Thread of a Captain...

[Captain-Robosexual]

5 : Fruit of Knowledge
The wall was covered in writing. Here, numbers in a sequence taunted the watchers with their sharp angles. On the other side were letters in their own premeditated series. Sophia could barely tell the difference. Letters were numbers were symbols; it was all the same to her. Nobody she knew could read what it said, but it didn’t matter; it wasn't any of their business anyway.
She was writing in one of the unoccupied corners, sloppy digits with their mathematical symbolism falling from her piece of chalk with surprising speed. Without spaces, she scribbled, barely knowing what it all meant.
Then her voice suddenly hitched, and her hand, dirty with chalk, went through her undone hair.
It was too simple.
"Sam! Get in here!" She yelled at the top of her voice, and a whirring machine zoomed into her room. It was holding a cup of lemonade, and Sophia smiled lovingly at her favorite pet.
"I can live forever. I've figured it out, Sam. I've done it." Her hands were tired, and her knees were torn and her clothing was dirty, and she hurt everywhere. With tears in her eyes, she hissed at her wall, a large and intimidating mass of green and white; a dirty, dingy green and a white that seemed all-to-clean. She fainted, passing out after days without food or sleep or even water.

At first, the room was spinning, and then the female opened her reddish eyes, her head pounding with regret.
"Good morning, Mistress Sophia. Would you like coffee?" Asked Sophia’s robot, a machine with one arm showing. It had many arms with different functions, but the only one Sophia ever saw was the one that held things. In its metal grasp, Sam had a steaming cup of liquid that the human assumed was coffee.
"Thank you, Sam." She sat up, took the cup, and drew it to her cracked lips, tasting the first thing she had consumed in days with animalistic fervor.
"How are you feeling, mistress?" Asked the machine, and Sophia flopped her head down hard into her pillow.
"I'm dead." She said, not knowing what she felt, aside from pain and hunger. On her thigh and upper arm she felt the bruise that she assumed was given to her by being carried to bed by a machine.
"How does it feel, being dead?" Sam had the voice of Sophia's deceased mother programmed into her, and hearing her speak like that made Sophia giggle tiredly.
"Bring me food, Sam. Thank you for the coffee, by the way." The computer beeped loudly, realizing an order.
"You are welcome, mistress."

Sophia was a mathematician, a theorist, and a mechanic. She built things with her little hands, namely Sam, a mechanized butler that obeyed every command without question, much more efficient than a human butler. There were fat men that sat in large chairs demanding that she create something new at least once a year, and she had an abundance of ideas to share, so it wasn't all-that-important. This last month, though, she had a different idea.
Her mother had just recently died of disease and fatigue. Sophia wasn't close to her, so she didn't care, but it made her think; why do humans die? She had a fascination with robotics, a relatively new concept, and she realized that they never died. Humans had bodies that could get sick, and though there were many viruses and bugs that could ravage a machine, there weren't half as many, and all of those needed to be applied by a human with notable capabilities. All she had to do was wire someone’s conscious mind into a machine, and she could create the perfect being. She had figured out how this last while, working with theory and logic in her room. All she needed now was clearance to start human trials.

"No."
Three weeks, hours of writing non-stop, her near-starvation was gone in one moment.
"What?! I have done so much for this company, and you deny me this one little thing!" She was furious, red in the face, scarred and calloused hands fisting up with rage.
"It's too dangerous to plug a human being into a machine. We just won’t be able to explain it if anything goes wrong. Imagine the shock, the blow to this corporation's reputation! I am sorry, Mrs. Williams. We just can't do it this time.”
The girl stormed out of the conference room, dragging the presentation that she had prepared along with her.

The newspaper was brought in by one of Sophia's robots. A whirring ensued as it drew itself back into its cave in the wall to shut down for the day.
"Sam." Said the female, stepping lightly into her kitchen and sitting down at the table. Sophia was busy opening the newspaper when Sam came out of the laundry room where it had been busy folding clothes.
"Sam, I need for you to make me breakfast and coffee. While you're at it, make me an extra cup. We're going to have a guest over." Sophia said nonchalantly, flipping her newspaper up so that she could read it better. The robot handed her an apple, a lazy thing for a robot to do, but she loved fruit, so she took it with a smile.
Her plan was to put in an add for work in the newspaper. It was hard work, building her a shed in the back of her house, so she expected someone that was desperate for money, perhaps a plebian from a poor family or an immigrant traveled from a place where this kind of thing was honorable. It had been almost a week since she put in the add, and every day that week she made Sam make an extra cup of coffee, just in case.

[Captain-Robosexual]

6 : Desert Flower

Lavender was standing on the edge of the red-sanded cliff not far from the town, looking out into the white abyss of the salt flats. The gentle curling of the Earth around the horizon made her hard and tired features soften. She always thought deeply when she stood on this ledge. Her rifle hung lazily at her hip, and her coat and hair flowed in the warm desert breeze. The weather was pleasant for that time of day; just after noon, when most people went home to escape the heat. She had expected that it would have been a dreadfully bad idea, going to her favorite ledge at this time; but the temperature was relatively mild.
The wind picked up suddenly, and Lavender was thrashed by rebellious sand. There was dirt in her eyes, and her nose stung with strain. It was time to go back home.
The way back into town took longer than Lavender first thought. The heat picked up about the same time she started moving, making the woman drag her feet all the way there. The sun shot down unbearably, and even if Lavender had taken a lifetime getting used to it, the intolerably high temperature was still unpleasant. By the time she made it to the outskirts of the town, Lavender estimated the temperature to have reached about 105 degrees. Her compassion went out to those that were trapped out in the desert to fight.

“Afternoon, Lavender.” The barman was one of the only people that stayed at his job during the siesta. He was an older man with squinty eyes that made him look as though he were always concentrating to see. The prospect was feasible, as glasses were expensive.
“Just a shot today, Luke; don’t let me drink any more than this, all right?” She laughed lightly, not even bothering to sit down or take off her hat. She leaned informally over the counter, resting her legs, sore from walking, in a way that motioned she wouldn’t be there for long.
There were very few people in the bar, a drunk at one of the tables, crumpled up like drunks do, silent as a sleeping child. The only other sound came from a trio playing cards quietly in the corner, bleeding cigar smoke from their triangle. It was calmer than Lavender thought, so she sat on one of the stools, crossing her legs and holding her shot glass off the table to admire the liquor’s copper color.
“How’s business been lately, Luke?” Asked the female, sipping the shot down and throwing her head back to swallow.
“Fine, thank you. There have been a bit too many strangers coming through here lately. I hear there’s something out west that these people really want.” Replied the tender, refilling her glass absentmindedly, and the female, although she had protested before, drank it.
“Gold?” She asked, face twisting from the sour taste.
“Most likely.” He said, and he poured her another shot, this one she held in her hand deliberately.
“Would you be so kind as to get me some water?” Asked the woman, hanging lower on the bar, smiling sheepishly.
“It’s twice as expensive as yesterday.” The man replied, wiping out a glass and turning to a silver box she assumed he kept the water in.
“No problem. I should be making enough money with all of these people coming through. People chasing wealth have the tendency to be chasing other things.” She chuckled and swallowed her shot in one big gulp. The grimace was almost gone.
“Tab, then.” Said Luke, sliding the water to Lavender, and she caught it with dangerous reflexes. She sipped at the water as though it were the finest wine in America, and with every sip, her stern face and lifeless eyes lit up with a childish kind of glee, muted by the dim of the bar and the heat of the desert.

[Captain-Robosexual]

7 : Clockwork

"I don't believe you." snarled the green-eyed woman, shaking her head.
There could not have been victory, the was no victory. War was ever-present and never-ending. No, the Empire had not collapsed, and the people she was raised to serve were not slaves of the south. It was not true.
There were tear's in her eyes, she huddled in a miserable heap on the floor, and the sinking feeling in her chest would not leave. Ilina sobbed into her folded arms, and her captors spat in her direction before leaving her in the dank room. She was glad her prison was spacious, but it was lonely and cold, and every clang of metal-on-metal echoed off the massive walls. She was as void as her prison, just a shell of her former self after being alone for so long.
Birds chirped through windows that were too high to reach, and she sighed, head pounding with despair. The woman stood and approached her workbench, crafting another weapon for her enemies against her will. She was only fed if they knew she was working, and they had their eyes on her all the time: peering through peep-holes and barred windows with a tireless curiosity. The hairs on the back of her neck rose at that thought, and she wiped tears that were still falling away.
Ilina was valuable. She worked, in a life that was all-but-forgotten, for the Empire crafting beautiful and well-functioning weapons. Her goal was to help people, but the Empire only required murder tools, so she worked and worked. She was kidnapped soon after the war started. The Empire fought many countries for resources, and had been stationed in the country to the south, parading around with the machines Ilina created. She knew about these injustices, but her parents always demanded that she push on to make better death machines. There was a southern raiding party that snatched her from her workplace, killing her colleagues and tossing her into a mechanized cart. She was told that there would be torture if she didn't oblige, and she was too smart to deny them. It was simple enough; she was to do exactly what she always did, only for a different client.

[Captain-Robosexual]

8 : Milk and Honey

Footsteps were silent when they came from the Sheppards. They called their herd and slithered, like cobras, across the sands and around the encampment. Blades that had been dipped in a silver-green poison were unsheathed; the fluid making the actions inaudible, and all the Sheppards needed to do to kill the men was make small cuts on their hands or feet. My entire army was killed in one night by these savages, the corpses left for their animals to feed on. All I could do was hide, as the beasts with their massive teeth and shrunken eyes were too numerous for me to fight off, and I did not want to die.
After such an ordeal, I could not allow myself to return to my people. To be both the leader of an army I drove my father to create, and the only survivor would mean banishment, if not death. I deserved both.
I was forced to roam the desert, following the trails of the Sheppards in an attempt to get revenge. It was foolish, but I had no choice, and I was to die one way or another, so I chose the warrior's way.
I had been following the Sheppards and their flock of monsters for months, watching quietly as they killed and burned every oasis they found to the ground. After they were done with these places, nothing but char and bones were left. Every day my heart sank; every night my soul darkened. They were not humans, I soon realized, finding that they didn't pillage, simply fed their flock and went on. They must have been the cause of the Fire Plagues in the East, and the massacre of a town called Falezkesh, just north of my home. They were strangely powerful too; with eyes that glistened a strange yellow and feet that sometimes didn't even touch the ground as they walked. The smell they gave off was that of dry death. In my youth, I had come across many people that had tried to cross the Great Desert to free themselves from the tyrant to the West, and had thought the passage an easier journey. All of them were buried up to their heads with sand, flesh crisp like dried meats, fabric worn from the ever-moving sea of sand and despair. They smelt just like the Sheppards; a tired kind of filth that seemed to linger in the nostrils and even on the tongue after they had been gone for hours. I hated following them, watching as they fed their pets corpses jarred from eternal rest, as they laughed in the face of a mother clinging to her child with laughs that resembled, past the human illusion, breaking glass. The worst thing, though, was the fact that I could do nothing to save these people. I was not fast enough to pass the Sheppards and warn the people destined to die in such a horrible way, and I could not kill the Sheppards, as they never slept, and I did not have an army behind me for protection.
It must have been late June, as it was hot enough for me to cast off the sheet I used to shield myself from the sun. I folded it neatly just after dawn, and found a place for it in the bag I carried all of my supplies in. It was pitiful, and it frightened me greatly to know that these crumbs of bread and this dehydrated food was all of the sustenance I had. I couldn't see the Sheppards, they had gotten further ahead while I slept in the night, which was something that always happened. I never worried, a** I could still smell their reek on the still air, and in the distance I could hear the thrilling of one of their monsters, probably being whipped by its master. I stumbled over a rock I didn't see and gripped out wildly, finding only sand that fell apart from between my fingers. I was hungry and tired and thirsty, and in the sand I coughed up the slime that must have been sand I had breathed in when I had fallen.
"Not much longer, Analux, not much longer."

[Captain-Robosexual]

[Captain-Robosexual]

10 : Solder


Armina woke from the crash of thunder, her blue eyes snapping open with surprise. She was crumpled against a cave wall, chin rested on the handle of her dagger. Light flashed in the far distance, and not soon after the thunder clapped again. Water pattered lazily against the hard ground outside, echoing evenly in her ears.
"Fire." She mumbled to herself, pulling a rock from beside her and hitting it against the stone floor. It sparked, and she directed the force towards dried grasses and twigs she had collected when the sun was still out. It lit, and, to Armina's relief, tempered easily.
Something scurried outside the cave, and Armina eyed the dark abyss that was the forest. Her heavy eyes yearned for sleep, but her stomach twisted and growled in protest.
This was Armina's final trial before she would be given a rank and sent into battle. She was the only female in her class, and needed to prove her worth. Of course, the men didn't have to spend a month in the wilderness, occasionally hunted by the wild boars and jaguars that roamed with salivating mouths, or risk starvation and hypothermia, but she was a woman. This meant that, in order to lead an army, she must prove that she is stronger, more durable, and keener that her fellow solders. Her mother protested the trial with watery eyes and loud sobs, but still she went, ignoring her father's disappointed sigh. It was planned that she would marry into a wealthy family, not brand her back with her achievements and have ink pressed into her skin like her brothers had. The women of her village pitied her, the men annoyed at her defiance, but her lords didn't care, as long as they knew a woman wouldn't bring her army down through heavy emotions. Armina knew she wouldn't: it was her fate, to be slaughtered in battle with her brothers, to meet them in their afterlife, and to celebrate their victories and failures with her loud, booming voice. It was her dream, her destiny.
The rain grew from a soft patter to a heavy tapping, then water poured from the sky in sheets. Armina was thankful for her fire, and curled up near in, leaning her head to one side and dozing off.
Birdsong woke her next. The incessant chirping was loud and all-to close, so she lifted herself from where she rested groggily and wondered into the wilderness. Everything was clean and moist, the ground soggy, the leaves and flowers that surrounded her glistening with dew. It was the middle of the morning, so Armina must have slept in. She sighed with frustration, sheathing her dagger and examining her surroundings. In the distance, the roar of a waterfall rumbled, so she followed the sound, hoping to catch some fish or come across some fruit on the way.

[Captain-Robosexual]

11 : Hallowed Ground

Colette was gazing longingly at the sky, feet heavy after walking as far as she had. The sun was hovering over the horizon, and she had lost track of time in her travels. Of course, it was a bit too late to search for firewood and build a solid camp, so she pulled her horse to a stop and tied him to a tree on the

[Captain-Robosexual]

Aglaeca

[Captain-Robosexual]

13 : Technicolor

"You're forgetting your duties, Alex." Said Daivat, bat-like feature stiff and cold.
I eyed my lord carefully, watching the way he guarded the front doorway, always accompanied by his dove-like sister Taviad. They had watched over this church since I was created, perhaps since the building had been crafted, and when I asked them why, they only eyed me with disbelief.
I was to be their replacement. I was made with no pair, so I would have to settle with a lonely life of watchfullness. At least my lords had a companion to waste away with.
"I have finished sweeping the grounds, and I want to travel to the river!" I whined, catching my tone and bowing in apology.
"Do not speak to us like a child!" Snapped Taviad, tilting her head towards me and narrowing her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Mistress." I pleaded solemnly, and they turned again to the road.
"If you are back before sunrise, you may go." Said Daivat, never turning away from his work.
"I promise." I chimed, and I twisted around, flapping in the direction of the only source of water I knew of.

[Captain-Robosexual]

14 : Monster

It was the first snow fall of the season, and Ava relished the feeling of it. Of course, this would mean that there would be no frolicking in the grass or room for harvest, but the snow was what she waited for all year. Little specks of white floated lazily from the heavens, landing on the frost-covered ground. Her finger tips tingled with cold, and the sun barely peaked out from the watery horizon. Ava's father would be home from fishing, and she would be able to spend actual time with him, not just the occasional glance in the pub or when he brought home fish for dinner, just to leave for the sea again. He told her that the sea was her mother and the only woman he had ever loved, save Ava herself, and she understood the tired look he always had after waking up and realizing that the sway of the ocean was just in his dreams. The sea was his home, and the house was really Ava's, he just rented it out every once in a while.
Ava was busy stirring a fish stew that she had been cooking for hours, twisting the wooden spoon in a circle and looking out of the window anxiously. Her father should have been stepping out from behind the grocer and through the little stone fence that separated their estate from the main street of their village. She had a childish smile on her face, her silvery eyes shimmering with glee, and she stirred and stirred until her arms were tired. Her father never came.
It was nightfall before she finally gave up and poured herself a bowl, heart sinking as she sipped at the hot liquid. It was delicious and warm, but it still gave her no comfort to know that she would be eating alone, and that her father was risking his life, probably out catching the last batch of the season. After finishing her soup, she let the fire die down just a bit, making sure the soup would not scald, then she put on her winter parka and left her home in search of information.
First, she checked the pub, asking the merry old men if they had seen him, but the replies were pretty much unanimous:
"I have not seen him, young Ava, nor have I seen the rest of his crew."
This worried the girl, so she rested near the fire just to warm her bones, then set out in the direction of the docks.
The docks were about a mile down from the village, but it was all downhill, so it took little more than ten minutes for Ava to get there. When she had finally recognized the place where her father's boat always rested, she sighed heavily and started for home again, deciding to stop by the local grocer on the way there. The grocery store wasn't but a little ways off of her path, and her father was usually the one who stopped there, but they were in need of bread and carrots, and there was no sight of him.
The girl was almost at the walkway of the store when she heard something crunch dead leaves under it's step. Curious, she followed the sound, stopping every once in a while to make sure she wasn't just following her own echo. The noise led her into the brush, pines scraping at her like warning limbs, but she ignored it and continued on. It wasn't too long until she found herself lost, the forest's confusion leading her in circles.
"Who are you, girl?"
The voice sliced through the cold air, and Ava snapped her head side to side.
"I am Ava. Who are you?" The girl found that her own voice cracked with fear, and did her best to bury that emotion, but to no avail. Her nerves fired wildly, and she shivered despite herself.
"You are looking for something. I can feel it. You are worried." Said the voice, and Ava tried desperately to catch where it had come from, finding that the tone and position changed inhumanly.
She was silent, her rapid breathing leaving her mouth in puffs of condensing steam.
"Do not be afraid, I will not harm you." the voice said, and a figure seemed to appear before her, hunched and shimmering, "Come closer, so that I can look at you, my dear."
All of her senses screamed for her not to, but her feet would not listen, and Ava found herself reaching out a gloved hand, feeling for the thing that called her.
"That's it." It said, and it began to materialize into a more sure form.
She gasped, and backed away a step as color flooded the white mass, but her scream was caught in her throat, and her feet would not run. The thing pounced, attacking the girl and enveloping her in twisting colors and sounds. Pain was felt in every inch of her being, and she could not breathe.
Darkness.
Ava felt the drowsiness of sleep overcome her, but she was afraid that if she slept she would be consumed by the creature that had attacked her. It took all of her strength, but she opened her eyes, finding nothing but the dim light that radiated from the moon and the forest. She was covered in an thin layer of snow, and sat up with dizzying speed.
Her head pounded and her stomach twisted, but the most profound of her pain was in her hands, so she brought them to her face. To Ava's horror, they were clawed, and she gasped, but the noise didn't sound like a human noise.
"What has happened to me?" She tried, and there was an echo, but it was an interior echo, as though she was speaking her words twice.
"You are my vessel." said the other voice, and she found her own noise echoed the utterance.
Ava's feet tore away, taking her with inhuman speed out of the brush and into the villiage. The grocer was standing outside, relishing the first snow when the girl approached from behind. Her hand, the one that had mutated, swung at the man from her side, and his back was slit open, the human falling to the frosted ground with a quiet thump. Ava was too shocked to fight it, closing her eyes as her twisted, inhuman form pounced on the man, her teeth, now sharp and jagged, tearing into the man's flesh, her tongue, long and forked, lapping at the gore greedily. She was consuming the grocer, an old man that had helped her through long winters with the occasional gift, a long-time companion of her father. He was dead, she had done it, and now she was eating him like an animal. Hot tears streamed down the girl's face, and she sobbed between swallows. She was a monster.