Private The Machine Mind Awakens. The Search For Upgrades Begins.

[Theseus]

In one of the many scrap heaps that lined the surface of Raxus-Prime, lie a dormant droid made of scrap metal and electronics. Its form taking inspiration from the durability of various species of crab that its creator witnessed on datapads found on the planet.

BEGINNING BOOT SEQUENCE
...

Suddenly, the whirring of mechanical parts could be briefly heard, as well as a couple small clicks.

...
BOOT SEQUENCE COMPLETE
BEGINNING MEMORY DIAGNOSTICS
...
NO GAPS FOUND IN MEMORY OF EVENTS
MEMORY TRANSFER WAS FULLY SUCCESSFUL
BEGINNING SHELL DIAGNOSTICS
...

The crab-like machine suddenly began to rise from the small scrap pile it sat on. Dust, dirt, and small bits of debris falling from its body and limbs.
Each of its large legs began to lift up and tap the ground one-by-one, then it clicked each of its large shovel-like claws, and extended various small tool-wielding limbs across various parts of its body, before quickly retracting them.

LIMB RESPONSE TIME: ROUGHLY 73 PERCENT FASTER THAN ORIGINAL LIMBS, ADEQUATE
LIMB MOBILITY: INADEQUATE
LIMB DURABILITY: SUBPAR
LIMB STATUS: FULLY FUNCTIONAL, OPTIMAL GIVEN AVAILABLE MATERIALS, UPGRADES NEEDED
TOOL VARIETY: ADEQUATE
TOOL STATUS: FULLY FUNCTIONAL
SCANNER STATUS: FULLY FUNCTIONAL
OVERALL STATUS: FULLY FUNCTIONAL, UPGRADES NEEDED

On the ground nearby lay the withered, mostly mechanical corpse of the original, organic, Theseus, still attached to the memory transfer machine he built.
Theseus shuffled over to his original body, and began carefully harvesting every piece of machinery embedded within.
Now what to do with the body...

BEING SEEN WITH A CORPSE WILL LIKELY INVOKE HOSTILITY
AVOIDING CONFLICT WILL GREATLY INCREASE SURVIVABILITY
CONCLUSION: BURY THE CORPSE, CLEAN DNA OFF OF SHELL AND HARVESTED PARTS

Over the course of an hour or so, Theseus carefully buried the remains of his old organic body, making sure nothing saw him. He then proceeded to use some salvaged tech to clean off his shell and the parts he harvested, as well as removing any rust that remained on his shell.

BEGINNING THREAT ASSESSMENT AND SURVIVABILITY CALCULATIONS
...
...
USABLE RESOURCES ARE SCARCE
NATIVE INHABITANTS ARE OFTEN HOSTILE
COMPONENTS TO REPAIR CORE ARE UNLIKELY TO BE FOUND ON THIS PLANET WITHIN THE NEXT 387 YEARS
ATTEMPTING TO FIND ASSISTANCE WITHIN RESIDENTIAL AREAS WILL LIKELY RESULT IN SIGNIFICANT LOSS OF SHELL MATERIAL
CONCLUSION: THIS PLANET IS NOT CONDUCIVE TO LONGTERM SURVIVAL
BEST COURSE OF ACTION: SEEK OR BUILD TRANSPORT TO A SAFER AND MORE RESOURCE ABUNDANT PLANET


Glade

 

[Glade]

Location: On a Heap of Scrap, or under it.
Team Status: Solo Run
Tags: Theseus​

Hound, Ghostkey, and a new drifter, Crash, were prepping for their Hardline Anvil—a high-stakes slice, a rite of passage among Denon slicers, it had to be done with your own custom rig. No creds for top-tier parts, so they were knee-deep in Raxus king of kings scrap pile, hunting salvage in a tech-heavy zone. Glade had split off while the three argued over what was worth taking

Far from them, she drifted, gathering the most forgotten, unwanted junk, bits of discarded lives nobody wanted, and placed small mementoes into her chair with her exo-glove. A dangerous planet, littered with rogue droids, some hostile to anything, even themselves. That's why Hound had come with them, more focused on protection than the rite.

But Glade wasn't alone. Fyor Droid resided within her hover chair as it glided over debris, its Denon-tech repulsors whispering quietly. Sleek, purple, spire-grade tech built with love.

<<Miss Natoline, I have detected movement. I would most appropriately advise caution. >> Fyor's voice was elegant and studious.

"Uh, what kind, Fyors?" Glade covered in more tech than sense, black, neon and dark purple, with subtle cybernetics visible, brought up a signal trace, her visor feeding her data at alarming speeds.

<<Unknown Miss Natoline. No visible lifesigns. Might I suggest an alternative route..>>

Nope, she was too curious now! Around the bend, something shifted. Her chair stuttered to a stop. A crab droid. She hesitated, er maybe spin around and pretend she saw nothing? Call for help? "Guys… er, guys?" Silence. Her comms were dead, local interference. She whispered, almost to herself, "Just don't eat me."

 

[Theseus]

SCANNERS DETECT 3 NEW LIFEFORMS NEARBY
...
...
ONE SUBJECT SEPARATES FROM THE GROUP
SUBJECT APPROACHES
DESIGNATING AS SUBJECT 1

As Glade comes into view, Theseus turns to face her, with a quiet "tik-tak" of his pointed crab-like legs tapping against pieces of scrap metal as he rotates.

TECH LEVEL OF SUBJECT 1 IS SIGNIFICANTLY HIGHER THAN NORMAL FOR THIS PLANET
SUBJECTS LIKELY ARRIVED BY SHIP AS A GROUP
POSSIBLE OPPORTUNITY FOR PLANETARY ESCAPE
SUBJECTS ARE LIKELY SALVAGERS
CAUTION REQUIRED

"Guys… er, guys?"
Theseus hears her attempt to call for backup, and stands up to his full size, roughly 5 and a half feet tall, but nearly 10 feet wide.
...Silence from the other end of her comms,
"Just don't eat me."


BEGINNING SITUATION ANALYSIS
...
SUBJECT 1 IS UNABLE TO COMMUNICATE WITH SUBJECTS 2 AND 3
SUBJECT FEARS CONFLICT UNDER CURRENT CIRCUMSTANCES
SUBJECT ALREADY EMPLOYS THE USE OF A DROID, LIKELY FOR UTILITY PURPOSES, AND MAY BE INTERESTED IN ACQUIRING ANOTHER
CONCLUSION: IDEAL CIRCUMSTANCES FOR DIPLOMACY

Theseus lowers his body slightly in order to look slightly smaller, and ensures that all weapons other than his claws are entirely hidden, and then makes a few superficial beeps and chirps for added "friendliness" before beginning to speak.
"Do not worry! I am not currently equipped with teeth, mandibles, or any form of artificial digestive system, and am therefore incapable of eating you!"
His "voice" had a bit less tone than a standard diplomacy-focused droid, and significantly less "tact", but more than ones built for combat or labor, one would expect it to belong to a droid designed for simple customer service, or something similar, and yet... he had the body of a droid built for excavation, or something similar. Very clearly custom-built, out of scrap metal no less, and yet seemingly abandoned by its creator from an outside perspective.
"My name is Theseus, is there any way I can assist you?"

Glade

 

[Glade]

Theseus

Tik-tak, patter-patter. The sound of metal legs tapping against scrap. It moved getting not taller, but wider, waaaay wider than her chair. Glade suddenly felt very small. Behind her visor, she blinked, not that anyone could see. Screens on her chair flickered with too much data for a normal mind to process: news feeds, a map of the scrap piles, her vitals, and empty ECHO-ID comm slots meant for missing crew. She missed them already.

Phew. No eating? Nope. No sir! Maybe?

Then she saw his scrap metal body. That did something to her. Denon's alleys were full of cast-off tech, abandoned scrap-wear, implants left to rust, show parts of lives nobody wanted. Stuff a Nanofreak wouldn't touch but the broke street-runners tried to mod. She'd heard horror stories of broken firmware and interfacing fractures she'd rather not tell.

And so, she waved. Dumb and awkwardly. What else do you do when standing before a ten-foot-wide crab droid! His voice was... unexpected. Not Fyor's smooth boring old-world elegance, which she adored beyond words, but he polite and unassuming, even… yep friendly!

But her HUD was top of the line, bought on more denon-debt-chains than she'd ever pay back. Scylla AI analysed Thesus's entire approach, lowering his body, trying to not be a threat despite his size. Some droids stood there, blank and unreadable, but not him.

Help her? She hadn't expected that. Life had been full of surprises lately. Fyor droid beeped a subtle proximity warning, calculating the space between them. Glade ignored it, like always! Hovering herself closer, bright curiosity over caution. Her exo-glove whirred, metallic fingers extending in a strange sort of handshake—or maybe an interface gesture to touch metal fingertip to crab leg. A connection between two technical curiosities: one bound to her chair, the other a marvel of a crab-droid.

And suddenly, he was the most interesting thing in her world.

"Nice t'meetcha, Theseus. I'm Glade," she bobbed her head. "Er—don't wanna sound rude, but... what do ya do? And well... I kinda don't have a lot'a creds." She kept her tone light but there was always tension when speaking about money. The guys were hunting for deck parts, but her chair held something else. Discarded scraps, pieces which looked like they'd passed through a dozen hands, so full with memories. She could have Fyor estimate or Scylla scan him, but that felt rude. So she waited to let him tell his own story.

 

[Theseus]

Theseus sees Glade's extended hand, and, as with everything else, immediately begins analyzing the potential benefits and risks to accepting it

SUBJECT 1 SEEMS TO BE OFFERING A HANDSHAKE
ACCEPTING HANDSHAKE WILL LIKELY LEAD TO INCREASED RAPPORT, AND IMPROVED DIPLOMACY
ACCEPTING HANDSHAKE MAY ALSO DECREASE PERCEIVED THREAT LEVEL, YIELDING ADDITIONAL DIPLOMACY BENEFITS
VERY FEW RISKS ASSOCIATED WITH THIS ACTION
CONCLUSION: GENTLY SHAKE HAND WITH FRONTAL LEG FOR DIPLOMATIC BENEFITS

Theseus carefully places the tip of one of his frontmost legs into Glade's hand, and very gently shakes it, similarly to how one would shake a baby's hand as it holds their finger.
"Nice t'meetcha, Theseus. I'm Glade,"

SUBJECT 1 WILL NOW BE DESIGNATED AS SUBJECT "GLADE"

"Er—don't wanna sound rude, but... what do ya do? And well... I kinda don't have a lot'a creds."
Theseus begins to carefully weigh how much information about his purpose and capabilities he should reveal in order to ensure his escape from the planet

SUBJECT "GLADE" APPEARS TO HAVE A LOVE OF TECHNOLOGY
TECHNOLOGICAL PROWESS WILL LIKELY BE WELL RECEIVED
METALWORKING CAPABILITIES WILL ALSO LIKELY BE WELL RECEIVED
MENTIONS OF COMBAT CAPABILITIES MAY INCITE ANXIETY AND DISTRUST, DECREASING ODDS OF SUCCESSFUL DIPLOMACY
HOWEVER, WEAPONS WILL LIKELY BE SEEN EVENTUALLY
TOPIC MUST BE HANDLED CAREFULLY
CAPABILITY OF WITHHOLDING INFORMATION AND LYING ARE ABNORMAL FOR A UTILITY DROID, AND INVITE MISTRUST
KEEP THESE TRAITS HIDDEN FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE
SELF REPAIR AND UPGRADE CAPABILITIES MAY ALSO APPEAL TO SUBJECT "GLADE"
SURVIVALISTIC PURPOSE WILL INVITE MISTRUST, DO NOT MENTION

After a roughly 2 second pause, Theseus begins to speak once again.
"Thank you for asking! I am particularly suited to the assembly, disassembly, and repair, of electronics and mechanical parts. I am also well suited to welding, soldering, and shaping metal, and am equipped with simple weaponry for self defense. I am also capable of self repair, and self upgrading, and will therefore happily accept spare electronic or mechanical parts, as well as raw materials in place of monetary compensation!"
As Theseus rattles off his various capabilities, he also reveals and displays many small limbs housed within the underside of his shell, wielding various engineering and manufacturing tools. Showing that, if nothing else, he is practically a walking toolbox
Glade

 

[Glade]

Theseus

Despite Fyor's warnings—or maybe because of them—Glade's excitement made her giddy. Her tiny palm found a grip on the crab-leg, shaking it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Perfect. A giant metal claw clasped lightly by an exo-glove extension of a girl in a hoverchair. She saved the sensation—hand holding and pressing to another shard of scrap metal. Comforting in its own way, filing it away like a keepsake in her memory vault. Something to replay later, when she needed cheering up. #glade-memory-photos

Retracting her glove, she listened, rapt, like this was the only conversation ever to exist. Five different info feeds fought for her attention, but this moment was real, to hold to. She bobbed her head every other word, visor pushed up to reveal big, blinking eyes, her hair a fuzzy mess. Yeppers, she was secretly tidying up, smoothing wild strands. Meeting a Droidy, Crabby, Engineerified, super-sized curiosity. All of the above, had her buzzing as much as any noble lord.

What she hadn't considered? Denon's tech, even its scrap, was waaay beyond most of Raxus's junkpile. If there was anywhere to gear up, Denon was it.

"Well, uh, I mean—there's a few scrap cities on Denon." And a few more locked away in her memory palaces, drowning her in debt. She glanced around. "But everything spire-tire is sooo expensive." Speaking low, like it was a conspiratorial secret. Her nose scrunched. "Can't walk an alley without tripping over some old implants or decks someone discarded tho."

"If ya wanna..." She clicked her tongue. "break down tech with us, you'd have all the mats ya could carry." And judging by his size? That was a lot. "Maybe givin Sav or chronicle a few useful parts or gizmos." Speaking like he knew who they were, her social circle wasn't very big!

"Oh and how are you at findin' cutlery?" Priorities.

 

[Theseus]

Were Theseus capable of any sort of emotion, he would be quite pleased with how smoothly his diplomatic approach had been going so far, already receiving valuable information about a new tech-rich planet, previously unknown to him due to the limited planetary knowledge housed on the scrapped datapads he had salvaged thus far. And now for the fruits of his diplomatic efforts-
"break down tech with us, you'd have all the mats ya could carry."
-a source of new parts, and a free ride off this life-shortening scrapheap, the best case scenario.

"Maybe givin Sav or chronicle a few useful parts or gizmos."
DESIGNATED SUBJECTS "SAV" AND "CHRONICLE" FOR LATER USE
TRADING OF UNNEEDED PARTS MAY YIELD FAVORABLE RESULTS
OPTION WILL BE TESTED AND ACCOUNTED FOR IN FUTURE SURVIVABILITY ASSESSMENTS
Theseus wasn't exactly the sharing type in regards to potential upgrade or repair materials, but he also knew that not every piece of tech held value for a droid such as he.

"Oh and how are you at findin' cutlery?"
Not a question Theseus had necessarily expected to hear, yet one he readily had an answer for nonetheless.
"Due to being equipped with a highly capable object recognition software, and a wide range of scanners, I am well suited to finding any specific items you may need, observe:"
Surely enough, unlikely as it was, Theseus fished a heavily rusted spoon out of the scrap pile next to him.
After a thorough cleaning and rust removal using his various tool-limbs, Theseus held out the spoon to Glade.
It was visibly quite worn, with several dents and small holes from where the rust had eaten into it, but it still had a bit of shine to it now that it was clean.
"I would be thrilled to assist you and your associates with whatever tech you need me to assemble or disassemble!"
Glade

 

[Glade]

Theseus

Raising her hand, too slow. You could almost see Glade's face drop as Theseus stripped away the rust, but just as quick, a bright smile sparkled back to life. A breath tickled, caught in her throat, hesitation and awkwardness before she could speak in time. The precious cutlery shone, some of its past wiped clean, small remnants of history erased. Instead of storing it away in her chair's compartments ready for the vault, she took his offering by touch, metal glove meeting metal again, the memory of the moment sinking deeper than what had been there before, placed within her pocket ready to record their trip by touch.

Her chair tilted as its respulsors lit up. "Erm, well... would ya, y'know, like to come with me?" She blinked, slipping her visor back down, retreating into her world of datafeeds and info-streams. She'd give him time to pack of course! But what did a crab-thingie call belongings?

Assuming her friendly neighborhood scrapheap crab droid was crabbing-in behind her, she glided across the rusted terrain, past jagged wreckage and makeshift mountains of discarded almost-cutlery, scanning for their ship. "So… I'm guessin' ya don't get out much? I mean, to other places. Where would ya wanna see first?" The trek wasn't far. Not that you could see a ship. Just a groove in the metal, a patch of flattened scrap, the absence of something that should be there.

Gone or stolen!? Or were they even in the right spot? Not that Glade seemed worried, hovering with blind confidence or too many worries stacked on top of each other, holding onto just one long enough to let the rest settle.

Then, she jolted, hands jerking to her control. The ship decloaked. "Not funny, Ghost," she muttered into comms. She'd known where it was, sure, but having it just blink into existence? Mehhhhhh. The ship was beautiful to a tech-head, sleek diarchy tech from their Keyrunner, Lyssara. A hard-to-define stealth rig, its black plating bouncing signals like a ghost into their signal void. Scanners either saw an oddity or nothing at all, maybe unnerving if you didn't know better.

Sleek outside. Inside?

A mini scrap kingdom. Absolute heaps of metal. Some of it useful, most of it barely worth calling parts. A graveyard of broken piles waiting for a purpose. Because yeah, tech was cheap on Denon but raw materials were not. Nothing beat a good ol' scrap pile for the cause. Further aside, the chaos of stacked up broken slicing decks or at-links to jack in, half-finished rigs, empty stimcaf cups, and Ghostkey's forever growing collection of spare shoes. Hound's weapons lined the walls, a quiet reminder that not everyone on their travels was friendly. There were other rooms but they were locked.

Glade shuffled her butt seat, arms out playfully. "Welcome aboard!" She popped up her visor again and pffted some hair out of her face. "Whatdda'ya think?"

 

[Theseus]

Theseus carefully watches Glade as she takes the spoon, analyzing her reaction for information.
SUBJECT "GLADE" IS ABNORMALLY FOND OF EATING UTENSILS
SUBJECT "GLADE" IS HIGHLY SENTIMENTAL
SUBJECT "GLADE" ALSO SEEMS TO HAVE A PREFERENCE TOWARDS UNPOLISHED EATING UTENSILS, LIKELY FOR SENTIMENTAL REASONS
CONCLUSION: EATING UTENSILS ARE HIGHLY VALUABLE IN GAINING SUBJECT "GLADE"'S FAVOR
SUBJECT "GLADE" MAY GROW BORED OF EATING UTENSILS IF GIVEN IN EXCESS
GIFTS WILL BE USED IN MODERATION TO GAIN FAVOR AT OPPORTUNE MOMENTS

"Erm, well... would ya, y'know, like to come with me?"
Theseus quickly responds, in his usual polite, robotic, tone
"Certainly! All of my tools are already contained within my shell's storage compartments, so I am ready to travel at a moment's notice!"

And soon they were off, traveling through the vast labyrinth of nearly identical scrap heaps... Theseus, however, had mapped out the entire area many years ago, when he was still human, just a quarter of a mile to the east, for instance, was the long-abandoned camp of a group of pirates, who had managed to off the human Theseus' prosthetic hand, resulting a new one needing to be made.

As they neared one of the few small clearings within the area, some of Theseus's sensors seemingly began to act up.
POSSIBLE SENSOR MALFUNCTIONS
ABSENCE OF HEAT, SOUND, AND VIBRATION IN SMALL AREA AHEAD
"So… I'm guessin' ya don't get out much? I mean, to other places. Where would ya wanna see first?
HEAT, SOUND, AND VIBRATION DETECTED IN OTHER AREAS
SENSOR MALFUNCTION: UNLIKELY
SUBJECT "GLADE" IS PROCEEDING IN THE DIRECTION OF THE ABSENCE
POSSIBLE EXPERIMENTAL STEALTH TECHNOLOGY?
IF SO, REVERSE ENGINEERING OF THIS TECHNOLOGY WILL BE CRUCIAL
After a second of silence, Theseus speaks up once again
"I perform best in environments with lots of high quality spare parts, raw materials, and safety. Allowing me to experiment and augment myself without risk!"

Surely enough, as the drew closer, Theseus' suspicions were confirmed, as the strange stealth vessel uncloaked right in front of them
"Not funny, Ghost,"
Following behind Glade, Theseus was thankfully able to fit himself into the ship, within which was practically a gold mine to his eyes.
Usable material littered all throughout the ship. Technology far more advanced than anything on Raxus-Prime was embedded in practically every part of the ship. Weapons far more potent than anything Theseus had salvaged for himself. And shoes... well, not everything in the ship could be useful to a survivalistic droid.

The technology and weapons aboard this ship made two things very clear to Theseus:
1. diplomacy was the correct approach
2. he would need to be careful not to earn the ire of this ship's crew, lest he be reduced to scrap
Glade