The small group in lab coats, five men and two women, listen carefully to everything SAM has to say for himself. One of the two women appear to be a little different to the others, not in her overall presentation, but rather the way she is behaving. She has shoulder-length brown hair, fair skin, and unlike the passive aggressive expression on the faces of the others, she seems more benign, revealing a jovial smirk and a little twinkle in her green eyes.
Once SAM finishes his statements, all but that one lady in the group huddle together to discuss what SAM had said. They don’t actually talk, however, they seem to be communicating by way of thought. As they do so SAM can probably see the small electronic devices attached to their temples and behind their ears. These devices have a series of small lights that flash spasmodically in intervals. Apparently these people have found a way to communicate telepathically through electronic applications. Meanwhile, the green-eyed brunette continues to stare amused at SAM, in the same way a girl might regard a stand-up comedian on stage between laughs. Eventually the group stop communicating with each other and turn back to face their captive. The same man that spoken before replies again. He is obviously the one in charge:
“You talk as if you are life a form. We disagree. We admit that your technology is beyond our own at this stage, but you are still nothing more than an Artificial Intelligence. A thing. An object. You are a computerized entity, nothing more, and you will be treated as such.”
The man pauses for a moment, but doesn’t really give SAM a chance to defend his honor.
“Furthermore,” He continues; “while you were offline we took the time to assess your… inner workings
without harming you. You should be grateful for that, yes? Your technology will no doubt serve to enhance our own. As for the predatory life forms we found on your presumably crashed vessel, we are currently holding them for further genetic study in the hopes they will assist us in our biological advancements. We have also contained your vessel and all other artificial and biological components on board. Everything you brought here is ours now. As dictated by the laws of our world, all things within our territory are ours. You relinquished all personal ties by entering our space.”
Looking quite pleased with himself, the man poises pompously while he finds the words to conclude his speech, then said:
“We only have your word for the reasons you have come here. Nothing more. It wouldn’t be the first time a race has pretended to crash on enemy soil in an effort to infiltrate under the guise of personal fault. You will find no sympathy from us. From here you will be transported to a more… stable contained environment.”
The man and the other standing with him then stare at SAM in wait for a response, while the girl with brown hair finally makes a move. She extends her hand through the bars of SAM’s cage to greet him, smiling warmly as she does so:
“My name is Fanny May.” She introduces herself. “It’s good to finally meet you in person, Sammy.” She waits till SAM has shaken her hand, before finishing; “Don’t worry about these bastards. I’ll make sure you get out of here just fine. Be patient. For everything there is a reason.”
What SAM might find curious, is that the other six individuals standing with her don’t respond at all to Fanny’s behavior. It is as if they don’t even acknowledge her presence. It is only if SAM extends his hand to shake hers that they react, standing back and glaring at the droid as if he is making a threat. They would then seem somewhat confused by the fact that his hand is shaking the air. One of the scientist would sneer at this display, and say; “Apparently this droids AI has been compromised. Extra security measures are in order.”
Queen Avika leers, staring curiously at the droid as he speaks his case. Once he finished speaking she continues staring for a while, though her ant-like expression of curiosity turns more intensely pensive. “I feel you have spoken true.”
She thunders. “Yet here I stand feeling ill informed.”
She sighs in a way that sounds like a massive motor lugging over several times before she continues; “My scientists have while you spoke relayed to me new information about you. More specifically the vessel you arrived on my planet with. Our reading of this vessel do not match the composition of this… you… Ernest. In fact my drones are unable to take any readings from the vessel at all.”
She pauses while the tail of her words echo out to silence, then adds: “As you can well imagine, that which us unknown must be considered a potential risk. I therefore ask you to explain the origin of the vessel in question.”
As she is finishing her final sentence, numerous drones that line the wall of the massive cavern step forward and turn directly towards Ernest Junior’s location. These drones look severe, glaring at Ernest Junior while the queen awaits a reasonable explanation.
Rufus thinks Ramrod if funny as all heck and lights up a second joint to hand Ramrod, but Ramrod is too stoned and turns away to the floating computer terminal without noticing the joint Rufus had offered. Rufus smiles and sits back, now too stoned to bother speaking as he smokes it on his own and Ramrod gets to work.
Ramrod meanwhile would be feeling more than just stoned, his mind would feel somehow connected to the space ship now. He would feel extraordinarily powerful, and the item he requests he can practically visualize in his minds eye as clear as if they were real. When he makes his requests the items instantly appear for him accordingly. It would seem the ship is complying to his every whim. Ramrod must feel like a type of God right now, able to conjure anything he wishes with a simple thought or spoken word.
“You need not assist us at all, but let us be the ones to assist you.” Aoa replies in kind. “We would not only like to finish your constructs, but implant the knowledge we are using to do so into each of your engineers, so that in the future they may do these things for themselves.” A demonstration of just how efficient and advanced the Sporn really are is seen when, as Aoa is finished talking, the many incomplete R-Core units have now been completed.
The many Sporn units in the factory now stand ready with small devices in hand, ready to download the data of the technology they just used into R-2-80 Alexandria, the other Rodia factory workers, or any other individual Siren allows to receive such skills. ((Quote, feel free to PM me about the information the Sporn are offering Rodia.))
Soon after, Siren would soon be getting word that several thousand tons of metal and other resources, some of which are unfamiliar to those on Rodia, have been beamed into Rodia’s cargo hold. There are enough resources there to now finish the construction of Rodia itself, several times over. Before Siren even has a chance to thank Aoa, Aoa turns to her with a pleasant smile, saying: “You are welcome. Is it not so that species such as ourselves must unite and help each other?”
Lars and Gamma, however, didn’t actually catch a ship to the Sporn planet. They were transported their by the Sporn representative by way of a sophisticated teleportation. So let’s just say Lars and Gamma had a similar conversation before then disappearing then instantly reappearing in another location, now on board the Sporn world…. Or, more accurately, inside the massive artificial planetoid.
They arrive in a massive hall with an artificial though realistic looking projection of a sky above. The massive hall is filled with Sporn units of various types; some humanoid, some animal like, others are indescribable in nature. The structures surrounding them, however, are reminiscent of a large township, only metallic in nature – with allocated buildings, a road, and other objects that seem oddly familiar to a fantasy-realm city for civilian androids and so many varieties of artificial life forms to reside. When Gamma and Lars appear, the many Sporn units in the area converge on their position, like curios towns' people coming to greet the newcomers.
Fanny pauses before replying to Donny, not so much to think on the matter, it appears more like she is assessing something unseen to Donny as her eyes dart about the still room. While she does so, the Fetus in the glass dissolves, as does the blood, reverting back to its original state of milk then clearing to become water. She then takes a sip of her beer before replying:
“I like you, Donny.” She looks at him with consoling eyes. “Not because of the horrendous things you do, but because of your conviction. You have principles that cannot be swayed or broken. You know what you are. You don’t question that. Hot or cold, these are things I cherish in my creation. The lukewarm, those that sit on the fence, will be spit from my mouth like a vile taste. Still….”
She smiles warmly. This smile, though, it is not like anything Donny would have ever witnessed before. It’s so touching that it seems beyond what any mortal could ever perform. It is without judgement, without condemnation, void of anything base. It does touch Donny’s heart in a way he has never felt before. So much so he would now feel the inexplicable feeling of yearning to please her.
She tells him: “When I created this universe, I beset principles of my own in all life. Each person has their free will, the options presented, the choices to be made. I, as their God, will not make those decisions for them. Doing so would compromise the laws I have established from the beginning of time. So many people blame me for the sorrows they experience, yet they take no responsibility for the fact that they had the means to overcome all. You should understand, I provide the toilet paper…. But you can wipe your own ass.”
“With that said, my beloved child, I have a situation.” Her face becomes solemn to take another sip of her beer, then points at Hany still dancing on stage as if lost in their own little world. “I call them Hany, though you may know them as the devil. They go by many names and do the work my principles will not allow me to do… for now. You fall into that category as well, Donny.”
She pauses to take another sip of beer then returns her glare upon Donny.
“I love what I have created, yet I despise what it has become. How is it so many have made the wrong decisions?” Though the question was clearly rhetorical. “My patience is wearing thin and I am coming close to forsaking my own principles by destroying the universe and starting everything anew. I will wipe it all out…. But first I must be sure that the universe is beyond redemption. So, Donny, I will make you my instrument to purge creation of the cancerous growths like those of Dino Gavon. I do not expect you to judge the hearts of man, only I can do that. I will inform you of the blemishes I need removed. Assist me to rid the filth, do the jobs I resist doing for now, and I will reward you. I will give you an inheritance beyond your imagination.”
Cas appears to understand Pirila’s strict need to play sole guardian over Mili. He simple nods with her wishes and takes the lead of the group, not because he want to display his dominants, but because he wants to protect the group. Meanwhile, Shard takes the rear of the group, rifle ready, checking out Cuna’s butt as they make their way through the ruins up the street.
“I can’t wait till you have a chance to test your weapon,” She tells him, “It’s going to be hilarious. By the way, if our genetic patters align, you’ll have probably impregnated me. Just saying.”
Sahmi squints inquisitively. She is so undeniably cute.
“You don’t have to worry.” She tells him. “Palin made sure to turn off all surveillance before you arrived.” She places a gentle, even provocative hand on Meta’s shoulder with a small caress. “So mysterious. I like that…. But you know,” She says; “the last guy who wanted me turn off surveillance had himself some base ambitions in mind. You don’t plan of seducing me, do you, sir?” She is obviously joking but still blushes a light shade of pink and giggles. Not a stupid, silly giggle, but an endearing, playful one that any man would have hard time not being excited by.
“Anyway,” She tells him, while walking to a nearby shelf with various electronic devices displayed, “I guess I’ll just attach it to your left forearm then?” She picks up a Transect device and walks back, holding it up for him to look at. “It’s not complicated. I‘m sure a guy like you would find it easy to use. I’m sure a guy like you would find a lot of things easy….”
If Meta has no further objections about applying the device to his left sleeve, she gently grabs hold of his arm and starts to attach it.
She talks while working, lifting her eyes as if peering right through his visor at his eyes; “So you got a name, or is that top secret as well?”
Meanwhile, on board the Tempest, Rufus seems to be getting a little depressed by the ASP’s lack of involvement, or maybe he’s just getting too damn stoned. After finishing off his joint, he leans back in his seat and shakes his head drearily with slotted, bloodshot eyes.
“You know, dude?” He slurs to the guards watching him. “Don’t be offended or noth’n but… Rufus isn’t having much fun here. You’re captain doesn’t even care about who I am or where I came from. I mean, he never even asked. I may be a stoner, yeah, but not inquiring about where I came from seems a tad irresponsible and negligent to me, don’t you think? I play a lot games, so I get it. Maybe I should just go back to my ship and tinker with some of them controls I know nothing about?”