ITT: We Are All Space Mercenaries

Greg got up and brushed himself off.

'Me? I'm Greg, and I've no idea how I got here frankly. Last thing I know is that I got curious again and fell unconscious for a long period of time again. What year is it, anyway? Does anyone know?'''

'Injuries, huh? Thankfully, I've never gotten any serious ones, but I've gotten a scrape or two while handling some particularly troublesome people back in the day. I wonder, are there any doctors or medics here?'

'Also, do you know where the bathroom is?'

Edited by MvflG on Aug 13th 2018 at 10:48:36 PM

Enzo pointed to the bathroom he had just exited.

"...?!" Becka feels something wrong. The ship was just breached. Quickly, she reaches under her pillow and grabs her pistol before darting into the cargo room. "SOMEONE BROKE IN!! WHERE ARE THEY?!"

Enzo shifts his already pointed finger to the tall man ahead of him.

This him?

Turning his head, Greg noticed the young gynoid decked in cowboy attire. 'Huh? Oh, hello. Are you the captain of this ship? Believe me, ma'am, I don't know how I got here either.'

Edited by MvflG on Aug 13th 2018 at 10:57:56 PM

The conversation between Frank and Becka had been going on for a few minutes at this point. At the sound of Becka's change in tome, Frank leaps back to work, looking for the offending vehicle.

It's not the police cruiser. That's still a few thousand kilometres away.

It must have happened when I was talking to the Captain... he reasons.

Suddenly, he remembers something important, and joins the PA's current channel.

Are we sure it's a breach, and not just one of the specimens we were supposed to deliver but missed? Here, Frank is referring to the crew's previous job from before the story began.

"I'm looking right at him," Becka says, angrily. "Tall guy! Talking about how he doesn't know how he got here."

She glares at Greg.

"Common story for a stowaway. How long were you in there?"

Formia sniffs the newcomer with her antenna, getting close to him while she's at it. She decides to help him out

Wait, what's the last thing you remember? Maybe he was trying to escape a war or slavers.

Edited by CyberController on Aug 13th 2018 at 9:18:40 AM

*I nod as I listen to my comrades' anecdotes, until a certain human brat bursts into the room.*

Lambda: "Stupid shit?" *I walk over to Aur, giggling under my breath.* "Oh, Aur, you wouldn't know stupid shit if it slapped you in the face. And honestly, with the amount of infighting here at times, I wouldn't be surprised if it has."

*Aaand then our boss bursts into the room. Joy...*

Lambda: "Oh, Becka, don't get your panties in a twist now, do you really think this old fart's a threat?"

*I point to Greg with my thumb. I have no idea how in the hell he got onboard, but let's be real, would another player character have an active desire to fuck us over? I mean, I don't know that he's a player character — or at least, shouldn't — so this point is moot, but he seems harmless enough all the same. Oh, and then our navigator mentions our previous mission over the intercom.*

Lambda: "...Also, quick question, what's this about a specimen delivery again, Becksy? I'm brainfarting, I need a lil' refresher."

"You clearly don't know the old guys I do. Now hush, you're in hot water too! Do you have any idea how much a radio station costs to maintain?!"

Becka sighs. "Some weird pet, I think. Don't worry about it."

I- I really have no idea. I think I remembered exploring somewhere before waking up here, but yeah, I don't know how long I've been in here. What year is it, anyway?

"..." Becka doesn't know. Not many do nowadays.

"Dunno. Sometime later."

I’m 69! Don’t remember what year I was born though... doesn’t matter that much nowadays, you know?

Despite the bizarre concept this is, he sounds very nonchalant.

Lambda: "It's not like, an actual radio station, it's just an exclusive signal that only our crew can tune into! It's not like I wanna make a legit thing, I'm not that much of an overachiever. Granted, I have four eyes all focused on hitting the big time, so of course I'm an overachiever but whatfuckingever, right?"

"..." Aur just gives her an irritated glare. "I definitely know what stupid shit is like, I'm looking at some right now."

He turns away and shows Greg his phone screen. On it is the date and time on earth, as well as the dates/times of whatever planets happen to be nearby. "Tracking the date in space is a bitch so I don't do it."

Frank, through the PA, answers Lambda's question.

The 'smuggle these frozen human beings to our client' mission'.

'Ah, is that so...'

'Maybe I do remember some stuff... I sorta remember getting locked in some sort of suspended animation chamber, back in 2021. How I got here I don't really know, maybe someone put me in here as a specimen or something?'

'There's a radio station here? Can we play K-pop music?'

Edited by MvflG on Aug 13th 2018 at 11:43:11 PM

Well, if you’re one of our packages, we’ll need you back in your box, Enzo informs, maintaining his husky vocals.

Edited by TacoBadger on Aug 13th 2018 at 11:48:44 AM

"... 2021"

Becka can't help but giggle.

"My race didn't exist in 2021... yeah, it's a bit later."

A couple thousand kilometers away from the goings-on aboard the Celestial, a maple-toned android looked to the teal skies above Phobos from an observation tower, long-range binoculars in one hand and a pen-sized metallic device in the other.

Thaddeus Fulton — friends and enemies alike called him ‘Tilt’ — quivered his lip as the binocular lenses focused in on a ship entering the atmosphere of the moon, its chassis yellowed and rusting along the wayward edges. He’d know the haphazard look of a Varrq ship from anywhere, and the mere sight of them tensed up his wiring with something between righteous anger and latent fear.

He tried to figure out a course of action before a tone blared from his wrist computer and stole his attention. It was a note telling him that communications from a freelancer craft had begun to reach his location.

Tilt looked at it with the littlest smile he could. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his cohorts among the Spotters, but it had been long enough that he’d hoped the leadership would kindly leave his mistake in the past where it belonged and renew his license.

With the shitshow bound to go down on the moon in due time, he was probably gonna need it.

"Man, I pity you if you got locked up that long just to be a specimen."

".. What the fuck is k-pop?"

Yet another new person walks into the room; a lady with blonde hair, wearing what looked to be a white blouse, black pants, and simple boots.

"Hey, so...what's up, I guess?" Aubrey says.

Aubrey Morten — <Tactical Slacker>

Edited by ActualBeatrice on Aug 14th 2018 at 3:45:58 PM

"Hello." says Grantor. "We're having something of conundrum right now, involving time and K-pop, neither of which I know much about."

"Okay, that's kinda weird, but alright." the somewhat-tactically dressed personage replies. "Well, I guess I'll just wait here. Anybody got some snacks?"

Edited by ActualBeatrice on Aug 14th 2018 at 3:39:15 PM

"I have a packet of biscuits that I left around here somewhere."

Edited by TropesForever on Aug 14th 2018 at 6:43:02 PM