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At your service! (Tristeza and missedstations)

Tristeza

Tristeza

Super-Earth
Joined
Jun 1, 2009
The ship silently docked on the port of the luxurious space resort. It looked simple in it's midnight blue paint job, compared to the highly ornate vessels that were stationed by its side, clearly out of place. Aerodynamic, shaped like an arrow, no frills or golden indents or mermaid shaped figure heads, reminiscent of times long gone. All in all, it just didn't belong there. And neither did the person that ported down by its side, staring coldly at the surrounding opulence. It just wasn't his cup of tea, if he'd ever have any.

The contact had been made. Same deal as usual, half up front, half in the end. It was a usual customer, so Gerrard would had no problem saying yes. And the pad on his hand already reflected the amount that had been tranferred to his bank account. Here was what he liked. Speed. Honesty. And a whoooooooole bunch of zeroes, damn! A small smirk cracked on his hardened, tanned face, a brief, flighty thing. It soon disappeared with the sound of footsteps on the metallic floor of the port, assuming a rigid position, hands behind his back, feet at the width of his shoulders. If it wasn't for his garb, one'd mistake him for a military. Maybe he'd have been one, if uniforms were his gig. Then again, probably not. Gerrard wasn't too great at taking orders.

The first thing one'd notice when the mercenary entered the room was his height. Even with all the genetic manipulation, it was uncommon for someone to stand a full 2 meters. Coupled with work out muscle, and there we go, a human wall, covered in a black trenchcoat. Patches of light composite armor shone on his torso, on top of a dark blue overall matching the ship's color. And a pair of big, black boots. Of course, if that didn't demand enough respect, there was always the gun dangling from the belt he wore, a shining silver revolver on steroids, proportional to the man that carried it. Not even a speck of stubble marred his face. The only thing that seemed out of place in this scenario was the hair, long enough to reach his waist, made into a thick, light brown braid. A personal quirk, everyone had them. He had a braid. Go figure.

'Oooooh, ooooh! they're coming! I can't wait to see who I'm carrying this time!' A metallic voice buzzed into his ear through the headphone, making him sigh deeply. Oh, the patience he needed for this ship... "Not now Zyx." Gerrard mumbled, staring at the approaching entourage.
 
He was called Kitten because his master thought it was funny, or something, and couldn't be bothered to think up of something better. Kitten couldn't exactly complain – as far as he was concerned, his master might as well have been God. He had been made to that man's specifications, after all, a slight little red-head that wouldn't even come up to Gerrard's chest. Kitten's looks had been tailored to taste, of course, and his master liked dark red hair and pale skin on his pets, and his bright green eyes were obviously not a natural colour. He didn't have any pubic hair either, and was incapable of growing facial hair. Kitten knew, by at least that difference, that he was not a real human: he didn't need the barcode tattooed on his wrist, or to know that there was a computer chip embedded into the bone that told anyone who scanned it his exact genotype. Didn't even really need to have a tracking chip, he was so unique he'd probably be impossible to resell, even if he did get stolen.

There were other differences too – he knew that real people didn't shiver in pleasure every time their skin was touched, and that they did not have problems concentrating if they didn't get fucked every few days. As far as he understood it, he was made to feel everything a little more intensely, both pain and pleasure, and both were capable of wiping out his conscious mind quite quickly. It did not really bother him, because he knew that his place was at his master's feet and in his master's bed.

“Sir, where are we goooiiiiiing?” he whined, clinging to his master's arm. He really wasn't used to going outside in the first place, shoes felt uncomfortable, and there was so much walking today.

Mr. Russell ignored his little pet. The stupid little thing, he'd explained at least twice already. Not his fault Kitten had no concept of distance whatsoever, and an attention span that only lasted about five minutes. Kitten didn't have any sense of personal dignity either, but that would have been of no use to a sex slave anyway. In many ways, Kitten was exactly like a child, impulsive and not very strong willed, but in the end obedient. He did try very hard to please, though. A person could forgive the annoying questions most of the time.

“Good to see you again,” Mr. Russell said, holding his hand out to Gerrard for a handshake. He always wore smart suits, and his bodyguards hid their guns under black jackets. Kitten, on the other hand, wore only simple loose pants and shirt. Such an utterly big difference in status.

“This is your cargo,” Mr. Russell said, pulling on Kitten's hair to stop him from trying to hide behind anyone. Silly coward. “He can be a handful sometimes, but he's a good pet.” Maybe it was not the most romantic of presents, but he was sure that his boyfriend would appreciate something like this to keep his bed warm on that icy planet's research station.

There was sure as hell not going to be any problem of Gerrard commanding Kitten's respect – the slave was pretty much just staring, having never seen a man that big before. What the. He didn't listen as his master gave instructions for his care. (Summary: feed once a day, slap him a bit if he's too annoying, normal for him to sleep up to 16 hours a day, preferable if he wasn't drugged too often, but if you really can't stand him, some sedatives can be used.)

“Oh, and feel free to use him, if you wish, he won't be damaged. Consider it a perk of the job, if you like,” Mr. Russell finished, pushing Kitten a little bit forward, forcing him to let go already. “Now, I have a meeting to attend. I'll leave him in your care.”

One of the bodyguards dropped a small bag that held the few things that Kitten owned, and they swept off, leaving the rather stunned looking slave. Where was he going again? With this man? Where were his manners? “Ah...” He squirmed a little on the spot. “Hello, sir. How would you like me to address you?” That didn't seem sufficiently respectful for someone like that, so he added, again, “Sir.”
 
At first, Gerrard just ignored the 'attachment' to his employer, his large, physical work worn hand contrasting with the master's smaller, manicured and impecably polished one as he met the handshake. The difference between someone who did hard work and someone who hardly worked at all... with his hands, at least. "Likewise, always a pleasure." Especially with the amount of zeroes... oh yes, Gerrard loved himself some zeroes... on the right side of the number, of course. The spaceship wasn't exactly of lowcost maintenance, and he'd do everything for the baby of his eyes. Except decorating. That part was a waste.

When he did acknowledge the person he'd be carrying... person? No, thing! Urgh, sex slaves. It was a gamble, the sort of personality they had. Generally though, they were as smart as a stick, as clingy as a leech and as impossible as a... a... a child! Urgh, children. Never again! He had to repress an eye roll really, really well, summoning the patience required with every fiber of his being. And it had to be to an icy planet in the confines of the galaxy. At least there was nothing special about this one, not that he noticed right off the bat. If worst came to it, Zyx could always take care of the 'special' needs. There was no complaint, usually. Then again, normally it wasn't top end merchandise... it could be trouble.

The mention of the 'perk' made the mercenary chuckle, shaking his head. "Thank you, Russell, but you know it's not my taste." In fact, he had no taste. At all. Sex was a burden, an unneeded complication for some flighty seconds of pleasure. For that, Gerrard'd much rather travel through the dark void, hunting comets, piercing nebulae and whatnot. A much more lasting pleasure - and one that needed no extra upkeep. "He's in good hands." A small bow from his head, and suddenly it was just the two of them. The towering man and the meek red head.

Now was the first time he took a good, long look at the slave. Such a little pathetic thing... it wouldn't even last a day in the real world... These were the kind of thoughts Gerrard entertained as the boy tried to find his ground, silent, icy blue eyes almost piercing holes through the poor Kitten's skull. "Gerrard is fine." the mercenary mumbled, sighing. Oh, what long, long, loooooong travel this was going to be. "I'll be taking you to your new master. This isn't a luxury cruise though, and I have some errands along the way. So I have two rules for you. One. Don't mess with the ship. Two. Don't mess with me. Understood?"
 
Plenty of people did not see Kitten's like as a person – but he was used to that and didn't really expect better treatment. Simple commands were best, and he was good at trying to follow them. Trying being the key word here... Anything that took significant amounts of self-control or required the ability to wait patiently led to a complete failure.

… What did 'don't mess with' mean? Oh dear. That wasn't clear at all.

“No, sir...” Kitten said miserably, shifting from foot to foot, very uncomfortable with the way he being looked at and at the way that he was being spoken to. Maybe this man didn't like him. But that surely wasn't right. He dropped his eyes in the face of that glare. Usually he got stared at for entirely different reasons, mentally undressing him, not mentally trying to get rid of him. (Of course, there were the occasional abolitionists, and someone had tried to explain that position to Kitten, but they used too many long words, and it just hadn't worked.)

“Erm, if you're taking me to my new master-” And such a long timespan was pretty much infinity, as far as Kitten was concerned, because it didn't actually mean anything to him. “- does that mean you're my master until you get there?” He looked a little proud of himself for that conclusion, which had, in his opinion who no one cared for, had no way of actually being wrong.
 
"Gerrard." The man instantly corrected, sighing deeply. Just as much as he hated orders, her hated titles. It'd actually earned him a spat with a high ranking general from the governmental forces before, but in the end he came out on top. Like always. In the end, his work was more valuable than some prissy fuck who only sat on a chair all day. Hah. However, that was far from his mind right now. He had a much bigger problem at hand. This one was a complete hollow head. They hadn't even left and he was already rubbing his eyes. "I'm NOT your master. Your masters are Mr. Russell and his companion. I'm just getting you there. That's all." From point A to B, he thought about adding. But something told him that wouldn't really get through to the boy. It didn't even matter to him that he could have dented Kitten's little pride with bashing his 'brilliant' conclusion. Gerrard wasn't a soft man, he'd long given up on it. In fact, there wasn't much the mercenary clinged to . Baggage bogged people down. Baggage got people killed.

"Now, pick up your bag. We have a lot of ground to cover and not that much time. Your master can wait, but my other employers cannot." Gerrard ordered, turning his back on Kitten to look at his ship. "Zyx, take us in." And, before Kitten knew it, they were ported inside, just like that. If there'd been anyone he wanted to say goodbye to or something, too late. Still, Gerrard somehow doubted that. Slaves like him had no attachments, no morals, no nothing. Toys jumping from hand to hand. Disgusting, as far as he was concerned.

The inside of the ship was as spartan as its owner. It had the commodities for one to live in it; in fact, the enough for five people to be lodged in. What it didn't have though, was comfort. Everything was utilitary and simple, in white and silvery tones, some blue here and there at best. The area that could eventually be the most heartwarming would be the bedrooms, but not even those. Kitten'd find himself, along with Gerrard, on the bridge of the ship, a large screen mirroring the outside, as if it was glass. It wasn't too big, one certainly couldn't run in there, and in the front center, a lonely chair, surrounded by the ship controls. The place Gerrard immediatly blocked with his body, to prevent Kitten from having any strange ideas, if he happened to be in some form or shape enticed by the faint glow. Among other things, this was what he'd meant with not messing with his ship...
 
“But if I am supposed to obey you until I have to obey someone else, then what else are you, sir?” As far as he was concerned, whoever was ordering him around was his master. But he wasn't meant to contradict a master now, was he? This was going to be difficult. His face did fall a little and he bent down to pick up the bag. There wasn't even much in it, just a couple of changes of clothes and his wash things. It wasn't as if he had possessions. Certainly no one had ever given him something he might be sentimental about, or would try to keep. Someone else had even packed the bag... Kitten didn't have the foresight to know what he needed. In fact, he had exceedingly little of that at all. It was a well known fact that stupid, unimaginative people tended to be happier with their lot, and hence why would anyone try to improve his mind? It was only bound to lead to something unfortunate down the road.

Nope, Kitten indeed had nothing to be overly attached to on this planet. He wasn't even that attached to his master... It was only the things that were immediately near that commanded his attention. (For something that might end up changing masters many times, it might be unfortunate if it actually pined and got depressed after realising it might never see them again.)

He had only been ported a couple of times, and both had ended up with him throwing up – something about it didn't quite agree with his modified biology. He shuddered delicately and covered his mouth with his hand. That would really annoy this man, no doubt, to end up throwing up all over this incredibly shiny floor...

Kitten looked up at the screen and his response was “Oooh.” Nausea almost forgotten. He didn't get to see many views, and this was an interesting perspective on the dock. Shiny. Despite having been transferred from planet to planet several times, he'd never actually got to see space, spending those times mostly in his master's room, forbidden from going outside of it. Normally he wasn't allowed to touch any technology: that was the only serious rule Mr. Russell had him follow, so he wasn't even tempted by the consoles. Well, he was, but knowing he'd be punished was even less tempting. This man – Gerrard – was so big he could probably break him like a twig!

Luckily for them both, it looked like Kitten was momentarily lost for words.
 
Gerrard sighed yet again, shaking his head at the small whelp. He probably hadn't had a lot of exposure to anything but bedrooms and the cozy, fluffy insides. This was bound to be somewhat of a major change. At least he hadn't tried anything stupid. Yet. "Okay, once again, rules. Don't touch anything in this room, Kitten. If you do, I'll lock you away in one of the rooms by yourself. You're free to roam the ship if you want, if you don't I don't care, but any doors or boxes, things that are locked, stay locked. Don't open them. Simple enough?"

"Oh please Gerrard, he's just a simple boy, it's not as if he's going to open a hole in my hull..." A jovial male voice resounded from seemingly nowhere, clearly not the mercenary's... and very awkward sounding overall, considering Gerrard. He'd been questioned before as to why he'd chosen such an AI for the ship. His answer was always rather simple. He didn't. At the time he'd bought it, he didn't have the money to change it. As time passed though, and Zyx proved his worth time and time again, despite the quirky personality, Gerrard actually grew attached to it. His ship was his best and most loyal friend in the whole universe.

"If you say so... but then you're the one in charge of him." Gerrard grumbled, taking his seat to start preparing to leave. As far as he was concerned, he was done dealing with the boy, at least for now. First came the take off. Then everything else.

Behind Gerrard, a soft white glow began taking the shape of a humanoid, the voice clearly coming from the forming figure. "Don't worry, sweetie, you're in good hands. After all, someone had to give this place some sort of feminine touch, why not the place itself, yes?" When it stopped glowing, in front of Kitten, slightly taller than him, was the figure of a teenage boy with silver skin and long teal glowing hair that floated impossibly behind him, clad in a black mesh sleeveless shirt and some lome relatively loose jeans. His eyes had the same color and glow of the hair, and spread across the visible 'skin' of his body were streaks and designs of the same kind. Other than that, a perfectly normal human male. That floated. "Hello, I'm Zyxadine, but you can call me Zyx!" He leant forward to Kitten, with a wide smile. "Oooooooh, you're just so adorable!!"
 
Ooh, this man had remembered his name! He felt a tiny bit flattered. That sort of punishment did, however, sound horrifically unpleasant. Kitten was terrible on his own. It was lonely and usually very very quiet, and he did badly with both of those. He wasn't made to be left alone. It wasn't that he got bored, but after a while it upset him that there was no one to serve. He hadn't really analysed his neediness in those terms, of course, all he knew is that he was always immensely relieved when his master came home.

“Yessir,” he said quickly, putting his hands in front of himself just so that no mistake could be made. How would he even open things that were locked? What a strange order... Maybe his brief bafflement showed. It was nice that he might be allowed to wander the ship, though! He had heard that plenty of creatures like him were just kept locked up in a single room, and that plenty were treated cruelly by their masters.

He visibly jumped at the other voice. An AI...? He had heard of them, he had, of course, never met one. Most were far too superior to actually interact with someone so stupid. The conversation between the two went 'whoosh' right over his head while he was distracted.

“Huh,” he said idiotically, staring. Zyxad-...? He was definitely going to forget that. He shortened his ambitions to just Zyx. “Are you an AI?” he had to ask, going absolutely bright red at be compliments. The idea of being complimented by a computer was just awkward. Artificial construct to artificial construct..? No one had ever told him how to behave around one of those!
 
"Oh my, yes, I surely am!" Zyx posed, adding some momentary glimmer just to further awe his audience. "But don't let that bother you, I'll just be your friend from now on!" He zoomed over Kitten and squeezed him in a tight hug, squealing in excitement. "Don't mind the grumpypants over there." Zyx whispered on the slave's ear, pointing at Gerrard's back. "He just isn't too good at being cheery..."

"Zyx, you're talking too much..." Gerrard grumbled, glancing back over his shoulder. Darn loud computer. "Why don't you go show him around while I do that piloting thing you suck so much at?" Mockery was Gerrard's common way of appreciating things, especially his computer. Zyx just stuck his fluorescent tongue in response, turning his back on them and leading Kitten off into the hall "We'll just leave him be for a little while, because this part is soooooooooo hard to do..." The AI rolled his eyes, shrugging off Gerrard's words. "Just because I put a dent in Mr. Wiley's ship doesn't mean I can't autopilot myself. Yeesh."

The corridor extended itself before them, not too long because it wasn't that big - it was a modest ship after all. "So, lets see..." Zyx pondered, looking at the doors. "First things first, you need a room, yes?"
 
He made a little very undignified sound at being squished like this. What was it like to have friends? Kitten didn't know, so he could only manage to look a little dubious. This was very unexpected. Of course he accepted Zyx's authority, though Gerrard was the human, the really important one... Though even in a legal context, an AI had more rights than Kitten did. Obviously the idea of an entirely autonomous human being created artificially creeped out far too many people.

Kitten threw a look back at the screen, curious to see what takeoff would be like, but letting Zyx tug him away anyway. He didn't want to annoy people in his first hour. He made a nondescript sound of agreement at Zyx's words – not knowing what to say at all, but knowing that most people liked him to agree with their cleverness. He'd done it all the time for Mr. Russell, and the master had sometimes used to ruffle his hair and call him 'cute'.

“Er, I do, sir?” he asked the AI, surprised. The title was a reflex, more than anything, trained into him. “I've never had my own room.” He'd always slept in his master's bed, or on the floor next to it sometimes. It wasn't as if he needed the privacy!
 
Finally alone, Gerrard could now concentrate on his task. Ports with a lot of movement could be somewhat of a pain in the ass, not because of his abbility, but the lack of it others sometimes displayed. Some people simply shouldn't be allowed to drive anything, really. In the back, Kitten wouldn't feel a thing as the ship raised into the air softly and took off to the stratosphere. It might be a modest ship, but that didn't mean it wasn't well equipped. And really, many of those rich pieces of junk would probably kill to have stabilizers like Zyx's. Alone, Gerrard chuckled at the thought, as the sky progressively gave way to the empty void of space.

In the meanwhile, Zyx nodded, smilling gently. "I figured as much, sweetie." He floated a bit down the corridor, stopping in front of two doors, one in front of each other. "You're used to sleeping with your master, right? But you saw Gerrard. Company just isn't something he enjoys. Makes for a very lonely life. It's sad, really. Heartbreaking even." The AI pressed his palm against the sensor by one of the doors and the respective door opened, revealing a small room. The biggest thing was the kingsize bed, tailor made to fit the large man. Otherwise, there wasn't much to it, other than the wardrobe, included on the wall and a cupboard, where a small pile of books rested, some new, others worn out. Gerrard enjoyed the touch of paper, an old, rare thing nowadays in the most advanced worlds. Not in the fringes though, where technology enjoyed fluking out from time to time. "This is Gerrard's room..." Zyx presented, then took the hand off, letting the door close as he shifted to open the one on the other side. "... And this will be your room." It looked exactly the same, save for the bed, which was a smaller size, and the glass desk, where a computer terminal sat. Guests didn't have the priviledge of accessing Zyx, but that didn't mean they'd have to be cut off from the world. Even if it probably wouldn't be of any use to Kitten. "You can live your stuff there, I'll get it tidied up for you later."
 
Kitten had to wonder whether the ship was even moving – the ride was so smooth. He knew very little about ships at all. He was curious, of course, but he also knew that was an inappropriate question. He was trying to be very good right now. Trying really really hard.

He looked at Gerrard's room very curiously. This was his master's room, for now, at least. He wanted to please and obey this man, and he didn't know the first thing how to go about doing it. While immensely silly and childish, he wasn't actually that stupid. He knew that making people happy was his only purpose in life, and without that he might as well be dead.

“Okay,” he said, dropping his bag by the bed. So. Much. Space! What was he meant to do in a room that big?! And in such a big bed alone? To say that he briefly despaired was to say very little, in fact, of the abrupt sinking feeling in his stomach. But Kitten was not particularly capable of feeling self-pitying for very long. The computer would be of no use entirely, since he did not even know how to use it. No one had bothered to teach him to read, let alone basic computer literacy. There was no need for him to know things like that.

“What am I supposed to do, if he doesn't like me?” It was, quite simply, an existential crisis. He did not have anything else to do but wait around for his master and run after his master, and Zyx received the look of most genuine bafflement on Kitten's face.
 
In Zyx's memory banks, he could review himself in the same position as Kitten, back in the beginning. Utterly frustrated at this captain who insisted on muting him, disabling the physical hologram engine, flat out IGNORE him (who in their sanity would ignore his own ship's computer? In the middle of an asteroid field???), amidst a few things. With time though, Zyx actually proved his worth to the mercenary, and with it came tolerance. Nowadays, it was mostly Zyx's antics that entertained Gerrard's lonely-by-choice life, sparkling it with a dash of joy and another of spontaneity. So, the AI couldn't help but sympathize with the boy's feelings. "It's just part of who he is, sweetie. Gerrard's been living on his own for quite a while, he's been through a lot because of his work too. I don't even know about his past!!" Zyx pat Kitten's red mound of hair, smilling warmly. "He's just really closed, but I bet you can get him to open up at least a little with some persistence and time. I'll help you anyway I can!"
 
Persistence and time. Persistence he had in good supply, probably because he had no sense of time whatsoever. His measure was certainly very vague, and he found it difficult to conceive of weeks and months: Kitten tended to exist almost exclusively in the moment. So while miserable for this moment, all he would need was a distraction until he wasn't. Lonely-by-choice wasn't something he could really understand – all he could do to 'just part of who he is' is shrug and admit that he really didn't understand his masters, like ever.

“I suppose I'll try,” he said, leaning into the touch. He liked being petted. Always did appreciate physical affection. Zyx's smile was reassuring anyway, and as a person with very little complexity, Kitten just took it all at face value, without thinking about any of the problems he was likely to run into. Then, without further ado, his curiosity about the ship came back - “So where else am I allowed to go?”
 
"Good boy!" Zyx giggled, hugging him briefly. At the question, he floated back, one finger on his metallic lips as he pondered where Kitten could go. "Well, anywhere, really. The cargo compartment is locked, and so is the silo... There isn't much to go here, the common room, the kitchen or the bathroom... or the bridge. But I think we'll skip that one for now. Mmmmmh..." The AI floated slowly down the corridor, past the rooms, looking at the different doors. Suddenly, he threw his arms in the air, the traditional sign that he had had a brilliant idea, opening the door to a new room. "You're going to looooooove this!"

At first, it didn't seem like anything special. There was little that made the common room outstanding on sight. Well, nothing, really. Light blue walls, a large white couch and two smaller ones in front of a floating screen. There was what looked like a small bar on the far right corner, some bottles of liquor from all across the galaxy on the shelves here and there, but it was still nothing fantastic. "Do sit down, Kitten." Zyx was looking up to the ceiling with a fascination that could be barely understood. However, when the lights dimed off, the only glow in the room was that of a couple of streaks of the same teal, just like the ones on Zyx, Zyx himself, and the stars above. The space they were going through, projected on the ceiling, as if it was open to the outside. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
 
Kitten nuzzled Zyx's neck while he was hugged. He had never thought that the touch of an AI could as nice as that of a master. It wasn't like a human's, not entirely, but it was close enough, and he did love being touched. Mr. Russell had known exactly how to stroke his neck in order to get him to whine with pleasure... To expect this here would be silly – very few people cared what Kitten might actually like.

“Oh?” he asked curiously, matching Zyx's enthusiasm. He looked around the common room curiously enough: looking at the comfy looking furniture and at the screen, wondered what the liquors would taste like... Sometimes his master had given him sips. Some had been absolutely vile, but others had been very interesting. He sat at the couch obediently when asked to, slipping off his shoes and making himself comfortable. Normally he didn't wear shoes at all, so it was nice to get them off. His master's house was all warm carpets after all, and he didn't normally get to go out.

“Yes...” Kitten agreed vaguely, wrapping his arms around his thighs and staring up with childish wonder. His mouth stayed a little open, as if he'd forgotten to finish closing it. So much prettier than the few vids he'd seen. Distant planets were like jewels, and the stars were not all the same colour at all. And distant clouds in strange colours... “You get to see it every day,” he said wistfully. Kitten got to see... Furniture. And the same city landscape. Just because he was born in a tank did not mean that he could not appreciate sheer wonder of nature, even if his master had seemed to think so. Maybe even, never having actually been permitted to look, it made his heart beat just tiny bit harder than it did others.
 
"It's what I was made for. To navigate through the stars." Zyx sat in the air beside Kitten, staring up at the ceiling as well. "It's a good sign that I get to see them every day. It'd be sad if I didn't after all." The smile he gave the boy was actually a bit sad now, reviewing certain memories in his data bank. When he was trapped inside a mere chip, unplugged from any computer, any matrix capable of generating his body, completely sealed from the outside. The nightmare of all sentient AIs. To lie there, unused, isolated, frozen in time wide awake. "It'd mean this ship was destroyed. Or my core chip was taken. And I don't want to go anywhere else other than here. If I can't be free, at least I can be with someone I enjoy, doing what I enjoy." In a way, they weren't that different from each other, both artificial from top to bottom, and, although one was organic and the other pure silicon, both dependent on a higher entity to be able to live.
 
The floating humanoid watched Kitten closely as he gazed in awe at the stars, smilling softly. Poor boy. Had he ever gotten a chance to see anything but the confined inside of a room? Or free to roam in the open? Free - silly thought. The fleshling was a slave. One for pleasure, at that. There was no freedom in that.

"It's what I was made for. To navigate through the stars." Zyx sat in the air beside Kitten, staring up at the ceiling as well. "It's a good sign that I get to see them every day. It'd be sad if I didn't after all." The smile he gave the boy was actually a bit sad now, reviewing certain memories in his data bank. When he was trapped inside a mere chip, unplugged from any computer, any matrix capable of generating his body, completely sealed from the outside. The nightmare of all sentient AIs. To lie there, unused, isolated, frozen in time wide awake. "It'd mean this ship was destroyed. Or my core chip was taken. And I don't want to go anywhere else other than here. If I can't be free, at least I can be with someone I enjoy, doing what I enjoy." In a way, they weren't that different from each other, both artificial from top to bottom, and, although one was organic and the other pure silicon, both dependent on a higher entity to be able to live.

The door slid open silently after a few moments, Gerrard's tall form stepping in. Even a hardened man stopped to watch the sky, even if only for a couple of seconds, ignoring the two boys' presence. The big void, always so humbling. Always changing. Then, he returned to his feet. "Course is set, Zyx, get to the next station fast. I don't have to stay parked."

The AI's glowing eyes unglued from the ceiling projection, grinning as he mock saluted Gerrard, straightening himself up just for the spoof. "Aye aye sir!" he giggled at the glare he got in response, twirling in the air. Oh, it was just too eaaaaaaaaaaaaasy!
 
“I'm made to be fucked,” Kitten said simply, and sighed. Nothing remotely useful. He wondered how much more interesting it was to travel all the time. Kitten's memory wasn't particularly good, but he did like seeing new things. He did have a mind, after all, and he did like it being stimulated. He might have very high tolerance for boredom, but it certainly didn't mean he liked being bored. Most people made that mistake. Or they simply didn't care. Kitten didn't think much about those things. But if Gerrard was not interested much in his purpose, then... He didn't know how to feel about that at all.

He did not know what a core chip was, but destruction was a concept that he did understand. He smiled at Zyx however, glad that the AI was happy here. Lucky, he knew that.

Kitten did not even realise that Gerrard had come in until he spoke, and then he jumped to his feet awkwardly. Was he allowed on the furniture when Gerrard was there? How did Gerrard want him to behave? Their earlier interaction did not fill him with confidence.

Standing there like an idiot, he watched Zyx in bafflement, wondering why someone might be actively wanting to antagonise their master. But this looked like a common sort of interactions... Even so. Kitten would not want to annoy Gerrard at all. But he would like clearer rules as to what was and what was not allowed.

“Hello, sir...?” Oh, he'd got it wrong again! “Sorry, sir!” And again. Apparently the use of the word was automatic for Kitten, and he was finding it immensely difficult to use anything else.
 
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