Chapter Text
Gevin took a moment to appreciate the quiet as the scanner pinpointed the den.
There was the hum of activity in the distance; primitive people going about their planetbound lives. Not a care in the world about a thousand year war. These Asgardian worlds were all so quiet.
They glanced down at the their handheld and tapped their claw through the acquisitions list. The animals all had weird dirt-eater names: Didelphis virginiana, Ailurus fulgens, Procyon lotor, Nasua narica, Myocastor coypus.
The scanner beeped, a quick pip! pip! pip!, and an arrow showed the way. Gevin put their handheld into their pocket, hooked their tail into the handle of the grav-sled, and followed the increasingly frantic pips to the source.
PIP!PIP!PIP!
They slashed their tail through the air in annoyance as they came to a stop and snaked their head up. "Of course it's in another cursed shell of a tree."
And not any tree, they were certain this had to be the tallest tree in the whole forest. It was certainly the most decrepit looking. One half was dead from a lightening strike, the other half in the process of dying.
"I fought in six wars, all glory to claw and egg!" They began pulling themself up the tree, limb by limb. " And now I climb trees."
They wedged themself in the V of two creaking branches, a few feet from the den. They reached inside and pulled out an ugly little furry thing by the scruff of its neck. It hissed and clawed at the leather guard on their arm. They held it up, inspecting it for injuries and signs of disease.
"You look healthy enough," Gevin said, turning it around as best they could while it gave its all to tear the scales right off their arm. "You carrying any flesh-eating monster bacteria? Membrane dissolving viruses?"
It hissed and then promptly peed on them.
"I hate wildlife acquisitions," Gevin sighed. "Give me an assassination any day." Though, that was what had led to this current job, a messy assassination and an even messier getaway. Better to lie low in the remote corner of the next galaxy over doing a shit job than try to outrun the Nova and Kree Empires everywhere they went. See if they ever did a job for Birgn Go family again.
They dropped the animal into the stasis box, pee dripping off its fur. There was nothing in the contract about the specimens being clean. Thank the all-knowing Pearl of the Heap that they didn't have to sterilize any of these things.
They reached back into the den and pulled out four more. The last one cowered in the back and bit the base of their claw clean down to the root.
"Sweet living filth!" they snarled. They threw the creature down into the stasis box with the others and slammed the lid closed. They nursed their bleeding claw as they jumped out of the tree.
They took out a marker and wrote 5 on the lid. They put the box on the grav-sled then sat down on the edge to take a better look at the damage. They tugged on the claw. It didn't feel loose. They checked their handheld to see if there was any notes on the wildlife being venomous.
There weren't any warnings but Gevin wasn't sure they wanted to trust their luck with that. Maybe their current employer – a condescending scientist type if their messages were anything to go by – didn't know they were requesting poisonous wildlife. They took out their knife and chopped the whole finger off before anything could spread. Better to spend a few months regrowing a finger than to die on some backwater planet in a shithole of a galaxy.
They slapped a bandage over the wound then tapped Procyon lotor on their handheld. They added five more to the count for an even forty . Now they just had to get the Ailurus fulgens and they were done.
Gevin pushed the grav-sled back to their ship and then had to fly clear across the whole damn planet to find a wild population of Ailurus fulgens.
They smelled awful.
At least it was the last stop.
Gevin closed up the last stasis box – four Ailurus fulgens kits and their parasites – then high-tailed it to the rendezvous point. It was an empty sector of space right at the boundary of the Nine Realms. Perfect for launching an ambush. They checked their canons again before hailing their employer; who didn't use names and never did video messages.
The response came fast, the scientist must have been waiting a jump point away. They popped into space half an hour later and didn't waste time docking with their ship.
Gevin opened the hatch. The scientist was waiting for them on the other side. They had that nondescript generic look to them, two arms, two legs, pale blue skin with that indigo tinge that hinted that they would probably bleed red, bristly setae a deep brown colour growing from their head, and tight grey clothes with just enough make-up to be practical.
The scientist looked through the stasis boxes. They scanned each of the animals, rejecting out of hand any they deemed too old or unhealthy. They frowned at the boxes containing the Didelphis virginiana and the Myocastor coypus . "Not quite what we were looking for, these two. I'll still pay the full price we agreed upon but I won't be taking them with me."
"What do you want me to do with the ones you don't take?" Gevin pointed a claw at the rejected stasis boxes off to the side.
"Whatever you want. Dump them, eat them, sell them." The scientist moved on to the next stasis box. "It doesn't matter to me."
"You sure?" Gevin had done a lot of stupid jobs for stupid rich people with more money than brains but paying them to dump an acquisition they had requested was a new one. "You paid a lot to just dump them."
"They're of no use to the project. I won't waste my efforts or further resources on them."
The scientist scanned the contents of the last box then pushed the grav-sled onto their ship. They closed the hatch. Gevin didn't waste time closing up their ship, they had the feeling the scientist wouldn't wait for the all safe light to come on before detaching.
The scientist's ship took off without warning. Gevin stared at the remaining stasis boxes. They tapped their claws on the nearest box. They shrugged, they'd gotten paid for them already, it really wasn't worth an Asgardian prison sentence for trying to smuggle wildlife out of the Nine Realms.
Gevin pushed the stasis boxes into the airlock. They closed the door and vented.
They went down to the cockpit, they'd see if that job on Torp was still up for grabs, they could use a straight forward corporate hostage taking after this. A message popped up from the scientist. Gevin tapped on it, maybe they wanted the other animals after all. There was still time to scoop up the stasis boxes before the vacuum got in and killed them.
The message was brief, did they want to participate in an AI base construction project? Pay seventeen thousand trusts.
***
"Are you serious?" Professor Namarink put her datapad down on the table and let her skin shimmer with incredulous blues and greens. She didn't care if the others thought it was unprofessional. This was by far the most moronic thing she'd ever had to put up with and that was including putting a technician on the committee. It was borderline disrespectful!
Dr. Yweven was at the top of their field. His team was supposed to be the best in two galaxies. It was an honour and a privilege to work with him. And yet here she was having to put up with this!
Dr. Rria sighed and looked up from her own datapad. "About...?"
"This– this Shirl character!" Professor Namarink stabbed her finger at the datapad. "She's barely filled out a single thing in the form. All she did for the relevant experience section was attach forty hours of video of news clips and parties, and a bunch of bookmaker histories."
"Did you watch the videos?" Dr. Rria asked, calmly setting her own datapad down. She stared at Professor Namarink from across the table in that creepy soul crushing way people with predatory ancestors had.
Well, Professor Namarink was not one to be intimidated. She stared right back. "She didn't even list her citizenship or ethnicity."
The image that had been attached to the form suggested the candidate was probably Arcturan with some Kree heritage but that was as good a guess as any. The woman could be anything. Maybe the blue tinge to her face was makeup. Or an image filter. Or bad lighting.
"Does that matter?" Dr. Rria barred her fangs ever so slightly.
Ha! Who was being unprofessional now? Clearly she'd caught her not reading the reviews and trying to shirk the workload. This was exactly why she usually steered clear of working on group projects with predatory species. You just couldn't trust them to look out for anyone but themselves.
Before Professor Namarink could accuse her of such the rest of the personality committee filed into the room. They took seats at the table and wasted no time in getting to work. It would make Dr. Rria's actions look all the worse.
Project Manager Oruse sat down beside Professor Namarink and glanced at her datapad. "Already started? Who are you reviewing?"
"Rria," Professor Namarink began, purposefully dropping Dr. Rria's honorific title, "wants to consider this reprobate as a candidate for the pilot impression."
Technician Enior sat down on Professor Namarink's other side and glanced over at the opened the file. His eyes went wide as he let out a shocked hoot. "Shirl? Shirl applied!? THE SHIRL!?"
"Does that mean something?" Project Manager Oruse asked. He looked between Professor Namarink and Dr. Rria. But Technician Enior was first to respond.
"Shirl has run every major league race and won in the Arcturus system, the Kree Empire, and Gramos! And they've done all the big edge race circuits. And the tri-station race. And the Aments debris field race. And the bloc—"
"They're a race ship pilot," Project Manager Oruse interrupted.
"They're the race ship pilot. They're undefeated. I don't even know why she'd apply, she could make this kind of money in an hour." Technician Enior tapped furiously at his datapad, pulling up a list of statistics. "Look. They hold the records for best time in—"
"They're a very good race ship pilot," Project Manager Oruse said, stopping Technician Enior before he could get them completely off topic.
Technician Enior nodded then gave a shy hoot. "If...if she actually comes in for the impression scan can I do it?"
"We are not picking a race ship pilot," Professor Namarink said, letting her skin fade to a firm green. She wasn't going to let the project fail before it started. "We're looking for military experience. For military crafts. Because we are making advanced military weapons."
"We're looking for someone who will tie the skill sets together and use them with confidence under pressure." Dr. Rria ran her tongue over her fangs and tapped her claws on the datapad. "And really, the only one that needs military experience is the gunner. It's probably for the best that we don't load the crews with self aggrandizing military types."
"I'm not too sure about that honestly," Project Manager Oruse said. He picked up his datapad and started scrolling through the candidate reports. "Do we really want to pick a government funded serial killer and make a bunch of personality copies? What if they turn on the rest of the crew? Or us? We should use an asteroid sweeper for the gunner. All the predisposition to dangerous situations without the casual violence."
"We need the predisposition to casual violence," Professor Namarink insisted. How was she – the only one in the room descendant from herbivores – the only one capable of seeing that they needed experience with violence? "If they're anxious about killing what use will they be? We are making killers. Not civil servants."
"What if we scanned new military recruits and did a five year study?" Technician Enior suggested. It was a perfectly safe suggestion, something she would expect from an entry level technician. No consideration for future technological strides. "See who thrives and who dies. We'd get a personality with a predisposition to violence before the real world application. They'd grow into it as we trained them."
"We don't have five years for a candidate study," Dr. Rria interjected.
"Why not?" Technician Enior asked, honestly. "What's five years in a centuries old war?"
"How about a weapons engineer for the gunner?" Dr. Rria tapped on her datapad, sending a list of possible candidates to each of them. "Low ethical dilemmas, familiarity with weapons, and high problem solving."
"Wouldn't we want a weapons engineer as the mechanic?" Project Manager Oruse said, frowning at the list Dr. Rria sent.
Dr. Rria added a few more names to the list and updated it. "What's a weapons engineer going to know about engines?"
"What's an engineer going to know about combat?" Professor Namarink retorted. She let the colours on her skin simmer into a disgruntled orange. How had any of her co-workers been chosen for the personality committee? They might all be in the top of their perspective fields – except the technician, really, why was he on the committee? – but she doubted that even one of them had ever conducted a candidate review in their lives. Dr. Yweven was lucky to have her expertise on the team, otherwise this would be a complete disaster. She sent them a file she had bookmarked. "This is what we're looking for, a veteran who fought for forty-seven years and retired to contract work."
"Contract killing. They're an assassin. We want a gunner." Project Manager Oruse bristled. "And they don't list any team experience in the last thirty years."
"I– I agree with Dr. Rria and Professor Namarink," Technician Enior said, cautiously. Everyone turned to look at him. His feathers bristled at the attention.
"Go on," Professor Namarink encouraged, interested to see what she could possibly have in common with Dr. Rria and an entry level technician.
"Dr. Rria is right, we don't want to load the crew with ego heavy military people. We should only consider it for the gunner. But we need someone who will follow rules, mission goals." Technician Enior feathers settled as no one interrupted. "And Professor Namarink is right too, the gunner needs a predisposition to violence. A veteran who works contracts and never goes outside the scope of the contract sounds like someone predisposed to violence who can follow rules."
"...I'll approve them for further review before advancement to the final candidate pool." Project Manager Oruse said. He tapped his datapad, a bright green mark appeared against the potential gunner profile.
Maybe Project Manager Oruse wasn't as much of a fool as she'd thought. He couldn't—
"And your race ship pilot, Enior."
A green mark appeared beside Dr. Rria's ridiculous pilot. Professor Namarink's skin exploded into furious yellow before she could stop it.
***
Vuen filled the last syringe with the neural development cocktail and set it down on the cart. Dr. Yweven had been developing the formula for seventeen years and by some miracle Vuen had landed a technicain job in his lab right when product testing was about to begin.
There wasn't anywhere better, more cutting edge, they could imagine being. This was going to look so good on a resume. Product development and testing with the Dr. Yweven on a project that was going to save billions of lives. No more soldiers on the front line waiting to die for their government's whims.
"How long have these things been in stasis?" asked Enior, crossing the lab to take a chip gun from the cabinet. He grabbed the closest gun and loaded it up.
Vuen looked at the lab's datapad and flicked through until they found a delivery date. They hadn't been given any project specific information before hand. They'd been told that they'd have access in the lab only due to proprietary concerns.
Vuen found what they were looking for on page four. It was just a quick description of the procurement process. "At least ten years. Dr. Yweven spent two years personally acquiring the subjects."
"Ten years? These things' brains are going to be mush by now." Enior went to stand in front of the pile of stasis boxes. He ran his hand across the tops of the boxes and grimaced at the dust that came away. He wiped it off on his lab coat. "Guess that's what the neural development treatments are for."
"Ten years shouldn't have done much, if any, damage, if the stasis units are working properly." Vuen pushed the cart with the syringes across the lab. They stopped beside Enior. "Ready?"
They had to work fast, taking anything living directly out of stasis would almost inevitably kill it within minutes. The lab procedure gave them just one hundred seconds to chip and inject each animal before it was returned to the stasis boxes for a slow wake up while the neural development cocktail prompted neural complexity growth.
"Ready." Enior opened the first box. He pulled an animal out by the scruff of its neck. It hung limp in his hand.
They both stared at the animal. Its fur was a rich reddish brown except for a white mask on its face and some lighter colouring on its chest. Its long red-brown tail had faint rings of a darker brown circling it to the bottom.
"What is it?" Vuen cocked their head, as if maybe from a different angle it would suddenly seem familiar. They'd never seen anything like this before. Where had Dr. Yweven found it?
"Uh..." Enior checked the label. "Species NRNN?"
"That can't be its name." Vuen checked the label but there it was: NRNN. They peered at the animal, the NRNN.
Enior raised and lowered his feathers on his head. "That's all Dr. Yweven listed." Hebrought the chip gun up to the animal's neck and waited for the beep from the datapad to confirm the chip had activated and the animal was linked to the subject program.
Vuen took the animal from Enior and injected it with the neural development cocktail then put it back into the stasis box. They turned on the slow wake routine with twelve seconds to spare.
They took a moment to read the labels on other stasis boxes while Enior chipped the next animal. There wasn't any date or location data on any of the boxes and all the animals were labelled like the first, NRNN, NRPL, or NRAF.
Vuen took the next animal as Enior handed it off to them. They injected it and put it back into the box then picked up the datapad and started scrolling through the project materials.
There was almost nothing. The animals had been acquired over a two year time period then put into stasis. There was no planet listed. No species name. No natural history.
Vuen frowned at the datapad. How were they supposed to work with these animals if they didn't even know their behavioural characteristics? Their dietary requirements? Their medical history?
"What's wrong?" Enior passed another animal over.
"We were told we'd have access to species and subject data once we were in the lab but there's almost nothing here," Vuen said, nodding at the datapad as they injected the next animal. "The lack of information seems almost...paranoid. We passed all the security clearances. Why not give it to us?"
"I think paranoia is a part of the job description," Enior said, opening the next box. "Military development is always a little bit shady."
"You've worked in MD before?" Vuen got the next syringe ready.
"Oh yeah, a couple of years with the Nova Empire developing counter AI defenses, a couple more in Gramos doing integrated cybernetics."
Vuen was assaulted by a rush of impostor syndrome. They had thought Enior had similar experience, university research work with a few short term commercial contracts. Why had Dr. Yweven hired them when he could find people like Enior?
Enior gave a hoot of surprise when the next box had a new kind of animal in it. "Oh! The NRAF is cute."
The animal was more red than brown than the first ones and still had a white mask but this one had black coloured legs, like full length stockings.
"It's like it's got little pants on!" Enior said, delighted. He pressed the chip gun against its neck.
Vuen took the animal once the datapad beeped.
"What do you think NR stands for?" Enior asked, absently. "I think PL, NN, and AF are short-hands for the species names but what would NR be then?" He gave another pleased hoot when the next animal turned out to be another NRAF. "Oh, down feathers, I want one."
"Maybe it's a supplier name," Vuen suggested. "Or planet name."
They worked through a few more boxes before a name occurred to Vuen. "New Rutn."
"Huh?" Enior pulled out the next animal. It didn't look like the other two kinds. It had to the NRPL. It was more of a grey-ish brown, with a black and white ringed tail and a black mask framed in white.
"A planet name," Vuen explained. "New Rutn. N R."
"Oh. Right." Enior chipped the animal then passed it to Vuen. "...Na'Rebser."
"I doubt it." Vuen injected the animal and put it back into stasis. "Most of its fauna are aquatic isopods and fish. I don't think there's even one mammalian species on the planet, let alone three."
"Nine Realms," Enior said as he chipped the next animal. The datapad beeped its confirmation. He passed the animal to Vuen.
"Naodit Reqgiv." Vuen grabbed a handful of scruff and injected the animal. They set the empty syringe down too close to the edge of the cart. It fell to the floor needle down, directly at their foot. Vuen jerked their foot away just in time.
"Isn't it Naod'req Itgiv?" Enior stooped down and picked up the syringe. He tossed it onto the used pile.
Vuen paused, their face scrunching up in an effort to visualize the swirly writing system of the planet. "No, it's definitely Naodit Reqgiv."
"I'm looking it up." Enior grabbed the datapad and started typing.
"That doesn't have outside access," Vuen pointed out. They picked up a syringe and gathered up a handful of the animal's scruff. They injected the animal and—
"Did you just inject it again?" Enior asked, feathers on his head raising and falling.
"Again?" Vuen looked down at the animal then back at the pile of used syringes. They put the animal in the stasis box then counted the used syringes. "I've got fourteen."
"That was subject thirteen." Enior pointed at the list of active chips on the datapad. "What should we do?"
Vuen looked between the stasis box and the datapad. "...I'll add it to the notes then ask Dr. Yweven what he wants to do with it."
"...you think twice the neural development means twice as smart?" Enior asked, a playful note to their voice. "Or do you think it's an exponential kind of thing?"
Vuen sighed. There was nothing to joke about. They had just made a multi-million cred mistake on their first day. "I think it means twice as expensive of a mistake."