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Ideally, when a Persona is activated a parahuman figure is projected into the user’s augmented reality or an attached volumetric display, sometimes even using a swarm of utility fog. The user then explains what they want the non-sentient AI to do and it performs the task. In the case of GenAsIs they are supposed to pick the fabricator blueprint that best matches the user’s request from their database, or develop an approximation from the compiled data. In practice, unless the user is very specific with what they want GenAsIs tend to produce the most expensive version that the user can afford, or a ramshackle kludge that breaks or even explodes when used.

GenAsIs in Scavenger: Any FedTech Fabricator of TL 9 or higher has a 50% chance of containing a GenAsI. Like most Personas (as detailed in Ch.15: High Technology) they have 2D in every mental characteristic (INT, EDU, and SOC) and 1D skill ranks spread between Engineering and Repair. A user can command the GenAsI to fabricate items using its own characteristics and skills instead of the users’ as normal. But the user needs to succeed on a Liaison or Engineering check with a TN equal to the desired item’s TL, on a failure the GenAsI fabricates the wrong item. If commanded to make an item that isn’t in the GenAsI’s library roll 1D after fabrication is complete, on a 2-4 the item breaks after one use and on a 1 the item explodes (dealing 1D damage to the user) before use.

Field Fabricator (TL 12): A cylinder about half a meter long and ten centimeters in diameter, when the endcap is removed a swarm of advanced utility fog spills out and forms the avatar of the device’s GenAsI. When commanded to fabricate the UFog scavenges local raw materials to assemble the desired item. A Field Fabricator can produce one major item of personal gear or three minor items per day before needing to recharge.

However, because FFs were usually intended for military use, they tend to have security protocols in place and because of their UFog they actually have a “body.” The FF’s avatar has a STR of 1D and DEX and END of 2D, however it has Protection 10 against kinetic weapons, energy weapons (fire, lasers, plasma, etc) deal full damage. In addition to the standard GenAsI skills it also has the Technomagic skill of Telekinesis with 1D-2 ranks and 2D Power.

The Slipstream continued on its path through empty space as if nothing had happened. But onboard, the small crew were making preparations. As the pirate ship began to burn and maneuver closer to the Slipstream, a badger and lion were busy tying a crude armature to the inner airlock.

“Are you sure this’ll work?” Orlando inquired.

Kailyn snorted, “we lost so many men to these things at the pole, they are effective.”

“Yeah,” the badger admitted. “But that was in gravity. How do you know it’ll work in null-g?”

“Springs don’t rely on gravity,” she tweaked a spring stretched taut between the lever and a brace.

“Hey,” Jarlan called over the intercom. “Our visitors just cut their drive and switched to cold jets. They’ll be here in a couple of minutes at most. If you want to see them visually, head on up to the bridge.”

Kailyn flung herself across the room to the hatch, and slammed into the opposing wall as a result. More carefully, she reached for the handholds built into the wall and hauled herself into the cockpit. There, Jarlan pointed to a monitor showing a menacing black shape outlined against the stars. Even visually she could make out the ship’s oversized engines on its long, narrow hull. A white canine skull in front of a pair of crossed femurs slowly came into view as the ship rotated.

“I think it’s pretty safe to assume they’re pirates now, don’t you?” Jarlan noted.

“That’s a Corsair-class pocket frigate,” Kailyn identified the craft. “I thought they were all decommissioned?”

“Apparently this one found its way onto the secondary market,” the vulpine replied. “Unless your people are doing some “off-books” work.”

Kailyn snarled, “it was your people who hired pirates to raid our shipping.”

“Privateers,” Jarlan corrected. “And I was considering joining the program but they discontinued it after the war.”

Kailyn continued to scowl at them, but reminded herself that they needed to prepare for combat. She turned back to the ship’s survival locker at the back of the cockpit. Two narrow rifles stood in their racks. “Are those really the only weapons on board?”

Jarlan drifted past her, stopping deftly at the doorframe of the locker and pulling one rifle loose. “The demilitarization team took all the accelerator guns. We’re lucky they added this civvie survival kit.” Flipping the gun around they attached a gas canister to the stock and rummaged carefully through the ammo box. “Better use flechette rounds, they’ll probably be in suits.”

The lioness checked her body pistol, cursing herself for not bringing anything larger.

A soft *thud* resounded throughout the ship. Jarlan returned to their console and flicked through several screens in quick succession. “They’re launching harpoons.”

Kailyn nodded and drifted towards the iris valve. “Any indication which airlock they’ll be entering through?”

“It could be either the cockpit or the cargo bay,” Jarlan answered. “Maybe even both at once depending on how many of them there are.”

“Which would you say is more likely?” Kailyn inquired pointedly.

Jarlan thought for a minute before answering, “the cockpit. They’ll want to neutralize the crew before they start taking cargo.”

Kailyn nodded in agreement. She picked up one of the lever apparatuses and set it on the cockpit airlock. Then she carefully strung a thin wire across the doorway (Recon: 6+2+1=9, Success). Another harpoon thudded into the hull and the three crew/passengers of the Slipstream moved to take up positions around the iris valve on the stateroom side.

Jarlan flipped on a screen in one of the stateroom deck walls and set it to a video feed of the pirate ship as it drew them closer with its harpoon lines. Small objects detached from the Corsair-class and flew slowly towards them. A quick zoom-in showed them to have humanoid shapes. “Guess they’re taking a space walk instead of forcing a dock. I could blast them with the sandcaster before they land.”

“Then their compatriots will just blast the ship full of holes and salvage the pieces,” Kailyn retorted.

“You’re the expert on asymmetric combat here,” Jarlan grumbled in response. A couple minutes later the airlock sounded an alert. A space-suited figure drifted in front of the control panel, an accelerator rifle slung across their front, pulling at the mechanical controls. Behind them, half a dozen more pirates clung to the hull with magnetic grapples. Each of them bearing the same skull-and-bones emblem on their dark blue spacesuits.

“That airlock can fit, what? Three people?” Kailyn inquired.

“Four if they squeeze in,” Jarlan replied. “Let’s hope that trap of yours takes out at least one of them.”

The outer hatch slid open on the screen and the pirate who’d been working on the control panel crawled through, followed by two more. The outer hatch closed again and the hiss of pipes pumping air into the lock reverberated through the ship.

Jarlan, Kailyn, and Orlando carefully arrayed themselves around the hatch, each clinging to a different wall as they brought their weapons to bear. Orlando glanced nervously around, eye settling on Kailyn’s small pistol. “Are you sure you don’t want a bigger gun?” he inquired, gesturing to his rifle.

“This tiny thing has more recoil than your air rifles,” the lion pointed out. “I’ll take one of their gyrojets after we kill the first group.” She checked her magazine one last time. “Really we should all pick up their guns.”

The inner airlock finally opened and a pirate lunged forward.

Initiative:

Trap: 13

Pirate 1: 10

Jarlan: 9

Kailyn: 9

Orlando: 8

Pirate 2: 7

Pirate 3: 4

The spiked lever trap swung into the lead pirate as they ran straight into the tripwire (DMG:5+1=6, -6 Protection=0), knocking them back into the airlock and embedding itself in their suit. Jarlan squeezed off a shot at the pirate (6+4-2=8, Success. DMG: 6+5=11, Knockdown. -6 Protection=5, END 7-5=2). Kailyn shot her pistol at the same pirate (5+3+1-2=7, miss) but missed. Orlando’s shot (3+2-3-2=0) went wild as the recoil sent him reeling.

Another pirate still in the airlock leveled their rifle around their stricken companion, flares shot out of the sides of the barrel as the miniature rocket inside ignited and streaked out at the exposed badger (6+4+1=11, effect 3. DMG: 2+2+1+3=8. END 7-8=-1, DEX 7-1=6). The third pirate followed up on the same target (6+2+1=9, effect 1. DMG: 5+3+5+1=14. DEX 6-14=-8, STR 7-8=dead), skewering him in the chest.

The lead pirate managed to rip the spikes free, tearing out a chunk of their suit in the process. Glaring, they blasted a gyrojet at Jarlan (2+1+1=4), which sailed harmlessly between their ears and ricocheted off the wall behind them. Jarlan shot a flechette in response (2+2-2=2), and immediately ducked under the hatchway. Kailyn popped off another bullet at the front pirate (6+6+1-2=11, effect 3 DMG: 3+2+3=8, Protection-6=2. END 2-2=0, unconscious 1D minutes).

The second pirate launched themself through the iris valve and shot at Kailyn (3+1+1=5), only for it to go wide. The third pirate cranked the lever to close the airlock, shouted “fuck you!” and fired two rockets at Kailyn (4+3+1=8, DMG 2+1+6+1 double-tap=10. END 5-10=-5, STR 12-5=7, unconscious).

The lioness was knocked loose from her perch, a hole in her shoulder streaming blood. Jarlan watched her drift, then turned to Orlando, hanging limply in the air, and then to the pirate on the stateroom deck aiming their rifle at them. Ears drooped and tail tucked between their legs, Jarlan dropped their rifle and let it drift away. “I surrender.”

The pirate behind Jarlan lowered their rifle, “you surrender huh? Was that spike thing your idea?”

“No,” the vulpine claimed. “But I’m the captain, you’ll need my bio-signature to transfer the ship to your control.”

“I’m sure our hackers could unlock it eventually,” the pirate’s hand drifted towards a revolver at their hip.

“This was a military ship, if you try hacking in the servers will wipe themselves and you won’t get our data.” Jarlan objected.

The pirate paused, “what data.”

Jarlan glanced over at Orlando’s limp body, and Kailyn was bleeding but still twitching. “If you let me treat my passengers and drop us off safely, I’ll give you the coordinates to a Federation wreck.”

—

Kailyn blinked, her eye was having trouble focusing on the multi-colored figure in front of her. Were they friend or foe? She began to tense her claws before recognizing their voice.

“Oh good you’re awake,” Jarlan exclaimed with relief. They waved a medical scanner over her body. “I was starting to worry that I’d lose both my passengers.”

The lioness noticed an ache in her shoulder and tried to turn to look, but a sharp pain stopped her short. Kailyn fought through the fog of pain as she realized the implications of Jarlan’s comment. “Wait, what happened to Orlando?”

The vulpine’s ears drooped, “he… didn’t make it.”

“Damn,” the lioness tried to look around the room, it resembled her own stateroom, but the walls were adorned with posters depicting the star system, across which a pristine courier ship like the Slipstream but thirty years newer streaked, followed by the D’kaarjy company logo. “Is this your cabin?”

“Yeah,” Jarlan admitted. “The pirates wanted us in one place while they…” they made a sweeping gesture. 

Kailyn started to growl in frustration at Jarlan for surrendering, but another thought rose to quash it in despair. They’d been doomed from the start, there had never been any way for them to prevail. And now she couldn’t even achieve an honorable death. All she had to look forward to now was an undignified execution or ransom back to her pride. “Did they say what they planned to do with us?”

“I offered to give them the coordinates to that wreck Orlando spotted,” Jarlan explained. “In exchange for our lives.”

As Kailyn considered what they could do next, the cabin’s wall-mounted monitor came on and the scarred visage of a hyena with a crude prosthetic eye appeared. “So, while we’re loading our new cargo, how about we discuss what’s going to happen to you two?”

Kailyn lunged towards the screen, provoking a twinge of pain in her shoulder. “And whom might we be speaking to?”

The hyena snarled in response. “Captain Yrar of the Meteor Reaver, and you’d be wise to show me some respect missy! Seeing how I literally hold your life in my hands.”

She heard a click off to the side and carefully turned to see a pirate standing in the doorway, a short-barreled revolver held in their spacesuit’s glove. Kailyn studied the gun for a few tense moments, evaluating how effectively it might kill the both of them before she could do anything. Maybe she could take the pirate out if she sacrificed Jarlan, but then the other pirates would kill her for sure. She had no choice but to concede, for now. “My apologies.”

“Well,” Year nodded. “I’ve been thinking of what exactly to do with you. We normally don’t take prisoners, too much trouble you know.”

“We had a deal,” Jarlan protested. “I give you the coordinates and you let us live.”

“Those were the terms,” the pirate replied. “But how do I know whatever is in that wreck is actually worth your lives? So allow me to make a small amendment.”

Kailyn slowly turned to glare at Jarlan again.

Yrar continued, “we take all your cargo, leave you two on your ship with Smokey there,” their guard tapped on the doorframe. “And when we get to the wreck you can test it for defenses. If you live I’ll let you sign on to my crew or dump you in an escape pod, your choice.”

Jarlan stared anxiously at the screen, “what do you mean by “test?””

Yrar let out a disturbing chuckle. “So, it turns out that those coordinates you gave us weren’t exactly unknown. You see, there’s this little Belter legend. Ever heard of Jin’s Fall?”

Jarlan’s ears shot straight up, “that’s where we’re going?”

“Guess you should have done your research,” Yrar grinned, showing a set of metallic teeth. “Captain.”

“What?” Kailyn inquired with trepidation. “Is Jin’s Fall?”

“Just some space myth,” Jarlan tried to reassure her.

“Oh, it’s no myth,” Yrar interjected, holding up a weathered memory chip. “I happen to have a first-hand recording of their last transmission. How about we give it a listen?”

There was a click as he slotted the chip into his console. A few moments later a burst of radio static came over the line.

“I’m approaching the structure,” a soft voice called amid the static. “It looks like an unfinished habitat. There’s this big hole in the ring but it doesn’t look damaged. I don’t see any docking ports, maybe I can tether myself in the hole.” After several agonizing minutes of silence Jin spoke again, “almost in there, just…”

They were cut off by the sound of several large objects crashing around, followed by a long, wordless scream. After another crash the recording cut out entirely.

Yrar laughed again, “all that was found of Jin’s ship were a few little bits of scrap.” He popped the chip out and flipped it about in the air. “So, do you agree to my new terms or shall we toss you out the airlock now?”

Jarlan seemed frozen with indecision. Kailyn knew that it was a bad deal, but maybe they could still iron out a few of the fine details…

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The morning after the card game Kailyn strode down the station promenade to the docking ring. Ships were nestled into the two outermost decks of the station’s habitation ring, clamped into adjustable sockets with boarding ramps for loading passengers on the upper deck and cargo on the lower. As she walked, pushing her luggage cart in front of her, she noticed someone dressed as a M’Kusan noble amidst an entourage of servants. Kailyn reflexively turned away, he was a jaguar, not a lion, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t know her pride. 

Fortunately he seemed unable to notice anyone hauling their own luggage. Once he passed she was able to focus on the docking bay numbers, E-7, 8, 9, 10… There it was, E-11.

She checked the display next to the airlock to make sure. The Slipstream, operated by Slipstream Shipping, this was it. She tapped the intercom and waited. After thirty seconds with no response she buzzed it again. After just a couple more moments a high-pitched voice crackled through the comm, “yes?”

Kailyn groaned, “passenger waiting to board.”

“What?” the voice on the intercom asked, confused. “Oh, right, the game. Just let me unlock the door quickly.”

She heard some pumping and clanking noises, after about a minute the light on the door turned green and she turned the handle. On the other side of the door she stepped out onto a metal gangplank extended through a clear plastic tube that led to the most dilapidated spaceship she’d ever seen.

From what she could tell it was a basic wedge-shaped vessel designed for space and atmospheric flight, but with what looked like fifty to a hundred years of micro-meteor punctures and blast-scoring she wouldn’t trust it on re-entry. Upon reaching the end of the gangplank she pressed the button on the corresponding airlock and waited. A couple seconds later the outer hatch closed behind her and she heard the hiss of escaping air. She waited patiently, until her ears popped.

Kailyn’s muscles tensed, was the old ship leaking out into space? Or perhaps the Kaarjan had changed their mind about taking on mysterious passengers? Mask! Where was her breather? She tore into her bags, throwing neatly folded clothes aside in her frantic search. Finally, she found it– a small muzzle-mask with filters and a small air bottle good for ten minutes. Just as she began to strap it on and open the bottle, the inner hatch opened.

Jarlan, seated in a half-reclined acceleration chair, turned to face her. “Welcome aboard the Slipstream.” They paused and took a look at the mess in the airlock. “Did you forget that D’kaarjy’s air is thinner than M’kusa’s?” they asked with a chuckle.

“I thought,” Kailyn gasped. “That you lived in domes and caves?” She took her mask off and adjusted the settings to compress the ambient atmosphere instead of drawing on the limited bottle.

“The higher the air pressure inside,” Orlando, the badger they’d played with the previous night, stepped out from behind Jarlan’s chair. “The faster it leaks out. A lot of Belter habs use Kaarjan air, it feels like I’m breathing soup on this station.”

Kailyn forced her mask back on, compressors whirring. “I’d hope that my stateroom has individual environmental controls at least.”

“Yeah,” Jarlan replied. “But there’s no airlock so expect your ears to pop every time you open the door.”

“Hmmph,” Kailyn bent down to scoop her scattered clothes back into her bags. As she was forcing in a once carefully folded dress she realized something. “What are you doing here rockhound?”

Orlando grinned at her, “the captain wanted to hear more about that wreck I spotted. Looks like I’ll be coming with you two. We were just negotiating my share.”

“And searching for cargoes,” Jarlan added. “Our funds are a bit thin at the moment. We’ll need to buy fuel and other supplies if we’re going scavenging.”

Kailyn drew in a breath through the compressors. “In the meantime would you mind showing me to my cabin?”

Jarlan nodded and stood up, leading her to a meter-wide iris valve in the floor. They pressed a button next to the hatch and it expanded open, revealing a ladder to the next deck.

Kailyn stared down the passage as Jarlan began to climb down. “How am I supposed to get my luggage down there?” she inquired.

“That’s easy,” the canid answered. “We’ll strap it down in the cockpit until burn’s done and then float it over.”

The lioness crouched down, holding her skirt close to prevent them from seeing anything. “And how long will the burn take?”

“That depends on how heavy you’d like to be,” Jarlan explained. “We can do five hours at 1G, ten at half a G, or two and a half at 2G.”

Kailyn glanced back at her four bags, each massing about twenty kilograms, containing all the possessions she could take with her when it was clear she’d worn out her welcome at the pride’s compound. “Five hours will be fine. I’m coming down so I can see the room, kindly refrain from looking up.”

Jarlan made a show of jumping off the ladder and spinning away from it. As Kailyn took hold of the rungs they added, “that outfit isn’t too practical for null-g you know, sure you don’t want to change?”

The lioness let out an annoyed growl, bunching up her skirts as she climbed down. The bare deck plates of the second deck were no more impressive than the hull of the ship. But at least it was clean. In fact, the only signs of wear and tear she could see were a row of pock-marks in one of the walls that looked suspiciously like low-velocity bullet dents. “Captain,” she thought. “Was this a warship?”

“Recon/courier,” they answered. “I served on a similar, but slightly newer ship during the Belt Brushfires of ‘98. What about you? Have you ever served?”

Kailyn stepped gingerly off the ladder. “I believe you’d call me a “ground-pounder.” I fought some insurgents at M’kusa’s south pole but the only time I’ve been on a ship bigger than a shuttle was the passenger transport to L4.”

Jarlan nodded and turned towards another iris hatch in one of the walls, stepping around some recessed handholds in the floor. “Here’s your room, be advised that in the unlikely event of a planetary landing everything will be rotated ninety degrees.”

Kailyn followed, the room was sparsely appointed, but she didn’t have that much experience with spaceship accommodations to begin with. The canid gestured to a sleeping bag hooked onto the wall, “bed’s here.” They pointed to a set of cube-shaped drawers in a corner, “wardrobe,” a disturbing set of hoses and what looked like a plastic sleeping bag, “lavatory and shower,” and finally to a panel clipped to the opposite wall, “and desk. There’s some extra ties in the drawers, be sure to secure everything before takeoff.”

“When is takeoff?” Kailyn inquired.

Jarlan’s ears drooped, “that would depend on when we find a cargo.”

“If it’ll be that long,” the lion suggested. “May I request that you help me bring one of my bags down now so I can change? You can pass it down the hatch and I’ll catch it.”

“Alright,” Jarlan turned and climbed the ladder back to the cockpit. Their fluffy tail swished as they rose. Kailyn self-consciously looked away, and tried to focus on her comm-watch. (Dice roll: 5+4+1(Soc)+1(Liaison), success). She found the contact info for one of her old classmates and shot her a quick message before Jarlan called down for her. “Which bag did you want?”

“The chartreuse one with three compartments,” Kailyn called back. She stepped out and glanced up at the hatch, trying not to think about the Kaarjan’s tight jumpsuit.

Jarlan dragged a yellow-green suitcase into view, “this one?”

“Yes,” Kailyn answered. With confirmation Jarlan knelt down and gently lowered the case into the hatch, groaning with the effort. Once it was within reach the lioness easily took hold and carried it into her stateroom.

Half an hour later she’d changed into a loose pair of pants and blouse and climbed back up the ladder to the cockpit. Jarlan and Orlando were pouring over a set of orbital charts. “Sure, it’s closer than Enki, but we have no idea if there’s any fuel there,” the canid said.

“There are plenty of ice asteroids in the area,” the badger retorted. “This ship does have fuel processors, right?”

“Yes, but that’ll mean another week with Miss Mysterious on board, not to mention that whatever cargo we might be hauling will take up space we could use for salvage.”

“If I were to state my preference,” Kailyn added, prompting the badger to leap up with a start. Jarlan only flicked an ear at her. “I would like to go straight to Enki.”

“That’s fair enough,” Jarlan replied. “Now if only we had…” they paused as a notification popped up on the monitor. The Trade House of Kohl needed eight tons of unrefined lanthanide ore transported to Enki, they were offering 16,000 credits for the job.

“Well,” Jarlan noted. “That would cover our fuel costs at least. Wonder how they got my contact info though?”

“You’re welcome,” Kailyn stated. She started to back down the ladder as Jarlan simply stared back at her in astonishment.

—

It took only a couple hours for the station’s freight transports to load up the cargo hold, that deck being open to vacuum and mostly automated. Once the hatches were locked down Jarlan invited Kaily back up to the cockpit for launch.

As she entered the cockpit and closed the iris hatch behind her the canid spoke into their radio. “Slipstream to L4 traffic control, requesting a flight path to Enki.” Covering the microphone they turned to Kailyn. “Better strap in, this station turns fast.”

The heads-up-display on the windshield showed a spinning wheel overlaid with colored wedges. Almost half of the wheel was red, with two large slices of yellow to either side and a thin slice of green between the yellow wedges. A blinking dot raced around the edge of the wheel, passing from the red to yellow just as the lion took her seat and began fumbling with the restraints. She was still trying to fasten the harness when the dot on the screen hit the green wedge, Jarlan slammed a button on their console, and the floor dropped out beneath them.

Through the synthetic sapphire windshield the docking bay receded and the rim of L4 station’s habitation ring gradually came into view.

“Cleared docking space,” Jarlan explained. “Beginning flip and burn.” The ship turned slowly away from the retreating station. Kailyn realized that she was weightless, nothing holding her down but the harness in her chair. The cold stars outside stopped rotating around them and the pilot announced “burn in 3… 2… 1!”

Gravity returned with a rumble deep below their feet as liter upon liter of pure liquid hydrogen was pumped through the Slipstream’s fusion reactor and the resulting superheated gas was vented out the rear. “Maneuvering complete,” Jarlan stated. “You’re now free to move about the cabin.” They pointed to a countdown on the HUD, “but remember that we’ll only have gravity for the next 4 hours and 53 minutes. After that we’ll be spending nearly 2 weeks in null-g. If there’s any business you’d like to get done I suggest taking care of it sooner than later.”

Kailyn unclasped her harness and stood, uneasy in the thrust-simulated gravity. “Very well,” she said. “I suppose I’ll try that thing you call a shower.”

—

Once the Slipstream had expended 40% of its available reaction mass Jarlan gently eased off on the flow until it was cut off completely. The passengers felt themselves gradually grow lighter until they were floating. But even though they could no longer feel it, they remained cruising at over six hundred thousand kilometers per hour. With no air resistance or gravity nothing would slow them down but an equal expenditure of fuel now.

For the first week Kailyn spent almost all her time in her stateroom, only occasionally venturing out into the third-deck galley for meal packs. Jarlan on the other hand drifted about the cockpit playing games on the computer or watching holo-dramas. One day, just short of halfway through their voyage, Jarlan noticed something on their radar screen. A small blinking dot flying along on an unusually straight path. They floated over and highlighted the object, then pulled up its projected course. A dotted line showed that it would cross paths with the Slipstream in less than an hour.

“Orlando,” Jarlan called into the intercom, “please come up to the bridge.”

Less than a minute later the badger flung himself through the hatch. “What’s going on?”

The fox pointed to the screen. “What do you make of that?”

Orlando read the info on the object headed their way. “It’s going too straight to be just a rock. There’s a chance their navigator just screwed up, but…”

“You think they could be pirates?” Jarlan suggested.

“Pirates?” Kailyn’s voice called out from behind the two of them. The lioness collided with the back of their seat a moment later.

Orlando glanced in her direction. “It’s possible, but not a guarantee. Try radioing them first.”

Jarlan nodded and directed a tightbeam in the other ship’s direction. “Unidentified ship, this is the Slipstream. Your course is taking us a bit too close together for comfort.”

Kailyn’s eye narrowed and her ears flattened. “Does this ship have any weapons?”

“Just a small sandcaster,” Jarlan answered.

“It might be a good idea to toss some sand in their direction if they don’t answer,” Orlando added. “It could help encourage them to change course.”

Jarlan stared at the clock, five minutes after their message went out they pulled up the turret controls. (3+2+1(Int)+0(Gunnery): Success) An expanding cloud of reflective silicate grains blasted out of the Slipstream’s turret towards the other ship.

(6+1+1(Gunnery)-2(Sand): Miss) For several seconds it seemed like the other ship hadn’t even noticed. Then an alarm blared and the word “RADIATION” flashed red on the monitor.

“Seriously?” Jarlan exclaimed. “We’re getting a stellar flare now?” They looked for the source of the radiation. Their sand cloud was lit up on the monitor, spewing rads in every direction. “The sand? How is that possible? Did they shoot a particle beam at us or something?”

Kailyn growled, “particle beams are restricted to military ships.”

“Like inner world laws mean anything in the Belt,” Orlando interjected. “They might have captured a warship, or even salvaged an old Federal wreck. But I have heard of pirates blasting a ship with rads and towing it off while the crew are puking their guts out.”

“Well that’s just great,” Jarlan groaned. “What are we supposed to do now? I doubt we can outrun them.”

“We’ve got enough reserves for a quick boost,” the badger suggested. “If we dump the cargo they’ll probably go after it instead.”

“That cargo was entrusted to you,” Kailyn snarled. “If you give it up without a fight you’ll never do this kind of work again.”

“How would I fight back?” the fox replied. “That ship is twice our size, it could hold a platoon of espatiers.”

“But we’d have the home field advantage,” the lioness answered. “We play dead, wait for them to board, and ambush them. A small force with the right force multipliers can eliminate a much larger group.”

“You’re crazy,” Orlando retorted.

Audience decision: Should they try to run or fight?

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“I can give you… twenty thousand,” the broker concluded.

Jarlan raised an astonished eyebrow behind their visor. The lenses provided a real-time analysis of the broker’s facial expressions, he didn’t seem to be deceiving them, or the equine was just so accustomed to this that it didn’t even register on his face. Jarlan on the other hand barely restrained themself from shouting their disbelief. “That won’t even cover my fuel costs. This is pure iridium!”

“Well, that’s the risk of prospecting,” the equine broker shrugged with his giant ears.

“I’m no miner,” Jarlan objected. “I bought it at Enki.”

“Ah,” the broker replied non-apologetically. “I’m sorry, I thought you were offloading from a 100-ton craft?”

“Yes,” Jarlan explained patiently. “Scout/courier configuration, not prospector.”

“I see,” the broker gave a heavy snort. “Most ships hauling ore that small are miners, you need a ship at least twice that size to make a profit off of speculative trading.”

“So what would you suggest I do?” the vulpine grumbled.

“Trade up for a bigger ship for one.”

“I can’t,” Jarlan sighed. “I don’t actually own the Slipstream, it’s leased to me through the D’Kaarjan naval reserve program.”

“In that case I might suggest looking into secure courier jobs,” the broker advised. “Since you have a courier after all. Or maybe find a few passengers more interested in speed than comfort.” He set his tablet on the table and tapped at the figure displayed on it with a thick finger. “Now are you going to take this offer or not? I’m sure you’ll need the credits for whatever you decide to do.”

With one last grumble of disappointment, Jarlan thumbed their acceptance of the payment.

—

An hour later the multi-colored fox was sitting alone at the spaceport port on M’Kusu L4, sipping at a straw-bana daiquiri as the money from their sale of the iridium disappeared into their debts.

They thought about what the broker had said. They’d left the service hoping to make it big as an independent trader, but if that ship of theirs was too small what could they do?

As they considered their options Jarlan’s eyes caught on a small group playing cards at one of the tables in back. A badger, a deer with a fair-sized rack, and a feline with a tawny coat and their back turned to them. Maybe a little game would help them make up their mind?

—

Kailyn of the Lion clan dropped her cards on the table and swept up the pot without comment. She’d been hoping the rockhound and customs official before her might offer some amusement, but so far they’d been a boring disappointment.

“Excuse me?” Kailyn spun around at the sound of somebody walking up behind her. Her eye focused on a canine or vulpine of some kind with bright purple and reddish fur. At first she thought they were female based on their body shape, but she recalled that those from D’Kaarjy could be a bit more “flexible” with their gender presentation than was traditional on M’Kusa. And they couldn’t look more stereotypically Kaarjan if they tried.

Kailyn’s diplomatic training took over. With little intonation she said “how may I help you?” in passable Anglic.

The canid flinched away from her, “oh, sorry, I was just wondering if you had room for another player.” Their eyes were hidden behind an opaque visor but their face angled slightly away from the left side of her own face.

“Do not worry,” Kailyn commented, tapping her eyepatch with a claw. “It wasn’t one of your countrymen who did this.” She gestured towards the table, “care to join us?”

“Thank you,” the canid said with some hesitation, taking a seat. “My name’s Jarlan 576A75, they/them, what’s the ante?”

“Kailyn,” she introduced herself. Adding “she/her” with a slight grumble.

“Toblan,” the deer added, gesturing to a chip kiosk in the middle of the room. “Buy-in is 1000 fuel credits minimum, ante is 10.”

“Orlando,” the badger stated as Jarlan stepped up to the kiosk and flicked the funds over from what was presumably an AR display. “So which company you with?”

Jarlan perked up as they collected their chips. “I’m actually the majority stakeholder of Slipstream Shipping.”

“Slipstream…” Toblan thought, scrolling on his tablet. “That’s the courier that unloaded a quarter ton of iridium right?”

Jarlan’s ear twitched as they admitted “yes.”

“That’s it?” Orlando inquired. “I thought those scouts had almost as much cargo space as prospectors did?”

“About 18 tons,” Jarlan replied. “And four staterooms.”

Kailyn shuffled the deck loudly and started dealing cards. “I’m sure their business decisions are very interesting, but shall we get started?” She flicked a chip into the pot and picked up her cards, the Ace of Blades and King of Staves, an idea starting to form in the back of her mind.

—

Jarlan glanced at their Ten of Blades and Three of Credits, trying not to show their disappointment. They reminded themself that at this point the hand could go either way. They bet 10 credits, the badger and deer called but the lioness hesitated.

“You seem pretty sure of yourself,” Kailyn suggested as she raised to 15.

The fox mix felt their tail reflexively curl under their seat. They tried to straighten it and called. Orlando called as well but Toblan folded.

Kailyn drew the flop: 4 of Blades, 2 of Staves, and Aces of Staves. Jarlan stiffened, they had basically nothing. But they couldn’t let the others know that. They picked up 15 credits worth of chips, but after a moment’s thought they only set down 10 in the pot.

“Not so confident now, corpo?” Orlando suggested, raising to 20.

“I suppose one needs to know when to play it safe in the speculative trade business,” Kailyn called.

Jarlan flicked another 10 credits into the pot without hesitation. “Don’t count me out yet.”

—

Kailyn drew the turn: The Universe, after the river the game would be over. She did a quick count of her chips, she easily had close to 2,000 credits on her side. A decent haul, but still nowhere near enough to get her out from under her pride’s shadow. Maybe she could talk them into starting a new game with a fresh buy-in, or maybe…

“It looks like this is the last hand,” she suggested. “So how about we make things a little interesting?”

Jarlan perked up an ear in her direction. “What do you have in mind?”

Preparing to set her plan in action, Kailyn said, “you have a ship, and I want off this station, but I’m not desperate enough to risk a trip in cryo.”

The canid’s ears rotated in consideration. “So, if you win I take you wherever you want to go? What if I win?”

Kailyn pushed the rest of her chips into the pot.

Jarlan glanced from their chips to the pot, then nodded. “Deal.”

Orlando tossed his cards in, “if that’s the case I’m out. Interesting game though.”

—

Jarlan tensed as Kailyn drew the river. They were totally unprepared to take on passengers, but at least they’d only be down a couple dozen credits, plus the expense of life support and fuel. Still, there could be a slight chance, wasn’t there?

The lioness slapped down the 9 of Staves on the table. With a sigh Jarlan showed their hand, “Ace and 10 high.”

Kailyn’s good eye flicked to their cards to her own hand. “Well, that’s a shame,” she noted with audible disappointment before flipping her cards over. “Pair of Aces.”

Jarlan sighed as Kailyn cashed in her chips and started looking up vectors out of L4. “Okay, fine, where are we headed?”

“Anywhere but here,” Kailyn replied, her comm unit buzzing as the funds transferred to her account. “Or M’kusa.”

Jarlan’s ears flattened suspiciously. Why didn’t she want to go back to her homeworld? Was she some kind of fugitive? They shrugged, if she tried anything on the trip they had control over the life support and were used to a thinner atmosphere than the M’kusan. “Well, do you have any suggestions?”

“Actually,” Toblan chimed in. “I know of a small group headed to some new habitat in the Castellan Trojans, I’m sure they’d pay a decent amount if you’re taking passengers anyway.”

“On the other hand,” Orlando suggested. “If you’d like to take another risk I spotted a decent-sized wreck about… 2/3rds of an AU out from Enki during my last trip out. Captain didn’t think it was worth the fuel to go check it out though.”

Jarlan considered the two options, passengers were basically guaranteed income, even with the one flying for free. But they were unsure about letting random people wander around on their ship. They knew they should be dismissing Orlando’s suggestion out of hand, but a wreck… Even a few salvageable spaceship parts could be worth millions, and if it was a Federation ship…

Before each subsequent chapter is posted there’ll be a poll posted on my Patreon.

Jarlan Character Sheet:

576A75
Strength 5, Dexterity 7, Endurance 6, Intellect 10, Education 7, Social Standing 5
Genetic Traits and Adaptations: EMF Sense, Enhanced Hearing, Gendermorphic, Weak Strength
Home Environment: D’Kaarjy: Low Gravity, Thin Atmosphere, Saharan Temperature.
Native Culture: Eridani.
Career: Scout 3 Terms
Skills: Computer-0, Gun Combat-0, Gunnery-0, Pilot-2, Recon-0, Repair-1, Sciences-1, Stealth-1, Zero-G-1
Mustering Out Benefits: Scout Ship, Weapon, Cr10000

Kailyn:

C45A89
Strength 12, Dexterity 4, Endurance 5, Intellect 10, Education 8, Social Standing 9
Genetic Traits and Adaptations: Great Leaper, Natural Weapon (Claws), Notable Strength, Increased Metabolism.
Home Environment: M’Kusa: Terran temperate world.
Culture: Cetan.
Skills: Admin-0, Aircraft-0, Carousing-0, Computer-0, Gun Combat-1, Leadership-0, Liaison-1, Recon-1
Career: Elite 1 term (failed survival), Army 1.
Mustering Out Benefits: Cr10000

A player decides they want a raccoon pilot named Tanya Loter. For characteristics they roll a 9, 5, 7, 6, 3, and 7, they decide to assign the 9 to Intelligence, since flying a spacecraft would presumably require a lot of smarts, giving her a +1 DM to INT throws, 5 to STR, 7 to DEX and END, 6 to EDU, and 3 for SOC, her player’s not that concerned with social standing (577963). The campaign takes place in the Tiere system (Ch. 14), so taking a look at the planets in the system the player decides that the Orbital Alliance of Jord sounds like a good origin point for Tanya. As a Pallene culture she can choose between Aircraft-1, Computer-1, or Streetwise-1 for an upbringing skill, the player decides on Aircraft.

Next, it’s time to design her phenotype. Jord is a temperate Terra-sized world but Tanya spent much of her early life on space stations orbiting the planet. So while her favored atmosphere and temperature are Terran and Temperate, her player chooses a Light gravity to represent the limited access to spin gravity on such post-Federation stations. There is a list of common Procyon traits and Tanya’s player consults it to pick the Climb, Iron Stomach, and Notable (DEX) traits, increasing her DEX to 9 (597963); and picks the Increased Metabolism adaptation in order to compensate for the third trait.

Now for her career. Tanya’s player thinks Navy would help build her piloting skills so they throw INT to qualify, they roll a 7, modified to 8 with the DM, which is enough to succeed. They’re using the basic training variant rule so Tanya gets all the Service skills at rank 0 and then throws 1D on the Specialist table, getting Piloting at rank 1. Advancement is next and a failure, but not that big a deal. Next she throws survival, and comes up snake eyes, fortunately they’re not doing hardcore mode so she just roll on the Mishaps table. With a 4 Tanya is dishonorably discharged from the Navy. Her player isn’t quite ready to start yet, so they try for Belter this time. Qualification is easy enough, for skills they get Piloting again on the Service table, bringing her rank in that skill up to 2. This time they’re successful on advancement, gaining the skill Zero-G-1 and making another skill throw, gaining Engineering from the Specialist table. Survival is close, with a roll of 6 they wouldn’t have made it without the Notable DEX trait.

At this point Tanya’s player is ready to go adventuring. They lost their Mustering Out Benefit throw for the Navy term but they still get one for Belter. The dice come up 6, meaning Tanya starts out with a 40-year old Prospector.

So I’m opening Scavenger up to public playtesting, you don’t have to be familiar with the Para-Imperium setting or the Traveller system to GM but it would help. If you’re interested contact me on Discord.

To fill out the rest of this post, here’s some of the illustrations I’ve received so far:

I’m trying to raise just $2,500 in order to commission illustrations, I’ve already bought a few as you can see in the campaign.

For rules I’m using the Cepheus Light system published by Stellagama Games and derived from Traveller.

I’ve developed modular rules for developing parahuman characters with a system of genetic traits and metabolic adaptations to compensate for those traits. And modified the world generation rules to make it easier to build multi-planet star systems.

If this all intrigues you, go and back it! You can even commission a cameo of one of your characters from the artists in the final book.

How late is Shawn? Horizon silently asked.

“Surprisingly,” Samantha answered. “He still has three minutes left before our designated check-in time.”

Horizon sighed and approached the bar. You can prevent me from getting drunk, right? She flagged down the bartender and ordered a large dark beer, paying for it immediately with a swipe of a paychip. As she drank, she swore she could swear she felt the microbots in her stomach burning away the alcohol. She was about halfway done with her drink when a text message appeared in the corner of her eye.

Shawn: Found them, they’re headed your way. Leopard in a blue coat.

Horizon: Did you tell them to speak to an arctic fox?

Shawn: You don’t really look that much like a fox, but yeah I have him your description.

Horizon raised an eyebrow in the direction of the door as she took another sip of her beer, the consistency reminiscent of a fermented milkshake. After a couple more minutes a whitish-gray snow leopard came through the door, thick fur bursting out of a patchy blue jacket. Horizon didn’t react as they took a seat at the bar and ordered a hot drink. Once the bartender took their order and turned away the leopard held up a cupped hand towards the bleached raccoon, a data card in the center of their palm.

Horizon took out her paychip and handed it to them under the counter, allowing them to pass the data card in the same manner. The leopard slipped the chip into their pocket, collected their drink, and walked over to one of the booths. Horizon continued to watch them out of the corner of her eye as they unfolded a tablet and inserted the paychip. One of their eyes widened and their gaze shifted back towards Horizon for a moment.

“Something’s wrong,” Sam stated.

That could be, Horizon replied. But let’s not get carried away yet. We have what we came for, if they confront us, we run, but wait for my signal.

The snow leopard slowly returned to the bar, sidling up next to Horizon and setting their drink down in front of her. “We need to talk,” they whispered.

Horizon gave them a curious look as she felt her muscles tense in preparation to defend herself. “What is there to discuss?”

They held up their tablet, folded so that it would be difficult to read from the side but facing Horizon. It displayed a wallet app bearing a number: 4997.37.

Horizon stared back at the display for a few moments before she figured out what it was. “Oh, my bad,” she apologized. She held up her half-empty glass. “I was getting bored waiting and bought a drink.”

“And you used the same chip?” the snow leopard retorted.

“I had just the one chip,” Horizon explained. “Here, I’ll give you the rest.” She tapped the tablet with a finger, Sam near-instantly transferring 2.63 sacs from the wallet stored on her neural implant into the tablet.

The leopard pulled the tablet back to read it again, eyes widening and ears raised in surprise. “You’re a… borg?” they whispered.

Horizon started to rise off her stool, letting a hint of a glare appear on her face. “Is that a problem?” she inquired.

They started to inch back from the bar nervously. “No, it’s… fine. I just…” the snow leopard stood and ran for the door.

The raccoon glanced at the still-steaming mug they’d left, then shook her head and gulped down the rest of her beer. Horizon grabbed the snep’s abandoned mug and brought it up to her muzzle as she asked Sam what are the chances they’ll turn me in?

“High,” the AI replied. “I planted a virus on their device, would you like me to disable it?”

No, Horizon replied as she sniffed the drink, even over the cannabis smoke she could identify cocoa, cinnamon, and potato vodka. Just warn me if they call anyone. She was tempted to ask why Sam had planted a virus without asking, but by now she figured there was no point.

Horizon departed the bar, trying desperately not to look like she was in a hurry. In the back of her mind she reviewed the data from the card. It seemed to confirm her suspicions about Niflheim. There was some kind of ship or station in Surt’s trailing Trojan asteroids, Company public records claimed it to be simply a research base, but four Jord years ago a pirate had attempted to raid it. Some unknown weapons fire had vaporized the pirate craft in a burst of nuclear fire. Additionally, many had noted that certain augmented individuals had disappeared without a trace within days of the base’s monthly resupply by mass driver. Including Jenny.

The cyborg raccoon ducked behind a sign to read the data more closely without worrying about collisions with traffic. When was the next resupply? She found the list of previous launches and made some quick calculations based on the orbital data of Surt’s moons. Horizon tensed as she realized that the next optimal launch window would be in just twelve hours. Sam, she inquired. How likely would it be that we could break into the mass driver by tomorrow?

“Extremely unlikely,” the AI answered. “There are hundreds of armed guards, at least a dozen in exo-suits, biometric locks, auto-turrets, and air patrols. Even if you managed to hijack a launch pod, the Company fleet could just shoot it down, to say nothing of Niflheim’s own armament.” Images of the toroidal mass driver with its cannon-like launch ramp appeared around her panda avatar. Along with pics of the aforementioned security measures. “Maybe if we had a few months to gather resources…”

But we don’t, Horizon retorted. We have hours, at best. I need a workable plan of action.

“Tanya?” Horizon looked up to see Shawn running towards her. “What the Hel happened? I just got reamed on mesh by Searan and now they’re saying that they’re calling the cops.”

Horizon lunged and picked the vole up by the collar. “You didn’t tell me that your friend was a total borgophobe!” she snarled. “How did you even find someone like that? I thought your forum was all technophiles?”

“What?” Shawn looked confused for a moment as he thought back. “Well, they said some things about ghuls and liches, but it didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary… At least you got the data, right?”

The augmented raccoon swung Shawn around and flung him down the street. He flew far in the low gravity, five meters, ten, fifteen… far further than any un-augmented parahuman could be expected to throw him. The vole finally landed on the ground, skidding across the snow in a long line until he came to a halt.

Wary that her outburst may have attracted attention, Horizon peered around the corner of her hiding place. There, she spied a security officer tracing Shawn’s arc of travel back towards her, one hand on their dart pistol.

Time slowed as Horizon leapt for the officer, claws extended. They drew their gun, but barely managed to raise it before the cyborg’s titanium claws were on them. Horizon barely felt the dart stab her in the thigh at point-blank range, her leukosynths neutralizing the drugs it carried as quickly as they hit her bloodstream. She yanked the gun out of their hand, shredding their flesh in the process, and smashed it against a nearby wall.

Horizon felt the officer’s arm snap, satisfied that they were sufficiently incapacitated he threw him aside. The subsonic whine of rotors approaching drew her gaze upwards and she just barely dodged the net fired from the drone. Her peripheral vision caught sight of a few electrical arcs and pops where the net’s fibers contacted the snow. A stun net? she thought, perfect.

The cyborg ducked and wove at inhuman speeds while the drone tried to line up another shot. Two more drones approached rapidly. While she was distracted by the new drones a rock sailed through the air towards the first one, coming up a meter low. The drone turned its launcher towards the new target, a vole searching for another projectile to throw.

“Get out of here!” Horizon shouted at Shawn, but it was too late. Another stun net wrapped itself around him. Shawn was knocked to the ground, convulsing as the shocks pulsed through his nervous system. Horizon leapt to assist him, grabbing the net and attempting to tear it off even as it shocked her.

Current blazed through her fingers, but she managed to tear the net loose. Automatic fire burst behind her, bullets burying themselves in her back. Horizon muttered a curse; she’d let herself get distracted. She spun around, ignoring the expanding tears in her back muscles, and saw the drones take up positions around her. One of the new drones had a net launcher like the first one, but the other was armed with a machine gun instead. The machine gun drone hovered to her right, while the net drones flew to her left and ahead of her. While behind her an armored ground transport was just screeching to a halt.

Surrounded, Horizon chose to dive directly into the line of fire of the drone ahead of her. Its net caught her, too slow to dodge it with the bullet holes in her. She sprawled on the ground, under the net, unable to throw it off. Every time she tried to move a shock made her muscles convulse. She spotted a trooper in an exo-suit jumping out of the transport and stomp towards her, shoulder gun leveled.

Horizon’s current-numbed skin couldn’t feel the darts, but she heard them launching. The sheer quantity of drugs finally began to overwhelm her leukosynths, and her vision started to fade. The last thing she saw was Shawn starting to run only to fall again seconds later.

Whatever happened next was a blur. She could remember getting picked up and moved by people in exo-suits multiple times, being transported in the back of a truck along with a motionless Shawn, and then when the drugs began to clear out, she found herself strapped to a gurney propped up against a wall.

Her muzzle and extremities were enclosed in devices that afforded her no movement. Her every appendage was held down by some sort of restraints, her eyes the only thing she could move. Next to her she could make out a sealed crate clamped onto the floor, and a vole affixed to a similar apparatus to herself.

Before she could think of trying to speak to Shawn she was shoved back by a sudden force of gravity. The acceleration, she thought it felt like at least 4 Gs sitting on her chest like an elephant, continued for what felt like an eternity before leveling off. The weight pressing her down lessened before vanishing altogether. Now it felt like “down” was solely towards her stomach, null-G, they were in space again.

Horizon attempted to move her arm, nothing happened, she didn’t even feel the muscles tense. Sam, she thought, what’s happening?

The AI remained silent. Sam, what’s going on? Where are you? Still nothing. Did her brain implant short out? Was she now trapped in her body, paralyzed?

A snapping sound drew her attention, Shawn tossed aside a simple zip-tie cuff. Another few snaps and the vole stumbled out into the air, flipping over and crashing into the crate in front of him. Horizon rolled her eyes, the only thing she could do, at the newcomer to microgravity.

After several minutes he managed to right himself and reached out towards Horizon. “I’m really hoping this is you,” he commented, grasping at the mask covering her muzzle. Shawn fumbled with something on the sides of the mask, and eventually she felt it come off.

Horizon took a few deep breaths. “Thank you,” she managed to gasp out despite her breath’s refusal to come in.

“Tanya,” Shawn asked. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t move anything below my neck,” Horizon replied. “Thanks for removing the mask.”

“I tried meshing you after I woke up, but you weren’t receiving.” The vole leaned close to Horizon, eyes narrowed in concentration. “Huh?”

“What is it?” Horizon inquired.

“I’m getting some kind of signal interference around you,” Shawn poked at a panel in the side of the gurney. “Maybe I can deactivate it somehow.”

Horizon heard the click of several buttons being pushed, followed by an alarm buzz. Shawn swore and tried punching a few different buttons, with the same result. “Just break it open!” Horizon shouted after the third attempt.

“Okay, okay, I think there’s an access point here,” Shawn grabbed hold of something outside her limited field of vision and braced himself against her gurney. After a minute or so of grunting and wrenching something cracked and the vole went flying back.

A prickling sensation flowed all over her body, like her foot had fallen asleep but for everything but her head. In front of her a hazy outline slowly coalesced into the form of a red panda woman. “Connection… established!” Sam’s avatar shook herself off in exasperation. “Damn I hate EMP jamming!”

Is that what that was? Horizon attempted to tense her arm muscles, and this time she felt them respond. She yanked hard against her restraints and heard the satisfying snap of cables and bolts.

“Hey! Careful!” Sam cautioned. “I couldn’t heal you while those jammers were active!”

Horizon pulled her arm out in front of her, the entire forearm was encased in some sort of metal sleeve. She reached out with it towards the tumbling Shawn, and he grabbed hold. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t mean for you to get captured too. But if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to break free.”

“Yeah, good thing they zipped me up with such wimpy ties, guess they weren’t expecting me to be augmented too.” Shawn’s eyes twitched as he registered what she’d just said. “Too? Wait, you wanted to get captured?”

“Yes,” Horizon stated as she tried to find some sort of release mechanism on her sleeve.

“Why?” Shawn inquired, confused.

“Because,” Horizon answered. “We’re going to Niflheim.”