included - but it might behoove us to be honest. We are down on our luck, we ain't looking to make trouble unless we have to, and as a collective I figure we can do a thing or two that might be worth bartering for what we need."

She returned to her usual slouch, reached up to pull down a hat that wasn't there - yet another thing those smegheads took from her - and carried on.

"That's just my thoughts on the matter. Now, I'd be much obliged if you were to share a 'taste of freedom', fella."

My eyes snap open, light, blaster rifle, captor… Kiellar male, strong build, helmet hides face. My tongue flicks past my lips and I take in the rust-tinted stale air of my cell, but beneath it I can smell his apprehension. They still feared me, I could use that. My muzzled mouth hisses in warning. His rifle lowers, light with it leaving my face. He is alone in here, but there are four more outside my cell. Must be sealed for me not to have smelled them.

He approaches me, speaking in that airy tongue of theirs, but I could hear it naturally “Good morning, it's your lucky day.” I find sarcasm a fun game. When he gets within six feet, I throw my left arm forward, the limb stops only a few inches past my own head, knife-like talons covered in padding and chain straining suddenly. It was loose, but even if I could secure his weapon, his fellows would outmatch me, not that they would not just flood the cell with incapacitants.

That light flies back into my eyes, my pupils narrowing, the adrenaline on his pores sated me. “It seems to be yours.” I offer him, it would be better that he knew I was toying with him. He was breathing evenly, firmly.

“Still don’t know why we aren’t just putting you down. Not worth it to let you out among civilians, even on that backwater.” he says bitterly, I let out a low rumble of curiosity. The question also stuck with me some times. I have been a toy, an experiment, an asset, a comrade, a work-slave, and now simply a prisoner to these knife-eared sadists, but unlike so many of my kin I have not been killed.

“It must pain you to see me go.” I say, my voice muffled, tone was difficult without freedom. He reached up and with a snap the mag-cuffs on my arms lock together behind my back automatically. The ones around my legs, on the other claw, were loosened, its tether open enough for me to trudge forward.

“It’ll be more painful for you, they don’t have any of your fucking chems.” My spines rise and my body springs into action. I know he was not lying, and instinct took over before any sort of melancholy could stop me. I slam myself into him, cracking his plasteel armor as I pin him to the wall against my torso, the hard material bowing and cracking, crushing ribs beneath.

“You will not leave me to die on a dead world.” I growl simply, turning and grinding my bound arms against him until it scans against the keycard. As my arms come free, red light bathes the room, and the hiss of opening valves. I had no hope, but I grabbed hold of his rifle and fired into the console next to the door. It did not matter, the cell was sealed and rapidly filling with a mix of aerosolized halogens. I took the remaining fifteen seconds to beat away at the door before my eyes grew heavy and shut.

---

When they re-opened, the sensation of sunlight was on my back. I couldn’t feel my limbs but, looking down, I was freed and wearing the harness that I had been captured in. Stripped of its plating it was little more than grey rags over my scales. The sedatives were still stopping me from rising to my feet. I had been thrown out from the ship, the steel across my shoulders beginning to feel warm.

I had perhaps a few weeks to live, assuming I did not get wounded trying to survive here. Though I could hear people speaking, I was still returning to consciousness.

"Of course there is another plan." James chimed in. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he gazed over the array of characters and personalities. "One that is outlandish but just enough so to possibly work. One of our number will play the role of a bounty hunter. Unluckily entangled with the authorities as they swooped in for a bounty. They will show up to town with a couple of our fellows disguised as their "quarry". Of course the ruse depending on those falsely captured having a sizable bounty on their head."

He nodded in the direction of the town.

"While the authorities and townsfolks try to make heads and tails of the kerfuffle. Our more larceny inclined individuals will take what is needed. Then in the morning we all abscond in the early hours with none the wiser."

"Alright hold up!" Neri held her arms out wide, signaling for those following behind to stop.

"Obviously the best plan is for me to pretend I'm a Government Tax Inspector sent to check the Mayor's books. I find some discrepancies and we then use the money I demand in back taxes to purchase clothes and other essential supplies. Couldn't be easier," she raised an eyebrow just in case someone had missed the sarcasm in her tone.

"It seems that we're at a crossroads," she said, lowering her arms back to her sides, "Either we communally decide we're going to go in honestly and see what reaction we get, or we try for a dishonest solution of one form or another... steal clothes or ask for donations or whatever. If we try to do both, we'll end up undermining each other. Honest dealers will make the town aware there are convicts in the neighborhood while anyone trying a criminal solution will undermine the credibility of the honest folk."

"So, lets vote on it now. I'll ask for hands up for those wanting to stroll in honestly. Then in a moment I'll ask for a show of hands for those favouring theft or grifting," she paused for a moment, "Alright, those in favour of honesty, raise your hands" ...

Molybdenum was not a dangerous prisoner. He didn't understand why he had been created and imprisoned. He held no ill will towards his captors as this was the first time he had known freedom since his separation from the super organism. Because of this naiveté he also had no concept that the fellows around him could be potentially dangerous violent undesirables. I guess that wasn't an issue as he was also a potentially dangerous violent undesirable.

When they re-opened, the sensation of sunlight was on my back. I couldn’t feel my limbs but, looking down, I was freed and wearing the harness that I had been captured in. Stripped of its plating it was little more than grey rags over my scales. The sedatives were still stopping me from rising to my feet. I had been thrown out from the ship, the steel across my shoulders beginning to feel warm.

Molybdenum trundled towards the strange giant. The only creature sizeable larger than himself. "Can you stand, friend?" On noticing her limp legs he begins to lean down intending to pick her up. Then he paused as he registers her sizeable claws. He cringes back and pauses and waits a response, deciding to air on the side of caution lest she decide to take offence to his attempt to assist. She could pop him with ease.

"Obviously the best plan is for me to pretend I'm a Government Tax Inspector sent to check the Mayor's books. I find some discrepancies and we then use the money I demand in back taxes to purchase clothes and other essential supplies. Couldn't be easier," she raised an eyebrow just in case someone had missed the sarcasm in her tone.

Balloon boy noticed the eyebrow twitch. Presumably some kind of muscle spasm. Having no concept of sarcasm he pondered as to why an official that the mayor listened to would dress like a prisoner. He had a vague idea of 'traditions and customs' and figured it must be some bizarre tradition of giving money to the unfortunate. He wasn't sure what she meant by honesty and dishonesty, so on a whim he decided to raise his hand on the second option. In his immature mind the option of taking what they needed and leaving sounded simpler and more appealing.

@GeminiChaos

A sly smile crawled across Larce’s face as one of the humans approached to take him up on his earlier offer, as well as give her thoughts on his half baked plan. There were holes she was quick to point out, but Larce didn’t mind. All this was off the top of his head anyway. More importantly, Willingness to offer constructive feedback meant willingness to work together, which, as the only other dhasath had pointed out, was exactly what they needed right now.

“Like I said,” In one hand Larce removed a cigarette from the pack and handed it to CJ, and with a flick of the flint in the other hand, Larce ignited the lighter’s flame and held it for her to use. “Not perfect, but I still think it’s our best shot.”

@Dyelli Beybi

To no surprise, Larce raised his hand when the vote for a dishonest approach was called.

“You know, I've actually tried the tax inspector ruse before. Ended up with full access to their books and everything. Unfortunately the discrepancies I found were the result of city officials skimming from the top. Triggered a full scale investigation into their finances and a massive restructure. Had to bail before I drew anymore attention, but they did offer me a treasury position before I left. Benefits would have been nice, but I don't think I could have made the hours work.”

The longer this went on, the less Dusk liked the look of it. Not the desert or the heat or the fact they had been dumped out here like broken equipment.

It was the people, or at least some of them.

Between the casual talk of theft, the half-joking grifting, and the overall ease with which some of the castaways slipped into the idea of preying on the first town unlucky enough to be nearby, Dusk could already feel a headache settling in behind his eyes. Some of them were just trying to survive, he understood that much. But the others sounded a little too comfortable with the idea of making their problems someone else’s.

He kept his mouth shut through most of it, his eyes moving from one speaker to the next. Then the vote was called.

Neri

"So, lets vote on it now. I'll ask for hands up for those wanting to stroll in honestly. Then in a moment I'll ask for a show of hands for those favouring theft or grifting," she paused for a moment, "Alright, those in favour of honesty, raise your hands" ...

Dusk did not hesitate, he raised his hand for honesty.

“We go in straight,” he said, voice clear and firm, “These people didn’t put us here. They’re not the enemy, and I’m not about to start robbing locals because we drew the short end of the stick.”

His eyes shifted across the group, he stood straight and he was not about to back down.

“We’ve got hands, we can work. Trade labor, ask for help, be honest about being stranded without telling them more than they need to know. That’s a hell of a lot better than starting off by proving every bad assumption they could make about us right.”

Dusk lowered his hand, his expression stern.

“That’s my vote.”