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Humans in distress make very distinct noises. Those noises cause a whole shitload of weird stuff to happen to my brain, especially on the relative safety of ART. We weren’t even on a recon mission. Those were students making distressed sounds in ART’s lab module.
ART, status? I sent in the feed while I marched down the hall towards the module. I couldn’t get a great view, though I could see the students climbing over tables and lab benches. (90% sure that was implicitly discussed in the lab safety brief. I’m not sure though. Three was in charge of science safety shit. I only cared if someone was building a bomb or something.) I was a little surprised ART hadn’t sent one already. It wasn’t exactly known to be calm and reasonable when its crew and auxiliary humans were in danger.
The students are fine, though they would appreciate some support. ART was amused. Its students were climbing the walls to escape something and it was amused.
The lab module opened and the humans variously screamed and pointed at the floor. I could have looped the audio to figure out what the fuck they were talking about, but the evidence skittered under a table before I could.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” I tapped Three, who was off duty in the crew lounge (I almost wished it had been in a recharge cycle so I could interrupt it.)
Is something wrong? It asked.
Your fucking pet got loose.
Where?
Lab Module B. My drones panned along the lab benches. There wasn’t a student left on the ground. There are several lab safety violations in progress as well.
Oh. Three sent a sad amusement sigil as it got off the couch it was reclining on to get to the lab. Do I have to do reports on the violations? Since you found them?
Yes. Your lab, your paperwork.
Three sent another sad amusement sigil. Its “pet”, a long bug thing with about a hundred legs scurried out from under its lab bench then under another one. It would have been scary, if it was about a thousand times bigger (It would probably be pretty similar to Hostile One from that first Preservation Aux survey. No, better not think of that fucking thing too fondly) The humans made more distressed squeaking sounds.
Hurry up before it bites a human.
It is eight centimeters in length. They will be fine. Three rolled its eyes at one of my drones.
Is it poisonous? I asked.
Venomous. ART interjected.
What?
You mean venomous. It clarified, like that did anything. A creature is poisonous if you bite it and you die. It is venomous if it bites you and you die.
If it bites me, it dies.
So you are poisonous? Three shouldered past me into the lab and collected a glass cup thing from the lab bench. An impressive amount of glassware was still intact on the tables. A graduated cylinder had been one of few casualties of the mad scramble away from the big scary 8 centimeter centipede.
Probably. My blood is like 80% heavy metals. I’m sure the exact percentage was somewhere in my specs, but I couldn’t be bothered.
Your blood is 35% heavy metals, however the rest is made up of known carcinogens and more immediate toxins. Ingestion is not recommended for most known species. ART supplied.
So 1.0 is poisonous. Three crouched down and gently coaxed its pet into the glass.
Yes, to most things.
You are too. We use the same fluid. I stood against the wall.
Three’s optimal ratios are slightly different, but yes, you are both bad to eat.
Three straightened up with its hand covering the opening of the jar. Its centipede scrambled across the smooth surface of the glass and against the organic parts of its hand. The humans leaned away.
“Please return to ground level. A report and reprimand will be issued for breach of lab safety procedures.” It said happily. The students grumbled as they came down. I stayed because humans could hurt themselves doing anything.
I thought these were scientists. I mused into the feed.
They are geospatial scientists, not entomologists. ART responded.
Aren't those word scientists? Having seen all the humans safely (ish) back to the floor, I left to let ART’s impatient maintenance drone clean up the broken glass.
No, you are thinking of etymologists.
That sounds like a fake word.
An etymologist could tell you it wasn’t.
You aren’t an entomologist.
I am not an etymologist either.
Can you please move this into a private feed. Three complained. I have paperwork to do.
No. ART and I said at the same time, but we both settled in (ART in my feed and me in my bed with several fluffy pillows) for a quiet episode of World Hoppers.