Dungeon of the ENDLESS™ is a Rogue-Like Dungeon-Defense hybrid game, in which your team of heroes must protect the generator of their crashed ship while finding their way out!
Ylona watched Valorum leave with concern. Something about his demeanour and voice seemed different, but she couldn't put her finger on what about it was so unnerving. Shrugging and leaving this worry for later, she turned her attention back to the task at hand.
"Retroreflectors can work, sure", she mulled over Dhanyl's suggestion, "But again, we need stationary orbit. Can't hold a conversation when you're rushing over the sky like crazy. And of course it's not mobile. But better than nothing, so let's get that range data and find out if we can get close enough."
Ignatov obliged the Hissho and helped him back to his feet, noting that, despite appearances, he was actually quite bulky. Something common among the species, no doubt, he assumed. He took a step back to give Mazatl room to breath and noted that he seemed quick to want to pocket the bottle of pills, trying to keep his face as neutral as possible as he did so. In all his time, Ignatov found that in situations such as these, discretion tended to be the better part of valor.
He tried to mask his surprise when Mazatl paused mid-way through pocketing the bottle to ask for help. "Of course, my friend, what do you require help with?"
The sower immediately regrets not dashing for the next maintenance hatch, now it had to help. It didn't need to fulfill an order as a result of its coding like the drone had originally. How could it be that being forced to do something by surrounding circumstances rather than just hardcoded can be so ... so, the machine had no word for it, like for many things it discovered about itself. It moved the whole thought-process into a quarantined folder, not willing to continue it for now .. or at all.
"How can this unit help?"
The sower hovered higher to be on one height with Mazatls mask.
Mazatl held the open bottle out for Ignatov and the drone to examine, unable to entirely calm the defensive reaction that flattened his crest feathers against his head. It wasn't shameful to need help, he reminded himself. And besides, he was already dishonored enough; what was a tiny moment of weakness compared to his failure to find honorable death on the Akagi? Neither of those thoughts was especially comforting, no matter how forcefully he repeated them to himself.
"The cap is missing," he said, biting back the urge to hiss defensively at them. "I must have dropped it, and my knee is unlikely to cooperate with a thorough search."
Valorum left the bridge with little more than a last lingering look at the viewscreen at the moon beyond and a nod of affirmation towards his crew. Outside, with nobody in the hallway and the door closed behind him, he sighed audibly, his shoulders sagging. He might have been revitalized by his fight with the Remnant, but a double-shift was a double-shift. Going from the mission straight to another few hours of deskwork on the bridge was still tiring. Weary, he retired to his quarters a short distance down the hall.
Ruminating on his performance so far, Valorum felt proud; he had led a successful mission, maintained the morale and cohesion of the crew, and had yet to send anyone carelessly to their deaths. His criteria for success was a little cynical, but by this point, he was going to take what he could get. As he closed the door to his room, however, he pondered just what madness this next operation was going to entail...and why he felt like there was someone he hadn't met on the ship yet.
"Missing Object: Noted. Likely, possible Dimensions of Object: logged. Scanners: searching"
There was a small jolt of joy in the sower's Mind, it liked searching, scouting. It wondered if that was a result its old and new mind, but right now there were more important tasks. The Drone immediately starts turning and hovering over the ground, starting to search for the cap, not taking too long to find it, pick it up with a claw and hold it up like a trophy, showing it to Mazatl.
It took the drone little time to locate the cap, and it quickly returned to present its prize to Mazatl. Like a little hunter, he realized. He accepted it from the drone's claw, recapped the bottle, and quickly hid the opiates in his off-duty clothes.
"Thank you," he breathed, aware that was the expected protocol with aliens. They would likely miss or misinterpret the more traditional Hissho gesture of bowing the head and lowering the crest feathers to show humility; Mazatl had learned that lesson a long time ago. "If you don't mind, can we keep this quiet? My old injuries are largely irrelevant to the mission."
Mantovani nodded approvingly. Things were getting underway at last. the discussion lasted only a few minutes but in Mantovani's eyes it might as well been months.
The captain had left to his quarters. As his mechanical body did not tire, Mantovani assumed it was a personal issue and left him alone.
"Well..." said Mantovani to himself quietly, a giddy smile smearing his calm visage.
"I suppose i shall take it upon myself to make sure this data collecting and expedition process goes smoothly."
He turned around in a neat circle, and walked straight back into the ship's primary corridoors.
While he walked he pondered possible candidates for the away team. The vice helmsman Mazatl Redsail appeared to be an essential candidate, second to Mantovani, of course. Any endless ai would likely go easy on a familiar species. Lambda was also an essential member. Mantovani needed at least one person who understood good art when he saw it.
He had to cut this chain of thought short. " An away mission can't happen until we figure out the energy dead zone on that space station."
Immediately upon reaching his workstation in the ships computational hub, he dived onto his stool and logged onto his console. He reached the crew manifest and found the holder of the title he was looking for.
"Ignatov Iyosha" he said under his breath. "On-board logistics"
Mantovani sent Ignatov's current whereabouts to the miniature data pad on his wrist.
He got up,
Peeked at his data pad,
And once more headed down the ship's corridors; His arms neatly tucked behind his back.
Updated 5 years ago.
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Ignatov had remained silent throughout, watching Mazatl closely as he had instructed the drone to search for the missing cap, and as the drone returned the retrieved cap to him, Ignatov nodded shortly. "Of course, comrade. Discression is key. Though, I will say, you can trust the medical officers on our ship should you need them." He paused a moment and weighed his words carefully before continuing. "Also ... should you require further doses of your medication there, I can see what I can do. Discreetly."
"... Noted, no relevant data detected, Memory will be deleted during next self-Maintenance. Please regularly contact appropriate personnel for medical assistance! Is this Units service still needed?"
The sower was already backing off to another maintenance hatch, opening it. It had no reason to really delete its memory of this situation, curating data was important, but organics seemed to trust this answer more than a promise to not tell.
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