The Apogee of Memory (Ranger-1)

[Grognardsw]

Ranger-1, who had long since forgotten his real name, awoke from uneasy dreams. A woman had been trying to talk with him through walls of wispy veils, her voice distant and indiscernible.

He looked out the porthole at the receding Galgatha, the shimmering gold planet.



Sometimes when Ranger-1 dreamed, he could feel the pulse and pressure of the worm moving in his brain. Or was he dreaming that he felt that? No, it had happened often enough to turn suspicion into certitude.

It was a discomfort, not really painful but disturbing to think about. Ranger tried not to dwell on the worm and its unknown effects. It had been 5 years since it had infiltrated his body on the jungle planet Vothiq-Zarian. It could not be removed without killing him.

The worm parasite had not killed Ranger or drove him insane, as the doctors thought it might. But Ranger knew it was doing something. He dreamt more now than ever before. And there was something more, he could feel it, undefinable but there. Was it eating his memories? No, before the worm he was losing the pictures of his long past.

The density of 150 years of memory weighed heavily on Ranger. Too much to lift; more and more his memory simplified, altered, or combined to his detriment. Or sifted recollections altogether into oblivion. Mercifully his short-term memory was unaffected.

Ranger unplugged from the wall power outlet, the cord retracting into his metal hip. The technological cyborg shell that was his body kept his remaining biological parts - head, brain and spinal cord - preserved and operating. The body was built for combat - a goliath of battered metal, oiled gears, hydraulic joints, deadly weapons, and a few tricks. It had served Ranger well for many years, and if he could keep the heap together it could serve many more still.



Galgatha faded from view. Ranger had enjoyed his stay on the golden world, where a myriad of auriferous microorganisms excreted atoms of gold as metabolic waste. It was everywhere on the planet, the lustrous pretty metal. It turned the rivers and streams to streaks of yellow flame and the seas to shimmering golden mirrors. Huge filters were deployed at the intake valve of Galgatha’s reservoirs to strain the cells of dissolved gold from the water supply. The plants of Galgatha were turgid in every tissue, leaf and stem and root, with aureus particles. Gold dust, held in suspension in the air, transformed the clouds to golden fleece.

Ranger smiled at the rumors that on some planets the metal was highly valued. Not in this star system. The cyborg had picked up free twines of gold micowire; ultrafine and conductive, it could be used as wiring replacement in his cyborg body.

The mercenary had been having a rough go of it the last year. Diplomacy and peace were not good for business. The cyborg mercenary had turned to private sector jobs, reluctantly working enforcement and guard duty for the conglomerates. He didn’t like that much, even if the money was good. Those employers felt dirty to Ranger. A military or government operation seemed more important, more worthy, above the petty concerns and corporate greed of the combines like Teslazon, DyzneyX Consolidated, or Atreides Affiliated.

But beggars can’t be choosers. That’s why Ranger had signed on for a job with a small but up-and-coming planet decontamination outfit call Purity Planetary Services. Flora and fauna control, cleaning atmosphere, purifying water supply, sterilizing soil, stability testing, volcano and earthquake control - anything one needed to make a planet fit for human habitation. Real estate on the planetary scale was big business, and all planets seemed to need "modification" as PPS euphemistically called it.

Ranger-1 was their heavy hand, their bodyguard, their attack dog, their whatever-needed-to-get-done man. The two co-founders, Greginski the businessman and Anderson the brain, were friendly enough with a touch of fly-by-the-pants attitude tinged with a bit of shadiness.

As a small company, their pay was less than ideal, but it held interesting possibilities given each job was on a different planet with unpredictable challenges. After 150 years of life experiences, Ranger valued the unusual and novel even if the credits were less. The Galgatha job had been a diverting cake-walk.

And he knew that in this star system, soon enough diplomacy would fail, conflict erupt, and Ranger’s more profitable services would be needed.

Ranger felt the transport ship lurch and a distant clang told him another ship had docked. His ride was here. The cyborg gathered his pack and clambered down to the boarding bay. Standing there was Greginski, smiling as he saw Ranger-1 enter the bay.

"Big guy! Are you ready?"


Greginski

[Bluehorse]

Ranger-1

stood and moved his bulk through the bulkhead and to the docking bay. His eyes scanning the room, always suspicious, oddly bored in their expression as he moved towards the man that called him. Where's the next job? he asked simply. He felt like he had been told before, but he had been, she was sure, thousands, maybe millions on times over. He had trouble sorting what was now, and what was then, and what might never have been. Possibilities felt simultaneously infinite and yet always unrelentingly the same. Wherever it was he was going, he would get there. The job would present itself, it would go one of a few ways, and it would be over, and he would be asking another blank face where the next job was. Or maybe he already was? Or did...

He turned back to the man before the door. I am ready to depart. Will customs be arranged? I do not like inspections. he said with a frank, not quite gruff voice that was accented both in the Annunciation of bygone generations as well as the ever-present wheeze of the mechanical lung buried somewhere deep in his chest that bubbled through a saline filter that was one of the last remaining original moving parts of his antique chassis. He thought it was odd he would notice that just now... why it felt important. He wondered how he had breathed before... this seemed so much more natural. So automatic. He looked down at the man and could only recall that he knew his to be somehow important at the moment, but was sure he would disregard him and his memory soon enough as he did so many. Ranger-1 never tried to forget, quite the opposite, but inevitably, he forgot everything it seemed. It felt easier this way at times. Nothing to hold one back. Do the job. Get paid. Make repairs and upgrades. Ingest biomatter for his head and Worm. Find work... or work find him. Repeat. Life was simple with no one to care for. Stay alive. Recharge. Forget something else and move on to see something new all over again.

[Grognardsw]

“This one is like nothing we’ve ever done,” answered Greginski. “Spectre-IV is the name of the planet.”

Greginski slapped Ranger on the back with a mild clang as the two walked across the hatch into the Purity Planetary Service ship. The door irised open to reveal the hold of the small PPS vessel. It was packed to the rafters with equipment, tools and the odds and ends of the planetary decontamination business.

“Yeah customs is all set. Now how have you been? I take it Golgatha went smoothly? The gold dust didn’t gunk up your gears?”

They passed through the hold into the science workstation room. Greginski’s partner Anderson was on board. The man, dressed in white lab coat and tech goggles, waved at Ranger from behind a table loaded with chemistry apparatus.


Anderson

Greginski and Ranger passed through the room into another smaller lounge area. They sat down at a table with a bottle and food snacks. Greginski poured two drinks from the bottle.

"Saurian brandy... good stuff," Greginski said, swallowing down some. "So this is how we came to the job. Anderson and I were in the office a few weeks ago when in came a guy named Farnum..."

“I am a freelance real estate broker,” said Farnum. “You know how it works - buy a planet, sell a planet, everyone makes a living. Usually I stick with the scrub world and let my buyers do the decontamination but a few months ago I had a chance to buy a real quality planet – took it right out from under the noses of the big operators.”

“It’s a beautiful place,” he continued with no enthusiasm whatsoever. “Average temperature of 71°. Mountainous, but fertile. Waterfalls, rainbows, all that sort of thing. Warm oceans. And no fauna at all.”

“Sounds perfect,” Greginski said. “Micro organisms?”

“Nothing dangerous.”

“Then what’s wrong with the place?”

Farnum looked embarrassed. “Maybe you heard about it. The government catalogue number is SJX-IV. But everyone else calls it Spectre-IV.”

“I don’t believe I’ve heard of it,” said Greginski.

Farnum shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I should’ve listen to my wife. But no - I was going to be a big operator. Paid ten times my usual price and now I’m stuck with it.”

“But what’s wrong with it?” Greginski asked.

“It seems to be haunted,” Farnum said in despair.

Farnum had radar checked his planet, then leased it to a combine a farmers from Tricendia. The eight-man advance guard landed and, within a day, began to broadcast garbled reports about demons, ghosts, vampires, dinosaurs and other inimical fauna.

When a relief ship came for them, all were dead. An autopsy report stated that the gashes, cuts and marks on their bodies could indeed have been made by almost anything, even demons, ghosts, vampires or dinosaurs, if such existed.

Farnum was fined for improper decontamination. The farmers dropped their lease. But he managed to lease it to a group of sun worshipers from Ra-Totep-II.

The sun worshipers were cautious. They sent their equipment, but only three men accompanied it, to scout out trouble. The men set up camp, unpacked and declared the place a paradise. They radioed the home group to come at once – then, suddenly, there was a wild scream and radio silence.

A patrol ship went to Spectre-IV, buried the three mangled bodies and departed in five minutes flat.

“And that did it,” Farnum said. “Now no one will touch it at any price. Space crews refuse to land on it. And I still don’t know what happened.”

“You’re not afraid of ghosts now?” said Greginski with a wink to Ranger. “Phantoms from memory’s past?”

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. As for ‘demons’, you can send them back to hell. If we can fix this, we’ll be established along side the big players. To say nothing of the profit we'll make on a percentage basis.”

Greginski didn’t mention to Ranger that the “big players” had declined the job.

[Bluehorse]

Something new? Ranger-1 perked up a little. Something rare to see if the old cyborg, interest. Golgatha maybe had never seen it in him before outside the passing mention of where he could get a needed repair or part, sometimes ammo. But this was different. Ranger's interest was piqued for the one thing that could get such a reaction from him anymore... the unique... the novel... something new that might make an impression... a staying memory. It was one of the reasons he had taken the job on Galgatha. To see a planet spun of gold where the very clouds were rich with it. He hoped he would remember that for a while at least.

The clang on his shoulder brought him back to the present and he turned to look at Greginski's hand before responding. The gold is good to lubricate my joints. I'm running smooth now. Golgatha.... was an interesting sight. I don't remember anything bad about the job so I guess it went well. I am missing some grenades... maybe not so well... but I am here and I am paid... And I have some gold wire to show for it. I can get my Chassis rewired now.

Good. Last time they wanted to inspect my shell. They made me extract myself. I do not like doing that. The actuators have not worked quite right ever sense. They tinker too much while they look things over.

Once they are in the workstation with Anderson, Ranger-1 had to fold himself up to fit at the table. His bulk, thankfully, articulated enough to be able to fold into the space as the chair under him creaked ominously. Thankfully, comfort was not an issue for him, but he learned a long time ago that people preferred he sit when they did so that he was not as intimidating looking down at them from his impressive (if somewhat artificial) height of 7'5". Looking across the table at his employer, he remained wordless and ready to receive information.

The old cyborg looks at the snacks and drink dryly. He took a few handfuls of nuts and poured them into a receptacle he opened so that they could be ground and processed for later. He no longer took much pleasure from food other than the nutrition it provided for what was left of his biology that required it. He did, however, take the brandy and knock it back enjoying the burn as it went down into the same processor that would filter and sort what was there. Some would be turned into the oils and liquids for his moving parts and coolant, other parts would be reprocessed into what passed for a bloodstream so his head could absorb it. He purposefully had set his filters to allow just a little of the alcohol into his system only because he knew that Worm found it irritating and that gave him some level of satisfaction.

...And no fauna at all.”

“Sounds perfect,” Greginski said. “Micro organisms?”

“Nothing dangerous.”

Not buying it. he says tapping his head. My so called harmless organism is still taking up residence in here rent free. His buddies messed up.... the rest of my team real bad before they were cut out. If there is no animal life, there has to be something. Nothing in nature, no matter wear, leaves a void. You have a predator for sure. Even if it is the plants. You haven't mentioned what they are like yet. I don't want to land and find out you forgot to tell us about some kind of Amazoni Mantrap that would swallow Gregenski here whole. he pointed at his friend with his thumb, suddenly and clearly recalling his name when the time was right.

“Then what’s wrong with the place?”

Farnum looked embarrassed. “Maybe you heard about it. The government catalogue number is SJX-IV. But everyone else calls it Spectre-IV.”

Ranger's brows furrowed just a little. You're avoiding the question...

“But what’s wrong with it?” Greginski asked.

“It seems to be haunted,” Farnum said in despair.

Ranger's brows furrowed more. He didn't look happy. Schacket Dung. You have a predator and you don't know how to deal with it. Where is the recon information? Have you sent any drones? Satalite imagery? Infrared Scans? Or let me guess... You blew all your funds for that on overpaying for what you thought was a rose garden and now we have to do the dirty work because you think you can get out on the cheap. Am I getting close? That might be the most Greginski ever heard the old Juggernaut sat at one time since he had known him.

Farnum had radar checked his planet, then leased it to a combine a farmers from Tricendia. The eight-man advance guard landed and, within a day, began to broadcast garbled reports about demons, ghosts, vampires, dinosaurs and other inimical fauna...

Ranger grumbled, looking more displeased. You said no fauna... and now you are saying all this? Which is it? I might have a worm in my brain but I still have enough sense to know when someone is pulling my leg, so do you want to try that again? he turned and looked at Greginski. He looked, in a word, mad, but there was a twinkle in his eye that might be.... amusement? Had Ranger-1 ever seemed... entertained before now?

When a relief ship came for them, all were dead. An autopsy report stated that the gashes, cuts and marks on their bodies could indeed have been made by almost anything, even demons, ghosts, vampires or dinosaurs, if such existed.

Farnum was fined for improper decontamination. The farmers dropped their lease. But he managed to lease it to a group of sun worshipers from Ra-Totep-II.

The sun worshipers were cautious. They sent their equipment, but only three men accompanied it, to scout out trouble. The men set up camp, unpacked and declared the place a paradise. They radioed the home group to come at once – then, suddenly, there was a wild scream and radio silence.

A patrol ship went to Spectre-IV, buried the three mangled bodies and departed in five minutes flat.

“And that did it,” Farnum said. “Now no one will touch it at any price. Space crews refuse to land on it. And I still don’t know what happened.”

So... advertised as animal and pest free... Lo and behold the Garden of Eden, for the low low bargan of 10 times the appraised value, but you have a snake in the trees somewhere making a mess of your settlers. Now you want us to come in and play cleanup duty against whatever might be plaguing the area so you can try to begin recouping some of your losses. Tell me this, why not rent it off to one of the sanitation fleets as a dumpsite?
They always need a new planet to empty their barges onto. What makes you think we can wipe out what most likely is an entire species of beast and not just one boogieman? What is there that is so valuable that you are willing to pour more money into it, or soldiers, rather than count your losses and move on?

“You’re not afraid of ghosts now?” said Greginski with a wink to Ranger. “Phantoms from memory’s past?”

Ranger looked at Greginski emotionlessly. Ghost? Those are all I have. he pauses. No. He continues to stare for a moment before listening to what else he had to say to Anderson.

“I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation. As for ‘demons’, you can send them back to hell. If we can fix this, we’ll be established along side the big players. To say nothing of the profit we'll make on a percentage basis.”

Greginski didn’t mention to Ranger that the “big players” had declined the job.

Ranger turned from Greginski and looked at Anderson with that dead state pokerface. What's the pay?

[Grognardsw]

Greginski nodded as Ranger-1 asked about dangerous fauna. “None that were reported.”

“Spectre-IV was surveyed by sensor and probe and showed no life. After the deaths, there were surface drone sweeps that turned up nothing,”
said Greginski as he took another sip of the Saurian brandy.

“That’s the mystery - how an apparently empty planet can harbor so-called demons, ghosts, vampires or dinosaurs. Hell, I don’t even know what a vampire is.” Greginski crunched a Delatorian dough crescent.

“Now Anderson pointed out there is one area that hasn’t been probed - the ocean bottoms. Not sure how such life forms could live down there, but we’ll see. I picked up a deep sea life-sub last week.”

Greginski poured another brandy. “There was a time when planetoids were used as dumpsites, but these days junk is just put into the disintegrators.”

“Farnum has every motivation to fix this problem. That piece of planetary real estate could be a fortune.”

Just then Anderson walked into lounge area from the labs. “What’s the pay, you ask?” he said to Ranger. “If we can get rid of the so-called ghosts, it would be €250,000 q-credits for you.”

Ranger realizes this is four-months of his typical pay.

[Bluehorse]

Ranger-1

remains silent as his questions are answered. Then has a couple more.

They stopped planetary landfills? Do I still have stock in that somewhere? the fleeting thought floats to the top of his consciousness before dissolving away again as soon as it surfaced.

What about equipment? Supplies? What are you furnishing before we are loaded on the dropship? Greginski here needs a decent rifle. he looks at him partner seeing the look he gives him after the comment. What? You know that pop-gun of your's isn't worth it's weight in scrap.

Turning back to the man in front of them.... I'm dealing with this man about the job.... his name.... screw it... money. Details... Let Greginski deal with names. He's better at it. What about time frames? Logistics? Is this a long term job or are you in a rush about everything else? Will we have radio contact?

[Grognardsw]

“Don’t worry about the details big guy,” said Greginski with a smile. “You and I will be going down in a well-equipped scout cruiser. Sure I’ll have a rifle, but why would I need it? I got you!”

“So unless you have some other ideas, we’d investigate the colony camp sites where the massacres happened, poke around, coax out the devils and boogie-men, then take the deep sub-life boat to the ocean bottom and run scans. Security, safety issues, ghost exorcisms, fighting tactics and strategy - that’s all you.”

“Anderson will remain in the orbiting ship,” Greginski continued as he pointed to Anderson, who nodded. “You remember how it works, right? He’ll be in constant radio contact with us and be able to run levels of real-time data analysis we can’t do with our surface equipment.”

“That’s right,” Anderson affirmed, drawing out a compu-tablet and studying it as he spoke. “You’ll have link-up to the master data files and sensors up here, and I’ll handle chemical, geological, biological and other analysis needed based on surface data and samples you provide through the remote analysers. Think of me as the brain, and you’re the hands and feet.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Greginski retorted. “Maybe we’re the body and you’re the asshole.”

“Funny, such wit,” Anderson said. “Ranger, we arrive at Spectre-IV tomorrow. The job will take as long as it takes; we have provisions to last awhile.”

[Bluehorse]

Ranger-1

Nods. Alright. Let's do it then. While we're on the way could you hook me up with an engineer? I want a tune up on my shell before the job starts.

[Grognardsw]

The next 24 hours were busy. Ranger spent a few hours tuning up his shell with the help of Anderson. The man seemed to know his stuff.

Greginski and Ranger checked equipment. Looking in the holds,the cyborg found some decontamination equipment that could be useful, including a flamethrower (for clearing vegetation), a patented Mr. Gardener lazer-buzz-zaw® , a net cannon (handy for capturing wild life), and a pack of three insta-freeze gas grenades (to freeze water and organics).

They also studied reports on the two colonization attempts and read survey after survey on supernatural phenomena. So much written for something that had yet to produce any proof anywhere in the known galaxies.

Late the next day the ship estalished a low orbit around Spectre-IV.


Greginski and Ranger loaded the small scout cruiser and flew down.


The sun worshippers camp had been set up at the base of a mountain, beside a small, crystal-clear lake. The prefab buildings were in perfect condition. No storms had damaged them, because Spectre-IV was blessed with a beautifully even climate.

[Bluehorse]

Greginski and Ranger checked equipment. Looking in the holds,the cyborg found some decontamination equipment that could be useful, including a flamethrower (for clearing vegetation), a patented Mr. Gardener lazer-buzz-zaw® , a net cannon (handy for capturing wild life), and a pack of three insta-freeze gas grenades (to freeze water and organics).

Ranger will work with organizing the gear as efficiently as he can for their transport and use for later. Looking at the weapons as well as the potential weapons, Ranger looks very happy. Greginski? What do you want... Buzz-zaw, or flame thrower? I say we split the grenades. I feel like a kid in a candy store with either of these... So much... potential... he looked at the flame thrower and the buzz-zaw like some men looked a good food or a sexy woman. There was an oddly placed lust in his eyes as he rand his robotic hands over both tools.

The sun worshippers camp had been set up at the base of a mountain, beside a small, crystal-clear lake. The prefab buildings were in perfect condition. No storms had damaged them, because Spectre-IV was blessed with a beautifully even climate.

Ranger-1 looked about and breathed in the air feeling the rush of real oxygen for the first time in quite a while. Well, its organic... I'll give it that. There are some planets that would pay big money if we could can this and ship it to them. What do you think Greginski. Want to retire and become canned air merchants? he looks around, his heavy metallic steps carrying him across the courtyard, his head on a swivel as he looks about, always alert for danger. Too many times, a seemingly good situation had gone south and become very entertaining.

[Grognardsw]

"Ha-Haa-Haaa!" Greginski laughed at Ranger's canned air joke.

The man and cyborg strode through the empty open area that was something like a courtyard. Ranger's metalic foot-falls echoed.

"Not a soul," said Greginski, then smiled. "But maybe a ghost? Should we look around inside one of the buildings?"

Feel free to lead the investigation / action.

[Bluehorse]

Ranger-1

Shrugs. He thought the canned air idea was a good one. Oh, well. He swiveled around checking all the buildings, looking for anything specifically left open or otherwise simply walking to the nearest building and pushing on the door to open it. Assuming it is not locked, he will go inside and begin looking around. If it is locked, he will not even bother with hesitation and move to breech it and move inside. As always, about as subtle as a hand grenade.

I wonder if the solar panels are still operational of if we need to find the generators.

[Grognardsw]

Ranger scanned the area (% roll on Int.x5). A few doors were ajar, most closed. The first door he and Greginski tried was unlocked.

The cyborg and human made a careful check of one of the buildings. Clothes were still neatly packed in cabinets, pictures were hung on the wall and there was even a curtain on one window. In a corner of the room, a case of toys have been opened. A water pistol, a top and a bag of marbles had spilled onto the floor.

"Looks like they left in a hurry," commented Greginski.

Evening was coming, so they dragged their equipment into the prefab and made preparation. Greginski rigged an alarm system and adjusted it so finely that even a roach would set it off. He put up a radar alarm to scan the immediate area. Then, satisfied, they ate a leisurely supper.

Outside, the evening drifted in tonight. The warm and dreamy land grew dark. A gentle breeze ruffled the surface of the nearby lake and rustled silkily in the tall grass. It was very peaceful.

[Bluehorse]

Ranger-1

Scans the area and gets a feel for the layout of the area.

11x5 = 55 [1d100]=19

Ranger will take the time to kneel and pick up the marbles, putting them back in the bag and stowing them for now. A rush of memories come to him... holding marbles in his hands... flesh and bone hands... they were smaller then... looking at faces he can no longer recognize but feel familiar. They are laughing and cursing... marbles of all colors in a circle in the dirt... smashing into one another... rolling out of the circle... and then....

And then it was gone. Ranger stooped there still, as if in a trance, trying to hold onto that memory and make more sense of it. He looked at the bag of marbles one last time before stashing them away and standing once more.

A hurry? Yeah... yeah, they did.

Ranger will otherwise continue to help clear and arrange gear in whatever space they take over for themselves. He'll gather and burn the refuse, double check the generators and make any needed adjustments, and clear any overgrowth that is immediately in their way of being able to see and defend their position.

After their meal, Ranger will look at Greginski as he plugs his shell into an outlet: I'll take first watch. I can keep awake while I charge, so it makes little difference.

[Grognardsw]

Ranger's diligent searching yielded an unusual find: On the wall of a prefab, the word "tgasklit" had been hastily scratched. The word meant nothing to Ranger.

The cyborg found the generators were in working condition. Greginski radioed up to Anderson in the orbiting ship.

"All's clear so far. Nothing, not even a mouse," said Greginski. "Ranger reported finding some graffitti - the word 'tgasklit.' Mean anything to you?"

"No, but I'll research it," answered Anderson.

Being a creature of comfort, Greginski suggested they stay inside the first night where real beds were available. After checking his alarm system one last time, Greginski threw his clothes onto a chair, turned off the lights and climbed into bed. Bright starlight dimly illuminated the room through the windows as Ranger sat the first watch.

All was quiet. Ranger could hear the breathing of his artificial lung.

Several hours later Ranger became aware that he was not alone in the room. That was impossible. No one had entered through the single door or windows; the alarm system hadn't gone off.

A shadowy man was standing in the corner of the room.

[Bluehorse]

Ranger-1

Soon as he detects there is someone in the room that should not be there he stands while unplugging himself from the wall with one hand as his other balls into a fist. He activates his flashlight on the man. HALT! HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE? know that would be enough to alert Greginski as he moves towards the invader ready to grapple if nessicary.

[Grognardsw]

Greginski stirred awake at the sound of Ranger-1's voice. "What is it..." he mumbled.

Ranger brandished his flashlight at the form. The cyborg smiled and shook his head when he realized it was Greginski's clothes hanging on the chair. Distorted by the starlight and his own imagination?

"Little jumpy there big boy?" Greginski said. He turned over in the bed to try to fall back asleep.

Ranger plugged back in. Several minutes later he felt a breeze. He didn't think a window was open? The alert manbot peered about. He saw in amazement the draped clothing on the chair began to stir. Then the disembodied clothing stood up, stretched itself to roughly manlike form, and began to walk toward Ranger purposefully.

[Bluehorse]

Greginski stirred awake at the sound of Ranger-1's voice. "What is it..." he mumbled.

Ranger brandished his flashlight at the form. The cyborg smiled and shook his head when he realized it was Greginski's clothes hanging on the chair. Distorted by the starlight and his own imagination?

"Little jumpy there big boy?" Greginski said. He turned over in the bed to try to fall back asleep.

Ranger-1 goes from ready to kill.... no, no... he reminds himself. Ask questions of before likely killing whatever had invaded their space without making themselves know, to staring in confusion for a moment. Yeah... I... guess I forgot you put those there.

He grumbles and goes back to his seat and switches off his light wondering if he might have dozed or something. He plugs himself back into the socket and resumes his watch.

Ranger plugged back in. Several minutes later he felt a breeze. He didn't think a window was open? The alert manbot peered about. He saw in amazement the draped clothing on the chair began to stir. Then the disembodied clothing stood up, stretched itself to roughly manlike form, and began to walk toward Ranger purposefully.

Ranger-1 goes wide eyed and stands up, shining his light on the figure once more.

[Grognardsw]

Ranger's light shined on the disembodied clothes that walked toward him. Arms waved menacingly, if an empty shirt inspired menace. It was 10' away as it leapt upon the cyborg!

If you'd like to take action, we'll go to initiative. Otherwise I'll continue from that point.

[Bluehorse]

Ranger-1

Will go on the attack... whatever that might be for a shirt! He will attempt to grab at it with both hands and grapple.