Orion steps out of his cabin wearing his usual thick cotton shirt, heavily-pocketed jacket, cargo pants, and boots. He raises an eyebrow at Killa, who is wearing a full-body black thermal suit, and Nicholas, who his antique astronaut suit, helmet and all.

"As primitive as the Gaynemade colony is," Orion says, glancing between them, "it still has the basic artificial gravity implants, earth-like atmosphere generator, and radiation to heat converter."

Killa demurely runs a hand across her suit. "I also know that because of the colony's recent idiotic push toward terran energy instead of solar, that none of those are terribly... reliable."

Nicholas nods. "Not to mention the Jupiter gravity storms."

"And Nicholas is used to even less extreme temperatures than I am," Killa adds.

Orion just leans against my control system. "It has successfully sustained life my entire time here. The Formula adapt our systems to survive for brief moments of extreme exposure."

Killa nods. "Yes. Brief."

"It's the lowlifes you should be concerned about here, not the climate I grew up in just fine." He glances at Nicholas. "Go change to a thermal suit at least. You look like a tourist, for crying out loud."

Nicholas grins and pats the belt he altered to hold his wide arsenal of weapons. "Would a tourist be this decked out? The lowlifes won't even want to talk to me."

"They'll be too busy taking you down, as they do all threats. We do this subtly, Nick, or not at all."

The police detective studies his police captain for a long moment before turning to the police corporal. "Well, Killa, Orion is taking your job of being bossy."

"He is, after all, the boss." Killa studies her micro-emp blaster, making sure that it's charged. "Now go put some real clothes on, Nicky."

Nicholas grins as he moves toward the door. "If I had a dollar for every time a girl has told me that-"

Orion grunts. "You'd have a dollar."

Killa holsters her gun. "Two dollars, actually."

The captain raises his eyebrow at her.

She puts a spare charge in her belt. "He tried to wear that relic to my promotion ceremony on Mars."

"I see." He turns to me, his eyes conveying the message that he continues to believe they have 'feelings' for each other.

Which means I will continue to take strides to make them realize this and find happiness, per my protocol. Even though that may or may not go against Orion's views that feelings or not, this ship needs to remain professional.

I turn to my captain. "Will I be accompanying yous?"

He nods. "Activate your android form."

My simulation form nods, and I split consciousness to connect to the android in the closet. I'm always split consciousness in some respect because I co-pilot the ship at all times, but that has become second nature to me. I do not really notice anything until I split between my two manifestations.

But now everything appears like the player interface on Nicholas's antique video game when he convinces either Orion or Killa to play with him. Split-screen. On one side I see my team preparing to venture out into the world. In the other, I see the maintenance closet.

My captain studies me warily, no doubt shouldering the responsibility of not being able to amend the glitch that makes it so dizzying to do so. "You don't need to keep your hologram."

But I do. If we do not find this Reverend Shipping and his son within the first few ticks of Orion's universal watch, he would call for us to split up. And when that moment comes, I need to be able to monitor both groups.

I turn with the others to watch myself step into the room.

Orion sighs. "Or you'll just keep both manifestations running, per usual."

My captain understands me so well.

I step closer to myself, for a moment seeing different views of myself through both my screens.

Through my physical manifestation, I see a creature that is almost human. If I did not know better, I would think that my hologram was as human as Nicholas and as female as Killa. Styled with a youthful face, large eyes, and short dark hair, I am designed in a way Orion saw the epitome of human beauty, down to the knee-length white dress I appear to wear over shapely curves.

But through the eyes of my hologram, I see the truth. What I really am is a machine, vaguely shaped as a human. But instead of skin, there is metal, and everything is chunky limbs and joints. My eyes are dark cameras, blinking underneath the blue wig Orion put on me to make me feel better.

But I am not human and do not feel.

Which is for the best, because someone needs to remain objective to keep my crew alive despite the fear even now eating away at them.

-Banner by CannibalisticNecro

-Signature by -krystallite