All Wayward Stars, Do Not Want To Come Home

★ All wayward stars, do not want to come home★

► Indie RP blog for a fandomless Alien OC

► Semi-selective

► Penned by Potato, ‘bout 9 years of doing Tumblr RP and counting

► Like/reblog for me to come say hi!

[MUSE] --- [ARSENAL] --- [GALACTIC LAW]

Stupid rip off Irken

Huh. Well, would you look at that. I'm getting anons sending rude comments. I've been on tumblr for years and I've never got any yet.

Guess I can check that out of the list of eventualities that seem to happen to everyone.

[[Took me a hot minute to actually catch onto the fact I should probably put into my bio page that the mun is 25+ yo.]]

[[I forget that tumblr IS a space full of random kids. Worryingly often.]]

5mind​:

Impressive. Somehow the small stranger seemed to be even more agitated than when she was hollering at them. Was it something they said? Oh it was definitely something they said.  

Now she was trying so damn hard to intimidate them. It was a little funny, they had to admit. A sense of humour was something Fivemind only developed later in what can be considered its life, and thus something it does not feel comfortable expressing openly. All for the better, considering that laughing would only exacerbate the situation. 

And it seemed the other had every right to be angry anyways. 

“Oh! You live in this!” the red one replied. “My apologies.”

This stranger had sharp eyes it seemed. And here the machine thought no one would notice if it just made of with a singular screw ( at least not until when its too late). Scavengers they may be but sabotaging someone’s home and livelihood was…well, that’s just not what heroes do. Not unless if the other was evil anyways.

“We were thinking of taking at least a little of your ship for…..further analysis.” The blue one spoke up this time. In contrast to her red plated counterpart, her speech was much more even in tone and very obviously synthetic. ”But seeing how this is your home, I suppose we should have just asked first.”

“Let us put it this way,” Red One said, “We were just admiring the craftsmanship of your vehicle-” 

Blue Two completed the sentence, “- enough to want to take it apart.”

“We will not though!” 

This would be so much more convincing if Red’s bladed arm wasn’t idly twitching and Blue didn’t still have the screwdriver in her hand.

“IN “THIS”. Really? My beloved Revenger, just a mere THIS? Come on.” Krigg huffed sharply, tilting her chin up for emphasis as she strolled around the two drones to place herself quite strategically between the screwdriver-weilding stranger, and her adored ship. She was not going to be caught taking risks of them nicking off with a small pannel that’d bring a crucial function of the ship unexpectedly offline.

The mentions of asking first before taking the ship apart after certainly struck her as not entirely honest. She narrowed her eyes, glaring quietly at the two drones, one sporting a much less smoothed out voice box. Were the two AI, or just remote drones of various degrees of quality? No, no, the second one had what sounded like a voice synthetizer found in basic AI.

“I don’t care if it’s “a bit”, or if you should have asked - don’t make me have to do repairs! If you want to get some scrap metal to, I don’t know, chew on or something, I have spare bits that don’t require me replacing something yet for you to mess them up!” Krigg ends up huffing, hands plopped onto her hips for added emphasis, staring with a rather blatant lack of trust at the two drones.

If giving them some of the metal scrap from repair jobs she did semi-frequently could keep the metal-crazy drone chipmunks AWAY from the Revenger, then it was honestly better than being arsed to find a new parking spot. Or fighting them off. It wasn’t that she *feared* them by any stretch of the imagination, but they were still heavy duty machinery with sharp blades strapped to it.

Krigg was confident, not stupid.

Carcinisation - or, why invasive species suck.

Phenotype Hr-0017, or, as it is more commonly known, the Chain Crab, is a large hyperpredator that eats just about everything it can fit down its gob. What does not is torn into smaller chunks for consumption by their pincers. Mature specimens can reach the size of a small bus, and they’re efficient burrowers at all stages of life.

As far as the invasive species of the collection designated as "Horde" go, it's a problem in a big, heavily armored package with a well-protected nervous chord under a heavy carapace. New specimens born from stranded Horde individuals do not bear the Denominator parasite, yet survive without complications, which suggests that the specie's assimilation was recent, and the original bioform relatively untouched. They reproduce quickly through parthogenesis, making infestations painfully difficult to get rid of.

Comissioned P.R.O. dispatches are a common method for handling said infestations, as their experience with Horde parasites lends them some expertise in the matter.

@theportertwins

Krigg was... not having the best of days, all things considered.

Though, the little extraterrestrial mused it could have been worse as she stared through the greasy film of neon orange splattered across her ship’s tinted cockpit, a disgruntled scowl on her features. She further ensconced herself into the mesh of her pilot seat, digging in her shoulders one at a time and blowing a whistling sigh through her teeth. Below the Revenger, darkness illuminated by distant lights trailing the edge of the continents on a planet unknown, not yet touched upon by the light of the system’s star.

Concretely, putting the pedal to the metal through a swarm of immature chain crabs swarming a mining station in the biggest asteroid belt of the sector had been a terrible idea. An effective one, if the pasted remains that decorated half of her cockpit, and surely most of her ship’s paint, were anything to go by, but a bad one regardless.

Sure, she’d been paid compensation for her trouble of answering the distress call... and getting rid of the invading specie, but who was going to clean the crab guts from her ship?

Not the grateful-if-slightly-broke station workers, that’s for sure.

Krigg’s morose expression shuddered slightly as she eyeballed the small bit of extra credits on her account, before reaching to pat herself on the cheeks with a huff. The little extraterrestrial perked back up with a sharp huff, sitting straight back up before closing the tab with a press of a gloved finger onto the cockpit’s extra screen, booting back up the ship’s altimeter. One small smack against the conrols later, and the Revenger began its slow descent planetside towards a large area of inland darkness, Krigg’s hands flying from console to screen and back, pulling up every bit of information she had on her cloaking systems.

All in the green, barring visual scramblers, which pulled a groan from Krigg. She’d probably have to dislodge a crab leg from somewhere important, but visual scramblers were always a bonus more than a necessity. Nobody watched the skies closely enough to see a ship’s signal lights pass by when most technologically advanced worlds had radars and scanners and- whatever else she was forgetting.

Planetfall was uneventful, aside from that, and soon enough, Krigg was greeted by the sight of a moonlit stretch of dry, dusty terrain speckled with shrubs that cast long shadows as soon as she flicked on the ship’s floodlights. Two-legged creatures on the edge of the bright halo scattered in sharp hops into the darkness, too fast for her to properly see, but she paid them no mind.

What did catch her attention was the slight lurch in the craft as she moved the thrusters of the wings into a landing position, plumes of blue flame rotated under the beast, the left wing shuddering ever-so-slightly before moving into position. Krigg frowned, and as soon as the landing gear flexed under the ship’s weight, she slammed off the lights and proceeded to hop off her seat.

Something wasn’t quite right with the left wing.