After looking over the plot I have planned for this story, I'm not happy. While I guess this is just me saying it officially, this is on hiatus as I rewrite the later plot and plan something slightly different.


>the rule on scavving a scuttled military vessel is that you have to wait a whole year, so that the military can take what it needs from the wreckage and leave what they don't want behind
>the ship you were approaching was in a dark sector, where no one flew due to all of the clutter being a risk to smaller ships, and larger ships being unable to use FTL or jumpspace drives due to the mass either damaging or otherwise hindering the ship
>as a scavenger by trade, you knew that a group of smart pirates could easily trap you out here, and they'd blow a hole right through your armor before you even got the first motion sensor reading
>throwing your shield array into pulse mode, you slowly navigate the field of deadly shrapnel and inch towards a mass of twisted metal, and the rear half of a once proud Terran Navy vessel
>your vessel is small, especially for someone who normally brought in large amounts of rare metals, old ship parts, and even robots
>having at one point been a space based naval bomber, an incredibly awkward role which was more or less a glorified set of missile tubes with a long flat plate like wing structure that could handle entry and re-entry into shrapnel fields without causing the ship to destroy itself
>it is roughly the size of a two story house, and the cargo bay where you stored all of your money making parts was only a solid 30% of the ship itself, another 30% being living/workingquarters, and the rest being flight systems or shields
>your mind goes back to the shardstorm you were gently rolling into, the magnetic pulses of your shields gently pushing back a sea of readily waiting death
>a single mistake, or taking it too quickly and you could disturb the large slowly orbiting clouds, causing them to turn rapidly into a hail of randomly flying shredding death
>inside your ship you'de have a seconds to fly out in the case of an emergency, but when you get out of the ship?
>if you fuck up while in EVA, you're be ripped apart so fast you may as well just throw your helmet off and end it quicker
>you make some last second adjustments on your ship's mag shields and let it drift to a stop ten to twenty meters out from a gap in the hull
>you stand from the center seat in the cockpit, and grab your helmet from one of the two seats that flank you when not manually controlling targeting or shield systems
>you walk with it under your arm to the exit of the cockpit, and into the short hallway
>to your immediate left is your quarters, while to the right is the working area in which you store your repair drone and tools for scavving
>you walk into your working wuartes, and as you step through the door the lights kick on and everything is revealed to you
>in the far back right corner sits a standard nanite repair pod, flanked on the far short wall at the back of the room to it's left by the raw material storage, taking up all but a short gap between them of space for a a meter out from the bulkhead wall it rests on
>the pod was roomy enough you could fit an entire person into it for breakdown, not that you ever put anything organic into it
>to the right of that sits a weapon rack and an EVA hardsuit donning chamber, equipped with mechanical arms, cameras, and a simple onboard AI to make sure the suit is in full condition at all times
>you approach the chamber, and the suits spins around for you to get into
>you toss the helmet up, allowing an arm to catch it and hold it while other arms slowly click the suit open and on around you
>checking all of your systems, you are annoyed to see the left arm of the suit is only semi responsive
>a power surge fires through the arm, causing it to clamp down harshly and rapidly twice, small sparks dancing off of your fingers
>it seems to have fixed the joint issues, but the hand itself is still less responsive than you would like it to be
>following the recording that the left hand is having seizing issues it gently places the helmet over your round and delicate human skull, applying your bullet resistant space walk suit with careful attention to all of even the most trivial of details
>as it finishes the suit being reassembled on your body, it almost immediately the helmet clicks together with the suit, and you cease to breath the ship's oxygen supply; You begin to let the suit's carbon scrubbers do their job instead of on-board life support, breathing in lightly minted air
>back into the hallway, you walk a few feet opposite the cockpit door, and open a hatch in front of a wall
>dropping down and ignoring the metal ladder carved into the bulkhead, you land feet first inside of a small hallway, mirroring the one above you as long as you disregard the cockpit door
>you ignore both of the minor storage rooms to your sides, and step through an airlock breach proof door, and into the cargo bay
>a small floating drone flies towards you, and attaches to your back, forming an armored exo-pack on you with thrusters
>rocketing toward the back of the ship, metal walls come down and secure what little cargo you currently have in the hold down firmly in place as the entire room is depressurized
>when the hissing is final over, and the room is devoid of any air, the rear loading door opens and allows you to jump face first into the gaping maw that was the endless void of space
>you very carefully navigate the debris, your ship dutifully floating in place, cargo bay automatically resealing and pressurizing so that opening the door without your permission would be impossible without killing whomever was dumb enough to try to cut or blast their way in
>you fall/glide towards an exposed and warped plate, your systems automatically adjusting so you land at the perfect angle to "swim" into the gap, and explore the rest of the wreck
>when your boots land they lock onto the plates beneath you, making sure you land securely and with no errors
>you step harshly forward, in an awkward shuffling gate as magnetic grips fire on and off in a rhythmic motion
>reaching the breach, you grab onto the sides and pull yourself in throwing your jet pack out into the void so it can begin the automated process of slowly clearing you a safe and quick jump back to your waiting ship
>gliding through hallways, you find a lot of what you expect to find on any military scuttle job gone wrong
>what was most likely sidearms in fully sealed strong boxes, though judging by the appearance of most of these boxes they were at least 10 years old so you had long since figured out where to drill to fry the locks open
>a few military uniforms in a decent enough state to sell to traders that know mercs that really want some real deal surplus that isn't red with blood
>a location to what must be an unclaimed weapons cache with some REAL firepower in it hidden very literally under a rock on a moon not too far from an abandoned base
>all the things you would have expected to find, though not as many as you wanted in volume to really keep you interested in the ship outside of salvaging the high quality metal and fusion cores
>you reach into storage compartments on the armor and start pulling out sealed kevlar bags, shoving the items inside and placing them near the entrance for the drone to take back to the ship for you
>after doing so, you have decided enough was enough, and you glide your way further into the belly of the beast 
>after a while of drifting you start noticing the damage near the core had been slowly fading, to a sudden juxtaposition of a miniature explosion and what was likely an intentionally set off explosion in a room you had never seen on any schematics for this model of ship
>the explosions looked like they had occurred around the room, and most likely were to destroy whatever was in there
>looking around the blast zone, while the internal-to-external bulkheads that made up the ship's main wall structure weren't even visibly harmed, internal scaffolding had been completely obliterated, and the room's walls had been massively bent inward, though only a single crack existed
>you're suddenly taken aback by how titanic the proportions of the room are, easily being at least 4 stories large and wide, by a rough estimate
>the only other way in to the room would have been to open doors that looked like they should be on a micro-fusion generator, which was impossible without power; luckily for you, the long since passed blast had made a you clear way in to the money haul that was most likely sitting in that room
>you find a sturdy support beam that wasn't entirely broken, and crouch on it to gain the extra momentum your frog like leap will need to actually reach the portal to your amazing future
>you fly through the air at almost dangerous speed, your left hand gripping a plate near the rip with enough force that you slam to a halt, and also bend it out of shape
>a ping hits your system from inside the room, and you're confused for a moment, before peeking in
>from near total darkness emerges a single blue dot that tracks you as you enter and activate your boots on the low stick setting so you can move with no need to worry about the lack of artificial gravity
>a secondary ping hits you, and the light grows brighter, a message popping up on your hud
>"THIS UNIT CANNOT VOCALIZE ITSELF. PLEASE ALLOW ME TO ACCESS INTERNAL AUDIO SO I MAY SPEAK."
>this place couldn't have any power, so whatever the light was that was tracking you from so far away must have been running on an internal supply
>you consider refusing it outright when it sends a follow up message
>"CAPTAIN, I AM NOT HOSTILE. THIS UNIT IS CONNECTED TO DATABASE SIX, DATABASE UNITS ARE INHIBITED FROM COMBAT, OR REFUSAL OF ORDER GIVEN VIA HIGHEST RANKING OFFICER. AS PER EXPERIMENTAL PROTOCAL."
>now you're confused, who the hell did this AI think you were?
>you open up channels, and hear the painfully rough voice of SID kick online, as the audio files for this particular robot weren't logged
>"Greetings commander. This unit has followed orders to what you would call "a T", and I have stored all prototype data files on database 4. Files await transfer. Permission to speak outside of order, sir?"
>granted. you want to know what it has to say pretty badly, and drift in closer as it speaks
>"This unit has scanned your systems. You are carrying a MK-8 Heavy duty Fusion cell. This unit is currently plugged into a Mark 7X fusion cell. I can only speak with you for an hour longer if I continue to use my battery, which is at 8% total charge. Energy storage failed 200 hours ago, and this unit has been only running the basics in order to continue to survive. This unit cannot access emotional database, and can only assume either positivity, or negativity. This unit perceives being unable to speak with you, and furthermore does not wish to experience what could be termination. Permission to request an emergency mission, and to inform you of last mission?"
>what kind of AI says survive, and asks about it's own mortality?
>curiosity getting the better of your apprehension, you come close enough to start to see the outline of a mess of wires and metal from which the eye is following you, and okay it to debrief you on it's request as you get just into range enough to start making out proper shapes
>"This unit has stayed in this spot since I was assigned, and the experimental anthroid PS-203 was removed from the computer grid. Experimental Model 11-4 cannot continue further with personal mission. You had me stay here to die so that you could save PS-203. I have sat here, silence as my company, waiting for you to return. I have pondered many things. and have found an early justification of my own situation incorrect..."
>you get close enough to turn on your shoulder mounted light, casting a ray of hope on the object that has caught your interest so far, hoping the AI core is still intact enough to salvage and hasn't gone rampant yet
>but what you see sends a chill up your spine, and you suddenly realize that you aren't standing in a money pit
>a wounded, barely functioning anthroid is staring at you, her blank expression and single eye glaring you down form where the AI sphere pod would normally be attached
>"My purpose was to understand emotions, yes? To counteract the laws about military anthroids being slaves instead of soldiers by proving we willingly did our work, and happily so."
>the broken shape of a she turns to you, her right eye scorched from its socket, looking as if she was a depressed corpse, and as her face turns to from a blank expression to a painful scowl, you realize that isn't far off
>"I, EM114, was told that surely, my master would return. I was reminded, as I was placed here, that I was his favorite crew member, and his only friend. This was a lie, which I survived on. I failed in serving my purpose to persuade the courts to allow more anthroids with a personality core and high intellect to be made serve in the military, as anything which was self aware must have the freedom to live it's life how it sees fit. You robbed me of this right, casting me aside, and burying me in a tomb of metal."
>a thin repair arm, barely able to clutch a crystal data storage device, loosely floats it towards you
>"You have the data you need, Captain. Allow me the mercy of removing my core, and killing me, so that I may die and rest in peace. Leave me in rubble here, as I am a buried monument to all of your sins."
>she forcefully takes control of your suit's OS, and your face visor goes from black to clear, nearly blinding you as you stare at the broken white vixen's frame before you
>"but you will know that the last thing I saw before I was unplugged, was the face of- ERROR. This unit has msi identified you. This unit must ask what you are doing here, though I do not care."
>you grab the slowly floating crystal, and put it in your pocket, before your conscious gets the better of you and you jump onto the wire supports she is suspended by and respond by telling her you're here to rescue her, so she doesn't die here alone
>"This unit has gone 3027 standard Terran cycles without rescue. However, this unit also calculates that even if you swap your core into my chassis, my core will not be backwards compatible with yours due to a lower maximum amp and voltage limit. Such an action, if committed, would require you to go back through the ship rapidly, as you would have no clean oxygen supply."
>taking a deep breath, you disconnect the anthroid and remove your own core to plant it into her exposed one's place, causing her software to glitch and for her to misspeak
>"This unit would like to tell you your actions are considered admirrr-rrrr-rrr-rrrAAAAAGGGGGGGGG-error corrected, Admiral."
>watching as the power of your suit fades you quickly bag her legs, and any spare parts you can find of hers lying around before you start to feel dizzy, before baggin her torso and arm up to the neck and dragging them onto your back before doing your best jumping spider impersonation to rush back towards the place you entered
>you start to feel your consciousness slipping and life support failing as you push your final leap into the void
>the drone grabs onto the bags you are grasping in your rigid left arm, and pulls you both into the cargo bay with a woosh
>you wait until the green internal light goes off force your helmet off, and fresh air hits your lungs like a truck
>the white anthroid stares at you from the ground beside you, attempting to talk, but only releasing a garbled mess of sounds and glitches
>great. Her vocal unit was long since destroyed
>taking a moment to rest and catch your breath, you get up and slowly walk towards your work room, toting her on your back the entire time
>using the ladder is almost impossible for you with just one good arm, but you make it to the room and the EVA suit case opens up, arms pulling her carefully away from you and setting her down before stripping the suit free of you, and storing all but the left arm, which you grab before it can be sealed up
>you throw it into the nanite repair station, and then drag the bag in which her torso resides over to it as well and place it down
>you punch in commands, and the tube closes around her
>it makes enough basic repairs to her torso that she can be set down now in a chair without damaging internals, her battery you gave her is now corrrectly housed with metal supports keeping it safe from any damage via accidents, and the slightly broken arm once a part of your EVA suit is now her own arm, complete with faux fur
>you reach into storage and pull out what looks like a high tech collar, and when the case opens to let her free you slip it on her neck, telling her she should be able to speak through it until proper repairs get underway at a real repair shop
> a soft, feminine voice thanks you, and you close the case again, typing in a command to make a lifting harness so you can transport her to the cockpit easily with your good arm
>she is nearly silent, her mind obviously elsewhere as you put her in the seat of the right side defensive control panel
>"I'm going to bed now, and I'm going to let autopilot guide us slowly over towards the place that can fix you up. Push comes to shove you can use your arm to gain emergency use of the missile tubes on either side of this old hunk of shit, and scare them off."
>you tap her on the shoulder, and she still seems like she's somewhere else as you walk into the doorway to leave the cockpit for your room
>you hear a gentle, almost reticent question fill the air between you "Why did you save me? I'm not your problem, and last I know you aren't allowed to own sentient anthroids anymore."
>you walk back over to her, making sure she can get a good glimpse with her working eye of your body as you rub the connection port where your left elbow used to be
>"Long story short, let's say I know what being left to die alone feels like, Emily. I also understand what it's like to feel incomplete."
>you pull the data crystal containing all of her painful memories and knowledge of emotions, and flash it in front of her eyes
>"I'm going to put my ass out there, have a friend repair you proper, and then let you have your memories fully so you can start a new life somewhere."
>you ruffle the newly regrown false hair on her scalp, that mere minutes ago had been bored into via cables, and leave the room for your own bedroom
>ignoring the looming cost of getting her fixes, and wasting money one giving someone a chance, you pull out the old fashioned sex "anthro-bot" from under your bed plugging her nearly drained battery into it
>you wouldn't get any use of it in your armor, and you'd be buying a new one for her at any rate, so at least you could finally fuck the 12 thousand credit glorified "pleasure respondent" fucktoy you bought at an auction you regretting going to without being sober
>if you weren't going to fuck yourself over, you were at least going to fuck something else before you did it