Carcinisation - Or, Why Invasive Species Suck.

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.

5mind​:

@stxr-bxster

There was a spaceship next to the scrapyard. No other way to put. There was a completely intact spacecraft in the little clearing next to Fivemind’s favourite scavenging spot. 

The blue android had come here to scavenge with the red one not too far behind. Her cracked screen of a visor scanned the alien vehicle. Fivemind had an eye for hardware, and there was no way this thing was constructed anywhere around here. 

Perhaps it was supposed to go inside the scrapyard? At least that was what the AI hoped. It looked a bit too cared for to be scrap. Blue unholstered her weapon and gave the spacecraft a prod. A rather hard prod.

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP-!

“GAH!”

Krigg startled, the small piece of aluminium framing she’d been inspecting flying out of her hands as a noisy, high-pitched ringing that was particularly harsh on her sensitive antennae sounded off from what felt like just around the corner.

The small alien began furiously patting at her coat, trying to locate the source of the familiar noise from hell. Why-oh-why had she decided to use such an agressive sound for urgent alarms?! On one end, it was impossible to ignore, which was the point of it, but having the equivalent of an ultrasound airhorn blast catch your attention was not fun.

Finally, she managed to fish out from an inner pocket the small device responsible for the screaming, turning it off with a press of her thumb against the big ol’ blinking button. She squinted, trying to muster up the information of WHAT the oval remote was. Perks of having so many gadgets - sometimes you just forgot what one given thing di-

The proximity alarm. The information sprang to life in her mind rather unexpectedly, and with enough force to leave her donwright scowling.

Of all the times for her to go scrounging for small recyclable bits in the nearest deposit of garbage - The alien sprung from a crouch to standing, and made a beeline back towards her beloved Revenger, leaping from discarded kitchen appliance to gutted cars full speed ahead. If she was lucky, the proximity alarm was just some animal poking at the ship, looking to use it as a back scratcher. If it was not...

---------------------

It took entirely too long for her taste to come to a skidding halt in the small clearing she’d parked her ship in. And she quickly found out that it was not the best case scenario when she spotted two large humanoid robots painted vivid colors, assembled from mismatched parts of discarded plating, milling about her Revenger. One of whom was *poking* it with a broken street lamp. A sharp, jagged piece of metal. She could almost feel the paint flaking off.

Oh, hell no.

“AY! GARBAGE RANGERS! STOP TOUCHING MY SHIT!”

Perhaps the angry screech would have been more intimidating if Krigg didn’t actually reach the smallest robot’s waist, barely.

@despicable-ruler​ started following stxr-bxster

Space was an incredibly vast concept.

Functionally, it was a whole lot of empty NOTHING, filled with rocks and bits of rare elements floating about. Pockets of somewhat interesting things were few and inconcievably far in-between.

...And yet, paradoxically, that’s how Krigg found herself always back at her own little cobbled map of the galaxy, writing away in the vast margins of empty space, blotting out large swathes of the known world in a red overlay that her personnal color chart coded as “no-go zone”.

Because as soon as a race, ANY race, became space-faring, they usually worked to make the distance mean a whole lot less by any means necessary. Auspex arrays, deep space scans - freakin’ space bridges, to name a couple. Once there was danger in one concentrated point, it spread as far as their metaphorical eyes and ears could percieve, because their hands would soon follow that reach.

If being a free flying element with no allegiances other than her own had taught Krigg anything, it was that knowing which places to skirt carefully, or cross at one’s own peril, was the best way not to be caught with your pants down.

And as far as she could tell, Cybertronian space was one of those hard no-go zones. She didn’t know that much about them - most other sapients observed them from a stone throw away, and what they did have were spotty reports on a lenghty history of internal conflicts, making colonies almost exclusively for mining purposes, and a STRONG distaste for organic life.

Ah, and them being giant autonomous technological life forms. That was pretty important.

Didn’t stop them from occasionally puttering off away from their usual stomping grounds for whatever reason, though. Krigg would’ve lied if she said she wasn’t *slightly* curious about the sporadic change of habits, but she wasn’t going to risk her behind for it. Which was why she was sitting in complete engine darkness, her Revenger dead as a rock to scans and signals, filtering through distant radio chatter to jot down new travel routes to keep away from.

[[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.]]

////UNDER CONSTRUCTION////

See you soon ~ <3

Old blog moved to @lxttlest-blue-star​!

I got block’d by someone. It’s absolutely the fist time that happened and I legit have no idea why it did. It was by a nice-looking blog too, bummer.

I’m absolutely going to be worrying over my blog or my behavior having something wrong with it, but later.