Chapter Text
They had a system.
It was a system put in place to ensure their victories, to match best their resources against the task at hand to achieve the outcome they fought for. A system which was followed, time and time again, by all of them; with successes and defeats alike in their wake. They learned early not to deviate, to try new things they hadn’t already seen, or else be plunged forth into the cold embrace of the star filled nothing. Experimentation was discovery, and discovery was death.
He didn’t question it. He followed the system, let the formula run its course, each and every time he was given it. Team up with another of his kind, be sent to disappear into the ranks of some unknowing crew, and come out with no one else alive. He never saw a need for change, but then again, maybe his superiors were tired of wasting resources he clearly didn’t need.
Because despite his victories, his inevitably flawless record considering he would be dead otherwise, he always emerged alone. Whether he went in with one of his kind or two, in the end, only one would ever leave those ships still conscious in this universe. It was to no fault of his own; he simply didn’t risk himself to help when they tripped over their own actions. A caught lie here, a stuttered movement there, his partners always got themselves caught, leaving only him to complete their missions.
It didn’t matter to him. He never needed their help, anyway, or else he would be just as dead as they are.
But that’s exactly what led to his new mission, now, one unlike any other. Unorthodox, they called it, looming over him with his orders that were just the same as always, and yet so very different . The formula never changes, on either end; the humans arrange their ships with crews of ten or less, never more, and his kind replace a number of them with themselves. Not so many as to waste the effort, but not so few as to lose entirely. It was their song and dance in this war for survival, and it never changed.
They said they were impressed. They said they knew he could handle it, just the same as every other ship he’d left floating as lifeless as its slaughtered crew in the farthest reaches of space. That he was their top choice for a mission so difficult as this. And so he found himself here, pulling carefully formed human hands into cyan gloves, staring at a crew of eleven humans, standing on his own from the very beginning.
It was exactly the same as always, and yet different. Unorthodox. New.
He should have known where that would lead.
Etho interacts with them just enough to fit in, and no further. He has no need for their small talk, their getting to know each other, their learning of each other’s names. None of it will matter after they’re dead, and he doesn’t need it taking up space in his head alongside what their bodies will become after he’s finished with them. He’s here for one thing and one thing only, and it isn’t to get friendly with them.
They try, anyway. That’s something he’s noticed with humans, how some will try to greet him and talk with him until he makes it clear he has no interest. It’s usually only a handful, the rest just as uncaring about these people they don’t know as he is, and even the ones that do make an effort seem to get bored or give up after some time. That’s the first difference he notices with this crew, aside from just how different this mission is by definition. They’re friendly.
All of them.
It isn’t just a handful, a color here and there with a kind voice so alien to him, but the entire group of them. He’s sure they don’t know each other and have never met before, by the way they have to introduce themselves to each other, but they all act so eerily similar. He finds himself watching and listening, taking note of the ways they act and considering the possibility of defects, storing the behavior away for future missions.
When he’s satisfied with that, he moves on. His presence has been known, he has been greeted by a couple of them, and he has no further reason to stand around while they all chatter away. It’s not until after he’s boarded the ship ahead of them that he realizes it may have been a mistake, that if the entire group is friendly, his disinterested behavior will put him as the only odd one out, but it’s too late to change already. Turning back and rejoining them will only net him more attention, and he supposes he isn’t acting entirely non human, anyway. They may just take him as shy.
He tries to remember the last time he made a mistake like that. He can’t.
All the same, Etho isn’t alone on the ship for long. He takes the time to explore, to walk the halls and the rooms around him, taking note of the locations of vents. It’s the same as every other ship he’s ever been on, all of them built identical to one another in a way humans themselves are not, but he does it anyway. It makes itself an alibi for his behavior soon enough.
“Newbie, huh?” A voice calls to him, following his exploration. It doesn’t startle him, but he does turn, fixing his crewmate with a curious stare for them to continue. They’re in a dark green suit, any further features concealed beneath. “You look like you’ve never been on a Skeld before.”
“...Yes.” Etho nods, slowly. He’ll have to stick with that story and pretend he doesn’t know what he’s doing, but in his defense, he doesn’t actually know how this hurtling hunk of metal runs anyway. It’ll be a good alibi for tasks he isn’t trained to do like they are.
“In that case, welcome aboard, newbie!” The green crewmate, who seems to be male as best he can tell from their voice, puts his hands on his hips and seems to puff his chest out at him. “If you need any help, just come right to me. They don’t call me the G.O.A.T. for nothing!”
Etho blinks. He doesn’t know what a ‘goat’ is, or what it has to do with being helpful, but he knows better than to ask. Nodding stiffly back, he finds himself blinking as a green hand, formed into a fist, is held toward him.
“The name’s Doc, by the way.”
He’s seen this before. A red and a blue on another mission seemed to have something against the soft inner parts of their hands touching, possibly as a defensive precaution, and would bump the hard knuckle bones of their fists together instead. Etho mimics the action now, tapping a cyan fist against Green’s offered one in what he assumes to be some show of… companionship?
“I’m Etho.”
Green’s helmet moves in a nod, a single slow one that he identifies as being meant to show a cool acceptance toward him. Then the human moves past him, walking casually by his side in a way humans only ever do on the first day before anyone has died, and makes his way down the hall.
“I’m stationed in reactor if you need me.” Green calls, waving a hand over his shoulder as he goes without looking back. Etho takes note of his location.
He’s ready to move on with all of this, to get his mission underway and start taking out members of this crew as soon as possible, but he’s already accepted his alibi as an unfamiliar, new crewmate. He’ll look out of place if he goes straight ahead with full awareness of where the ship’s tablets are, leaving him no choice but to hover around now, waiting to be helped.
It reminds him why he usually doesn’t take this cover story, but it’s best to play into the crew’s assumptions on the first day, whatever they may be. Waiting around now is just a test of his patience and no real trouble, anyway; he’s seen enough anxious, uncertain humans to mimic their actions now. Standing by the door between electrical and storage, Etho knows he’s the spitting image of a nervous human, fidgeting his hands and inclining his head toward the floor as he waits for someone to find him.
Just as estimated, it works like a charm.
“Oh, are you new too?” A new voice crosses him, one that isn’t the green crewmate’s, and he looks up to see the one in pink approaching him. Orange is on their heels, holding something in their arms he doesn’t recognize. “We’re on our way to admin now if you’d like to come with us. You’ll need your standard Mira issued tablet before you can do any of your tasks.”
The voice is kind, much softer than the green crewmate before them. The orange one says nothing, only offering a small wave from a hand preoccupied by holding whatever the equally orange thing in their hands is, and shows no inhibition to walking beside Etho as the pink one takes the lead ahead of them both.
“I’m not sure if you caught it, you scampered off so fast. My name is Xisuma and I’m the captain of this mission, so if you need anything, come see me. I’ll be happy to help.” Pink talks as he walks, his head inclined back to show he’s speaking to them. Etho isn’t sure yet if the captain’s notable attention on his behavior is a cause for concern, but he decides to keep an eye on Pink all the same, just in case he starts to put the pieces together and needs to be removed first.
Besides, without a captain, the crew always descends into finger pointing and chaos easier anyway.
“This is my first mission without my mentor, too.” Orange pipes up from beside him, giving Etho an excuse to turn and try to look at the thing he’s holding. It appears to be a pet of some kind, in a space suit that nearly perfectly matches his own. “I’m Scar, and this is Jellie.”
Orange doesn’t say what this ‘Jellie’ is, leaving Etho to just nod back at him and hope that isn’t information he might need. He gives a small wave, mumbling his own name back at his orange future target. The Jellie hisses at him.
“Jellie, don’t judge an astronaut by his space suit.” Orange scolds the pet, but it continues grumbling a low, angry noise in Etho’s general direction. He makes the calculated choice to take a step away instead of the part of him that wants to hiss back at the creature and show it who the real danger here is. He saw a partner do that once; he doesn’t think the airlock was worth it. “I’m sorry about her, she’s not usually like this.”
“It’s okay.”
Turning his head, Etho turns his attention back to their captain, standing in the admin room as they are now. Pink has wandered ahead, ignoring the conversation about the Jellie, and Etho sees him just in time to see him pluck two of the tablets from their charging station. “Here you go. Loaded up with all the information you’ll need, any tasks you’re assigned will be sent right to these first thing in the morning each day.”
Orange has to put his Jellie down to take the device, and the creature hisses once more at Etho before dashing off back into the hall, though its owner doesn’t follow it. The orange crewmate asks a question instead, something about the functionality of the device that earns him Pink’s direct attention to guide him through its mechanics. Distracted as they are, it gives Etho the chance he needs to slip the tiny chip in his glove into the charge port of the tablet, watching with satisfaction the way the user interface turns red for just a moment.
Then it’s back to normal, nothing on its screen to give him away as he tucks it away into his suit. His virus will need a small bit of time to work, to take hold of the rest of the ship and make way for the functional errors at his command only a screen press away at any time, but he’s well on his way with his mission so far. As soon as it’s ready, all he needs is to pull a distraction, get someone alone, and watch the crew tear itself apart at the first sign of a murder.
It’s a mission unlike any other in its construction, but functionally, they’re always the same.
