- Pronouns
- Eldritch/Horror
- TNP Nation
- Yamantau/The Black Cathedral
- Discord
- Mercy#2357
Torg, as his human counterparts referred to him, was not the smartest of his race, but still a genius by lesser standards. He had found employment on a freighter called the St. James, a human vessel from, he didn't care where. He emerged from under his cot, and scittered across the floor to the blaring alarm clock. He preferred the dark, cold space underneath the cot to actually sleeping on it, the thin felt blanket always getting snagged on his legs.
He flexed his mandibles, emitting a series of clicking and grinding sounds, somewhat like a yawn as he slammed the claws of one of his tertiary arms down on the annoying, archaic little machine that the captain had given him for what he could only assume was the purpose of time management. He slowly made his way to the food refrigeration unit, which he had deactivated, using it as a composter instead. His crewmates often complained of the smell, but to Torg, it smelled like the brood nest, and gave him a sort of homelike comfort. He pulled a clump of rotted fruit from the shelf, and sat at the small table in the corner, flicking on the holomonitor to read the news from back home while he ate. His universal translator, a gift from the council before he disembarked, sat on the table atop the charging station, it looked much like the pins that the humans decorated their jackets with. He never understood why humans adored little trinkets so much.
He turned as he heard the door open, looking over at his usual work partner, Marion, a man who had been working on the St. James since he had been a teenage stowaway.
"My god, Torg, ugh, it stinks in here, buddy." Marion griped, fanning the air in front of his nose. Torg emitted a series of angry sounding clicks, snapping his mandibles as a sort of punctuation to his statement. Marion stared at him with an exhausted expression, before making an exasperated gesture to the translator. Torg made a flippant gesture with his primary arms as he reached for the device with his free secondary arm, pushing it against his chest.
"I said, fuck off, Marion. I don't like the smell of your food either, asshole." Torg said. He had fiddled with the device enough that the speech to translation latency was now under a second, which allowed faster communication.
Marion pulled up a chair at the table and laughed, his eyes and mouth wrinkling up as he smiled. "Your mastery of insults and curse words needs a little work, my ugly friend. You shit eating Yviiri midget." Marion said with a smile. Torg let out a series of high pitched whistles that Marion had come to understand as laughter, it was about the only thing he understood when it came to the Gnesi language. "You're old." Torg replied, causing Marion to burst into laughter. "That's weak, Torg, c'mon, you're better than that. Anyways, what's on the schedule for the day?" he asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.
Torg turned back to the holomonitor, and flicked over to his messages, looking for the day's work orders.
"Water system needs to be purged. Captain thinks there might be a rat or something in the pipes….secondary pulse needs a coolant top up….and then it's just server maintenance and some small housekeeping stuff in the cargo bay, but I'll get Milo and Cheri to take care of that." Torg chattered as he scrolled through the submitted tickets.
Marion nodded, and rose from his seat. "Easy day, then." he remarked, grabbing the bright blue and yellow vest from a nearby chair and tossing it to Torg. Torg had modified it accommodate the extra arms, and he had come to enjoy the bright colors. It was also the only way the other crew members could see him against the dark walls most days. His dark coloring made him hard to see in the dim light lower decks. He attached the translator to the front, and clipped his ID badge over it. Nobody could spell his name, or even pronounce it, so it was simply a plastic ID card that had "BUGMAN, TORG" written on it in thick black marker. He hated it at first, but he had come to embrace it.
He fondly remembered the first time Marion tried to pronounce his name, and instead told him that his mother mated with bovine mammals. The look of embarrassment and horror on Marion's face was one of his favorite memories.
The pair exited the small cabin and made their way down the corridor towards the environmental control room to deal with the water problem first. They knew the other crew members wouldn't be happy without water.
Marion ducked into the doorway of one of the cabins as a pair of men pulled a large crate through the hall. "Torg, move." he said with urgency. Torg didn't even look up from his clipboard as he scittered onto the wall, then onto the ceiling, never breaking pace as he descended the opposite wall to the floor as the men passed.
"It freaks people out when you do that, y'know." Marion remarked as he caught up to the odd little insectoid. "Not my problem." Torg said curtly, continuing on his way.
The pair entered the Environmental Systems Control room, and looked around. The water and oxygen systems were in desperate need of a face-lift. "Right, Crewman Barnes says he thinks the rat is stuck in the condenser, may as well start there." Marion said, shining his light up at the racks of coils near the ceiling. Torg quickly made his way up the wall, and began knocking on the pipes, until the hollow knocking stopped, and a solid thud resonated through the room. "There. That's probably the little bastard. He's about halfway through, so we'll have to purge him out with air, unless...did we get those replacement coils when we stopped last?" Marion pondered. "No. They were 3¾, we needed 3⅗ and the replacement insulation. Just get Cheri to bring up the thing. The, uh….the oxygen compounder." Torg replied, snapping his claws together until he could remember the name of the implement.
"You mean the air compressor?" Marion asked, amused at the new phrase his partner had just thought up. "Yeah, ok. HEY CHERI, BRING THE….OXYGEN COMPOUNDER….TO ENVIRONMENTAL SYSTEMS, YEAH?!" Marion shouted into his radio. "You mean the air compressor? Is the bug saying weird shit again?" Cheri answered back, a giant smile spreading across Marion's face. "Yeah, the air compressor." he laughed. "Alright, I'll be up there in about 15 minutes." she replied. Marion looked back at Torg still smiling as the annoyed Gnesi flexed his mandibles, the communicator making a series of high pitched noises that sounded like a mocking version of speech.
Cheri dragged the air compressor in a few minutes later, the small redhead having trouble with the large machine. Marion and Torg already had the coil disconnected and sat on the floor, waiting patiently for their apprentice to show up. "Alright, get it rigged up." Marion said with a smile. "Use the adhesive fabric." Torg added in. "Its duct tape you Yviiri weirdo." Cheri laughed. Marion stayed silent, staring at Cheri wide eyed, shaking his head. "What? That's what he is right?" Cheri asked, incredibly confused, before looking over at Torg, mouth agape. Torg had pushed the plates on the top of his head forward, and furled his antennae over his eyes to mimic a furrowed brow expression as he violently bent his clipboard. "GNESI!" he shouted, the clicking of his mandibles audible over the translator. "Same thing!" Cheri shouted. "No, nope, nuh-uh. Not even close." Marion babbled as he rubbed the back of his neck, eyebrows raised as he looked down at the floor.
"But.." Cheri began.
"Shut the fuck up, Cheri." Marion muttered, trying to cut her off before Torg had her scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush again.
"Oookay. Whatever." Cheri said, dropping the subject, moving to attach the airline to the top of the coil, using the duct tape to create a seal. Once the seal was tight, Marion turned on the compressor, and listened to the pressure build in the coil. The group braced as an ear piercing whistle came from the coil, followed by a loud splat, and a rush of air. Torg began his high pitch whistling as he held his sides, before pointing to the wall. Whatever had been in the coil was now a paste of fur and innards running down the wall.
After the coil was reinstalled, Marion and Torg left Cheri to clean up the mess, and made their way to the secondary engine bay. "You know, I can handle the coolant myself if you wanna get started on the servers." Marion offered, pausing for a moment. "Yes. That's probably a better use of time." Torg remarked, almost immediately changing direction. "See you in the lounge later then?!" Marion called after him. "Sounds positive!" Torg called back. The lounge was less of a lounge, and more of a corner of the mess hall that someone had turned into a bar, and strung holiday lights everywhere. It was the only place that Torg really socialized with anyone else. The server issues turned out be as simple as a frayed cable, and only took a moment to correct.
Torg made his way up to the mess hall, and waited patiently for his colleagues to arrive and open the lounge. It usually opened around noon, but Markus wasn't always that punctual. He sat at one of the tables, and looked out the large windows, into the depths of space. He did so often, reminding himself he would never see his homeworld again. He wrapped his lower body around the seat to anchor himself, and settled in. The stars looked so wonderful right now, and it was one of the few things that brought him joy.
He turned to see Cheri slide onto the bench next to him. "Hey, Torg. I'm….I'm sorry if I offended you. I honestly didn't know." she said. He was still getting used to the concept of apologies, but he could tell this once was sincere. "It's alright. It happens." he muttered back. "Thanks." Cheri replied. The two sat together in silence for a while, looking out the window before Cheri turned to him again.
"Tell me about your homeworld." she said quietly. "What do you want to know?" Torg asked, turning to face her. She slid a little closer, and linked her arm under his primary arms, laying her head on his shoulder. "Whatever you feel like telling." she replied. "What...what are you doing?" Torg asked, unsure why she was touching him. "Im tired, and this is comfortable, and I need a good story." she answered. Torg simply nodded, and began to tell her about the Gnesi homeworld, Kiraz. She listened intently as Torg went on and on, about the hiveworld, the colony ships, and the colonial planets. It was the first time anyone had really asked him about any of it.
"So, you were hatched on the ship then?" she asked as he finished. "Yes. Myself, and three hundred of my brothers and sisters. We would sleep in piles, and spend the day learning many skills. Eventually, I will have to return to the hiveworld to pass on my genetics. But, tell me about your homeworld, your family. They must be affected by your absence." Torg replied.
"Not much to tell. Family were drifters. I was sold between ships as a laborer until Captain Thomas took pity on me, technically stole me from the last ship I worked on, and gave me a job. You remember when he brought me on board." Cheri explained, adjusting her arm beneath his. "So you have no family?" Torg asked. "No. Not really." she answered blankly. Torg thought back, to how families would adopt orphaned Gnesi children, and take responsibility for them as part of their own brood. No child had ever been left behind in Gnesi culture. He glanced down at the tired 16 year old on his arm and put his other arms around her. "In my culture, if a child has no family, they are taken in by another. That's you. You're part of my brood now." he told her. "Sounds good to me." she groaned, drifting off to sleep.
Torg sat with her as she slept, making the promise to himself to always keep his new broodling safe, even if she was not of his race. His people may come across as hard, and cold, and thats the way they liked it, but they would always have a soft spot for the downtrodden.
He flexed his mandibles, emitting a series of clicking and grinding sounds, somewhat like a yawn as he slammed the claws of one of his tertiary arms down on the annoying, archaic little machine that the captain had given him for what he could only assume was the purpose of time management. He slowly made his way to the food refrigeration unit, which he had deactivated, using it as a composter instead. His crewmates often complained of the smell, but to Torg, it smelled like the brood nest, and gave him a sort of homelike comfort. He pulled a clump of rotted fruit from the shelf, and sat at the small table in the corner, flicking on the holomonitor to read the news from back home while he ate. His universal translator, a gift from the council before he disembarked, sat on the table atop the charging station, it looked much like the pins that the humans decorated their jackets with. He never understood why humans adored little trinkets so much.
He turned as he heard the door open, looking over at his usual work partner, Marion, a man who had been working on the St. James since he had been a teenage stowaway.
"My god, Torg, ugh, it stinks in here, buddy." Marion griped, fanning the air in front of his nose. Torg emitted a series of angry sounding clicks, snapping his mandibles as a sort of punctuation to his statement. Marion stared at him with an exhausted expression, before making an exasperated gesture to the translator. Torg made a flippant gesture with his primary arms as he reached for the device with his free secondary arm, pushing it against his chest.
"I said, fuck off, Marion. I don't like the smell of your food either, asshole." Torg said. He had fiddled with the device enough that the speech to translation latency was now under a second, which allowed faster communication.
Marion pulled up a chair at the table and laughed, his eyes and mouth wrinkling up as he smiled. "Your mastery of insults and curse words needs a little work, my ugly friend. You shit eating Yviiri midget." Marion said with a smile. Torg let out a series of high pitched whistles that Marion had come to understand as laughter, it was about the only thing he understood when it came to the Gnesi language. "You're old." Torg replied, causing Marion to burst into laughter. "That's weak, Torg, c'mon, you're better than that. Anyways, what's on the schedule for the day?" he asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.
Torg turned back to the holomonitor, and flicked over to his messages, looking for the day's work orders.
"Water system needs to be purged. Captain thinks there might be a rat or something in the pipes….secondary pulse needs a coolant top up….and then it's just server maintenance and some small housekeeping stuff in the cargo bay, but I'll get Milo and Cheri to take care of that." Torg chattered as he scrolled through the submitted tickets.
Marion nodded, and rose from his seat. "Easy day, then." he remarked, grabbing the bright blue and yellow vest from a nearby chair and tossing it to Torg. Torg had modified it accommodate the extra arms, and he had come to enjoy the bright colors. It was also the only way the other crew members could see him against the dark walls most days. His dark coloring made him hard to see in the dim light lower decks. He attached the translator to the front, and clipped his ID badge over it. Nobody could spell his name, or even pronounce it, so it was simply a plastic ID card that had "BUGMAN, TORG" written on it in thick black marker. He hated it at first, but he had come to embrace it.
He fondly remembered the first time Marion tried to pronounce his name, and instead told him that his mother mated with bovine mammals. The look of embarrassment and horror on Marion's face was one of his favorite memories.
The pair exited the small cabin and made their way down the corridor towards the environmental control room to deal with the water problem first. They knew the other crew members wouldn't be happy without water.
Marion ducked into the doorway of one of the cabins as a pair of men pulled a large crate through the hall. "Torg, move." he said with urgency. Torg didn't even look up from his clipboard as he scittered onto the wall, then onto the ceiling, never breaking pace as he descended the opposite wall to the floor as the men passed.
"It freaks people out when you do that, y'know." Marion remarked as he caught up to the odd little insectoid. "Not my problem." Torg said curtly, continuing on his way.
The pair entered the Environmental Systems Control room, and looked around. The water and oxygen systems were in desperate need of a face-lift. "Right, Crewman Barnes says he thinks the rat is stuck in the condenser, may as well start there." Marion said, shining his light up at the racks of coils near the ceiling. Torg quickly made his way up the wall, and began knocking on the pipes, until the hollow knocking stopped, and a solid thud resonated through the room. "There. That's probably the little bastard. He's about halfway through, so we'll have to purge him out with air, unless...did we get those replacement coils when we stopped last?" Marion pondered. "No. They were 3¾, we needed 3⅗ and the replacement insulation. Just get Cheri to bring up the thing. The, uh….the oxygen compounder." Torg replied, snapping his claws together until he could remember the name of the implement.
"You mean the air compressor?" Marion asked, amused at the new phrase his partner had just thought up. "Yeah, ok. HEY CHERI, BRING THE….OXYGEN COMPOUNDER….TO ENVIRONMENTAL SYSTEMS, YEAH?!" Marion shouted into his radio. "You mean the air compressor? Is the bug saying weird shit again?" Cheri answered back, a giant smile spreading across Marion's face. "Yeah, the air compressor." he laughed. "Alright, I'll be up there in about 15 minutes." she replied. Marion looked back at Torg still smiling as the annoyed Gnesi flexed his mandibles, the communicator making a series of high pitched noises that sounded like a mocking version of speech.
Cheri dragged the air compressor in a few minutes later, the small redhead having trouble with the large machine. Marion and Torg already had the coil disconnected and sat on the floor, waiting patiently for their apprentice to show up. "Alright, get it rigged up." Marion said with a smile. "Use the adhesive fabric." Torg added in. "Its duct tape you Yviiri weirdo." Cheri laughed. Marion stayed silent, staring at Cheri wide eyed, shaking his head. "What? That's what he is right?" Cheri asked, incredibly confused, before looking over at Torg, mouth agape. Torg had pushed the plates on the top of his head forward, and furled his antennae over his eyes to mimic a furrowed brow expression as he violently bent his clipboard. "GNESI!" he shouted, the clicking of his mandibles audible over the translator. "Same thing!" Cheri shouted. "No, nope, nuh-uh. Not even close." Marion babbled as he rubbed the back of his neck, eyebrows raised as he looked down at the floor.
"But.." Cheri began.
"Shut the fuck up, Cheri." Marion muttered, trying to cut her off before Torg had her scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush again.
"Oookay. Whatever." Cheri said, dropping the subject, moving to attach the airline to the top of the coil, using the duct tape to create a seal. Once the seal was tight, Marion turned on the compressor, and listened to the pressure build in the coil. The group braced as an ear piercing whistle came from the coil, followed by a loud splat, and a rush of air. Torg began his high pitch whistling as he held his sides, before pointing to the wall. Whatever had been in the coil was now a paste of fur and innards running down the wall.
After the coil was reinstalled, Marion and Torg left Cheri to clean up the mess, and made their way to the secondary engine bay. "You know, I can handle the coolant myself if you wanna get started on the servers." Marion offered, pausing for a moment. "Yes. That's probably a better use of time." Torg remarked, almost immediately changing direction. "See you in the lounge later then?!" Marion called after him. "Sounds positive!" Torg called back. The lounge was less of a lounge, and more of a corner of the mess hall that someone had turned into a bar, and strung holiday lights everywhere. It was the only place that Torg really socialized with anyone else. The server issues turned out be as simple as a frayed cable, and only took a moment to correct.
Torg made his way up to the mess hall, and waited patiently for his colleagues to arrive and open the lounge. It usually opened around noon, but Markus wasn't always that punctual. He sat at one of the tables, and looked out the large windows, into the depths of space. He did so often, reminding himself he would never see his homeworld again. He wrapped his lower body around the seat to anchor himself, and settled in. The stars looked so wonderful right now, and it was one of the few things that brought him joy.
He turned to see Cheri slide onto the bench next to him. "Hey, Torg. I'm….I'm sorry if I offended you. I honestly didn't know." she said. He was still getting used to the concept of apologies, but he could tell this once was sincere. "It's alright. It happens." he muttered back. "Thanks." Cheri replied. The two sat together in silence for a while, looking out the window before Cheri turned to him again.
"Tell me about your homeworld." she said quietly. "What do you want to know?" Torg asked, turning to face her. She slid a little closer, and linked her arm under his primary arms, laying her head on his shoulder. "Whatever you feel like telling." she replied. "What...what are you doing?" Torg asked, unsure why she was touching him. "Im tired, and this is comfortable, and I need a good story." she answered. Torg simply nodded, and began to tell her about the Gnesi homeworld, Kiraz. She listened intently as Torg went on and on, about the hiveworld, the colony ships, and the colonial planets. It was the first time anyone had really asked him about any of it.
"So, you were hatched on the ship then?" she asked as he finished. "Yes. Myself, and three hundred of my brothers and sisters. We would sleep in piles, and spend the day learning many skills. Eventually, I will have to return to the hiveworld to pass on my genetics. But, tell me about your homeworld, your family. They must be affected by your absence." Torg replied.
"Not much to tell. Family were drifters. I was sold between ships as a laborer until Captain Thomas took pity on me, technically stole me from the last ship I worked on, and gave me a job. You remember when he brought me on board." Cheri explained, adjusting her arm beneath his. "So you have no family?" Torg asked. "No. Not really." she answered blankly. Torg thought back, to how families would adopt orphaned Gnesi children, and take responsibility for them as part of their own brood. No child had ever been left behind in Gnesi culture. He glanced down at the tired 16 year old on his arm and put his other arms around her. "In my culture, if a child has no family, they are taken in by another. That's you. You're part of my brood now." he told her. "Sounds good to me." she groaned, drifting off to sleep.
Torg sat with her as she slept, making the promise to himself to always keep his new broodling safe, even if she was not of his race. His people may come across as hard, and cold, and thats the way they liked it, but they would always have a soft spot for the downtrodden.