trans_9 | Test Drive [quite open]

Once things had settled down somewhat from the pod pop, once she had been assigned to a cabin and once she'd had a few days to relax and shove all her sudden anxieties about the world ending to somewhere else in the back of her mind, Sylia took her hardsuit for a test drive around the many vast hallways of the ship. The digital readouts had one hell of a time trying to give her data about the ship's layout and the composition of the walls, but most importantly it seemed to be running well and however long she'd spent in podsleep hadn't affected her performance. It felt good to wear it again.

Even if Nigel and Henderson's warnings about her condition were echoing in the back of her mind the whole time.

Once she was finished she set her suit on a table in engineering and set to work performing basic maintenance on it as best she could with the advanced tools set before her. It was a shame this place was so humid-- she worried about the suit's long-term performance and wished more than ever that Nigel was here. Sylia may have looked a little clueless there, examining each tool carefully before testing it out.

Oh well. At least the skinsuit gave her something else to wear besides the creepy plantsuits. It was so much more visually appealing. And there was no good reason why the plantsuits couldn't provide the luxury of cleavage. Honestly.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Am I supposed to fix my sights by willing them into line?" she grumbled. If so, it was a problem because Deunan and willpower barely had a nodding acquaintance.

She started pawing through the tools. "I'm Deunan Knute, by the way. Nice armor."

"I've been finding something shaped like what I need and using it, personally."

She looked over her shoulder again and smiled. "Sylia Stingray. Thank you very much."

There was a bweeee noise and a flash of light as Deunan found (and turned on) something promising that proved not to be a screwdriver, and then a clatter as she tossed it back where it came from.

"What's it for?" she asked. Deunan was wondering what combat niche something too big for personal armor and too small for a landmate filled.

"Rogue Boomers," Sylia answered. The term seemed unfamiliar to most of the people here, so she elaborated. "Bio-organic robots with artificial intelligence. They have a tendency to break and mutate, so hardsuits are designed to wear in combat against them."

She tapped her helmet. "Though they're all custom built. The police doesn't have anything like them."

"Yeah, AI can be unpredictable," Deunan agreed, pointing at the ceiling to indicate Stacy. "Our central planning computer almost destroyed the city once because it interpreted its directives too rigidly." She shrugged. "Better than not having it, though."

She stopped her search for a screwdriver and leaned in over Sylia's hardsuit. "Civilian? You with a PMC*?" Deunan eyed her with a hint of suspicion. It didn't really matter here, but Deunan was a cop, and didn't trust guns for hire.

*Private Military Corporation, aka mercenaries.

Sylia might argue about the whole AI thing, but managed to keep from saying anything to suggest as much. Instead, she focused on Deunan's second question.

"A PMC? Goodness, no," Sylia almost laughed. "I am a civilian, yes, but I would best describe my organization as a privately funded community service."

Deunan trusted vigilantes even less. At least mercs were predictable. "Yeah, okay." She grimaced. "Doesn't matter here, I guess."

Ah. She must be law enforcement. Sylia smiled a bit sympathetically. There really was no need to worry about it here, but it might put her more at ease to know the facts.

"I pay and train women to wear my suits and destroy rogue Boomers that the police can't deal with, to keep them from hurting innocent people. That's all," she assured her. "I'm hardly an anarchist."

Test Drive [quite open]

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