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Deep Space Wintreath, Medbay

"Affirmative Doctor, I'm on it." K011 replied still maintaining his parade ground voice. Inside his head, things were somewhat stabilizing as every coping mechanism he'd been taught worked overtime to try and keep him functional. He went to work putting the lab stations together, it was very simple work, clearly the Doctor's way of trying to 'take it easy on him' as the soft Federation often liked to do for their wounded. It was making some headway, unlike the completely muscle memory controlled efforts of his usual duties, the lab equipment had set instructions on deployment which more effectively took his attention away from the mental turmoil. He was almost starting to feel better, but he was still on a knife's edge, it wouldn't take much to set him off, and he knew it.

Main Bridge, Deep Space Wintreath

Kusulk turned to his security chief.  "I would concur with your assessment, Officer Wlo.  I'll request more temporary security staff from the fleet vessels docked presently and make a formal request to the Mayyoran government for additional security staff from the planet for permanent assignment."

"Oh also, Mr. Wlo.  Our chief engineer seems to think there's a saboteur on board.  I'm not entirely sure one way or another if there is one, but I do think it'd be prudent to send station security to all station sections in which surplus maintenance equipment could have been left by the Kerdossians.  If any is found, the equipment should be promptly turned over to our Gorram logistics team for proper storage.  Unless you have a better suggestion to find a phantom saboteur, that is..."

Oh shit I've done it now. Panic set into his mind as he was lifted off the ground by his neck, desperately holding onto the robot's arms to prevent his neck from breaking from the weight. All sense of maintaining his composure was gone, replaced by the primal urge to survive.

"I know the UGC made assassin robots during their time in business. I did research on them as part of my robotics class at the academy. I know how your internal systems work. That's all."

Deep Space Wintreath, Room 44-232, occupant HKR-07,

HKR-07

HKR's voice emitter growled as HKR considered its next move. This large engineer could be a threat to it. If he told anyone what HKR was they might come for it. Destroy it. It needed to keep him quiet. Murdering him would present.......problems. People would miss him and it would not be too hard to put two and two together, figure out who killed him. Plus, HKR could not properly dispose of his body. Well, it could try...no, too messy, the smell would draw people eventually. That left one option for him.

"Assassin Robot? You think I am an assassin robot? No, no, no, I am not an assassin robot."

HKR lowered the organics face to its own, his legs bent as HKR brought the two of them face to face, eye to eye and HKR extended a finger and ran it down the left side of the his face, the sharp finger sliding on the smooth skin of this organic, not leaving a cut but definitely enough to feel it.

"You see, organic, assassin robots have concealment protocols. Protocols that would mandate terminating all organics who figure out what they are. And assassin robots looove to play with their prey, make termination as slow and....painful as possible."

The finger slid to right above the organics left eye. The look in it was....memorable, to say the least. It was a lie, of course, assassin robots generally could care less about that kind of thing. Still, this organic would not know that.

"So if I was an assassin robot, well, naturally, I would have to kill you, right?"

HKR squeezed the hand around his neck, just a bit, to drive the point home.

"So, I must ask, am I an assassin robot?"

A sudden spark of inspiration lit inside of him. It hadn't killed him yet. It didn't want to for some reason. Poor timing to dump a body? Or was it something else? Either way, he had some leverage with the robot.

"I know your systems in and out. You're definitely a HKR model. But this isn't typical assassin behavior, letting someone who knows your identity live. Although it'd be next to impossible to hide the murder of the station's Chief Engineer. Clearly you don't want your identity getting out, but any action you take has a good chance of that happening anyway. Seems I've backed you into a corner. You might wanna play nice with me now."

Deep Space Wintreath, Room 44-232, occupant HKR-07,

HKR-07

HKR softly ran its finger across the organics face, processing. This organic was correct, hiding the murder would be tough. It might be able to hide its involvement in killing this engineer but that was no guarantee. The chance was still higher then hoping this organic would keep quiet about it. Programming demanded that it killed him and take the smaller risk of discovery. However, for some reason HKR did not want to kill him. Every protocol was demanding it snap this organics neck but HKR just could not bring itself to do it. It could see the fear in this organics eyes and just...could not. It would have to try a different tactic. HKR took the com badge off his tunic and let the engineer go, watching as he dropped to the floor gasping. HKR walked back to the door, keeping eyes on the engineer, and locked it. Hopefully, when this engineer left, he would not report him.

"You are correct. I am HKR-07, creation of the United Gralend Corporation. I was built to be an assassination robot, used as a weapon, pointed towards whatever target they wanted terminated. And I have killed many people."

HKR turned to face the engineer as he said that last one, emphasizing it.

"I don't want to kill you. But robots of my design are wanted by your Federation. If they knew I was here and what, specifically, I was they would tear me apart, limb from limb. I will not be deactivated after everything I have been through."

That last sentence was said with more...force then it had intended. It surprised even HKR.

"I can only let you go when I know that you won't report me to the authorities. The alternative, as much as I would rather not take it, is less pleasant but still an option for me. Do you understand?"

HKR took a few steps forward, letting the engineer catch his breath.

"You said you had questions for me. Why not start with that? What did you want to know?"

Deep Space Wintreath, Medical Bay, Kry's Office

Sol lapsed into an uneasy sleep, the door to her containment splattered with liquid, several new injuries from bashing herself against the sides continuously darkening to a rotten brown quickly. She could have literally beat herself into a pulp, but the survival instinct of the ward had stopped her, putting her into this sleep state instead.

Rayn, Government Laboratories, Room I-509, IM project, 10ish years ago

Sol's eyes opened, finding herself in a clear box with purple lights on the top. Across the way she saw master, he and his ward in a sorry state. His eyes locked onto hers.

"Eierug." He said her name tiredly, brown splotches forming across his body as he used up energy to talk to her. "You are the last one to awaken. Are you okay?"

Sol's tendrils wouldn't bend correctly, wouldn't talk to him as she wanted them to. Her mind was foggy, trying to access something she knew she should have, but couldn't find, or fully understand.

"Eierug, you and I... we were with the others, but they found out about our wards. They've hurt us while I was asleep. They're immune to attempts to communicate with them. But you already knew that. Eierug, they're killing me. I'll do everything I can to protect you and the clan. You... you need to tell Kiwuerh to take over for me. You get us to space, okay? They don't have the ship yet. Promise me you'll find it."

Sol clung to every last word. The master only survived a few more days with his injuries, even as the bipeds did their best to keep him alive.  Then it was her turn.

Flesh taken from her body, years of memories taken in a single cut, knowledge repressed or forgotten as bridges built were destroyed by a blade, not rebuilding quite right. At one point they tried to take her ward away. Then they figured out the ward was alive. They stopped when they figured out they were hurting the ward with their tests. They put her on a shelf, alone with a lamp, far away from the clan, out of danger, but far from comfort.

One by one, she watched the others be taken away, then returned, each time with a little light taken form their fields. Wearing them down one by one. Eventually they remembered her, tucked on her shelf, machines monitoring her every move, taking care of her when they forgot.

The blank room they brought her to was the most interesting thing she had seen that she could remember.

"IM-739, 'Sol'. Beginning training processes."

Deep Space Wintreath, Medical Bay, Kry's Office, present day

Sol's eyes flew open. Grimacing, she pushed her top away from the wall where it had been leaning in a splatter of her own juices. Ship. Kiwuerh. It was all connected. Was this what she had been looking for all these years? She had known something was out there, so she kept looking, but couldn't remember it. She trusted she would know it if she found it. Besides, it was fun. If only she had more information. Perhaps if she could get out, she could find Kiwuerh. Perhaps the ship. Now, she knew she knew how these locks worked before. She had escaped their locks before. She just needed to beat herself up until the knowledge fragments came back.

Deep Space Wintreath, Medbay

Kry watched carefully as K011 worked, noting he seemed less on edge. Good. One more crisis averted. But she would have to find out what set him off later as to avoid it in the future.

Her pad chimed, and she idly checked it. Incoming message from the government. She opened it, heart pounding, on the nearest data station, backing it up to the station's computers as she read, not trusting her people to not delete the message.

Practicer of Medicine Kry,

I appreciate your interest into my research, as does the former IM research group, but much of it is classified.
More sensitive data cannot be shared, but I will do my best to answer your questions. You can be assured that
seldom do the IM's show intelligence higher than a Tarantus on the Pulmor Intelligent life test, and these cases
are rare enough to mean nothing.
Regarding your reports of psychic communications, we find this claim unfounded. Mental activity of an IM is
extremely limited to a web of neurons withing their hide, and has shown no ability to transmit to another being in
lab-controlled testing.
I cannot reveal the locations of the other IMs assigned out as to protect them and their caretakers, but if you
kontact some of the local clinics, you might be able to find out if they have an IM. Of course, they are allowed to
exclude the information if they do not wish to share as it is a non pressing matter. However, most places are
usually very receptive to inquiries about their most intriguing possession.
Signed,

Limphakra
Governmental Research Officer


Kry looked over the response again, her eyes catching on one word. Kontact. Surely the government wasn't sloppy enough to allow spelling error in an official piece of mail. And the placement of the signed to the name, like they had been expecting to physically sign it. Something was wrong with this letter, but Kry couldn't quite place it. Archiving the letter for later, she looked over at K011. She debated asking the clone for help, perhaps he had experience trying to decode letters. She was probably reading too far into nothing.

Zerick fell to the floor onto his hands and knees, barely catching himself. He took in a deep breath, glad to be able to breathe properly again. As HKR-07 returned from locking the door, he gradually got back up onto his feet to look at it again.

"Well, I guess this is as nice as you're going to get. First thing I want to know is why you're here."

Deep Space Wintreath, Room 44-232, occupant HKR-07,

HKR-07

HKR stared at the organic at his full height. Impressive.

"Consider this, engineer. We can both kill each other, me physically to you right now and you if you tell people what I am. We both have weapons aimed at each other. How courteous would you be in that situation?"

HKR looked around for its staff. It could not quite see it. Perhaps it had rolled behind something. HKR had been standing about where the engineer had been when he dropped it. Oh well, no need to get it just yet, it should not be required.

"As to why I am here....I am looking for something. Something very, very old. Something I have been trying to find for many years. One of the few leads I got about it led me here, to this system. And this station is where all information flows. I don't intend to hurt anyone or kill anyone, I'm not an assassin anymore."

QWERTY's Amazingly Cool Base, Deep Space Wintreath, Maigar System

LST: 7:00:00, 05/14/7051 Mayyoran Calendar

QWERTY was in his room, watching his favourite shows on the television with his favourite guinea pig. Well, he was watching old shows to be more precise. QWERTY had a strong distaste for most current shows because they are all trash reality TV shows that are the dumbest thing to ever exist, but somehow rake in millions of views and dollars. Anyways, he had finally started on what could possibly be his 500th marathon of the best show to have ever existed.

After the first season or so, he decided to go to his other favourite past-time. Monitor the security channels and see what chaos exists on the news, ruining people's days. So, he switched to live television and saw the announcement about the escaped war criminal. Oh, what fun! Somehow, this guy, who had the name of "Owu Balgorni," escaped a government run, maximum security prison and was on the run.

If QWERTY's calculations are correct, things would begin to get very interesting on the space station...

Civilian Space Freighter later that day

"Thank you Ocyu for the ride to the space station."

"No problem uwO. No idea why the hell you want to find a way to that hellscape they call a planet, but hey that's your decision. Now you be safe, reportedly there's a war criminal that escaped recently."

The Mayyoran passenger felt blinked twice. He saw the newscast on his way out.

"Owu Balgorni. Only Zzipp knows how that guy escaped."

The freighter was cleared to dock with the station, now called Deep Space Wintreath after the Federation took it in exchange for protecting Mayyor from the volatile nations that exist nearby. As the passenger left the vehicle, the captain of the vessel shouted, "Take care now!"

uwO looked at a digital poster that had an awfully familiar wanted poster. It was a terrible rendition that wasn't accurate at all.

"They were quick with these things," he muttered to himself before he searched for what served as the station's hotel.

"Honestly, I'd be very courteous. No use in escalating the situation further. It's not like I'm a Klingoff or a Nausicaan't. As for the thing you're looking for, might I be privileged enough to know what it is? Being part of the command staff gives me access to all of the information which flows through here, digital or not. I could assist with your task."

Deep Space Wintreath, Room 44-232, occupant HKR-07,

HKR-07

HKR looked at the engineer. No point in hiding anything. Might as well, as Kuark put it, put my latinum on the table.

"I doubt it. I'm looking for a ship.....the USS Wintreath. The first deep space expedition ever sent out by Wintreath. I've looked for years and found nothing."

Deep Space Wintreath, Medical Bay

It didn't take long for K011 to complete all of the lab stations the Doctor had requested him too, but as he worked he noticed a strange banging sound coming from the Doctor's Office. He'd pushed it aside while he was working being too preoccupied with keeping himself functional to put any thought into it. Now that he was done however his curiosity got the better of him. Seeing the Doctor was busy with a datapad, K011 hobbled into the office and saw the banging sound was coming from the shelf where Sol was locked in. As he watched and listened the banging became more violent. A twinge of concern spiking up through his spine the clone turned back into the main compartment of the Medbay and called out, "Doctor! There seems to be a problem!"

Deep Space Wintreath, Medical Bay

Kry had opened and closed the message at least a half dozen times, lost in thought before she heard K011, but it seemed that he was miles away. Shaking her head to clear it, she quickly crossed the room.

Almost instantly she heard the problem. Eyes widening, she opened the door to her office and then the door on the shelf.

"Sol..." She breathed. "How could you do this to yourself?"

Sol just looked up at her through her big black eyes, like she had every other time. But this time Kry thought she saw something more behind them. More than just wonder and excitement. There was no hint of her normal happiness. Some would call it determination. But more than that... confusion. Kry could feel it rolling off of her. Her head pounded, her heart beating faster. She dropped the data pad to the floor, using her extra appendages to keep herself upright.

"Sol! No!" She commanded. Then she mumbled, more to herself than to the plant, "I'm trying to help you."

Sol's skin was bruised as she pulled her hand away, a mark of just how vulnerable the plant was right now. The pounding headache slowed, becoming dull as she pulled away from the IM. Kry took a few steps backwards. In all her career, nothing came close to preparing her for this moment. For today in general. Kry had no idea what do do next.

Sol
Sol eyed Kry as she backed up. Her mind was screaming in time with her flesh. But the door was open.
Kry made no move to stop her as she landed on the floor, ruffling her leaves. She turned to the office door, and it slid open.

"Let her go." Kry's voice shook, a tone Sol had only heard once before in their time together. It was not a good tone.

Sol walked to the nearest window, just out the far corridor and a left turn down another for a while. Her tendrils pressed against the clear pane. It was out there somewhere. She had seen these stars before.

IM-739, 'Sol', shows little to no signs of improvement in training sessions. While other IMs eventually submit to the will of the government as you have requested, Sol continues to behave erratically.

The words burned in her mind. Others. Where were they now? Would they even help her? In this moment, Sol felt so very small. The illusion that nothing could hurt her had been stripped away today by her own doing. For the second time in one day, Sol was scared. This time for a whole new reason.

Deep Space Wintreath, Medbay

K011 watched as the severely damaged plant creature floated away. He did not say a word, following the Doctor's instructions to let Sol be. After Sol turned the corner K011 turned back to the Doctor and saw the distressed look on her face.

He felt an urge to try and offer assistance to the Doctor, but there was little a Marine Template was worse at than interacting with civilians in an emotionally supportive way. He sighed and walked back to his barracks for a moment to retrieve his bottle of whiskey. After effects be damned he thought, he needed to recuperate. He knew he couldn't sleep, so he would drink, and do the most comforting thing he could on this station.

Deep Space Wintreath, Dexar's Simulation Station

Tucked away in a former storage room lay the residence and business of the only former Bellarum citizen on Deep Space Wintreath, Dexar Purianus. A former Bellarum Navy Officer, Dexar was in K011's eyes as Venora had often liked to put it "An odd Duck."

While K011 still didn't fully grasp the meaning of the ancient human saying, and until far more recently than he should have, didn't know what a 'duck' was, Dexar was very strange to him indeed.

For one the man was the only one since Venora who persisted in calling K011 'Koll.' In general Dexar went out of his way to humanize K011, much to the latter's annoyance. Due to this, K011 tried to avoid Dexar's business as if it were a voided section of the station, however Dexar was the only one with access to what K011 needed who would actually give it to him.

The clone did his best to put on a deadpan expression and walked into 'The Simulation Station'.

Sitting on a couch next to the greeting desk casually eating from a bag of Bellarum raisins was Dexar. He was watching what K012 quickly realized was a pornographic holovid on the large flat screen on the wall.

Dexar quickly seemed to notice the clone's presence, "Hey Koll, long time no see. You want to sit down? it's getting to the best part." He waved to the clone urging him to sit.

"No thank you." K011 replied. "May I use one of your units?"

Dexar nodded, "Sure sure, take number five it's running best today. Take whatever program you want, anything for you pal."

K011 was pleased that Dexar was so distracted, allowing the clone to simply do what he wanted. He grabbed the program he was looking for and headed to the simulation pod. He slid the program drive into the pod and stepped into it. He sat down and picked up the 'plug' from its hanger and jacked it into the neural implant port in the back of his head. With a few more button presses he activated the simulation.

Before him, appeared a fully stocked Bellarum small arms firing range. K011 smiled and picked up the bottle of whiskey beside him unscrewing the cap and took a long swig getting four shots worth of the cheap booze. He stood up, stretched, and walked over to the gun rack, taking a rifle identical to the one he used during his service.

First he sat down at a table and disassembled the weapon to clean it before reassembling it. He went on to repeat the process a few times before eventually getting up to grab a number of magazines and a box of ammo. Once again he sat down at his station and loaded each magazine by hand, taking care to inspect every bullet. After that was done he was finally ready to step up to the range. He could feel the alcohol effecting him, but still chose to take another large swig before he shouldered his rifle and aimed down range. He picked his target, took a deep breath and as he slowly let the breath out he squeezed the trigger.