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The more this Tekeri spoke, the less Senjen was willing to trust any answer he gave. A Utaysi personality matrix was essentially their “mind”: a programming construct that contained all of their thought processes. Most Utaysi frames contained a secondary computer with expanded functions they could use, similar to how organics would sometimes install neural implants, but the personality matrix could not be modified by any normal means. This Tekeri did not seem to understand that, and that called into question the reliability of anything else he claimed. Senjen was genuinely interested in the possibility of finding some alien upgrades, but he felt he needed to find someone more reputable for that conversation.

Senjen was in the midst of trying to find some excuse to get away when Light came to his rescue, albeit unintentionally. Whatever it was the Tindrel were doing seemed to have his client upset, but he would rather deal with that at the moment. “Ah, hold on, I need to handle this.” He remarked to the Tekeri.

Carrying around some crates would have been easy enough for Senjen, but before he could even walk away, there was yet another bit of commotion that found its way onto their landing pad. There was a small group of people that seemed to be taking an interest in them, or their ship. There were different species among them, and there was little else that really stood out about them, except that they looked a bit...rough from his perspective. What they all had in common was the fact that they all seemed to want to leave Korit.

Senjen did not take any sort of aggressive posture towards them. They seemed to be troubled, so he lowered his head a bit and tried to be calm, disarming, especially with how on-edge the customs officials looked to be. He figured it would be better for everyone to try to avoid escalation. “I’m sorry, we’re not heading off-world anytime soon. But hey, this is a really big station. If you can pay like you say, then I’m sure you’ll be able to find a pilot willing to make a bit of extra money.”
So far, so good. They were through the inspection phase, and now they just needed to get their cargo situated and get to the drop-off for the data. Easy. Senjen was prepared for this. He had done his research on the Korit, practiced what he would say when questioned, watched some movies...he could do this.

It was not long before the Tekeri started making offers to them. Offers for their cargo, offers to sell them things; he was pretty sure he had heard of this. In big cities, scammers would try whatever they could to get money out of anyone who looked like a tourist, but this wasn’t one of the cities. This was a space station, and he was a customs official, so he probably wasn’t an outright scammer. If Senjen remembered right, the forums he visited mentioned some dock workers had deals on the side with some vendors or businesses to get a commission on sales they had pushed their way. So...that meant the Tekeri probably could get them what he was claiming, but that didn’t mean they were the best deals. They were just what the Tekeri would get paid for.

Senjen had a feeling the Tekeri was not going to just give up with the sales pitches, so maybe he could just give the bait a nibble? He could keep some small talk going, since Light clearly did not want to, and maybe learn a bit in the process? He had to admit, there were some questions he was curious about. “You know, I did read that Utaysi could find alien hardware on Korit. It’s pretty tempting, I won’t lie. It’s honestly a bit embarrassing that the organics out here are ahead of us in robotics, but well...I guess we are pretty fresh off our home planet, all things considered. I heard they managed to code a software interface to be able to install a Utaysi personality matrix in a completely alien software environment. I’m, uh, not in the market for a fully body replacement now, though. How reliable are the software interfaces for individual upgrades with a Utaysi operating system?”
At first, Senjen had just occupied himself dealing with their cargo. There were plenty of crates to get out into the loading zone, and between the two of them, he was the one more suited to manual labor. Or at least...he assumed so. Senjen had been reading up as much as possible on the QV, Korit, and pretty much anything else he could think of when he decided to take the plunge and head out into space. Still, it felt like he had only scratched the surface. These gel suits the QV used were such a strange way to get around, but he supposed it made much more sense than normal environment suits for an aquatic species. He was only guessing, granted, but just by watching Light, it looked like the suit let him swim around in a way that would feel natural for him. That was something he could understand, at least. Utaysi were software; they could inhabit frames constructed in any imaginable configuration, if they wanted. But, when it came to day-to-day life, most Utaysi still wanted a body that was familiar to their ingrained instincts. Senjen himself was not so strict on that matter, but he still understood it.

In any case, Senjen was quick to get the cargo ready for unloading. The cargo hold doubled as an airlock on this ship, and it took just a few moments to depressurize before opening. He obviously had no need for a suit to step into the vacuum of space, and the sensation of it was quite unlike anything else. His frame’s outer plating was equipped to experience sensations, to feel through similar microsensors as an organic’s surface receptors, but unlike him, it was dangerous for them to expose their skin to pure nothingness. Senjen had spent most of his life so far on his homeworld, so walking out into a vacuum was still new to him. He was not sure he would be able to put into words what it was like to feel absolutely nothing, all over. The feeling of air was so easy to ignore, until it was gone.

Senjen was starting to feel nervous, though luckily it was easy for him to avoid showing it. He couldn’t stop the natural reactions in his mind, but it was as easy as changing a setting to prevent his body from acting on them. He could be as stoic as he needed to be. He had done enough research ahead of time to know what he should expect in this process, in theory. Now he just needed to act natural.

A customs declaration, standard procedure, nothing unusual. Senjen accepted the incoming request, which brought up a prompt in the corner of his field of view. As was “encouraged” by the docking authority, he had already prepared the customs declaration ahead of time, so it was just a matter of attaching the file and confirming payment for the docking fee. It contained their statement on the reason for their visit, any goods for import and their destination, their point of origin, identification, and declarations of certain possessions like the sidearm Senjen carried in his frame.

The Tekeri was quick to skim through the most important bullet points of their documentation. Efficiency was what mattered to business on Korit, so customs was trained to know what to look for, and what to leave for inspection later down the line to get their cargo moving quickly. From Senjen’s understanding, Korit customs were particularly efficient, especially since they had much less they had to care about. Still, the Tekeri did have something to say as he reached the end of the document, directing his attention to Light, rather than Senjen. “Armed synthetics require separate declaration and registration with the port authority, there’s a form you need to-”

The Tekeri was suddenly cut off, leaving them with empty comms and the dead silence of space. The Human nearby carried a scanner, and she had already been going over Senjen and Light with it as they spoke. She and the Tekeri looked to one another, likely speaking in a private channel, before the Tekeri turned back and approved their customs declaration. “Apologies, Utaysi are still uncommon travelers. Your declaration is in order, I just need you to confirm you understand and accept this agreement on the rules and regulations of weapon possession on the station.”

Another prompt appeared for Senjen, this time linking to a verbose agreement written as obtusely as possible in legalese, to which he just scrolled through to accept. No one ever read those things.

Now they just needed to wait for the Human to scan their cargo to make sure it matched the declaration, and answer any other questions they might have about it. Unless Light had any surprises he did not know about, they would mostly just find some trade goods, most prominent of which were canisters of a particular enzyme produced by some extremophile bacteria on an undeveloped world. It was heavily restricted in most systems due to its potential use in the production of some rather potent drugs, but not on Korit. Here, it was legally treated as any other import, and made for a good decoy for any attention.

Unfortunately, the decoy cargo belonged to their employer, so they would not see a bit of the profit from its sale. Their money would come from delivering the data, and for that, Senjen felt he understood why he had been hired. Simple robots were property that might be inspected, but plenty of worlds like Korit were eager to start doing business with the galaxy’s newest arrivals. It was not nearly so acceptable to try to root through a person’s mind, so he was afforded more privacy in his own head, as long as they did not give them a reason to do anything more.
“Careful there. We may not eat, but I still have teeth.” Senjen remarked when Light tapped his jaw. He was capable of speaking or making any other sound without moving his mouth at all, though Utaysi usually ended up doing so anyway. He had found that aliens were sometimes surprised at how many parts they constructed their frames with that were vestigial for machines, or how many mannerisms they had that were “unnecessary”, or just inefficient. What was strange to them just felt natural to the Utaysi.

After the tentacle moved away, Senjen tapped a claw to the side of his head. “The data’s tucked away safe, hidden with a bunch of other garbage. It’s encrypted anyway, and no, I didn’t try to access it.”

Senjen detached himself from the wall as well after they arrived in-system. “And speaking of garbage…” He muttered as he cast his gaze around the control room. While Light brought them in, he pushed himself closer to the center of the room to start gathering up the collection of loose objects that had shaken free and secure them somewhere. Fourteen Factories was a station that simulated gravity, so the automated systems broadcasted warnings to secure loose cargo on approach.

For large-scale shipping, loading and unloading in microgravity was more efficient, but only for ships that followed standardized templates which meshed well with automated procedures. Microgravity was more trouble than it was worth for dealing with small, privately-owned freighters like their own. The station broadcast a rather precise path for their vessel to follow to match the rotation of the station itself, though any decent autopilot could follow a simple flight plan. In fact, the station enforced strict regulations against the use of manual controls within its vicinity, as all incoming and outgoing traffic was AI directed for optimal efficiency, not to mention safety. Looking at the displays as they drew near, it was not hard to see why. The sheer number of ships coming and going to the station could make space feel crowded. Nearing the docking bay itself, the autopilot brought them in close enough to other “lanes” of traffic that Senjen could read the lettering painted on their hulls just through their own cameras.

Once in the docking bay and matched in velocity to the station’s rotation, their ship was “caught” by magnetic clamps and its engines immediately powered down so they could be pulled into position on their designated landing pad. The station itself was massive, and was arranged in ringed layers radiating out from its center. The perceived centrifugal force from the station’s rotation was what mimicked the force of gravity, at about sixty percent of the planet’s surface gravity. It was more than enough to prevent the docking bay from being filled with random loose objects from the veritable crowd of ships it hosted on any given day.

Senjen’s claws were latched onto what became the ceiling once their ship began to experience the station’s “gravity”, but he was actually rather graceful in dropping down and flipping over onto his feet once they were stationary. Right away, he moved back into the hold to start getting their cargo ready for unloading. “Say, is that gel suit of yours still good for a vacuum? It doesn’t look as, uh, ‘healthy’ as some others I’ve seen...if that’s the word for it.” Senjen asked. It was not practical for the station to repeatedly pressurize and depressurize chambers large enough to accommodate entire ships, so it was the responsibility of the crews of private freighters to be able to handle work in a vacuum.
Senjen floated his way into the cockpit, up towards the opposite wall from Light, and found a spot to latch his claws onto to anchor him again while he looked more closely at the displays. Psychologically speaking, Utaysi were natural climbers. It was instinct for them to be able to orient themselves as they pleased in three-dimensional space, and so their ships tended to lack any particular bias for up or down. He had read QV ships were the same, and evidently, so were whichever species had constructed this one.

Senjen was oriented upside-down in relation to his QV client. He tilted his head, looking down onto him for a moment. Out of all the aliens he had been learning of, he found the QV to be one of the most interesting just to look at. According to the archives they had recovered, sea creatures that somewhat resembled them had once inhabited the deep oceans of their homeworld, before the extinction. With no skeleton or shell and so many independent tentacles, their movements could be mesmerizing, and he imagined that was what it was like for those extinct creatures as well. His homeworld was a beautiful place, but it was lacking in biodiversity, and unless the Utaysi decided to intervene and seed new species themselves, it would be for tens of thousands of years.

“Sure I can, if you have a robot on-hand with enough processing power, that has been formatted to accommodate a Utaysi personality matrix.” Senjen answered. A metallic clanging briefly echoed through the room as he lightly struck his hand against his chestplate. “This is the only frame I own, right now.”

For a short time, Senjen’s gaze settled on the display that was charting out their course towards towards Korit. He connected with his frame’s onboard computer and double-checked his account. “Yeah, I have the fees and everything. I haven’t been here before, so how, uh...does this work, exactly? I’ve heard there isn’t much that is actually illegal on Korit, so is there anything we need to worry about with this package? Is it customs we need to keep it hidden from, or someone else?”
Interstellar Space en route to Korit – 2 years ago





Senjen was in the doorway to the cockpit of his client’s ship, idly observing the readouts and displays around him. It was safe to say that he only theoretically understood how to pilot a starship. He felt reasonably confident he could figure it out if he had to, but he did not have practice with it. If the patterns he had noticed since leaving his homeworld were anything to go by, most aliens would probably just expect him to be able to plug into the computer directly and pilot it with his mind. Sure, some Utaysi could probably do that, but it still had to be learned. He had the impression that most of the organics expected them to be like AIs they had created, or some other hyper-advanced programs. He supposed the second one was technically true for them, but that did not mean he wanted to spend his days contemplating the nature of existence or...doing math.

Ninety-two years. That was how long it had been since the Utaysi had made first contact, by their homeworld’s counting. It was almost a lifetime for some of the species out there, but they were still the newest civilization to this galaxy. Subtract the time it had taken to study languages, establish diplomatic contact, and learn enough about outside cultures that they could understand the aliens in more than just words, and there had been even less time for the galaxy to grow accustomed to their new mechanical neighbors. It had been about forty-five years since Utaysi citizens had become free to travel to alien worlds, but it was still very much more the exception than the rule. As they had learned, the state of galactic politics was...tumultuous, at best. Senjen might have considered himself a pioneer, an explorer, except he was pretty sure one could not be an explorer if the places he “explored” already had people living in them.

The claws on Senjen’s foot grasped the frame of the doorway to keep him anchored in place. His client was a Quelun-Vosh. Their ships were usually filled with water, or some kind of gel, from his understanding, but this ship didn’t seem to have been made by them. It was filled with air instead, though at least not oxygenated. Part of him sort of wished it had been water, if only to let him experience swimming for the first time in his life. Normally, his frame would sink like a brick in water, but out here in zero-G, he could have moved through it all as if floating. Granted, it would still be more effective just to pull himself along or push off the walls, but it would have been amusing for a while. Regardless, after a moment, he pushed himself farther into the cockpit and made a quick sound to grab his client’s attention.

“So this ‘Korit’ place, what’s it like? Any...specific threats we, or, um-...I need to keep a lookout for? For your safety.” Senjen asked. His frame was, like most Utaysi, constructed in the image of their organic creators. It was painted deep blue with some white accents on his arms and back, though it was somewhat faded and chipped in some places, revealing the dull metallic color underneath. At base, it was one of the most popular mass-produced civilian models, though he had bought it used. It was meant for general-purpose living, so it was unremarkable by any Utaysi standard. Fortunately, the Utaysi themselves were still a bit exotic by default out in the galaxy. As a part of preparing himself for galactic travel, he had installed some upgrades onto his frame, one of which were a set of lights integrated into his casing to put on a similar sort of light show as the QV’s bioluminescence. He did not have the slightest idea himself what they actually meant, but they synced to his translation program. And they were pretty to look at, at least.


Economy:

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Feel free. I'm not one for attention myself, but I certainly won't stop you.

I can't help but to think of the sheer amount of things that happened in the story. Looking back, I probably would have been more concise, and do a lot of things differently. Also, I would keep a lot better notes. I don't blame myself too much, though, I was younger then and I do a lot of things in general better now.
I'm not sure, honestly. Part of me keeps wondering if there is something more I should add, but I think that might just be perfectionism. It is satisfying to have the story reach an actual conclusion.
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