05-02-2018, 06:21 PM
Dexter whirled around, and when he set eyes on the creature he yelped and stumbled back, wheeling his arms for balance to keep from plunging into the fountain. No, not a creature, he realized. A robot!
It was unlike anything Dexter had encountered in his studies, a marvel of technology far more advanced than what could be found on Earth. The robot was essentially humanoid, with a silver and white chassis shaped to resemble a torso, arms, and legs. Its limbs whirred and clicked, a series of gears and pneumatic tubes operating in conjunction along their lengths, culminating in wickedly sharp talons. Its head appeared as a human’s, but where its nose and mouth should have been instead protruded a long, curving beak emblazoned along one side with an acronym and a number: H.A.R.P.Y. 3.
As was quickly becoming a customary feeling, Dexter found himself unable to speak, staring into space somewhere over the robot’s shoulder.
The robot’s eye shutters irised as it tried to infer Dexter’s line of sight. Greetings, Prime.
Dexter noticed the construct’s beak did not move as it spoke, although he heard its words clearly. Rather, the voice seemed to emerge from somewhere behind its eyes—a concealed speaker, maybe?
“What… are you?” Dexter asked.
“I am Harpy,” it replied, offering no further explanation.
“Okay then, what are you?”
This time, HARPY’s beak shot open and a different voice emerged, accompanied by the faint static of a prerecorded message. “The H.A.R.P.Y. Class 3 represents the pinnacle of technological achievement, combining the unerring efficiency of robotics with the adaptability of a human pilot.”
“What did you call me?” Dexter asked, sensing he was wasting his time.
Prime. The voice appeared in his head again, distinctly that of a human male. You must be new to this.
Dexter nodded mutely.
Okay then, let me give you the rundown—the stuff Omni doesn’t tell you. This is the Omniverse. Omni brought you here and juiced you up with Omnilium. I assume he showed you Omnilium, yeah?
Dexter nodded again.
That shit is the good stuff, let me tell you. I don’t get to use it myself, I’m not so lucky, but my boss… well, hopefully you’ll meet him soon enough. Anyway, Omni brought you here for a reason. We haven’t figured that part out yet. My guess is it’s for his own sick, twisted entertainment. But whatever—it’s pretty cool here, once you get used to the constant chaos.
“So you’re Harpy’s pilot?” Dexter asked, beginning to put the pieces together.
Bingo. All the excitement, none of the danger. Don’t trust the propaganda, but at least one part of the pitch is true. The Class 3 is a hell of a build.
“You said it’s pretty ‘cool’ here.” Dexter paused to cast his gaze around the vast expanse. “All I see is white.”
Ah, you ain’t seen nothing yet, kid. Look over there. Harpy’s arm clicked and hummed into place, pointing somewhere over Dexter’s left shoulder. He turned to see what the robot was indicating. In the distance, he saw a splotch of brown and gray superimposed upon the whiteness.
“A door?”
A gate, the voice corrected pedantically. There’s eight in all, but that one’s the best. It will take you to Coruscant. Why don’t we walk? Harpy will show you the way.
Still unconvinced, Dexter planted his feet. “I just got here. You expect me to follow your robot through some unknown door? That seems like an awfully big variable doesn’t it?”
Look around you, kid. There’s not a lot of options ‘round these parts.
“I could just stay here,” Dexter replied. “Gather more information.”
I won’t be the last one you run into here, the voice imparted ominously. Believe it or not, this place can get pretty busy. And they’re not all as friendly as I am.
Dexter remained silent and unmoving.
The H.A.R.P.Y. performed a motion akin to a shrug and turned, its talons screeching across the smooth, white ground. Suit yourself. With a taut snapping sound, metal wings protracted from two slots in its back, and, with a pneumatic groan, flexed its knees and pushed off into the air.
Trying his best not to look impressed, Dexter stood firm. It was the logical choice, he knew. He needed more data to ensure he drew the right conclusion. Dexter Mills was not a creature of impulse.
Nevertheless, the resolute façade crumbled, and he found himself crying out, “Wait!”
Harpy paused in its flight, its maneuverable wings skewing sideways as it turned to regard him.
Are you sure you don’t require more data? the voice teased. It seemed Harpy didn’t even have to be in Dexter’s immediate vicinity for the pilot to communicate with him. Was that normal in this world?
“Well I’m not likely to find it here, am I?” came Dexter’s sharp retort, as he gestured to the absence of everything that surrounded him for miles in each direction.
True enough. Let’s go. Oh, and by the way: I’m Baxla.
It was unlike anything Dexter had encountered in his studies, a marvel of technology far more advanced than what could be found on Earth. The robot was essentially humanoid, with a silver and white chassis shaped to resemble a torso, arms, and legs. Its limbs whirred and clicked, a series of gears and pneumatic tubes operating in conjunction along their lengths, culminating in wickedly sharp talons. Its head appeared as a human’s, but where its nose and mouth should have been instead protruded a long, curving beak emblazoned along one side with an acronym and a number: H.A.R.P.Y. 3.
As was quickly becoming a customary feeling, Dexter found himself unable to speak, staring into space somewhere over the robot’s shoulder.
The robot’s eye shutters irised as it tried to infer Dexter’s line of sight. Greetings, Prime.
Dexter noticed the construct’s beak did not move as it spoke, although he heard its words clearly. Rather, the voice seemed to emerge from somewhere behind its eyes—a concealed speaker, maybe?
“What… are you?” Dexter asked.
“I am Harpy,” it replied, offering no further explanation.
“Okay then, what are you?”
This time, HARPY’s beak shot open and a different voice emerged, accompanied by the faint static of a prerecorded message. “The H.A.R.P.Y. Class 3 represents the pinnacle of technological achievement, combining the unerring efficiency of robotics with the adaptability of a human pilot.”
“What did you call me?” Dexter asked, sensing he was wasting his time.
Prime. The voice appeared in his head again, distinctly that of a human male. You must be new to this.
Dexter nodded mutely.
Okay then, let me give you the rundown—the stuff Omni doesn’t tell you. This is the Omniverse. Omni brought you here and juiced you up with Omnilium. I assume he showed you Omnilium, yeah?
Dexter nodded again.
That shit is the good stuff, let me tell you. I don’t get to use it myself, I’m not so lucky, but my boss… well, hopefully you’ll meet him soon enough. Anyway, Omni brought you here for a reason. We haven’t figured that part out yet. My guess is it’s for his own sick, twisted entertainment. But whatever—it’s pretty cool here, once you get used to the constant chaos.
“So you’re Harpy’s pilot?” Dexter asked, beginning to put the pieces together.
Bingo. All the excitement, none of the danger. Don’t trust the propaganda, but at least one part of the pitch is true. The Class 3 is a hell of a build.
“You said it’s pretty ‘cool’ here.” Dexter paused to cast his gaze around the vast expanse. “All I see is white.”
Ah, you ain’t seen nothing yet, kid. Look over there. Harpy’s arm clicked and hummed into place, pointing somewhere over Dexter’s left shoulder. He turned to see what the robot was indicating. In the distance, he saw a splotch of brown and gray superimposed upon the whiteness.
“A door?”
A gate, the voice corrected pedantically. There’s eight in all, but that one’s the best. It will take you to Coruscant. Why don’t we walk? Harpy will show you the way.
Still unconvinced, Dexter planted his feet. “I just got here. You expect me to follow your robot through some unknown door? That seems like an awfully big variable doesn’t it?”
Look around you, kid. There’s not a lot of options ‘round these parts.
“I could just stay here,” Dexter replied. “Gather more information.”
I won’t be the last one you run into here, the voice imparted ominously. Believe it or not, this place can get pretty busy. And they’re not all as friendly as I am.
Dexter remained silent and unmoving.
The H.A.R.P.Y. performed a motion akin to a shrug and turned, its talons screeching across the smooth, white ground. Suit yourself. With a taut snapping sound, metal wings protracted from two slots in its back, and, with a pneumatic groan, flexed its knees and pushed off into the air.
Trying his best not to look impressed, Dexter stood firm. It was the logical choice, he knew. He needed more data to ensure he drew the right conclusion. Dexter Mills was not a creature of impulse.
Nevertheless, the resolute façade crumbled, and he found himself crying out, “Wait!”
Harpy paused in its flight, its maneuverable wings skewing sideways as it turned to regard him.
Are you sure you don’t require more data? the voice teased. It seemed Harpy didn’t even have to be in Dexter’s immediate vicinity for the pilot to communicate with him. Was that normal in this world?
“Well I’m not likely to find it here, am I?” came Dexter’s sharp retort, as he gestured to the absence of everything that surrounded him for miles in each direction.
True enough. Let’s go. Oh, and by the way: I’m Baxla.