He took his ride and flew from the general parking complex of the station out towards the first wormhole. And swore as in his haste to get on the road he hadn’t taken the chemBoosters.
Too late now he was cleared for travel and a return to the station could tangle him up on an inspection. He made his way out into the area marked for outgoing traffic and swerved around a mining ship which had crashed with some Gunk tourists. All things, considering the Gunks, should be thankful. The mining ship could have caused worse damage. Shilo’s radar was showing incoming authorities responding to the crash.
Shilo sent his requested gate routes ahead and a small green light on his dash registered that his route had been accepted. FTL travel was simple, just some complex math and a series of blackholes. It was just a matter of falling into the right ones at the right time. That and not getting destroyed in the process. That and not losing your pie, coffee, or spleen in the process. Humans had a notoriously bad go at FTL travel and once more Shilo was kicking himself. He should just put some chemBoosters designed to mitigate the effects in his glove box.
The next part of his mission started when he dropped out of the last gate. It was already disorienting to begin with seeing the universe blink in, blink out, and finally blink back in without wavering. He’d tried once to FTL hop with his eye’s closed. Keeping them open was the better option; better being a relative term. He swerved and pushed a red button ejecting fuel and causing a fire and shunting all electricity on his ride.
Then he popped the door open to fetch his briefcase. His coat protected him from freezing, or overheating for that matter. A thin but remarkable skintight suit prevented him from expanding like a bubble. A small forcefield surrounding his mouth, eyes, and nose provided him with enough air to complete his task. Human ears had been modified long ago, along with dozens of other subtle things, to make exposure to space less lethal. However, his comfort level would dramatically plumet if he spent his time gawking at the planet below. It seemed pretty enough, considering the occupants. Readings confirmed that the atmosphere was breathable, which was shocking but agreed with the sowbu’s report.
Shilo popped the trunk open, then the briefcase, and a mess of a shimmering mist exploded from the briefcase and enveloped him. Nanobots coated his entire being. Beyond the tech being highly illegal, it was applied best in a vacuum at zero g.
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Now that he felt a bit more secure, for the moment, he took a chance to view the system. The FTL gate above him continued operation with no interruption. Ships blinked into space and took up orbit. The planet had been consumed by one single large city that looked uninteresting, the same patterns repeated over and over. The sameness of it was visible from orbit. Considering the inhabitants, he wasn’t surprised. He wasn’t shocked that they hadn’t bothered to check in on him. Mechanical failures when travelling FTL were known to happen. Even for them. Shilo’s ship likely got tagged for debris clean up. He’d make this a quick dash in and out. Enough gawking at the scenery.
He activated the mobile teleportation pad.
A large teleportation pad, somewhere on the repeating city blocks below flashed. Shilo shuffled off to join a group of others, shuffling metallic forms. Every heartbeat Shilo had, a new bot was teleported behind him. Another step forward. Artificial light reflected from Shilo’s shimmering silver paint job. Visually he looked unique, but taking in the sights, he observed a few outliers. Otherwise, he was surrounded by duplicates of twenty models or so. They looked the same, acted the same. Shuffled in sync with each other. Beyond the visual dissimilarity, Shilo’s protective nanobot covering must be working
Mech, mechanoids, synthetics, bionics. The galaxy was packed full of different variations of artificial life; most of them stuck clear of the core. Almost none of them cared to expand with ruthless might. Most had no variety. This cluster of mechs enjoyed music. That Shilo appreciated. A landscape of gears, factories and machines with a sky of smog became a slog of walking before lunchtime. The pie was still holding him over, but concern was growing about the slow progress. Shilo shuffled in beat to the whirls and zips and twangs around him. He did not anticipate the shift to the beat.
Shilo bumped into the mech in front of him. A series of buzzes and lights flashed around them. “Shit.” The word escaped his mouth. He was going to die here, or worse. Mechanicals were the worst. They reacted quickly and unkindly to uninvited guests.
The mech, similar in design in that it walked on two legs and a pair of visual sensors were on a dome that passed for its head, did not appreciate Shilo’s clumsiness. It twisted its neck to scan him.
Shilo dared not blink. Don’t shrug. He pressed a button to broadcast a boring message in response to the mechs inquiry. The alarms increased, rising in tempo, a rumble followed by a beat hitting a rhythm Shilo found rather enjoyable. The town resounded with what could only be described as rock and roll. The mechanoids around Shilo danced in motion. Arms and appendages whirled around. The more inquisitive and expressive bots banged on their surroundings, adding a drum beat to music. The antigravity train breaking, as it slowed above to enter the very skyscraper that Shilo was approaching, could only be described as a guitar solo.
The mech in front followed the crowd and crouched down, reducing their height and swaying to the beat.
