#human | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wolven91 · 3 days

Text

Drifting - Part 7

"That went well." Qik said as she slipped a foot into the nerve suit's trouser leg while Casper was currently running his fingernails across the top of his scalp, itching it vigorously. The man glared at the messy cap of hair that had plagued him for the last hour.

He'd had to wear it for the entire interview with a GC representative. All a giant farse to hide the fact that as a 'critically endangered species' mere months of living in geckin space, Caper was now piloting thirty-foot mechs that had the potential of killing him if he took a bad hit.

"I want to burn this." He said bluntly, glaring at the ridiculous yellow, blonde wing that was more in place on a fictional character than real life.

"Do it, throw it into the furnace." Qik shrugged, as she shimmied into the Nerve-Suit, its shiny material hugging her curves in ways that made the human stare quite openly. Qik was slim, sleek, and athletic. Her abdominal muscles showed through her fur quite easily and the 'skintight' Nerve-Suit only emphasised that further. His eyes greedily drank in the way the light played over the smooth contours. He blinked, snapping back to reality. Why was it hard to concentrate?

"Uhh, I... Can't. That was it. It belongs to a geckin, not part of the military. But... why did they have a wig?" Casper asked, holding it in his hands and squinting at the item, trying to distract himself from the toned leg that was parked on the bench next to him as Qik adjusted and made sure the suit was in place.

"Apparently they had a fantasy of a human. Or a facsimile." Qik explained as Casper put it aside and began to disrobe.

"What do you mean?" He asked as he turned away from her to remove his underwear, still suffering from the human-made taboo of being undressed in front of the opposite gender. He'd discovered that, that was not a common fear amongst the stars. Humans were the odd one out for how much they cared about separating the genders. Even on his public ID, it didn't have his gender listed.

"Humans aren't new in some parts of the galaxy apparently." Qik began, fists now on her hips whilst she openly stared at Casper as he donned the stretchy Nerve-Suit. "You might have only been officially part of the GC for like, six months? But it seems that Ssypno media has human-things running around long before then. Rumours and shit. This geckin was a human lover." The lopel mercenary finished with a grin.

Casper frowned and ensured his suit was donned correctly, trying to line up the needle holes with the red welts that covered his ashen skin.

"Human lover, before humans were found. Sounds like a-abduct-..."

Casper blinked as the changing room was suddenly filled with a deafening roar, he tried to say something, but nothing came out as he became lightheaded and lost his balance. Toppling forwards, strong arms and hands grabbed him, arresting his fall. It took a moment for his legs to work and lift himself back up, knees shaking. He looked down at the brown fur and black latex covered arms holding him.

Qik.

Noise from behind his ear. She was saying something. He took a guess, not wanting her to know how far gone he was.

"Dizzy... Just a bit dizzy." As he was sat down on the bench with her help. "Got up too quick."

"You been eating?" Qik asked, her face close to his. She had knelt down and held his head between both of her hands, peering into his eyes, using her thumb to pull his eyelid down slightly and observed him. They were warm. Her hands were so warm and blocked out the world and the roaring noise. He gently reached up and touched her hands, not quite holding her there, but ensuring she didn't pull away too quickly.

"Yeah..." He lied, the young man hadn't been hungry recently. He'd nibbled the nutritional mush but had poured most of it down the toilet before going to bed. He felt fine, he'd felt this way before, and knew the moment he was back in the rig, he'd be better than fine once more.

The brown furred rabbit-like alien merely frowned, then clicked her tongue. She let go, much to his disappointment.

"Come on then. We're testing live weapons today. No more simulations. You're going to need a pick-me-up." She decided on his behalf, her voice moving away.

Blinking, Casper willed himself to concentrate, to get back in the room and turned his head to find the alien rifling through her jacket's inner pockets. She pulled a tiny hard packet and held it between two fingers, holding it to the light. Standing back up, her legs going on for days, she cat-walked back over to where he was sat and folded herself back down.

She took the packet, snapped it in half and held it to Casper's nose with one hand, while the other grasped the back of his head, preventing him from retreating.

"Sniff. Once and hard." She ordered, eyes fixing him in place.

He trusted her, Casper complied.

Immediately he felt better. The second he finished inhaling, his lungs breathed out through his mouth and his vision became notably clearer. His eyes felt as if he had put drops into them. The tightness in the back of his skull was gone. He wasn't high or wired. There wasn't a tremble to his hands like when he had, had too much coffee, but in a matter of seconds; he was awake and alert once more. Qik nodded at his eyes focusing on her a moment later. Even his legs felt strong and ready, the tremble, gone as if it were never there.

"It's not a fix, but it keeps you on point during extended missions. It'll get you through today. You'll need to eat tonight though. Come on. Let's get going." She explained, patting his knee and standing up right, leaving his head at hip height.

== 0 ==

Casper received a message from Qik. These were public knowledge, and Qik never spoke of private matters over these messages as anyone could have been reading them. At least while they were operating under geckin jurisdiction.

{Okay New Guy, first up. Heavy weapon frames.}

Qik's rig was running ahead, the spiked ends of her rig's legs tip toeing across the landscape like she was merely a thirty-foot mech running through a feel of daisies. As the pair of them left the safety of the hangers and went to the wider, more deserted firing ranges for the rigs, Casper was reminded that they were travelling a not insignificant distance at high speed.

Casper's rig was running alongside her, but it was more of a skip, where his massive metal feet kicked at the earth and his booster suite, fit to his back, propelled him forwards in great leaps and bounds. It didn't matter which way he wanted to move, the directional jets would automatically move with his desires, and fire as one, launching the human rig in a complete 3D space. Even up into the sky, although jumping was ill-advised at most times.

While Qik's rig was armoured and designed to be fast and deadly, offering her an all-round offence and defence, Casper's rig was an 'ultralight', designed to not *be* hit, by being faster than the opponent. It suited his style, fast and accurate, avoiding confrontation if he could. The near zero drift of his connection to his rig meant that plenty of effort was put into freedom of movement of the machine. If his body could do it in 'real life', he could do it inside his rig. Even jumping, the engineering crew of the geckins had put a lot of thought into shock absorbers, just to prevent the utter destruction of the suit from one bad landing.

It had gone so far that Qik had been tasked with teaching the young man how to roll and fall safely on crash mats in the real world. He hated those lessons; his biological side was even weaker now... not like his mechanical body. It had yet to fail him even once.

The new received message caught his full attention.

{Heavy weapon frames are equipment packages that are launched into the combat area during the softening barrages. To the enemy, it could be an unexploded ordinance. To you? It's a power up.} Casper felt *something* ahead, it made him giddy. It was something pleasant. Something good. Like a 'blip' in his mind, he made a straight line for it.

The pair of the giant rigs came up to the lip of a crater. At the centre, in the lowest part of the divot, was a metal lid. Without prompting the lid pinged off and a weapon package appeared from the ground.

{Approach it.}

Casper complied, sliding down the loose dirt with more ease than should have been possible. The loose dirt of the craters had toppled more than one mech in the past. As he approached however, the package unfolded, and an autocannon revealed itself to him. Without training, the software of the rig stepped in and he instantly knew how to equip the item. It was always odd when the software packages that were part of his rig inserted their knowledge in places that he had previously no experience.

He had not known to aim for joints to disable a mech's weapons or movement. He did not know that pilots were almost always situated between the shoulders at the back of the mech. He didn't know, to duck his head and shoulder the weapon platform, nor how to all clicked and clunked into place. But now, thanks to the software, he knew it by instinct. The moment he needed the information; it was there, in his mind as if he had merely forgotten it.

Casper stood up straight, shouldering the platform and felt the weight. He could feel that his movement was lessened dramatically, bending his knees under the weight.

[Its heavy.] He sent.

{You're not going to be able to boost or move at your normal speed with that thing. This is a shoot, empty the weapon, then bug out package.}

[Speed is life?] He sent with mild hope she would get the reference.

{Yes, that's a very good motto to keep in your head. Now, that mountain over there insulted us, fire at will.} She demanded, and a pockmarked slab of rock was pinged as a target. His optics tracked it perfectly, so did the cannon. The cannon was easy to use. It was as if Casper had gained a third eye, one that followed exactly where the barrel was pointing. It was no harder to aim the weapon than it was to cross or uncross one's eyes. It took concentration, an effort, but no more than that. A mild effort to aim an oversized tank cannon.

If Casper could smile, he would have, he settled for clicking his optics. The satisfying clunk and explosion of the weapon rattled the entire frame of Casper's rig with each round. His shots, despite aiming somewhat carefully, went far wider than he expected. It certainly wasn't as accurate as he wanted, so he knelt low and aimed his shots instead of firing wildly, tensing his arm.

Clunk.

The shells of the expended ordinance flew out the side of the cannon, away from his rig until they dented the earth. He was watching the rounds carefully as they arced, however. He was pleased when each hit the centre of the previous round's explosion, visibly boring into the side of the mountain until entire sections began to crumble and begin a rockslide now that gravity wanted its due.

Each time Casper willed the weapon to fire, not pulling any mechanical trigger, he felt a counter in his mind. Like each fired round made him lighter, and emptier until finally nothing more happened. He knew that he had nothing left in this weapon.

{You're out, that equipment is now nothing more than extra weight. Eject it.}

Casper shrugged and pins fired as one. The new frame that had locked around Casper's rig fell to pieces, freeing him. Immediately he felt his spine lengthen and had to resist the urge to bounce on the spot with the returned freedom. His rig twisted and flexed, while Qik's rig merely watched on, still as a statue. His rig's arms extended, then returned, shadow boxing in the open air.

{You really feel more alive out here, don't you?}

[You have no idea...]

{Tell me about it, we got more stuff to try, Southeast.}

A new 'blip' appeared in the distance. It was a curious sensation, like there was a physical presence touching his forehead when he looked in that direction. The software, melding perfectly with his nerves. The pair of them began their run once more, bounding over hills and along valleys. Casper breathed deep, the vents across his chest opening fully, reducing his armour, but allowing his reactor to run hotter. Everything was in sync.

He was the mech. The mech was the real him.

[It's a freedom unlike any other.]

{I've enjoyed lots of different freedom New Guy. It can't be that good. }

[I don't think I could explain it to you unless you lived like a human did only a little bit ago. We were told we had freedom, we didn't.]

{I hope your old leaders survived, only a matter of time until a juicy contract pops up for them}

[I don't want revenge. I just don't want to go back.]

Casper hadn't even laid eyes on the metal capsule before the lid audibly pinged off this time. His mech grabbed the lip of the crater as his legs and boosters threw him up and over the lip. It was the same movement as jumping over a fence, only his entire body knew where it was and where the ground was. He'd never catch his foot on the ground, he'd never worry about being tired. He was truly in control now.

Similar to the Autocannon there was equipment hanging in the air, ready for Casper's rig to get into position. He did so without hesitation, he trusted himself.

{Fastest method of taking out a threat is to ensure its destroyed. Let me get clear before you turn all that on.} Came a message from Qik before he felt her rig retreat rapidly over several hills.

Casper's rig stepped into the frame and a hilt was presented to his hand, which grasped and locked it into place. On his opposite arm, a round disc was bolted into place, the lug nuts twisted and locked in within seconds. Casper turned and swept the hilt in an arc in front of him, just as the fusion engine buried within burped to life.

[You got me a sword!?] He demanded, moving through several motions, finding them natural and fluid despite never having held a sword, real or fake, before.

{It's technically a blowtorch, but if you want to designate it a sword, go for it New Guy.}

Again, Casper's rig's optics clicked in glee as he swung the sword in greater arcs with faster and faster strokes until he was spinning and hopping from one leg to the other. He was graceful and deadly in equal measures. The young man felt as if he could take on any master swordsman if they had the ill fortune to cross him.

{Enjoying yourself? Good to see you so loose and limber. It'll be useful for this next bit.} Came Qik's next message, but she was beyond his range of perception, even if he tried to extend his sight, his feelings; wherever she was, if she was still in the dunes, she was low and still. Hidden from him.

He was turning his head from left to right, searching the horizon for a clue to where she might be, when the first shot pinged off his left shoulder. Sparks flew and something squealed off into the distance. Casper rolled forward with the force of the below, bending over and getting cover within the crater.

More rounds from the west began to fly overhead, chewing up the crater's edge. He could see and hear the bright flashes of the live rounds whizzing mere inches, or what felt like inches, from his head.

{New Objective: get back to the hangers without being disabled. Good luck New Guy.} Was the final message Casper received from Qik. Emotions never came across in the text format, but this felt cold, or maybe she was amused? Either way, Casper knew the lopel pilot was serious. Casper shuffled on his hands and knees, the ignited blade dying at his whim. He made his way around the crater away from the barrage of bullets that threatened to take the head off anything that appeared.

In the brief moment that Casper's reconnaissance unit popped up, time seemed to slow. His optics clicked and he immediately saw the tower that had sprung up from the ground, from between two of the formerly unimportant hills. Atop it was a turret that was firing a stream of bullets his way. In this slowed state, he could see the barrels twist and adjust to his new position, so he ducked again and shuffled to the bottom of the crater.

Moments later, the space his head had occupied exploded in a shower of dirt and sod. But Casper didn't care.

He might have cared if he was weak.

If he feared for his flesh.

But he didn't.

He was inside a machine that made him fast, strong and dangerous. He might have worn a frown, or even a grimace, but the rig couldn't recreate those movements. As he prepared to leave the crater, his optics clicked instead.

From the crater, Casper's rig exploded out of it with a burst of speed that belied the size of the machine. His legs unfolded and braced him for impact as the rig landed, scraping down the side of one of the hills, sending dirt and grass flying. There was no delay, the main thruster that sat in the very centre of Casper's back roared to life and catapulted him forwards!

If he were a mere human, he may have feared the speed at which he rocketed forwards towards the turret, he may have even feared the barrels as they tracked him, spinning up, ready to vomit another stream at him.

But not whilst he was within his mech, not while he was who he was meant to be.

He.

Was.

Invincible.

The tower grew and grew as his rig approached at Mach speed, all he had to do to reach it was kick the ground only a few moments before he hit the base directly. His trajectory changed in an instant and the rig soared into the sky majestically. The barrels flashed and burped another stream, but the sword was only part of the weapons package he had picked up, the shield bolted to his other arm was raised high, tilted to deflect, rather than absorb the rounds that screeched and wailed as they ricocheted off the solid shield.

The sword came to life once more, flame and fire that burned in the thousands of degrees flowed from the hilt, directly into the metal of the turret, cutting through the armour with ease and destroying both the precious wiring and the volatile ammunition within. Like a knife through butter. As gravity reasserted itself, Casper bent his knees and the booster pack closed all the vents on his back, opened the vents to his front and fired, softening his landing in a cloud of dirt just as the tower and the turret exploded in a shower of sparks and fire.

[Hah! Take that!] He sent on a broad wave, standing in his moment of true victory, one fist raised, holding the sword aloft.

The RL238 AAFPPT (Anti-Armour, Falling Petal, Pass Through) round pummelling straight through the left hand vents on the front of Casper's rig without losing even a fraction of its energy. The spinning munition tore through internal components without a single care, easily completing its mission of punching right back out the otherside of the machine. The round continued its journey for just short of a mile before being oblitorated as buried itself into the dirt.

The barrel of the 120mm rifle that had fired the round was still glowing at this moment. Vapour steamed gently away, unfussed by any breeze despite the violence of noise and light that flashed by only moments ago.

Qik winced in her rig as she observed the perfect hole straight through the chest of Casper’s rig. It was a hard lesson, but one every pilot needed to have.To be disabled.

What did it mean to a pilot with no drift though?

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #lopeljack #rabbit

34 notes · View notes

wolven91 · 2 days

Text

Drifting - Part 8

Casper knew there was something wrong straight away, albeit he didn't know what exactly had just happened. He had felt a flare of pain and suddenly his entire chest felt heavy, it didn't feel right. That alone was enough to set his mind racing.

His mind, supported by the software, warned him of the horrific damaged caused by the over-penetrating strike. There was shock, his brain dumped as many chemicals as it thought would help immediately into his own system, but the software listed his problems very neatly, allowing him to prioritise.

His optics clicked as he struggled, it was as if someone had strapped a thick, unyielding, belt across and around his torso, before heaving it as tight as they could possibly make it. His arm lowered, still holding the sword aloft in his victory pose, it's spout of intense heat dying and going out. His hand, still grasping the hilt, touched at his chest, he was still intact, he could see the metal, it's paint was scratched and marred, but he wasn't destroyed.

He wanted to sigh in relief, to breathe, to take in a steadying breath and clear this tightness.

Casper did what he had always done, and breathed deep, only for the vents across his chest, to remain closed. They twitched and sparked, but unlike every time before, where they had opened and flooded his heart with the rich oxygen of the training fields, this time they stayed closed. If Casper's face could contort, show worry, or perhaps fear, it would have. Instead, his optics clicked and whirred, the camera apertures dilating in panic.

He stumbled forward and tried again. 'Steady. Breathe in through the nose.'

The giant pair of intake turbines that sat within his chest, sputtered, and sparked. The connection to the main unit meant they received the order to spin up, to feed the furnace that was sat at the centre of his chest, but they couldn't comply. One of the turbines was outright gone. The majority of it was now scattered in a straight line leading away from the rig, following the path of the super dense round.

The other turbine tried it's best and the blades began to move, but they were sluggish. The metal blades caught and screeched as they scratched debris into the housing of the intake. The devastation of the round hadn't just destroyed internal systems, it had peppered the untouched areas with super-heated fragments that melted and burn holes in a sea of critical parts.

Qik's shot was perfectly landed, exactly right, to cause the whole machine to shutdown safely and eject the pilot. A kill shot. The average machine would be completely disabled. The machine that had just taken her shot, weeks before, was a mere object. It was inert as a rock, simply complicated in makeup. It too, would have fallen over with any other pilot.

But the spirit that drove this thing, that worked as the masterful conductor that led the collection of lifeless parts into movement and action had willed his mind and personality into all things. The amps in the wires pulsed like a heartbeat. The ones and zeros that may have made up the many layers of software may have begun as cold, unfeeling systems, now in fact; *desired* to work as intended. Emotion drove this machine as much as logic did.

The batteries sprung awake, switching from charging to output; the reactor was without O2! 'Turbines! To life!' They screamed.

Turbine Two was KIA and remained silent. The machine would mourn its loss later.

Turbine One was severely wounded, but it's fans could move. It could do its job. The turbine added as much torque to its fans as it could to push past the debris and get the airflow back!

The batteries, working in tandem, broke protocol and devoted more power than normal to the last remaining lifeline. The computerised systems, guided by the pilot's will to live, instantly stepped in and disconnected all the hard locked safety features, overclocking its systems beyond any recommended redline. Dying was not merely turning off, it was the great oblivion. The machine had no desire to turn to off for the final time. It wasn't ready to go yet.

Geckin engineers would be baffled later reading the reports. This machine should have seen the danger in still going and ejected the pilot to safety; away from the potential explosion of a reactor that was online, but without oxygen. But unbeknownst to them, the software was faced with a millennia of survival instincts of the pilot's layered mind. A thousand computer specialists, backed by an army of wet work AIs; couldn't have resisted the sheer force of will from Casper as his mind, dropping into survival instincts and, the lizard, the mammal, and the ape, all demanding his body to live.

His body was the machine, the machine would comply. It *would* live.

Turbine One's fan blades completed a rotation, then a second, and a third before it's RPM began to sore once more! One fan blade was sparking as it caught the casing, but it didn't matter; the 02 intake was climbing!

The vents across the mech's chest slapped open and the exhausts at the back belched an unhealthy-looking plume of black smoke. Casper had power, one lung was collapsed, but he could breathe. He could fight. He turned to the threat he felt like heat across the side of his face. His sensor suite was untouched and knew the exact point of danger.

Qik rose her rig's 'head' up to observe the human's rig stumble forward after taking the hit, just like he was supposed to. But then he straightened, black smoke rising from him, and looked her way. He wasn't supposed to do that. Qik's rig ducked its head and lined up another shot. She'd taken out hundreds of geckin pilots with that exact same shot, the pilot's will to go on didn't matter; the mech should have deactivated and ejected him away. This was the final lesson, this was supposed to be routine.

'Tough bastard.' But Qik kept that thought to herself.

Casper wasn't even thinking at this point, all he could see was red. He was hurt! Injured! There was danger! Run! Fight! Hide! Run! Fight! Hide!

The optics instantly clicked, focusing, and seeing the former ally crouched in the mouth of the hangers, with a giant weapon pointed his way. Red targeting highlights marked her.

Unbidden, the software told his animalistic mind that Qik was pointing a Maestrik 120mm/L61 cannon his way. Despite never seeing this weapon before, Casper knew it was unwieldy, unsuitable for active warzones, with the exception of fortified positions and overwatch operations. She had advantage, side to side movement wouldn't help. It was fully capable of destroying him with a single round, regardless of the ammunition loaded. There was no hiding, not even going to ground could protect him from what was pointed at him. There was no retreat. There was no hiding.

All this information was instantly provided and understood by the three layers of the human's brain before the lopeljack could prepare the next shot.

"Fight!" The Ape, The Mammal and The Lizard, all screamed in unison. The machine obeyed.

His mech launched forwards at the threat.

Turbine One on its own couldn't feed enough O2 into the boosters to bring him closer to the danger in time, the calculations all declared he would fail. With the safeguards gone however, the software whispered that he had a chance... The reactor was willed into overdrive, spinning it up to maximum output, damning the consequences. The rods inside would eventually melt through the metal housing, but it would give him the edge! The boosters on Casper's back, usually gave off a lovey blue and white jet that burnt clean when it activated, but the flames that spewed out now, pushing his speed past what was possible on his own, was a dirty yellow, smoke and smog billowing out as a trail before it began to slowly change to blue in colour as the core temperature began to cascade upwards.

Qik was ready now, as Casper closed the distance. His rig raised the metal shield still bolted to his arm up, to protect his body, all the while the top of his recon unit's casing poked over the top; his optics never once leaving her.

'A good hunter's eyes never wander...' She mused.

The barrel roared and the entire atmosphere in the hanger warped and hiccupped as the force and concussive blast of the gun sent anything not firmly nailed down, flying. The round travelled the short distance in less than a blink. The world was moving in slow motion for Casper, so his optics saw the point of the spinning round as it destroyed one half of his reconnaissance unit. The round whistled into the distance, destroying several banks of dirt before eventually burying itself into the dirt. The rig flinched with the force of the shot, turning with the resulting air vortex of the round, but it was only a moment's distraction before the tiny red dot in the centre of the optic's aperture locked onto to Qik once more.

Cold. Dispassionate. Casper kept going.

Catastrophic damage was registered across his face, he'd lost radio, sensors and lidar, but the enemy was in front of him, he had committed and considered nothing else now. He cocked his arm, aligning the sword's hilt over the top of his shield to plunge it into the enemy's chest as soon as she was in range. He just needed a few more seconds.

The third and final shell tore Casper in half.

The vortex the shell created, added to the damage done by the round to the mech's midsection, disconnected both legs and sent the torso falling forwards, rolling into the dirt. A moment later, a small armoured circular aperture opened, and a tiny, human sized sarcophagus was fired into the sky, away from the unit's corpse. The reactor ignited and the mech began to burn and melt. It would continue to do so for several hours before it eventually laid there as a ruined husk into the night.

To Casper, he didn't feel the damage that 'killed' him, but he felt what it was like for his soul to be torn from his body. Like a crustation or arachnid, he felt his arms and legs be pulled from within the mech's limbs, shedding them like an old moult. He was pulled up, gathered into a tiny pathetic ball, and thrown from the back of the mech into the sky before he was deadened to the sensations of the world once more and thrust into the void. It was a mental trauma unlike anything else, Casper *knew* what it was like to die in violence now and for his very soul to be ripped from its home.

In the void, Casper wailed. Screaming into the nothingness at the awful sensations that he had just been forced through. He only stopped when he felt the exhaustion of the recent events catch up to him.

== 0 ==

Wren watched the pilot sarcophagus with disconnected professionalism. The engineering crew were well trained and moved with purpose and fluidity. The seal popped and the biological team stepped up. One of theirs stepped down into the casket and hooked two fabric loops under something out of Wren's sight. The geckin doctor knew it would be the human's arms.

At a curt hand signal to the crane operator, the human was lifted from the coffin-like structure, limp and unmoving. His body was slick with sweat and the room stank of his odour. It always did. Wren had hidden her disgust the first few times, but once she realised that the human was barely even conscious when he was retrieved from the mech, she'd stopped trying. He was lowered and gracelessly placed onto a gurney next to her. At least he hadn't vomited on himself this time. It wasn't that she cared for him, it just smelt even worse.

Wren knew other species felt emotions differently to geckins, she was a biologist after all, knowing how they thought was how they were winning the ongoing war with the ssypno. So, with 'Casper', she had adopted the persona of a care giver. It was a fairly easy act to pull off, she 'cooed' and 'fussed' over the human to ensure his cooperation, but that was no longer needed. He was obviously addicted to the Full Submersion Control, but its effects were lasting for the human. It took him time to recover where he was disoriented. Not to mention he was no longer property under the control of the geckin people. Damn that lopel for poisoning her hard work. Zeet had genuinely cared for the creature, thrilled to have found a worthy pilot for his life's work. Wren just wanted to peel back his skull and see how to recreate his strengths.

Now she was frustratingly obligated to tick the boxes to protect the geckin people. Mostly from the ire of the GC, should they ask what welfare checks they had put in place and attempt to accuse them of damaging the rarest species if all this went the way they expected. For all their faults, they would claim their tails should the geckins be found wanting in this regard. Falling out of their graces would do no good for keeping ssypno aggression in check.

"Sit him up." She ordered, stepping up the creature. Her research had come on leaps and bounds. The idea of near zero drift was unheard of and very, very interesting to the geckin private sector that paid for Wren's research. The geckin government had stepped away and had stopped protecting him now that the human was destined to no longer be their problem.

Wren sneered in uncovered disgust as she looked him over. Its flesh was clammy and pale, lacking the protection or brilliance of scales. When it had arrived, its flesh was pinkish brown. There were sections and areas where he was outright pale, obviously the skin was always covered by clothing in these areas, but now his skin was uniformly ashen, nearly grey throughout.

"Touch your fingers." She ordered curtly, raising her voice and getting a reaction from the creature. More of a flinch than acknowledgment. He didn't comply at first, his eyes, dull now, searching the room before finding her. She raised her arms and effortlessly touched her fingertips to her thumbs in a series, prompting him. She didn't like how his lips looked damaged, as if he'd been chewing them. Normal? Or a side effect?

"Touch your fingers." She instructed again, bored of this already. Her claws clacked against each other, giving a 'tik, tik, tik' sound that felt loud in the hanger bay.

The human complied, slowly raising his hands which both shook violently, as if he were shivering. It was slow at first. The task was to touch his thumb to the tips of each of his fingertips in a row, then back. He missed or made a fist at first before slowly coming back to his real body. It was as if they were training a pilot inside a mech, but the other way around. After a minute or so, he succeeded, Wren wasted no time.

"Touch your toes."

This one he did right away. She used to make him stand up and stretch, without bending his knees to touch his toes. Now he merely folded them at the knee while he sat there and brushed his hand against any part of his foot that he could reach. Good enough to her; instructions didn't say not to bend his knees.

"You're fine, get food and rest. No piloting tomorrow." More than enough medical care to appease a board. How 'kind' of her to prevent him from piloting for his welfare.

The human nodded, before shuffling towards the edge of the gurney and gingerly touching his toes to the floor. As he left, his gait was like a corpse that had come back to life, shuffling and lurching from one leg to the other. He wrapped his arms around himself and almost fell forwards, away from the geckins. He now walked as the geckin biological community had expected his gait when they had heard there was a biped species without a tail. Wren had turned back to her notes before Casper had left the hanger, before eventually disappearing from sight.

Wren merely sighed, already dismissing him from her mind. She'd like to get access to his brain before any long-term damage or even sudden damage occurred to it. But she'd settle for the plan offered by her benefactors. Either way, she'd get to play with that brain once it was in her lab, she often won these games if she just remained patient.

== 0 ==

"Casper?" Asked a voice, causing the formley lone occupant of the corridor to blink. He had been slumped against a wall, still standing, but gathering his strength. The haggard young man turned and looked back the way he had come, to now find the lopel mercenary, Qik standing there. He frowned, unsure if she was actually in the corridor with him, and reached out a hand to ensure she was real. She raised her own hand and caught his with ease.

"Hey Qik, sorry, I was daydreaming." Casper murmured before pulling his hand back before she caught the tremor that wouldn't stop. His skin physically ached where the soft pads of her hands had touched him.

"Sounds fun. Shall we get you to your quarters?" She asked, tilting her head, and watching him curiously. Casper merely nodded and made a concerted effort to walk with his back straight and steady rhythm to where his door waited for him. He touched the back of his hand to the sensor and the door slid aside with a hiss.

He stepped in, holding back a sigh until he was alone but was surprised when Qik followed without waiting for an invitation. He released his sigh and merely keyed the door shut behind her, too tired to protest. Ignoring her, he began to walk over to his bed, fully intending on falling into it until he woke up again. Qik's words caused him to pause and turn to look at her.

"I'm sorry I shot you." Qik started, feeling oddly guilty. "I'm sorry I shot you multiple times..." She added after a moment's consideration. She was a mercenary; he was hardly the first person she had shot. She hadn't even hurt him. But she felt... guilt. She knew that he felt truly connected to his rigs, whatever configuration they were. She didn't like to think whether he felt anything more than damage reports.

The human shrugged, his eyes were sunken, darkened and bruised as if he'd been hit in the face. He looked bone tired, smelt ill and his clothes, the human made tshirt he had arrived in that he wore now, hung off him. He'd lost weight. More then that, he'd stopped caring for himself and the geckin were obviously not offering that support either. They wouldn't now he'd played his hand and burnt bridges to leave.

"You're not having something to eat?" She asked, noting the pile of mess in his kitchen area.

"I'm not hungry." Casper explained simply, before going silent. With nothing more to say, he merely turned, shuffled again towards the oversized bed and physically collapsed into it. Clothes and all.

Qik blinked.

She was a mercenary of renown. The only reason she'd been stuck here for so long was because she was a lopel of her word, she'd signed a contract and would not leave until she completed that. It was a lifetime of work to gain a reputation of professionalism, but all it took was one bad contract and all that could be shaken. For her to be free once more, she just needed the next fight. She didn't *need* the human.

However.

In all her time as a mercenary, she'd seen many different types of pilots. Some were disconnected and professional about their work. Others were passionate, taking each contract as a bet against their own pride or skill. Not to mention the whole spectrum between.

So Qik had seen pilots like Casper before, they were the ones who had got into the trade for the wrong reasons. Money, Fear, Fleeing justice. It didn't matter, they were without hope and slowly wasted away. The lopel wasn't blind, she could see and hear just how animated the human became inside his rig. How withdrawn he was without it. He was addicted. It was obvious and should be obvious to him too.

But no one had explained about the seduction of the machine to him. No one had taken them under their wing, to explain that he had to care for himself. To know there was more than just the machine or eventually he wouldn't be able to pilot anything again. She was training him, yes, but did that mean that he was her responsibility? She didn't want an apprentice. She had just needed a way of salvaging her reputation from when he had first piloted a mech and fluked a draw.

She closed her eyes and sighed, turning her arm over and running two fingers over the bald circle on her inner forearm. It was one of the ports where she connected to her own rig. No one had taught her anything, she'd learnt it all the hard way.

But... she had to admit... She would have liked it if someone to have given a shit about her when she had started out...

Without a word, she left the main room to find the bathroom unit off to one side. As she fiddled with the dials, the large tub began to fill with hot water that steamed in the cold air of the living space. The console would handle the filling and dispensing of cleaning products into the fresh water.

As she watched the water rise, Qik considered how ace pilots often felt powerful inside a mech. They felt invincible. It *was* addictive. With their low drift, it meant there were very few reminders that the machine was not the ace's body. It was only the hiccups and delayed orders that brought pilots back to reality. The rigs were as dangerous to the enemy as they were to themselves.

As the tub filled, Qik strode over to the kitchen, where a pile of half-eaten high-nutrient slurry trays lay discarded. It only took her a few minutes, but she binned it all and filled a fresh bowl, warming it until it was piping hot. The slurry wasn't great, the appearance was of a lumpy mush and the taste was about the same. But if Casper ate two trays per day, he'd maintain his weight. If she could get three in him, he might actually gain something back onto his bones. The human was far too thin, no way was he an example of a 'healthy' human right now.

The bathroom unit pinged and one of the lopeljack's ears twitched. The bath was ready and an appropriate temperature.

Casper was so far gone that he barely woke as Qik rolled him gently onto his back. She removed his clothes with careful, respectful hands before slipping her arms beneath his knees and around his shoulders. He weighed nothing to her. He wasn't as small as a geckin, far from it, but even with her limited knowledge, he shouldn't be this light.

Walking the short distance, without his shirt, she paid attention to his body. She analysed it, like a doctor or field medic, dispassionate to his nudity. His ribs were well defined through the skin, and his collarbone stretched the thin looking skin taut. He looked like a refugee.

She shook her head as she gently lowered him into the steaming water, careful not to shock him or jostle him too much. His body jerked at the touch of water, and pale blue eyes cracked open, his head lolling limply against her arm as she settled him in the water. One hand never left him as she grabbed a washcloth and applied soap, before beginning to gently wash his body.

"...What... What are you doing?"

"I'm looking after you." She explained carefully. She used short, clear sentences, loud and curt enough to hear him, but softened the usual edge to her voice.

"I'm.. f-fine." He mumbled, trying to assure her he didn't need effort on his part.

"You don't look fine Casper, does anything hurt?" She asked, paying attention to dark splotches that created odd patches on his back. It could be bruising from when the pilot sarcophagus came back down to earth after being ejected from the rig. She asked her question and deliberately ran the cloth over these patches, noticing the flinch in the human's body.

"That... that uh..." He murmured, still very much confused and muddled, his voice went up an octave, wincing again. If Qik didn't miss her guess, she suspected he was in shock.

"A bit tender?" She asked softly.

"Uh huh." He mumbled, nodding his head jerkily. She let him sit back against the edge of the bath and began washing down his arms.

"Is there anything else that's bothering you? Anything else you can tell me about Casper?" She asked again, using his name to bring him back.

"My skin... hurts..." He admitted, blinking back tears, his eyes, already bloodshot, now swimming.

"It's the Nerve-Suit, the water will help it pass Casper, you're doing great. We just need to get you clean, okay?" She assured him, gently wiping over his chest, then continuing down his other arm.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"You shot me... I... Don't... Didn't..." He was confused, in shock, did he think she had hit him because he had angered her?

"It's okay Casper. It wasn't your fault; you did everything correctly. It was just the final lesson, to teach you the limits of your mech, to know that you can't let your guard down. To know..." She looked into his eyes before she finished her sentence. She was gladdened to see that his eyes were awake... and aware. She blinked and gave him a rueful smile.

"To know you're not invincible." She finished, touching a warm, wet paw to his cheek. Touching him, reminding him that he could feel things. Casper sighed and closed his eyes, his hand reaching up and gingerly hold the back of her hand. They stayed there for a moment, Qik not rushing him in any way.

Eventually, he reached for the cloth.

"I'll... finish..." He explained, before adding "I needed this I think."

Qik just gave a knowing smirk.

"'You think'?" She snorted. "Don't doubt me if I tell you to do something. Deal?" Demanded the lopel as she relinquished the cloth to the human's hands. In the brief moment that they touched her hand, she felt the warmth in his skin again. The cold clammy feeling of his skin, no more. He still looked sickly however, and the cheekbones that dominated his face told her of what else he needed.

"Deal." The human said, squeezing the cloth and began washing himself, seemingly losing the self-conscious taboo that had held sway over him whenever they got changed together. Qik stood and left the bathroom, striding over to the kitchen and retrieving the slurry bowl. She picked up a spoon and returned. The human glanced up, his eyes flicking to the bowl and grimaced.

"Oh, come o-..." He began, but the merc was having none of it.

"You will eat." Qik declared. The young man's shoulders sagged, and he nodded, briefly running the wash cloth down his legs.

Qik folded herself down, dipping the spoon into the white and pinkish goop, before offering it to him.

"This is embarrassing." Casper bemoaned before having the spoon ladle the mixture onto his tongue where he didn't need to chew before swallowing. They repeated these three or four times whilst Qik replied.

"Then it's a lesson. Feed yourself after each deployment and I don't need to do this. Every time you don't; either me or someone from our company will do it." She grinned wickedly. "Can't wait to see some of the guys playing 'here comes the draconian' with you." She teased, knowing that it was not an idle threat, even if he didn't know yet.

"I'll eat. I promise I'll eat." Casper swore around a mouthful before swallowing again. "How come I've... wasted away like this?" His hands gestured to himself, the tendons standing proud. She considered her words before explaining.

"Ignoring you not eating, FSC is intensive. Your brain is working full time to control every single subsystem of the rig. Brains are hungry. Lack of any food and it'll eat away at you instead." Qik pointed out succinctly.

"How come you don't look like this then?" Casper asked, while Qik noticed his wandering eyes. She wasn't annoyed.

"I'm a career girl. I look after myself. I exercise, I eat, I get sunlight. All mechs, all the time? That's a fast track to being a husk. Plus, it's a shallower slope for us lopels to slip down." She added at the end, spoon finally hitting the bottom of the bowl as she continued to feed Casper, despite him having both hands free again. The water was a different colour now... The filth and grime finally removed from him.

"How do you mean?" He asked.

"It's all about your drift. You could out manoeuvre me, quite easily. Sure, my training might give me an edge, but you've got that beginner's chaos, trained pilots won't know how to handle you, you make choices that aren't normal. The lack of drift means your brain is handling more, however. Less drift, more intense the usage. I have about one, maybe two percent drift. As long as I take breaks, look after myself, eat my veggies; I'll keep myself looking fine." She said, putting the empty bowl to one side. It was only mild, but she felt that he had gained a bit of colour in his cheeks.

Casper sloshed the water as he brought his hand up to look at his fingers. The water was beginning to prune them. He touched his thumb to his fingertips in series, then did it the other way. Perfect each time.

He felt... human again.

"Since you're pretty much done with training now, we need to think of your callsign." The lopel who was still crouched next to him said nonchalantly. She was currently resting her arms on the edge of the bath, still sat on the floor, with her chin resting on her arms as she watched him.

"My callsign?"

"New Guy doesn't really inspire 'fear', does it?" She asked. Casper blinked and realised that she was talking sense, again. He'd need something, a name that connects to him personally. He thought of what he knew of callsigns and decided he needed a 'cool' one.

"Maverick?" He offered.

"*No*." The rabbit-like alien snapped. "There's like a million 'Mavericks' and they're all assholes." Qik immediately retorted, shooting that idea down rather rapidly. Casper sighed and grimaced at the water again, it was actually gross, now that he thought about it.

"I think I need to get out."

"Mm, water's gone bad." Qik agreed, standing and grabbing a towel. The large cut of fabric was designed for larger species than the geckins, the whole living quarters were, but seemingly for something just a bit bigger than a human. Like a lopeljack. The lopel grinned and looked away, holding the towel out as a makeshift curtain as the human stepped from the bath, intending on grabbing the towel from her.

Instead, the lopel grabbed the human into the towel, covering him briefly, spinning him in place, before escaping into the living area, laughing at the human's indignant squawk.

Casper freed himself and glared at the retreating short, stumpy, white fluffy tail of the lopel and had to consider it was a nice view. Turning to the bathroom counter, above the sinks was a mirror that reflected everything. There was a pale monster in the room with him.

Casper, blinking, focused and realised the creature was *him*. He was truly pale and gaunt. He'd known that he'd lost weight over his training, but this was dramatic. He looked sick. He looked *dead*.

"I really do look like a ghost..." He agreed to no one.

"What's a 'ghost'?" Called Qik, doing *something* in the other room. Running water and clinking gave the man hints.

"Uh.. A ghost, a spectre. The dead with unfinished business. They're usually really pale; you can't always see them. They can be friendly, or they can be pretty nasty. We got kid's tales and horror stories of all kinds with ghosts." He explained, leaning forwards and pulling the darkened flesh around his eyes taut, feeling how thin it felt.

Qik's head appeared around the doorframe in the mirror, pulling his attention.

"Perfect. You're 'Spectre' then." The head disappeared immediately, leaving Casper frowning before whipping his around to stare at the empty space incredulously.

"Excuse me?" The young man demanded, feeling energy diffuse him like no meal or sleep could.

"Would you prefer the callsign; Ghost?"

"Aw man, that's too on the nose! My name is *Casper* for Christ's sake!"

"And 'Maverick' the single most overused callsign was a better idea? Nah, I'm your sponsor into the company, I'm registering you as either 'Spectre' or 'Ghost'."

"For fucks sake." Casper groaned, leaving the bathroom to find the lopel had tided the kitchen very neatly, and was now flicking the heavy blanket out, neatening it and preparing the bed.

"Come on. Bed. I don't know about you, but I'm tired." She ordered, merely tilting her head..

"Together?" The young man asked, glancing from the bed to the merc.

"Yes. My place is on the other side of the complex because they didn't trust that I wouldn't kill you in your sleep for breaking my mech first time round." She explained as if explaining something simple or obvious. Casper merely blinked and stared.

"Is that true?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, I got bored when they were building your second rig and broke into the offices." She remembered with a grin, placing a fist on her hip. "Read their comments that they were worried I'd end you, but those files prove that they got their dirty little claws into all sorts of devious shit." Qik explained in a false hushed whisper.

Casper walked over and at her urging clambered into the bed first as she continued.

"Honestly, I can't wait to get out of here, I think you'll do better away as well. We just gotta' play smart." She explained, crowding him by swinging a leg under the covers and using her wide hips to bounce him further into the covers. The lopeljack was certainly bottom heavy, whilst her top half was muscled, her hips and thighs were exaggerated, but not unpleasant to look at from Casper's perspective.

Now they shared his bed.

He lay there for a time as the lights winked out and stayed dead still, facing the ceiling with his hands resting on his stomach, over the covers. He wasn't expecting a visitor, nor for the lopel to ever enter his bed. Whilst the young man felt a thousand times better than he did before getting home, he was now more confused than when he had been freshly pulled from the pilot's casket.

There was the sound of movement to his left and he felt the mattress warp as Qik turned over.

"Turn away from me." She instructed. Unthinking, he complied, turning to his right and facing the wall, more confused than embarrassed now.

A silky soft, muscular furry arm, snaked underneath his head, whilst a large warm body shuffled and pressed into his back. A lopeljack was taller than a human, reaching nine feet with ease, and hitting ten or even eleven if one included the ears. Her knees easily pressed into the back of his own as he was scooped into her hug and her other arm came round and over to hold him in place.

"What are-" He started, but Qik was ready.

"I can't sleep unless im hugging a pillow. Yours are too small, and I left mine at mine, so you'll have to do." She explained, her short muzzle working its way in and against the short, buzz cut of his head. She gently rubbed her face against him before settling.

"We're..." Casper began, but didn't know where the sentence was going. Noticing his hesitance, Qik settled matters.

"We're all snuggled, like two rounds in a mag. Don't think about it... just relax..." She whispered, gently squeezing his middle into her.

He laid there for a time, blinking, feeling her chest rise and fall as she laid there. He wanted to panic, to perhaps ask if she was sure? But... he was tired. His eyelids drooped and despite himself jerking awake once or twice, eventually he settled into a sleep that as so deep, even when Qik unintentionally turned over an hour later, dragging him with her; Casper never stirred even once.

Qik placed a finger under his nose to ensure he was still breathing in that moment, but relaxed when her fur ruffled under his breath and then she too, fell asleep.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

#conservationverse #cuddleverse #human #hfy #haso #humans are space orcs #furry #human x furry #lopeljack #rabbit

27 notes · View notes