Aliens & Strange New World

Posted on Tue May 14th, 2019 @ 9:23am by The Narrator & Lieutenant Commander Mara Ricci & Staff Warrant Officer Blaise Birch & Stephen Spires

Mission: S1E3: Moments Of Consolidation
Location: The Sleepers Bazaar, The Mire, Messier 4
Timeline: MD9 11.00AM

The Reka arrived at the cells for the prisoners, chittering in stolen words and phrases that amounted to 'Back away the bars or we'll eat you'. Gastarox stood behind them, the web gun in his webbed hands held at the ready. If his wide frog-like face could be said to have any emotions to it, it was satisfied.

"Before we get started, do I have to go over the tiresome consequences of trying to escape or cause me trouble?" Gastarox said in his phlegm tone of voice.

Mara subconsciously placed herself in front of Spires but convinced herself she was protecting the rest of the team as well. “Please,” she said. “Please let my people go and I will come with you willingly and do whatever you want. Just let them go, please.”

Gastarox sighed in a way that didn't seem anatomically possible, with his lower chin deflating into his neck as he did so. He pointed a webbed hand at Spires.

"I thought my previous warning would be enough, that your female's prattling body guarding act against your personage was tiresome. It would appear you set her against me to vex me," he grumbled, looking to a wrist-mounted computer. "I have some time before my meeting, and the others have to be processed. I have some time to impart a lesson."

He stood back, and a trio of Reka stepped forward and opened the barred gate to the bunk room. Their staves crackled with barely contained energies, and they used them to gently ward back captives...apart from Spires and Mara. The pair of them were singled out by Gastarox's goons, and drawn forward.

"Take those two up to the medical bay. I'll join them shortly once I've smoothed things out with the Harbour Master," Gastarox said as the two Reka ushered Spires and Mara out of the cage. More the avianoid mercenaries appeared, and with stolen words and phrases gestured for the rest to move out. Calhoon attempted to lift Rollin's up, and the semi-conscious man tried his best to help.

"We're going, we're going!" Mara insisted to the two guards pushing them out of the room.

Stephen Spires flashed an obscene blue-streak in the form of ancient sign language. The petty gesture nonetheless brought a smirk to his face.

Dania said nothing, too focused on absorbing as much information as she possibly could to put into an eventual report, if she ever got a chance to do one.

Elias took a step forward to observe which direction they were being led. A sharp prod to his chest sent him backwards into the rest of the team. He glared at the Reka who prodded him but stayed quiet.

TAG-Aid/Reaction

They were lead out of the bunk room turned captive holding area, and back into the cargo bay. It had been emptied in the time since their docking. Some of the crates could be seen at the end of the boarding ramp, which terminated in a wide and frosty hanger. Other ships rested on a variety of landing gear arrangements, the one nearest them looking like a thorn-covered bur with frost and icy glistening from its hull.

A spindly figure stood at the end of the ramp, appearing to be a torso and head encased in a robin eggshell blue exoskeleton. Its lower face was covered by a complicated breathing apparatus, and one eye was removed in favour of a glossy silver orb. The rest of the face was remarkably human looking, save for the tiered eyebrows and lack of ear lobes. There was a gently clack of a valve, and then a piping voice arose form the begins chest.

"Greeting's to you honoured Sentients. I am a Proctor of the Harbour Master. I am to assure you that whilst under his aegis, you will be afforded the basic necessities of retaining the majority of your bodily autonomy. To that end, I will be implanting in you all an immunisation patch against Concordance biohacking. During this process, I will also be performing a medical scan. The following biological augmentation are banded within the Sleepers Bazaar," the Proctor's biological eye did not blink as it took another laboured mechanical breath. "Implanted weapons, either melee or energy weapon based, gene targeting shredder rounds, antimatter explosives, artificial chemical glands, and any nano or femto tech that might be within your personage. If you have any of these please tell me now, and I will attempt to remove them with the minimum amount of bodily dysfunction."

Perhaps they had it all wrong. Was this a third party they were encountering here? Another organization on the other side of the spectrum from the Federation and the Myriad and the Concordance?

Dania stepped forward, giving a slight bow. "I am Dania Storm, Commander of this group. We come from the United Federation of Planets. We are grateful for your intentions, as we have no wish to experience Concordance biohacking. I feel compelled to ask however, for this service, what do you ask in return?"

For a moment the Proctor stood there, it's one good eye still unblinking as it regarded Dania. It then moved with lighting fast reflexes, one of its blue metallic arms lashing out and grabbing Dania's left arm. With a hum of servo's it bodily lifted her into the air by the arm, as a fish plucked from the tank of an open-air market. From where the vice-like a hand had wrapped around her arm, a dull burning sensation lanced against her skin. But before more could be said, it dropped her on the deck.

"Greetings to you honoured Sentients. I am a Proctor of the Habour Master. I am to assure you that whilst..." it prattled on, repeating its words back to the crowd as it went through the captive Starfleet personnel with all the efficiency and warmth of a dull-minded machine. Where the Proctor grabbed and held, the same burning lanced against the skin. Upon inspection, a small laser etched mark rested on reddened skin, an alien glyph or computer tracking rune. And under the skin, sore like a inspect sting, something had been implanted.

"You'll have better luck convincing a Myriad that charity was a worthy cause to put their effort towards, than gaining the sympathy of one of the Harbour Master's Proctors," Gastarox said as he sidled up beside his captives. "There's not really a lot of cognition left once the Habour Master has gotten rid of extraneous materials. Oh, by the way, welcome to the Sleepers Bazaar."

"What is this place?"

The voice was gravelly and pain-ridden, but still vaguely recognizable as belonging to Dr. Blaise Birch. After the unfortunate events in the jungle and cargo bay, it appeared he had regained some semblance of sanity. His sensitivity to light and overall nasty disposition had not improved, though. His face was wrapped in a dirty shop towel to protect it from the harsh reaction to even normal light. Only his black lips and bloodstained chin were exposed. "A bazaar, you say." He sniffed the air. "More like a slave market, from the smell. No wonder you took us alive." His mouth curled into a savage sneer. "Everybody has to serve somebody. Who owns you, slaver?"

"Astute, I'd not have granted you that much given your previous state, my apologies," Gastarox said in a tone of voice laced with genuine sympathy. "It is a rare breed of sentient who is so adversely affected by active Prior artefacts. Reality sickness is the word for it. The way that Prior technology seems able to manipulate the small atomic forces, the very building blocks of quantum foam based reality, can sometimes have macro scale biological effects."

The amphibian stroked his chin.

"If...you like, you could stay with me, be parted from your company here and thus avoid the market place. I assure you the Mercurial University of the Vigilant would be a much kinder place than where else you might end up, and our study of you would grant you some minor autonomy," he asked, stroking his wide chin.

"I have a better idea," Blaise intoned through his makeshift eyeless cowl. "Send us back where you found us. Unless I can access a biomedical synthesizing facility, I'm afraid I won't make a worthwhile colleague, or specimen, or whatever it is you're after. At least, not for very long." His blood stained teeth glinted in a mirthless smile. "Your avian friends are not the only ones with anthropophagic proclivities."

Dania rubbed the place where she'd been implanted, mind going over possibilities. While yes, their position was quite dire, if they got out of it, and the implant was still working, they just got a way to protect themselves against the Concordance, should they be able to acquire more, or better, should they be able to reverse engineer the tech and produce more.

"Can the rest of my team get the same implants?" Dania asked, still rubbing the slightly sore spot. "I meant what I said, we've seen what the change does to people, we'd rather not have more of our people go through it."

"Yes, it does make for somewhat dull whitted company."

A human woman walked from the thorny barb of a ship. At at least she looked human at a first glance. Dressed in red robes cut to reveal a figure most pleasing to the eye, she had skin as white and hair as white as snow, and eyes that blazed like the stoked members of a fire. At her side, a statue walked in lockstep. Each limb part was beautifully carved, with watery swirls and geometric patterns. But with each swing of an arm or movement of a joint, glistening organic ligament slithered and toiled.

The woman and her towering rock art installation stood before Gastarox and his party of captives, as the Harbour Master's Proctor moved through them administering the vacation implant with little concern for comfort.

"Lady Nyessix, you know the Sleeper's Bazaar frowns on poaching before there is bidding," Gasatrox said, stepping possessively between the Starfleeters and the woman. Her statuesque protector made a gurgling sound, and took a grinding step closer.

"We of the House Of Foxes do so like to keep our visits here cordial. If only because we are permitted to meet so many interesting beings," she said, looking at the away team with eyes that very well might have been smouldering. "Officers of the Federation Starfleet? You know the Myriad will reward you handsomely for them?"

"You'll get the same chance as the Lord Provider and the Disciples of The Sleeping God," Gastarox snorted. "Besides, two of them are lamed. You'll probably be able to wrap up the entire set at the end of the bidding."

"And if I were to offer you three treaties that do not contradict themselves on logical deductions of Prior thought process? Right here, and now, would that not tempt your scholarly heart to grant me a gift?" Nyessix purred. "Two of them I am sure have not been seen in almost twenty kiloyears. Rare would not even describe them."

"That..." Gastarox turned, looking at the group of captives. "...that is an interesting proposition indeed."

"Don't trust him," Elias said to the Proxy. "We're really not that important, but he's trying to play it like we are so he can earn a little extra." He winced momentarily as the Proctor yanked his arm and implanted him.

Priors. That was a word Gastarox had been using a lot, particularly regarding the jungle tower. The one that had seemed to temporarily nullify the NOS-4A-2 compound in Blaise's bloodstream. Distance from Carpathia had seemed to return him to homeostasis for now, but such a high burn would put him in dire need of another treatment far sooner than normal. And now this Lady Nyessix talked about multiple treaties with these Priors. If they went away with her and her technology had the same effect on him as the tower, then his current sane disposition might be even shorter lived than expected.

"I have a better idea," Blaise said, stepping forward, his face still obscured by the shop rag. "Let these others go, and I shall give you the darkest secret of a deadened world returned to life."

With two thundering steps, the stone golem of an alien stepped towards Blaise and backhanded him. It was very much like being hit by a battering ram, only with vicious intent weighed behind the hit. As it did so the knotted and vivid colours of its musculature could be seen moving its stone limbs. From the carved face of the golem, a trio of the orange worms formed into a terrible mouth, full of recessing teeth and nightmarish dentition.

"Not very smart for a tool using hominid," Nyessix said with a tsking tone of voice. She looked at the group of Starfleeters. "A word to the wise. The Myriad are very generous to our clients, more so to our guests. Unlike the Concordance, we do not seek to interrupt your conscious autonomy and unlike the Disciples Of The Sleeping God we do not find extreme biomodification to be of a recurring fashion. Should at any time during what is to come, you seek my favour, you need but state my name thrice and you will have my ear."

Blaise spun in the air and toppled to the ground. The taste of his own blood in his mouth teased certain cravings that he was doing his best to ignore. "I wouldn't do that again if I were you," he said, swallowing his own blood. The taste... was bittersweet, likely due to the NOS-4A-2 compound that staved off his feral nature.

The golem-like creature snarled something and took another step closer, this time to finish what the backhand had not. But the blue cyborg Proctor stepped in between them on its spindly legs, the voice box crackling as if it were changing tracks.

"Greetings to you honoured Sentients. I am a Proctor of the Habour Master. All sentients under the aegis of the Habour Master will be protected until their status has been decided," the Proctor stated in a flat monotone. But there was a crackling sense of potentiality in the air, like the air before a good thunderstorm. An Op's chief might recognise it as the sort of feeling the air took on when exposed EPS lines weren't shut down. It was the danger sense any good energy gets when something is close by that won't only kill you, but make it painful all the way down to the ground.

Somewhere above them, the business end of a very large energy weapon had made them the centre of its attention.

"Bastion," the Myriad by the name of Nyessix said, placing a hand on the smooth stone foreman of her companion. "Now is not the place, nor the time. Proctor, we are leaving now to walk the Grand Collande. If there are to be fines levied for my overzealous companion, they will be paid in full."

With one final look at the Starfleeters, the Myriad walked off. Bastion, the brutish enforcer of her will it appeared, snarled and then lumbered afterwards. At this retreat, the Proctor turned and directed its attention to them as well.

"Honoured Sentients. Please follow me. You will be taken to holding quarters, and assigned medical aid as is necessary. Any attempt to flee, or damage this Proctor, will result in permanent and irreversible neural death."

It then turned on its piston legs and began to walk away from them at a brisk pace.