Elsewhere...
An alien hand resembling a rubbery mitten with one large digit and a thumb like appendage used a trackball to pan a camera away from the human-looking girl as she had been safely removed from the conveyor line moments earlier. The birdman now interested the unseen viewer. The hand pressed an override button on the panel before the claws could retrieve him.
Instead, with a few button pushes, the controls directed the aviary bi-ped to be pushed off the canning line and toward the refuse tube. The controller had only a moment to direct a passing garbage train to accelerate so it would be in place when the doors opened and stop beneath them giving the new specimen a place to land safely.
As the train sped off with its new and only passenger, the unseen observer watched the bird person in the train car climb around taking note of his poncho. "Yes," he noted aloud. "You will be worthy prey."
He pressed a few more buttons, redirecting the train from its otherwise standard route. Jet was able to enjoy the free train ride for several minutes. The train car eventually came to a stop in an underground rail yard. There, the line of cars was separated as his car was disconnected and kicked down a siding. It coasted to an abrupt stop. Jet took notice of the missing Operator and her toaster sidekick. Loneliness set in as the kenku realized he was now down two companions leaving him exactly none. After a moment of groveling and realizing he'd need to replenish his inventory with a new operator and toaster, he prepared to ambush whoever or whatever came through the doors of the rail hopper. Only the doors didn't open.
Instead, a giant clamp latched on to the four corners of the now uncoupled rail car. Without warning, the car was picked up and flipped on its side suddenly and violently and its contents, including Jet, were dumped into a pit next to the track. The mechanism shook the car several times to make sure all of its contents were emptied including the stowaway. A moment later, the car was returned to the track, sans rubbish and kenku. As Jet took in his surroundings, he discovered he was inside a cylindrical storage tank. It lacked a roof and was open above, and conveniently there was a ladder along the wall.
Should Jet climb it, he would be back at above ground underground level near the tracks and the parked railcar. A sprawling subterranean futuristic space city was seen beyond the rail yard. He could easily climb out of the tank should he choose to, cross the tracks despite numerous warning signs instructing beings not to do so, and head towards the buildings. If he did, he would note there were no living beings anywhere aside from the occasional space rat near the switch yard or inside the city. Everything felt oddly deserted and quiet as cities without any people (or aliens) generally felt.
An alien hand resembling a rubbery mitten with one large digit and a thumb like appendage used a trackball to pan a camera away from the human-looking girl as she had been safely removed from the conveyor line moments earlier. The birdman now interested the unseen viewer. The hand pressed an override button on the panel before the claws could retrieve him.
Instead, with a few button pushes, the controls directed the aviary bi-ped to be pushed off the canning line and toward the refuse tube. The controller had only a moment to direct a passing garbage train to accelerate so it would be in place when the doors opened and stop beneath them giving the new specimen a place to land safely.
As the train sped off with its new and only passenger, the unseen observer watched the bird person in the train car climb around taking note of his poncho. "Yes," he noted aloud. "You will be worthy prey."
He pressed a few more buttons, redirecting the train from its otherwise standard route. Jet was able to enjoy the free train ride for several minutes. The train car eventually came to a stop in an underground rail yard. There, the line of cars was separated as his car was disconnected and kicked down a siding. It coasted to an abrupt stop. Jet took notice of the missing Operator and her toaster sidekick. Loneliness set in as the kenku realized he was now down two companions leaving him exactly none. After a moment of groveling and realizing he'd need to replenish his inventory with a new operator and toaster, he prepared to ambush whoever or whatever came through the doors of the rail hopper. Only the doors didn't open.
Instead, a giant clamp latched on to the four corners of the now uncoupled rail car. Without warning, the car was picked up and flipped on its side suddenly and violently and its contents, including Jet, were dumped into a pit next to the track. The mechanism shook the car several times to make sure all of its contents were emptied including the stowaway. A moment later, the car was returned to the track, sans rubbish and kenku. As Jet took in his surroundings, he discovered he was inside a cylindrical storage tank. It lacked a roof and was open above, and conveniently there was a ladder along the wall.
Should Jet climb it, he would be back at above ground underground level near the tracks and the parked railcar. A sprawling subterranean futuristic space city was seen beyond the rail yard. He could easily climb out of the tank should he choose to, cross the tracks despite numerous warning signs instructing beings not to do so, and head towards the buildings. If he did, he would note there were no living beings anywhere aside from the occasional space rat near the switch yard or inside the city. Everything felt oddly deserted and quiet as cities without any people (or aliens) generally felt.
Kenkus weren't a common species across the galaxy. They were scattered pretty wide. Communication and presentation skills were important in most jobs, severely limiting most of their career and thus prosperity perspectives. Not every kenku could be a successful blasterslinging space hero, or even just be an unsuccessful blasterslinging space hero like Jet.
A career kenku seldom chose were wall trophy. Almost no hunter, even those specialized in the most dangerous space game, could boost about having an actual taxidermied kenku in their collection.
He'd make a fine addition to any collection.
Jet didn't realize his collector's value. Right now, he just enjoyed chilling in a bed of space turnips, giving his dizzy head a moment to shake off the claw's tumbling.
Then curiosity won over dizziness. Jet jumped to his clawy feet and hurried up the ladder.
The city laid empty, almost barren. It just seemed deserted: no corpses lying around, no damaged buildings, only emptiness. Thanks to the efforts of space roombas, there weren't even the regular signs of nature retaking the city. Just space roads and an eternal city, stretching forever.
There was so much to do, so much to explore… and Jet stopped after a few steps.
An old arcade game machine in a bar caught his attention. It was running a farming simulator, one of the most unlikely genres to ever get a proper arcade release.
Jet stepped closer, trying to imagine people that lived on a planet that was basically a huge farm, working in their farming-related jobs just to kick back after work to enjoy a farming sim.
The high score's read:
1. Four-letter word, reduced to 3 letters by strategically leaving out the C that usually was the second to last letter
2. YOU
3. COR
4. PER
5. ATE
Jet just assumed that the people around here didn't particularly enjoy a gamified version of their life after all, but some guy in an office decided that farmers just got farm-related stuff in their little company town.
After realizing that there wasn't any booze left in the bar, Jet went deeper into the town, probably searching for a space Metal Slug machine. Too caught up in recreating "HEAVY MACHENE-GUN!" and other pick-up sounds, he didn't realize the soft whirring of cameras following his every move.
Surely, Jet was the most worthy of prey.
A career kenku seldom chose were wall trophy. Almost no hunter, even those specialized in the most dangerous space game, could boost about having an actual taxidermied kenku in their collection.
He'd make a fine addition to any collection.
Jet didn't realize his collector's value. Right now, he just enjoyed chilling in a bed of space turnips, giving his dizzy head a moment to shake off the claw's tumbling.
Then curiosity won over dizziness. Jet jumped to his clawy feet and hurried up the ladder.
The city laid empty, almost barren. It just seemed deserted: no corpses lying around, no damaged buildings, only emptiness. Thanks to the efforts of space roombas, there weren't even the regular signs of nature retaking the city. Just space roads and an eternal city, stretching forever.
There was so much to do, so much to explore… and Jet stopped after a few steps.
An old arcade game machine in a bar caught his attention. It was running a farming simulator, one of the most unlikely genres to ever get a proper arcade release.
Jet stepped closer, trying to imagine people that lived on a planet that was basically a huge farm, working in their farming-related jobs just to kick back after work to enjoy a farming sim.
The high score's read:
1. Four-letter word, reduced to 3 letters by strategically leaving out the C that usually was the second to last letter
2. YOU
3. COR
4. PER
5. ATE
Jet just assumed that the people around here didn't particularly enjoy a gamified version of their life after all, but some guy in an office decided that farmers just got farm-related stuff in their little company town.
After realizing that there wasn't any booze left in the bar, Jet went deeper into the town, probably searching for a space Metal Slug machine. Too caught up in recreating "HEAVY MACHENE-GUN!" and other pick-up sounds, he didn't realize the soft whirring of cameras following his every move.
Surely, Jet was the most worthy of prey.
Back above ground...
The masked man was clad all in black. Only the lower part of his face was exposed. At a glance he appeared to be human. His most distinguishing feature was a white X on his mask and his shirt.
"You're The Operator from ITC," he said after a moment of studying her. He lowered his rifle before she could confirm his observation.
"Why yes, love,' The Operator replied. "You must recognize me voice. I do all the recordings on the telephone."
The masked stranger only gave an affirmative nod. "Yes, I know your voice. Your abduction has also been all over all the space cable news networks," he explained.
"Then you're 'ere to rescue me," She ventured.
"No," he answered. "I'm looking for someone else."
The Operator realized the masked man was not going to make it easy on her. His answers were short and to the point. She'd have to pry further to learn more.
"Who then, love," She pressed.
"Space Racer," He stated, expecting immediate recognition of the name. Instead, he got only a blank stare.
"Who's that, love," She asked curiously.
The masked man just stared at her in stunned disbelief for a moment. Space Racer was only the hottest and most popular intergalactic driver in IASSR (pronounced I-uh-sar, or Intergalactic Association of Stock Spaceship Racing) But there was another more obvious connection The Operator should have made.
"You're joking," he finally managed. "Space. Racer." He broke the name up into two abrupt sentences for emphasis. "The driver of the Astro 5. The car YOUR phone company sponsors for IASSR."
"Oh, that silly spaceship racing nonsense," The Operator retorted with a laugh. "I don't have any interest in a bunch of space hillbillies racing across the galaxy making left turns..."
The man scowled. "I am NOT a space hillbilly," he shot back sternly. "I'm known as The Masked Space Racer, or Space X. I'm Space's closest competitor..."
The Operator suddenly looked a bit embarrassed. "Oh, dearie me! I do apologize Mr. X," She stammered realizing she'd stepped in bantha poo doo. She hoped to make a quick recovery from her faux pas. "It's been a long day, bein' kidnapped 'n all. I was given a signed picture of the bloke awhile back. I get tickets in me paycheck and such to races every now and then. One time, I was even invited to sit in the company suite at some important race. 'Ad to pass as I had plans that evening. Quite a popular little sport and there is always someone at the company wantin' to know if they can 'ave mine..."
Space X was losing patience and time was of the essence. "Quickly, tell me how you ended up here," he demanded. "Have you seen Space?"
The Operator explained she had not. Then, she began to summarize everything that had happened starting with Beeblebrox's failed re-election party she'd been forced to be the MC at and how Lord Helmet and his minions had commandeered the party, kidnapped herself and the CEO, and then the rescue with Jet and The Doctor and how they'd become separated in the chaos.
The masked man was clad all in black. Only the lower part of his face was exposed. At a glance he appeared to be human. His most distinguishing feature was a white X on his mask and his shirt.
"You're The Operator from ITC," he said after a moment of studying her. He lowered his rifle before she could confirm his observation.
"Why yes, love,' The Operator replied. "You must recognize me voice. I do all the recordings on the telephone."
The masked stranger only gave an affirmative nod. "Yes, I know your voice. Your abduction has also been all over all the space cable news networks," he explained.
"Then you're 'ere to rescue me," She ventured.
"No," he answered. "I'm looking for someone else."
The Operator realized the masked man was not going to make it easy on her. His answers were short and to the point. She'd have to pry further to learn more.
"Who then, love," She pressed.
"Space Racer," He stated, expecting immediate recognition of the name. Instead, he got only a blank stare.
"Who's that, love," She asked curiously.
The masked man just stared at her in stunned disbelief for a moment. Space Racer was only the hottest and most popular intergalactic driver in IASSR (pronounced I-uh-sar, or Intergalactic Association of Stock Spaceship Racing) But there was another more obvious connection The Operator should have made.
"You're joking," he finally managed. "Space. Racer." He broke the name up into two abrupt sentences for emphasis. "The driver of the Astro 5. The car YOUR phone company sponsors for IASSR."
"Oh, that silly spaceship racing nonsense," The Operator retorted with a laugh. "I don't have any interest in a bunch of space hillbillies racing across the galaxy making left turns..."
The man scowled. "I am NOT a space hillbilly," he shot back sternly. "I'm known as The Masked Space Racer, or Space X. I'm Space's closest competitor..."
The Operator suddenly looked a bit embarrassed. "Oh, dearie me! I do apologize Mr. X," She stammered realizing she'd stepped in bantha poo doo. She hoped to make a quick recovery from her faux pas. "It's been a long day, bein' kidnapped 'n all. I was given a signed picture of the bloke awhile back. I get tickets in me paycheck and such to races every now and then. One time, I was even invited to sit in the company suite at some important race. 'Ad to pass as I had plans that evening. Quite a popular little sport and there is always someone at the company wantin' to know if they can 'ave mine..."
Space X was losing patience and time was of the essence. "Quickly, tell me how you ended up here," he demanded. "Have you seen Space?"
The Operator explained she had not. Then, she began to summarize everything that had happened starting with Beeblebrox's failed re-election party she'd been forced to be the MC at and how Lord Helmet and his minions had commandeered the party, kidnapped herself and the CEO, and then the rescue with Jet and The Doctor and how they'd become separated in the chaos.
Elsewhere...
A humanish man wearing strange glasses descends a staircase. He is dressed in a brown jacket and tie. His hands are unlike a human's and look more like a flipper with a thumb-like digit.
The being is in a garage-like area. Various futuristic vehicles are parked. He admires the collection for a moment and stops in front of a what appears to be a space race car.
He then moves to a black menacing robot with a red revolving police dome light on top. A searchlight below the revolving beacon resembles an eye, somewhat reminiscent of a Dalek, although there is a red scanner below that the robot actually uses to take in visual information. It sits silently out of service.
This is clearly a security robot, and the build plate identifies it as a Crime Buster Deluxe model. The bottom base resembles a car with headlights on the front and taillights in the rear but runs on tank treads. It is adorned with various sensors, antennae and weapons, but most are concealed behind panels unless the droid is ready to use them.
The man pulls a remote from the pocket of his coat and presses a button. The giant tank-like mechanoid comes to life. "My name is Crime Buster 00719! Reporting for duty as ordered, sir," it announces loudly in a commanding voice.
"Excellent," The humanoid man replied. He held up two photos. The first is a human-sized crow in a poncho that looks suspiciously like Jet. The other is of a human man in a blue and white racing space suit. "These two are fugitives. I want them dead or alive! Go forth and find them."
"I'm on the case! Crime Buster always gets his man," The robot responded and zoomed off to find its targets. It burst through some double doors and onto the street. The droid stopped for a moment and a sensor extended from the front. It sniffed the ground and then took off down the street at a high rate of speed, red revolving beacon light on and panning its flood light around as it began its search.
A humanish man wearing strange glasses descends a staircase. He is dressed in a brown jacket and tie. His hands are unlike a human's and look more like a flipper with a thumb-like digit.
The being is in a garage-like area. Various futuristic vehicles are parked. He admires the collection for a moment and stops in front of a what appears to be a space race car.
He then moves to a black menacing robot with a red revolving police dome light on top. A searchlight below the revolving beacon resembles an eye, somewhat reminiscent of a Dalek, although there is a red scanner below that the robot actually uses to take in visual information. It sits silently out of service.
This is clearly a security robot, and the build plate identifies it as a Crime Buster Deluxe model. The bottom base resembles a car with headlights on the front and taillights in the rear but runs on tank treads. It is adorned with various sensors, antennae and weapons, but most are concealed behind panels unless the droid is ready to use them.
The man pulls a remote from the pocket of his coat and presses a button. The giant tank-like mechanoid comes to life. "My name is Crime Buster 00719! Reporting for duty as ordered, sir," it announces loudly in a commanding voice.
"Excellent," The humanoid man replied. He held up two photos. The first is a human-sized crow in a poncho that looks suspiciously like Jet. The other is of a human man in a blue and white racing space suit. "These two are fugitives. I want them dead or alive! Go forth and find them."
"I'm on the case! Crime Buster always gets his man," The robot responded and zoomed off to find its targets. It burst through some double doors and onto the street. The droid stopped for a moment and a sensor extended from the front. It sniffed the ground and then took off down the street at a high rate of speed, red revolving beacon light on and panning its flood light around as it began its search.
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